A/N: So...it's been like almost a year? Whoops?

Chapter Six

Or

But Don't Give Yourself Away

There is little time to formulate a plan in between the moments of one's hands fumbling with the buttons of a fit blokes shirt, and the chiming of lift doors.

Even smaller than that, if at all possible, is the fraction of space in which the rest of the zipper of her dress needs to slide for her back to be fully exposed.

This - both the zipper and the foggy state of her mind - normally wouldn't be a problem. Especially not considering where she assumes all of this is heading. Her bed. James' bed. The fucking hallway if they have to.

But it is a problem as soon as the doors slide open and Lily, who starts a little at the movement, effectively pulling away from James, realizes that they've been let off on their own floor, and of course Sirius fucking Black would choose that moment to be fumbling with his keys.

He hasn't seen them yet, she assumes, for if he had he would certainly make a scene. It's his style, after all.

"Shit, shit, shit," Lily hisses under her breath, shoving James flat against the wall of the lift with such force he makes a little oof sound.

"What's going on?" he asks, sounding a bit winded. "I mean - not that I haven't enjoyed this lift and everything but -"

"Sirius!" she whisper cries, mashing the button to close the doors over and over. She's afraid she's nearly broken it with the force in which she's smashing it. "Sirius is out there!"

James blinks, confused. "Oh."

Lily rolls her eyes. The doors to the elevator shut fully, and thankfully at the perfect time, because James' mind seems to have caught up with their current situation.

"Oh god," he groans loudly, glancing down at his torn open shirt. "Fucking hell."

"Caught on, have you?" asks Lily, a hand on her hips as she presses the emergency stop button to buy them more time. He can't even see his own disheveled hair. Or even more disheveled than usual. How that's even possible, Lily isn't sure. She's got to hand it to herself. "Listen, he can't know about - about -"

Lily isn't really sure how to complete the sentence. She's not sure what they are exactly. Or what they could be. They haven't had any time to actually talk since they've started snogging. They haven't even finished snogging just yet, as far as she's concerned. And a conversation as deep as the one that's coming shouldn't take place half dressed in a lift, she thinks.

"No, he can't know about this," he agrees, trying to button his shirt back up. "He'll never let us live it down. Dammit, Evans. I'm missing a button here."

"Sorry," she says, though she's not feeling the least bit sorry. "So what do we do then? We need some sort of - I don't know...a plan? Or something."

"First thing is you need to turn around so I can zip up your dress," he says, fixing his last remaining button. "That's probably the least we can do to look less suspicious."

"Right, yeah," mumbles Lily, a bit embarrassed she forgot about the state of her own self. She turns, straightening her back self consciously as she feels his hand guide the zipper upwards.

James sighs. "This is the complete opposite of how I saw this going."

"I know," she says, smiling and feeling suddenly shy about the amount of freckles scattering her back. "I thought it would end up going in an entirely different direction."

"Yeah," he says, a grin in his voice she doesn't have to turn just yet to see. "I mean, it could still go in that direction. If you want it to, that is. All up to you, Evans."

Lily laughs, the sound of it bouncing around the walls of the lift. "Such cheek you have, Potter."

"Really? Some would call it desperation."

"Oh, believe me, I'm considering it."

Running her hands through her tangled hair and pulling on the hem of her dress to straighten the material out, Lily presses the doors to the lift once more, peeking her head out just a bit to catch a glimpse of the hallway.

There's no sign of Sirius anywhere, but they still find themselves creeping out of the doors as though they're two teenagers sneaking back to their bedrooms after sneaking out.

It's a bit ridiculous, really, they way they're bent over as though that's enough to give them cover from people seeing them.

"He's likely gone to bed," whispers James, crouching behind her.

"That or to the fridge for another beer," counters Lily. "What do we do now?"

"We'll have to go in separately. If we go in together he's going to get suspicious."

"But I -"

Want to stay with you, want to finish whatever this is that we've started, she thinks to herself, the words stopping at the very tip of her tongue.

"I know," says James. She doesn't have to say any of it. He can see it there in her eyes. "It's only for right now. When he's gone to bed officially I'll sneak across the hall to you."

"So dramatic," teases Lily, though she can't help feeling a bit giddy over the dramatics of it all.

"Says the girl who hides in her bedroom closest at twenty-seven to talk to her friend about a fit bloke she's into."

"I don't - I can't believe - you heard that?"

"Well, I think the word was smitten actually."

