#padfoot-barks

URL: poor | acceptable | exceeds expectations | outstanding | HARRY POTTER

ICON: poor | acceptable | exceeds expectations | outstanding | RON WEASLEY

MOBILE THEME: poor | acceptable | exceeds expectations | outstanding | DRACO MALFOY

THEME: poor | acceptable | exceeds expectations | outstanding | HERMIONE GRANGER

POSTS: poor | acceptable | exceeds expectations | outstanding | NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM

OVERALL:  poor | acceptable | exceeds expectations | outstanding | LUNA LOVEGOOD

FOLLOWING: no, but ily! | just did! | yes | ofc, we’re mutuals! | UNTIL THE VERY END

It’s almost three in the morning when James finds himself being rudely awoken by something heavy falling on his feet. That something is moving. Fumbling for his wand and his glasses, he starts preparing a reprimanding speech for whoever it is. Sirius, most likely.

When he’s located his wand and gotten his glasses on, he mumbles a drowsy, “Lumos,” and his wand lights up. He props himself up on his elbows and blinks a couple of times to get used to the light, then diverts his eyes down to the foot end of the bed, and almost gives a shout of surprise. 

It’s not Sirius who’s lying there. Not unless Sirius has dyed his hair red and grown tits in the four hours that have passed since James last saw him, that is.

For once, James finds himself speechless in Lily’s presence. She’s lying across his feet, her legs dangling off the edge of the bed, and though her eyes are closed, she doesn’t appear to be asleep. He gapes at her, feeling nothing short of dumbfounded, for a good twenty seconds before he relocates his ability to speak.

“Not that I’m not thrilled to finally have you in my bed,” he starts as he hoists himself up in a proper sitting-position, “but why, exactly, are you in my bed?”

She rolls her head to the side, her eyes meeting his. Even in the dim light, they’re bright and full of life. And somewhat unfocused. “Didn’t wanna stick around in my own dorm,” she says. “Dorcas had... company. They were being noisy.”

James frowns at the barely-there slurr in her voice, then he grins. “Lily Evans, are you drunk?”

She grins back. “I might be. A little. Marlene had some Firewhiskey left from our get-together this summer, so we drank it.”

“Getting drunk in the second week of school,” James says, still grinning. “My, my, how far the honour of the Head Girl has fallen.”

“Says the Head Boy who, last time I checked, snuck off to Hogsmeade to get Firewhiskey on the first day of school.”

James snorts and gives her hip a light nudge with his foot. “It was Remus’ idea.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right, go blame poor Remus.”

“I- oh, you lot are so gullible, thinking he’s the innocent one out of the four of us. Don’t let the knitted jumpers and puppy eyes fool you, love; he’s a bloody menace. Evil to the core, that one.”

“Yeah?” She sits up, a little unsteady and scoots further up on the bed to sit next to him, face turned towards him. “That’s hot. Maybe he’s the one I should shag, eh?”

James narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t. Please say you wouldn’t.”

She smiles, an uncharacteristically coy upwards tilt of her lips. “No, suppose I wouldn’t. I don’t think he would either, though, even if I tried to get him to.”

James knows she’s right. Remus would never shag Lily, and neither would Sirius, nor Peter. They all know James might actually throw himself off the Astronomy Tower from pure disappointment if they did. James is a delightfully dramatic soul.

“How come you came here?” he asks. “Don’t tell me there’s nowhere else in the entire school you couldn’t have gone.”

It’s hard to tell given the poor lighting, but James thinks he spots a faint blush on Lily’s cheeks. She shrugs. “Wanted to see you, I guess. Haven’t really talked to you much since school started back up again unless you count our talks about Head Boy and Girl duties.”

“I thought those talks were romantic. I even got to touch you when McGonagall made us shake hands. That was pretty hot. I swear I could feel your lady-parts go-”

“Okay, I’m leaving.”

James smiles toothily. “You came up here at three o’clock at night and stumbled into my bed, at your own free will I might add. You wanted to be here, you’re not gonna leave just because I made a comment.”

She raises her eyebrows and leans in closer to him. “It was a rude comment, though. Not something one should say to a lady.”

“You’re not a lady, you’re Lily. There’s nothing prim and proper about you, so I can’t call you a lady. Besides, you’re in my bed, I think I’m allowed to make some rude comments.”

Her eyes crinkle up when she smiles, wide and happy. “I’d rather be Lily than a lady,” she says.

It’s impossible not to smile back, James thinks. He wonders how anyone could not smile back at Lily when she gives them that sort of look. A little hesitant, he lifts his hand and touches his hand to her cheek. She doesn’t flinch back like she did the last time he tried to touch her face, a few days before the end of last term. James doesn’t know whether to thank the alcohol for the development, or if there’s something else going on. He prays (and sorta thinks) it’s the latter.

Lily’s smile has faded by the time she speaks again. “Hey, James?”

Letting his hand fall to the mattress again, James blinks. “Hm?”

