Stealing Sheep

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After the Prefects and teachers had calmed down the panicking mob of school children they were all gathered together and herded to the Great Hall.

While the teachers hunted the troll armed with their trusty wands and a big box of chocolates to entice it out, the Prefects stood guard at the entrance to the Great Hall, in order to stop any stupid child who thought they could take on such a beast and live. Lily had to turn away about twenty such stupid kids, not including the eight times she had to send Sirius Black back to his sleeping bag and the three times she had thwarted his attempts at escape.

Two hours of tedium and two hours of mind-numbing thoughts such as 'I wonder how many flobberworms would make up and flobberworm army?' and 'Where in the world does Snape get his bat-capes from?' later, Lily was relieved of guard duty by a very sleepy looking sixth year prefect. She collapsed onto her sleeping bag in exhaustion, sleep claiming her immediately. In her dulled state of mind she neglected to worry about having the disturbing dreams as she did every night.

She should have worried.

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God, there she was. The one that got away. The one that he'd actually loved. The one that just so happened to be kissing another man right this second.

She smiled at the tall, blond man and James watched from the shadows, feeling uncomfortable with his new-found role of stalker but unable to tear his eyes away. He watched as she reached up to brush the hair from his face affectionately, and the sight ripped into James' heart. He gritted his teeth in suppressed anger, even though he knew he had no right to. It shouldn't matter to him that she had a boyfriend- after all, he hadn't called her his girlfriend, hadn't even seen her, in years. He didn't know her anymore.

Nevertheless, as the guy's hands edged their way up her waist towards her breasts, James began to silently fume and clench his fists until, to his relief, Lily batted away the unwelcome ravishing. James smiled. She hadn't changed much. He remembered the strict talkings to she'd given him when he'd attempted to persuade her to take their relationship a little further. She had never given in, a fact that just made him like her even more.

When the couple ceased their kissing a few moments later and continued down the cobbled alleyway, James melted into the darkness and trudged along to the little muggle pub he liked to frequent.

He usually sat, beer in hand, for hours, enjoying the quiet anonymity of the muggle world, and simply thinking random philosophical thoughts. But tonight all he could think about was her. Once, it had been him that she had kissed, that she had laughed with, but he had messed it up, like he messed everything up. At the time he had been convinced it wasn't his fault at all, but over the years he'd come to realise that it was all because of him. He hadn't been scared of 'commitment' or anything like that. He'd just been a boy. And very very stupid. He was now resigned to the fact that he'd been an almighty fool, and he didn't even hold it against her that she had kicked him where it hurts males the most, and had possibly ruined his chances of having children. He had deserved it.

In frustration at his inability to relax, James left his pint of beer untouched and stalked from the pub into the night. God, what was wrong with him? He'd been sat all of five minutes before he had got restless. Lily was getting to him.

He had, truthfully, thought about her frequently over the past few years. He'd wondered whether she looked the same, acted the same, was the same. Had she cut her hair? Had she passed her Auror training? Had she got funnier? Sweeter? Even more gorgeous? Thoughts of her had haunted him. They always had done, even before he had realised he was in love with her.

Seeing her tonight...with another man... he hadn't expected it but the second he caught the flash of her stop sign red hair he remembered it all; the smiles, the kisses, the arguments. Then he had seen Him. The Devil, the demon, the Boyfriend. And James would've liked nothing more than to punch his face in and get rid of that self-satisfied little smirk of his.

Suddenly, James froze mid-step. He could've sworn he'd just heard something that sounded like a...scream? His ears strained with the effort of trying to pick up the yell once more and he stood stock still, concentrating with all his might.

"Why-! You-! Get OFF!!"

He set off at a run in the direction that the outraged cry had come from. He just hoped he wasn't too late...

The scene that greeted him hit him with its horror. There were six of them. Deatheaters. And they had Lily. She was snapping and kicking out at them viciously, but it made no difference as they held her against the wall and one black robed figure stepped close and rubbed a hand down her body. That was when James felt the overwhelming roots of fury as they threaded their way through his heart, squeezing it so tightly that he thought he would explode, and constricting his lungs so that his breath came in short gasps. It simultaneously gave him strength and broke him. He completely lost it.