"I still reason that I'm not smitten," snorts Lily, not seeing the point in arguing or denying any longer. "I'm fucked."

"Now, now, Evans," says James, grinning and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Why can't we be both?"

It's quite possible that she is both, she thinks.

Falling for James Potter must be somewhere in that fine line of being both smitten and fucked. It's rather thrilling, the risk of it all.

She's never been one for risks, but she thinks this one might be worth it.

"You're mad," she laughs.

"So I've been told."

Her eyes flicker to the door. Once they're in there, the small bubble that they've formed around them in the lift threatens to be popped. Once inside, they return to the reality of being roommates, but also whatever else it is that they've decided to be on top of all of that.

"Okay," she says, preparing herself. She can do this. She can go straight into whatever is waiting for her on the other side of that door, whether it's Sirius Black or reality. Or both. "I'll go first, and then you wait about ten minutes and come in after me?"

"Sounds good," says James with a nod.

"Right," she says, breathing deeply for dramatic effect. "Here I go."

Her feet don't move.

Won't move.

It's as though they're an entirely different pair than her own and she has no control over them. As though they're rooted to the ground.

"Evans?"

"I think - I think I've forgotten how to walk."

"And you call me dramatic," he says with a snort, shoving her so she wobbles slightly forward. "Go!"

"Hey!"

"Get in there! And don't forget, in the event that Sirius is still up, you definitely were not stuck in the elevator with me for over three hours."

"Then where was I?"

"I don't know! Lie and say you went on your date or something," says James.

"Right - okay, yeah. My date." Her feet begin pulling her forward slowly. "The date that I definitely went on."

"With Robert."

"With Robert," repeats Lily, her hand on the door handle. "And not -"

You, she thinks, peering behind her but James is no longer there. Disappeared without a trace, as if by magic.

Or perhaps stairs, she snorts to herself, seeing the doorway to the stairs swinging shut.

She twists the door handle and for the second time in her life comes face to face with a bemused looking Sirius Black on the other side.

"Jesus Christ!" she shrieks, nearly falling backwards. "What the fuck are you doing!"

"Looking for you," says Sirius, simply. As if she ought to have known. "And James. Have you seen him?"

"Have I - have I seen James? James?" God, when did her fake laugh sound so...fake? "Why on earth would I have seen James? I've been on a date."

"Well, he's missing, you see."

"Well, I haven't seen him," she snorts, arms crossed. "And you're sort of in my way, you know. I'm dying to get these shoes off. Move out of the way."

"After you," he says, moving sideways and bowing slightly as she enters. "So, you're not worried about James being missing?"

Shit, shit, shit.

She ought to be worried.

If she really didn't know where he was, she would be worried.

She's terrible at this acting thing.

"He's James," she says instead. "He'll turn up. He's like a cat. Comes and goes."

"James is not like a cat," Sirius practically growls, as if this is a huge insult.

"Maybe he met someone," she shrugs.

"He was supposed to meet his mum," says Sirius. "But when he never showed up, I went to go get her."

"Have you tried calling him?"

"Have I tried - yes! Of course I have! Several times!"

"Well," says Lily, kicking her shoes off. "Try again."

"Why don't you try," huffs Sirius, though he's already pulled his phone out. He holds it to his ear, rolling his eyes. "Honestly if he didn't pick up the other thousand tries - hey! Where the fuck are you? What do you mean car trouble? Why didn't you phone-"

Lily takes this moment to sneak away during all of Sirius' shouting, backing her way towards her bedroom door.

"Oi, Evans!" shouts Sirius, spotting her retreating. "How was your date by the way?"

"Great," she says. Shouts, really. She's gone and lost all control of her voice. "Perfect. Best date I've ever been on."

It's all up to her.

That was what James had said just moments before while they were still in the lift.

It could still go in the direction that she wanted it to, if she still does.

It seems so easy, and perhaps in a snog fog as she had been just hours before it would have been easy.

But now, as reality creeps back through the cracks of her own mind, causing her to doubt ever so slightly her own confidence, it seems daunting.

She wants to do this.

More than anything.

But also, more than anything, she wants to do this the right way.

And snogging a man - her roommate - when she was supposed to be on a date with another man isn't the right way.

The thought of Robert sitting there alone and with no word from her at all makes her feel awful, no matter how much she doesn't want to pursue a relationship with him.

She should call him now.

Her phone is fully charged after dying at some point in the lift, and his number has popped up at least a dozen times.

But she doesn't know quite what to say just yet.

Admitting that she was stuck on a lift for several hours seems easy enough.