“How come you haven’t asked me out yet this term?”

Of all the things Lily could have asked, that was not on the list of things that James might have expected. He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “What, do you miss rejecting me?” he asks, half-joking.

“Yes, actually.”

James’ heart may or may not drop an inch or two in his chest, but he smiles nonetheless. “Sorry, I’ll ask you out at breakfast tomorrow and you can reject me really loudly for the whole Great Hall to hear, yeah?”

“Deal.” She tilts her head to the side, eyes James pensively for a moment or two, and the next thing James knows is that he’s got an eyeful of red hair and Lily’s soft, warm lips kissing him like her life’s depending on it.

James can’t even think, his brain’s turned to hot, heavy goo, so when every instinct in his body is telling him to kiss her back, that’s what he does. His lips part with ease for his tongue to meet hers, and he lets his hands drop to her waist and clutches onto her, fingers digging into the soft skin underneath her thin jumper.

Lily makes a sound in her throat and without breaking the kiss, she scoots up in his lap, her thighs bracketing his hips, and wraps her arms around his neck. Their lips are getting more frantic, more sloppy, and they’re half-panting into each other’s mouths. James’ hands are getting sweaty and he can feel Lily’s body radiating heat. 

He’s also accutely aware of Lily’s tits being pressed against his chest, and there’s a part of him that wonders how she would react if he slipped his hands inside her shirt.

Lily keeps rocking her hips, colliding with James’ lower stomach, and... well, despite James’ limited knowledge about the inner workings of the female body, he thinks when a person’s rocking their hips, that means the same no matter what gender said person is. And the moment that thought hits him, a wave of arousal all but knocks him unconscious and he groans loudly and pulls Lily closer by her thighs.

"You can touch me,” Lily pants. “I’d actually prefer if you did.”

And just like that, James’ brain is brought back to life, goo-free. Closing his eyes, he leans back against the headboard of his bed and draws a deep breath. “Can’t,” he says hoarsely.

“What?” James opens his eyes and finds Lily staring at him. “Why not? You’ve spent the last two and a half years running after me, and when I want you back, you’re suddenly not interested anymore? I swear to Merlin, Potter, you’re such a-”

“It’s not that I don’t want to!” James cuts her off loudly. “I want to, alright? I really want to, you have no idea.”

She grimaces. “Then what?”

He grimaces right back. “I can’t, because you’re drunk. ‘S not right.”

“What? Are you for real?” She eyes him expectantly, as if she’s waiting for him to burst out in laughter and claim that of course he’s not for real. When that doesn’t happen, she leans back a little and her expression turns... soft. “James Potter has morals,” she says. “Who’d have thought?”

“I hate my morals,” James grunts as he adjusts himself in his pyjama trousers.

“I like them,” Lily says. “Makes you more likeable.”

James blinks. “Yeah? Does that mean if I ask you out during breakfast tomorrow, you won’t reject me?”

“Who knows? It’s fun to reject you.”

“You’re a sadist. You can’t possibly dislike me that much, otherwise you wouldn’t have come here. Or kissed me. Or tried to rub one out on me. Or-”

“Oh, shove it, James,” she barks, her cheeks flushing bright pink again.

“Ey, I didn’t say I minded,” James says, smiling brilliantly. “’Twas brilliant. I wouldn’t say no to a repeat.”

“And yet you pulled back,” she mutters, her eyes glued to his left shoulder.

“Morals.” He puts his hands back on her waist, and strokes back and forth with his thumbs for a few moments. “Get back to me if you still want this when you’re sober, yeah?”

“Of course I’ll still want it,” she says, irritated. “I’ve wanted it for over half a year. Doubt that’s gonna change now.”

James opts not to show his surprise over the fact that she’s wanted him for over half a year. “Because you’ve gotten a taste of me and decided that I’m an excellent kisser?”

She doesn’t answer that, just sticks her tongue out. James resists the urge to catch it with his lips.

“I mean it, though,” James says. “Just... come talk to me or something tomorrow. Or whenever. Preferably soon, because I’d really like to finish what we started here sooner rather than later.”

Lily laughs. “Yeah, alright. Can I sleep here tonight, though?”

James raises his eyebrows. “If you promise not to go full Lily on me tomorrow morning.”

“Go full Lily on you?”

“Yeah, you know, start yelling and accusing me of things and all that.”

“I’ve only ever done that when you deserved it, you git.”

James wishes he could argue, but he kinda can’t. “Fair enough.”

Lily smirks. “Alright, get your hands off me, then,” she says. James does as he’s told and watches, hypnotized, as Lily gets up on her feet, a little unsteady, and starts stripping out of her clothes. When she crawls back into bed, everything but her underwear lying in a heap on the floor, James considers the possibility of conjuring a pair of handcuffs to help him keep his hands to himself all night.

“I hope you know that you’re killing me,” he says as she gets settled on her side, facing him.

“Oh, I know. Could have kept my jumper on, but what’d be the fun in that, eh?”