4,494Petal in the Rain
Chapter 2- Music of the Night
Close your eyes; surrender to your darkest dreams.
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before.
Close your eyes; let your spirit start to sore…
...And you'll live as you've never lived before.
-Andrew Lloyd Weber
London, 1940
As an alluring redhead strolled down one of London's many paved boulevards, the stormy skies above unfastened, driving a soft rain down on the city. Lily ducked under one of the many maple trees lining the street, trying to shield herself from the downpour; however, a part of her longed to dance in the rain like a nymph from a fairytale book, welcoming the water's caress.
Untamed at last…
The pitter-patter of raindrops mingled with the concerto harmoniously sounding in the distance, creating the perfect evening in Lily's mind. Her newfound freedom was thrilling, liberating…spine-tingling even. For the first time in her life, she was free to do anything...to be hasty and impulsive, irrational and unconventional...and she wasn't going to waste a moment of it.
Lily took a colossal leap from underneath the tree, taking extra care to splash in an increasing puddle of water. She laughed, invigorated.
Emancipated from the chains that bind me...
She continued gravitating toward the music, curiosity compelling her to find where it was drifting from. Her body shivered, goose bumps beginning to appear along her arms, but it didn't matter; her elation dominated any physical discomfort.
As the rain continued to pour, Lily danced along the perimeter of the deserted street. She watched herself place one foot in front of the other, pretending she was balancing on a circus high-wire, but her gaze soon wavered, instead fixing upon wrought-iron gates encompassing the grandest mansion she had ever seen.
Bother…
A flawless structure in every way, the grand estate boasted many luxurious features, among them sweeping gardens sporting lavish fountains, extravagant and exotic floral arrangements, and three fishing ponds. The focal point of the property was, naturally, the Victorian dwelling located in the center of the estate, characterized by ornate trim, gothic stain-glass windows and tall bricked-chimneys.
"How anyone could be that wealthy is beyond me…" Lily murmured, regarding the beautiful grounds with an awe-struck gawk.
The mansion was certainly where the music was drifting from; a fact that seemingly left her at a dead-end. The prospect of ending her night so soon simply unfathomable, Lily peered past the austere gates preventing her trespass. She sought to explore the grounds, but wondered how she was going to gain entrance.
I've already climbed down a vine...why not climb over a fence?
She grasped the hard metal gate before her and started to ascend upwards. Why she was even attempting the climb, she didn't know, but she reckoned that if there were ever a moment to be brave and adventurous, it was then.
Jail is preferable to St. Madeline's anyways...
"Damn it!" She exclaimed, cursing under her breath as she realized she had not only scraped her elbow, but also ripped a small portion of her dress on her way over the fence. Planting her feet on the grassy ground, Lily compelled herself to ignore the pain in her arm. She looked about her surroundings, a feeling of accomplishment swelling within her.
Judging by the music and laughter coming from the depths of the manor, there was a fantastical party going on. Lily smile was secretive as she began to explore.
The atmosphere in the dining hall was that of enthrallment and exhilaration. Every elaborately-fashioned guest carried a flute of champagne and picked away at palatable pastries and exotic delicacies set out on long, linen-swathed tables. The dominant colour within the hall was gold, every plate, napkin ring and goblet mirroring the shimmering hue.
Beautiful women with lengthy, body-hugging dresses and fancy up-dos flitted around the room, chatting up prospective men and respected women within high society. Older men in top hats sat in their plush armchairs, smoking cigars or drinking brandy, while younger men escorted pink-cheeked ladies to the dance floor, whispering compliments in their ears and penciling in their dance cards.
This was the opulent scene in which Lord James Potter—heir to the Potter fortune and title—found himself immersed.
"James!" a youthful blonde cooed, provocatively sidling up next to him and squeezing her arms together to enhance her tragic cleavage. "Dance with me, won't you?"
James Potter sighed. A striking man of twenty with tousled brown hair, an athletic build and mystifying eyes that were only heightened by wiry spectacles, he also boasted a noble title and a large pocket-book—making him one of the most sought after gentlemen in British society. He was a potent combination of looks, power and money—a magnet for cloying society girls who wouldn't take no for an answer.
"I'm afraid I've had a little too much to drink, Miss Collins," James replied, forcing himself to hide his dislike for the woman. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you on the dance floor."
Truthfully, James wanted nothing to do with Ms. Collins or any of her snooty lot. Though the surrounding party was for his twentieth birthday, he wasn't enjoying himself in the slightest; rather, he was downright miserable, surrounded by people he neither loved nor even liked. As it was, he could barely stand to be in the presence of his own family—a bloodline of nobles whom he considered materialistic and attention-seeking.
Miss Collins flashed James a pouty look before latching onto his arm, continuing to plead with him. He knew she wanted to be seen with him to improve her reputation and incite jealousy among her friends, not because she actually liked him.
"But Lord Potter—" she started, batting her lashes and gripping his muscled arm. "Won't you dance with me, even for a minute?"