Admitting that she doesn't actually want to reschedule a date with him because she snogged her fit roommate in said lift is no where near easy.

"Sorry about ditching you Robert. You see, the elevator broke down and then I ended up snogging my roommate and now I'd very much like to see where that goes," she tests the words aloud from where she's currently sitting in her closet. Because she is dramatic, thank you very much James Potter. Even in the safety of her own closet the words sound lame.

"That's lovely," says a voice on the other side of her closet door. Speak of the messy-haired devil. "I can tell you really practiced that bit."

Lily crawls to her feet, opening the door halfway so she can peer out at him.

Dramatically.

"How long have you been here?"

"Long enough," he says, grinning and leaning casually against her bedroom wall. "Thought I'd find you there, by the way. Your closet that is."

"Where else would I be?" she groans, opening the door the rest of the way so she can slump against the wall next to James. "A closet is supposed to be a safe space, by the way, to say embarrassing things into so no one else can hear. Not a place for fit boys to listen in on said embarrassing things."

"Is that what you use it for? I normally just hang my shirts in mine."

"Har, har," Lily fake laughs, crossing her eyes up at him. He's distractingly tall. All logical thoughts of sorting out her relationships with her workmate and her roommate suddenly become very foggy. "I know you well enough to know that you don't actually hang your shirts up, by the way. You hardly even remember to do your own laundry. I'm not even sure you know how a shirt hanger works."

"I do my own laundry, Evans. I'm not a complete slob."

"Oh, that's right. I did see you carrying several baskets full downstairs as soon as you heard your mum was coming. Silly me."

"Such cheek, Evans," says James. He's grinning as though this is a trait he finds admirable. Which is funny, because Petunia has told her on more than one occasion that her cheek is what would drive a man away.

"Honestly, it's that mouth of yours, Lily," she had said just months ago after Lily's phone call to inform her of her breakup with Nathan. "You've probably damaged his ego one too many times. There's only so much a bloke can take."

But here James stood, looking as though he found her cheek charming.

"How'd you manage to get past Sirius, anyway?" questions Lily, shooing Petunia's voice inside her head away like an annoying little fly. "I didn't hear any sort of interrogation."

"Easy, I just told him that I managed to break down with no cell service. He picked mum up from the airport, and dropped her off at the hotel. So everything is cool. No harm no foul."

"Isn't that odd, though? That he just...accepted it? No fighting or anything?"

"Maybe," agrees James, though almost begrudgingly so. "I kind of just took it as an olive branch from the universe after being stuck inside a lift for over three hours."

"You can't just accept things from the universe," groans Lily, throwing her head back. "The universe doesn't extend olive branches! It burns them! The universe is the reason things like Tuesdays exist."

"The universe is also the reason you noticed my roommate wanted ad, possibly on a Tuesday, Evans."

It was true, thought Lily. She could remember the words hardly making sense at first as she blinked at them through her tears. She had been sitting in her car, sobbing, as one does after a horrible breakup where you have seven whole years boxed up in the trunk of your car and nowhere to go. She remembered thinking that perhaps the ad was a joke by a bunch of teenage boys.

And maybe it had been a joke in a way, knowing James as she does now, but she's thankful for it nonetheless.

"You're right," she says, and she's quite sure she's beaming. She must be. This smile feels quite different than any of her others, as though it's starting in her chest and spreading outwardly. "Are you quite certain you don't have the universe on your side, Potter?"

"Evans, don't make me give you some sort of cheesy line. It's above me."

"Is it though?"

"There you go again with that cheek. You ought to be careful, Evans. A man could fall in love on cheek alone with you."

And there he goes again.

His truth and intent laced finely between the lines of a joke.

The way he talks about love, even as a possibility, makes her head spin. Can you love a person you met just months ago? A person that you met through a roommate wanted ad in a paper? Can you love a flatmate without consequences?

Probably not, thinks Lily.

A whole flood of consequences from her actions should be entering her head right about now, but it's hard to notice them with James leaning down the way he is.

The only thing she can think of is that she ought to be ashamed of how attractive she finds their height difference. How she takes pleasure in the fact that she could raise up on her bare toes to make it easier on him, but she wants him to cross this distance for her.

To feel as though she's worth something as simple and yet as intimate as the distance of air between his lips and hers.

It's only when he's nearly there, his lips brushing hers in a way that's far more gentle than they were in the lift just hours ago, her mouth parted just slightly, that she remembers what she was tormenting herself over just seconds ago.