With a furious roar James pounced on the Deatheater leering at Lily, momentarily forgetting about his wand and wanting, desperately, to pound the bastard's face in. He quickly landed two perfect right hooks on his enemy's jaw, then head-butted him, relishing in the pain it caused.

As his opponent dropped to the ground, James swung around to face the rest, brandishing his wand. A flurry of spells and counter-curses flew through the air, but he knew he couldn't last much longer against the five of them left standing. He edged backwards towards the mouth of the alley and where Lily had fallen in a kerfuffle with a Deatheater. James quickly yanked her to her feet and pulled her stumbling after him as they made their escape.

His mind was working overtime, trying to rapidly put together a plan to get them to safety. They were in the middle of muggle London...the only wizarding place nearby was...it was the only choice. His decision made, James set off running at top speed, dragging a still dazed Lily after him. Upon reaching an extremely suspicious-looking phone box, he bundled Lily in, then closed the door behind them, quickly snatching up the phone.

"Hurry UP, bloody Hell, we're trying to make a goddamn ESCAPE! You can go to Hell if you think you can just put me on HOLD! I'll bloody hex you to next bloody Wednesday, you sonofa- Hello. Evans and Potter. To escape." He slammed the receiver down and grabbed the badges reading their names and the word 'escapee' underneath, as the phone box sunk infuriatingly slowly into the ground below.

Then she spoke to him for the first time in three years. "It's you. What are YOU doing here?"

"Saving your bloody skin!" he growled. He was not in a good mood. He really wanted to stalk up and down and let out all his anger, but he had to settle with glaring at her, as they were, after all, in a telephone box. His blood was still boiling, his fury bubbling. What if he hadn't got there in time? He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory of her pale face, her eyes frozen in terror as the Deatheaters closed in on her. The image was imprinted on his eyelids and riled his temper even more. What if he had been too late? "Stupid damn woman."

"I am certainly not stupid." She bristled as James attempted to yank her out of the now stationary phone box towards the Atrium and glowered angrily at him.

"Aren't you?" James quickly surveyed the large hall they had just entered and decided there was only one safe place close by that they could get to- the Minister of Magic's Office. He pulled her along beside him into the lush room and started to barricade them in as he tried to control his temper. "What would you call getting yourself into that situation?"

"I didn't 'get myself' into anything!"

James took a deep breath and kept piling up the furniture with numerous swishes of his wand, knowing the Floo network needed to be disabled as quickly as possible. "Shut down the fireplace."

"I don't think-"

He spun around with fury burning in his eyes and glared at her. "Shut. Down. The. Fireplace."

She did as she was told, grumbling all the while, but James couldn't seem to quell the rage bubbling up inside him. Just the thought of what could have happened to her sent him over the edge and he couldn't hold in the furious rant any longer. "Young women shouldn't be wandering around dark alleyways! What were you thinking? No-" He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in pure hatred. "-What was that sonofabitch that you call a boyfriend thinking leaving you in a place like that? I should kick the bastard's teeth in!"

Lily turned puce with the effort of holding in her indignation and said, unsuccessfully trying to keep calm, "You can't tell me what to do. You gave up any rights you had with me a long time ago. And don't you dare talk about David like that again! He doesn't deserve it from the likes of you."

Deep deep down, James was hurt by the 'likes of you' comment. But up near the surface he was just plain mad. Indescribably mad with how she stuck up for that weasel of a boyfriend. "'Likes of me'? It was the 'likes of me' that saved your arse with no David in sight! What happened, eh? Did the bastard run? Did he?"

"No, he didn't run, he wouldn't run." Her nostrils flared and she stepped a threatening step closer to him. "And I didn't need your bloody help- I was handling it."

"Handling it? You damn nearly got yourself raped!"

"No, I did not." Her voice was shaky now, on the verge of losing her temper completely, which James knew, Lily never did. She was calm. She was collected. She was the perfect picture of control, the 'Ice Queen', always. But not now.

"He had his hand up your bloody skirt!"