"Later," James practically growled, the blonde bombshell trying his patience. "Now if you'll excuse me."
James pulled out of the woman's grasp and retreated to the other side of the room, frustrated beyond belief. He deeply resented the lavish party that had been thrown for him; all he had wanted was a small get together with his mates, preferably a run-down pub somewhere discrete where he could get properly drunk. The plastic, pompous people around him were most certainly not his friends; merely power-hungry tycoons wishing to climb another rung in the society ladder.
He felt sickened.
"James! There you are!" his mother hissed discreetly, coming up from behind him. He grimaced. "Find a pretty young lady and dance with her, won't you? You look absolutely pathetic, wallowing in this corner on your own."
James' mother was dressed in a royal-blue gown that bloomed outwards and trailed along the floor. Encircling her gloved hands were bravura jewels of all shapes and sizes, while around her throat was a diamond choker—an overwhelming piece of jewelry that had cost the GDP of a small country. Her shiny black hair was in a pretty up-do, triggering her stunning purple-tinged eyes to stand out prominently.
"I haven't the appetite for dancing, Mother," James replied flatly, picking up a flute of champagne and downing it in one gulp.
"This is your party, James Gerald, and I won't tolerate you ignoring your distinguished guests and getting drunk on your own," Mrs. Potter snapped, yanking the glass out of his hands and checking over her shoulder to make sure no one was paying attention to them; she could not, after all, have her painstakingly-quaffed image ruined.
"The advantage to turning twenty—" James began, grinning defiantly at his paranoid mother. "—is that I can now do whatever the hell I want to. From now on, your threats don't hold with me."
"How dare—Lord Reynolds! How thrilled I am to see you!" Mrs. Potter suddenly chirped, a large, cigar-totting man having toddled over to them. "How is you delightful wife doing?"
James exploited the interruption, fading into the background to get away from the dreary party he was forced to claim as his own. He exited the dining hall and headed for the back veranda, keen on losing himself in the illustrious gardens, which always seemed to provide him with momentary escape from his troubles.
He stepped outside into the fresh, dewy air, taking in the floral scent of the grounds. The calming lull of the precipitation soothed him as he took a seat on a lounge chair, basking in the silence. He closed his eyes, the raindrops in tune with the beat of his heart, and imagined himself to be far, far away…
James' daydream was interrupted when he sensed another presence in the garden. Prepared to give Miss Collins a taste of the infamous Potter temper, he opened his eyes, but she wasn't there. He rose out of his seat, continuing his inspection, ready to pounce on the person who had followed him, when he noticed a girl dancing in the distance…
He froze, entranced.
She wore a tattered, old-fashioned dress and had hair the colour of Christmas poinsettias. Her lips—equally as crimson—were parted in a smile and her eyes were closed as she twirled about the garden, lost in her thoughts. She appeared to be completely comfortable in the rainwater, content to sway in the torrential downpour. She didn't shriek or scream or cry because her looks were tarnished, her hair wet and her dress ruined; instead, she thrived upon it.
And here I am, shrinking under the porch roof, afraid to get a drop of water on my suit...
James was unashamedly awestruck. He felt intrigued and irrationally consumed by the woman, who had suddenly appeared like an enigmatic apparition. As he continued to watch the redheaded creature flicker about the garden, a sudden idea occurred to him. He extracted his wand from his suit pocket and—a bit too impulsively—conjured a dozen glowing faeries. The tiny beings giggled as they tested out their new wings, their voices like wind chimes, then fluttered over to the hypnotic girl, excited to surprise her.
Confident the woman was a muggle, James felt compelled to dazzle her as much as she dazzled him.
The gardens were magnificent. Lily felt like she was lingering in one of her late-night imaginings. She didn't care that she was drenched or that she was shivering uncontrollably, the utter jubilation she felt enough to numb the pain. She explored the botanical paradise in a surreal state, twirling and dancing and jumping, her exhilaration succumbing to the thundering skies above.
Her spinning eventually became so wild that she lost her balance and fell to the squishy ground. As she climbed back to her feet, her laugher drowned by the booming thunder, Lily spotted a patch of white lilies a few yards away. Thinking herself along, she plucked one from the saturated soil. She examined it in her hand and smiled; it was befitting to take a souvenir back with her even though it would fade and shrivel soon after.
When she finally straightened, she gasped; prancing all around her—dressed in rose petals—were pixies, each no longer than her pinky finger.
Faeries?
"How…" Lily whispered, admiring the tiny creatures in sheer wonderment. "I really am dreaming..."
The faeries continued to flit around her, each giggling and smiling; then the bug-like beings ceremoniously broke into a supple dance, performing a perfect airborne ballet. Lily couldn't contain her amazement; she laughed—a sound of pure bliss—knowing she would never forget the night she had danced with fairies; creatures that only lurked in her most whimsical dreams.