Her want to do this the right way, the consequences of her own actions, Robert.

She's got a ways to go before she can be so recklessly irresponsible by snogging her , snogging him again.

"Wait," she says, her fingers curling into the fabric of his jumper rather than pushing him away. Because she doesn't want him away. Not fully. She wants to hold him there in her fingertips until the timing is right. "I can't- I can't do this. At least not just yet. Not this way."

"What do you mean?" questions James. He doesn't sound offended at her put off. Not huffy at all about being shut down in the way other men would have been. "Of course you can. I mean - you already have. Technically."

"Technicalities aside, I need time," she says, smoothing the wool of his jumper down that she's nearly clawed and then let go of when she realized he wasn't going to back farther away than needed. "I need time to get things sorted with...Robert."

"Robert," repeats James, swallowing after, and nodding his head.

"Well, you see, it's rather tricky," says Lily, squaring her shoulders and trying to focus on something other than the way James' Adam's Apple bobs slightly when he swallows. "I stood him up, on complete accident as you know -"

"As I know."

" - and he deserves an explanation as to why. And a proper let down."

"I suppose that's true," agrees James, begrudgingly so. "A bit noble for my taste. But true."

"I owe him this. Possibly more, but at least this."

A sudden guilt boils its way into Lily's stomach, causing her to feel hot and flustered in an entirely different way than she had been on the lift. She honestly does feel bad for poor Robert. After all, he's likely waited for her for most of the night with no word, and she's gone and snogged her fit roommate. It was never fair to ever put Robert in that position in the first place, against James as she had done.

She's been a bit irresponsible, the voice inside her own which head that sounds slightly like Petunia tells her. But then again, she's never really had a chance to be irresponsible.

To have just one thing where she jumps before she looks.

She's always been proper, well put together Lily. Each step carefully planned before it's taken. Each foot knowing exactly the direction it's supposed to go in.

She hasn't really felt that way lately.

Ever since that Tuesday.

Ever since James.

James Potter, who is the lucky consequence of all her irresponsibility.

He makes her feel as though she's forgotten how to stand just right. Not quite unsteady, but perhaps, more flying than falling. Like floating. All fuzzy in the head and feet off the ground.

"Evans," says James, his voice breaking through her thoughts. "Do you remember what I said to you on the day that we first met? That I promise to never do you wrong?"

"As a roommate," repeats Lily, remembering it clearly. "Although I'm not sure if that's what we are anymore. At least, not all that we are anymore."

James grins and it's so bright that it makes her chest swell.

"You go do what you need to tomorrow, Evans. Then we'll figure out that last part together when you get back, yeah?"

"Okay," breathes Lily, a sudden wave of exhaustion hitting her that she wasn't aware of before. Relief of waiting until morning to have everything sorted washes over her, and she realizes for the first time just how utterly tired she is. "Okay, yeah. And until then - we…"

"Until then we sleep. Or, at least, you sleep. You look as though you need it."

She can't argue. Though partly she wants to, but just because it's in her nature. She's collapsing on her bed before a smart remark can form in her head though, tugging on James' hand with her own on the way down.

"Will you stay?" she asks. Her voice is thick with sleep, coming off almost raspy. "Just for a bit?"

"You're sure this isn't crossing some sort of unethical line?" he asks, but his voice is right there by her ear and not above her any longer. The side of her bed that's usually empty sinks in slightly. "I'm not one for crossing too many lines, you know."

"Possibly. Or it could just be two innocent roommates sharing a bed to sleep in. I've heard of such a thing."

He laughs. It's throaty and muffled against her pillow. It sends vibrations through her, tingling her spine and making her wiggle against them.

"Well, I'm far too wired to sleep. I don't think I can after everything. I don't know what it says about my snogging abilities that you're nearly passed out."

"It's got nothing to do with your snogging abilities and everything to do with the fact that I'm always in that space between reality and a dream."

"What does that even mean?"

"Honestly, Potter. Have you never read Peter Pan?" She's slipping now. Her eyes are heavy and every breath she takes smells of his ivory soap. "It's there on my nightstand if you'd like to. Since you can't sleep and all."

He doesn't crack a joke about her reading a children's book or the fact that she's actually suggesting to him to read.

Instead he asks her, "Would you like me to read aloud?"

And she hums happily in agreement, the sound of the book opening, pages turning, and James Potter's voice carrying slightly through the echoes of her mind being the last thing she registers before she's fully carried into a dream.

"All children, except one, grow up…"