title: when the wind is convenient

pairing: lysander/lily/lorcan

disclaimer: it ain't mine, bro…

note: features slytherin!lily and pushover!lorcan. just saying.

"Do you want to come to Hogsmeade with me?"

I turn around so fast, my neck gives an audible crack. Standing behind me is the one and only Lily Luna Potter, skirt three inches higher than regulation allows, blouse buttons undone, tie carelessly done up (and backwards, not to mention).

She looks amazing.

"P-pardon?" I stammer. She rolls her eyes, but repeats the question anyway in that gorgeously melodious voice of hers.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?" she says. My mouth falls open, just a little bit. I snap it shut before she notices.

"Me?" I repeat. "Go to Hogsmeade? With you?"

"Yes, you," she laughs, tucking a scarlet strand behind her ear. "Is this some indirect way of saying no?"

"What? No! I mean, yes! I mean, no, I'm not saying no! I'm saying yes. I'm definitely saying yes!"

Good lord. Could I be any more of a loser? This is why Lysander is the one with the girlfriends and the dates and the shags, and not me. Merlin.

I try to redeem myself using some of my knowledge as a Ravenclaw prefect.

"Next Hogsmeade weekend is the fifteenth, yeah?" I say casually.

"You want to wait a whole fortnight?" she asks incredulously. "Let's go now? You've a free period, haven't you?"

"You mean, go to Hogsmeade right now?" I sputter. "But that's- that's-"

"Against the rules?" she finishes, tapping a silencing finger against my lips. "So what? Screw the rules."

I nod blankly, her finger still against my mouth. She slips her hand into mine, and drags me along the corridor, telling me a story about some secret passageway that James had discovered last year.

I, however, am not paying attention. My lips still burn from where her finger touched.

We find ourselves by the Shrieking Shack, which is no longer a secluded place. Rather, it's become an unofficial monument to Severus Snape.

However, after the initial excitement of sneaking out has worn off, we end up searching for something, anything at all to talk about. My overwhelming desire to start a conversation leaves me with nothing to say, but:

"…nice weather we're having, isn't it?"

A pile of snow slides off of the tree beside us, and I'm struck with the need to bash my head repeatedly against a tree.

Suddenly, she slides her hand out of her glove, and holds up a slender finger against the biting breeze overhead.

"Do you like the wind, Lorcan?" she asks wryly.

"Not particularly, no," I reply, wondering what on earth this is leading to. With someone as beautiful as Lily, there's always something else.

"What about in the summer?" she presses, stepping forward. The warmth of her breath mingles with mine, and I can't believe that she can't yet hear the beating of my heart, loud as it is.

"When the air is so hot and so humid? After a long game of Quidditch, when the air is slow and heavy, and all you want to do is take an ice bath? You don't even like the wind then?" she continues. I shrug.

"No, I quite like it then. It's a nice change from the heat," I answer. I don't see why this is such a big deal.

"So you like the wind when it's convenient for you?" she prompts.

"I suppose." I notice how close she is, and scoot back several inches. Can't have her anywhere near the disaster that is my lower body right now. "Lily, I- I have to go. You know, exams and-"

"You're my wind, Lorcan," she mutters, moving closer. She trails a finger along my chest, tracing out words that I can't make out along the lines of my stomach. I try to stammer a response, but she silences me with a gentle brush of her lips against mine.

There aren't fireworks or violins or anything, but an image of this delicate, dangerous flower has been permanently tattooed against the lids of my eyes, and years may pass, but I won't ever forget the day that Lily Potter kissed me.

"You're my wind, Lorcan," she repeats, leaning in again, tangling her perfect fingers between my pale ones. "You're my wind, and I need you now. You're convenient now."

"I will be," I murmur against her lips.

And unlike those stupid New Year's Resolutions I'm forced to make annually ("I promise to actually try at Divination this year" – what a piece of hippogriff shit), this is one resolution I'm determined to keep.

And so I'm convenient for her. I let her snog me in the Great Hall, smack in front of Neville and my mates and my brother, and I let her forget about me for weeks and weeks, only to pout her way into my bed afterwards, and I lets her use me, every day, every hour, every minute.

Because, with Lily Potter, you take what you can get.

(Several months later, during one of his Head Boy patrols, Lorcan finds one Lily Luna Potter with her legs spread in a corridor with none but his brother between them. He still doesn't leave her.)

For Blue (BlueEyes444), who is one of my best friends, and one of the most bluetiful people I know. This girl does not get enough love, and a single love post on a forum doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about my Bluebird. Love you, dear! Also, sorry for the bittersweet ending. And for the bitchy Lily. Um.

Please don't favourite without reviewing!

-Dri