"I would've stopped him." Her body shook now, with anger, with fear of the look on his face. The feral look.

"How? How could you stop him?" James' head pounded as red clouded his vision and his heart shuddered in his absolute fury, but he still took a step towards her so that only an inch separated them. He knew he shouldn't. He was on the brink and rapidly losing his grip.

Now she looked up at him and he was falling into those huge staring eyes, drowning in them. For the first time in his life, he lost control completely and let his inhibitions loose. Before he could stop himself and before either of them knew what had happened, he crushed his lips against hers. He felt his anger transform rapidly into pure lust and revelled in the savage need that swamped him, flowed through him, guided his every move. His kiss was rough and needy, and she gripped his shoulders to steady herself, succumbing to the primal lust that reverberated through them both. His rough palms were everywhere, and he ravaged her lips with a reckless abandon he hadn't known he'd possessed. The feelings she evoked were dark, keen and compelling and he could no longer think; all there was was feeling and acting. He trailed hungry kisses down her neck, and she let out a strangled moan. The sound of it slapped him back, cold and hard. What was he doing?!

He pulled away with a ragged breath and ran a hand over his face, trying to erase the feeling of her skin on his. How had he let himself lose control? Where was his sanity? His decency?

She stood with a dazed expression, her hair rumpled, her lips slightly swollen from his rough touch; she had the appearance of a woman who had been thoroughly ravished. It was almost his undoing again. It had never been like that before- she had never let him go beyond anything relatively chaste and innocent. But this time she'd been distracted and he'd pounced. He was such a bastard. He'd lost control and forced himself upon her like he'd vowed never to let happen. He'd betrayed her! He was no better than that sonofabitch Deatheater.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let that happen. I lost control- I had no excuse to-"

"Shut up." His head snapped up at her tone. Sure, she'd told him to shut up before, but this time it was different. This time her voice was almost a growl. Her eyes sharpened, darkened, focused on a hunger that shocked him, yet still he found it...exciting. This was Lily Evans? What had happened to the sensible, calm, civilised girl he'd known? And who was this woman now staring at him predatorily?

She grabbed a fist full of his shirt, pulled him towards her roughly and, to his shocked excitement, kissed him with a fervour that he'd never seen in her before. But he wasn't about to complain; he matched her passion beat for beat. He could feel the sexual intensity radiating off her and grinned when she savagely pushed him against the wall, just to press her body closer to his.

James could feel the pressure building up inside him, heat blurring his vision. All he saw was Her. She was everything. She was the only thing that could suppress the primal urge that made his bones ache with longing.

She wrapped her legs around him and with a groan he lifted her off the floor, kissing her with a wild abandon that made her go weak. He carried her to the large oak desk and sat her down on the edge, before sweeping the clutter to the floor, the emblematic green peaked hat that had perched on its stand, now amongst the trail of destruction left in their wake. But he was desperate for her touch- skin on skin.

Her bright, sharp eyes watched him hungrily but instead of ravishing her like his body screamed for him to do, he took his time. She yielded, melting onto the desk under him at the long, leisurely caressing of her lips, but he was determined to make this last- she would remember this for a long long time. She gasped as he softly nipped at her lip, teasingly, temptingly, and he felt her tremble, the sensations overwhelming her. He slowly took possession of her mouth, but when he felt her shiver and groan beneath him he couldn't suppress it any longer, and let his already shaky control crumble around them.

She fumbled with the fastenings of his shirt, unable to undo them all in her haste and so he ripped it off for her; the buttons shot across the room and the shirt hung itself neatly on a peg near the door.

He let out a long, low chuckle as he continued to trace lingering butterfly kisses across her collarbone. "I think my shirt's ruined."

"We shouldn't be doing this," she gasped dazedly, her voice shuddering with craving and delicious dizziness.

He raised his head and grinned at the passion that clouded her eyes. He saw the heavy awareness in her possessive gaze and the claws of wanting ripped through him hot-tipped, razor-sharp, wiping his mind clear. She wanted him. "We should...stop."

She groaned and pulled his smiling lips to meet hers again. "Never stop," she whispered huskily and he was lost again.

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