When the faeries finished, they scurried into a nearby willow, lighting it up like a holiday tree. Lily's smile didn't evaporate with the mystic creatures, though she was saddened to see them leave. She continued to walk in the rain, her heart filled with excitement instead of sorrow.
The pleasure evident on the girl's pretty face brought a grin to James'. It had never been a goal of his to make other people smile, cry or laugh; he had been too spoiled to care and hadn't realized what a joy it could be. Now, seeing the dreamy expression upon the stranger's face, he knew what it felt like and what his mother had selfishly never taught him.
Once the light show had concluded, James noticed the girl begin to depart. He felt a sudden urge to call out to her, but knew she wouldn't be able to hear him as she was too far away and the rainfall was too loud.
"To hell with that," James exclaimed, unbuttoning his suit jacket and pulling off his bow-tie. "No way I'm standing on the sidelines for this one."
James peeled off his jacket, unfastened his white shirt down to his chest and chucked his tie behind him. Then—with a jolt—he hurtled himself into the rain. He was determined to approach the girl, no matter how many puddles he had to stomp through or how many fishponds he had to swim across.
Lily knew it was time to leave the grounds and return to the hellish school she reluctantly called home. Though forlorn, she would return in good spirits, the night's events leaving her euphoric. Just as she began to approach the wrought-iron gates, she heard a soft, yet masculine voice call out, belonging to someone mere feet away.
"Excuse me, miss?" a dark-haired stranger called out.
Lily turned around in surprise, her eyes growing wide as she observed the handsome man standing before her. Blinded by panic, she did not entirely take in his attractive, half-naked appearance.
"I...I...I didn't mean to trespass. Please don't report me to the police," Lily pleaded, her voice quaking from a combination of alarm and cold. It was hard to think straight—to think herself out of the situation.
As she began to move away from the young man, her back eventually pressed up against the gate. Backed into a corner like a scared puppy, all Lily could think about was how much trouble she would be in once she was returned to Sister Agatha in handcuffs…
"You aren't in any kind of trouble," the man said offhandedly, trying to reassure her of her safety.
"You mean...you aren't upset that I'm trespassing…on P-P-Potter property?" Lily stuttered, a bundle of nerves. She couldn't believe how wimpy she sounded.
"No, I'm not angry you're on my property," he replied, perhaps emphasizing that he was a Potter in an attempt to impress or intimidate her. "However, I am curious as to why you're here. Come under one of these trees so I can hear your answer properly; the rain is muffling everything you say."
Thinking she had no other choice, Lily followed the man under a large willow tree—the very same one that housed the mythical faeries. Though drips of water still slithered through the wispy leaves, it was much easier to hear under the conditions and truly take in the figure before her. She trembled when she noticed how close she and the handsome man were, their soaked bodies nearly pressed up against one another's.
"Now then, your story, if you please," the man commanded smoothly. Though he held eye contact with her—a pillar of confidence—she thought she'd caught his eyes briefly slipping down to her cleavage. She blushed.
"It's quite an interesting tale, to be sure—" Lily began awkwardly, reluctant to tell the stranger the circumstances in which she had found herself, "—but I don't want to bore you with my little adventure."
He grinned, causing her to direct her shy stare to the wet grass.
What's wrong with me?
"I don't think you know just how much you've intrigued me," he replied, Lily looking up at him with doubt etched across her face. "I don't run into many drenched damsels, you see."
Lily swallowed. The stranger's eyes were the oddest color she had ever seen; a soft brown shade, like melted chocolate, with flecks of purple swimming within the distinctive hue. She felt momentarily lost in those eyes—the same that regarded her with fascination.
She quickly shifted her eyes away, aware that she was openly staring at the roguish man's staggering features and physique. She blushed again; she had absolutely no idea how to react to men. She did, after all, attend an all girls' school devoid of men.
"I'm no damsel, but I suppose I am an odd sight to behold," Lily finally whispered, trying to gain some composure under the man's intense gaze.
"I wouldn't have chosen the word "odd." Perhaps unique...in a beautiful way," the stranger said genuinely, his boldness appearing to shock even himself.
Again, Lily was at a loss of words, having no idea how to respond to such a compliment. Every time the beautiful man spoke to her she wished he would stop, as she could neither form an intellectual sentence nor control the persistent tingling up her spine.
"Thank you, Lord Potter."
Lord James Potter, however, did not think she was sputtering due to nerves; he instead surmised that she was shivering due to her wet, tantalizingly low-cut dress. He watched as a tiny drop of water splashed onto her chest, slowly traveling down between her exquisite cleavage...
"Please...call me James," he replied, his husky voice catching as he jerked himself out of his lusty-stupor and looked up into her eyes once more. She didn't know that he could barely tear them away from her; barely control himself from reaching out and touching her...
"You're James Potter?" Lily ventured suspiciously, regaining some of her strength as she remembered the girls she served detention with speaking of his party. "The man with the 'brilliant birthday bash' that was spoken about in the papers?"
"Yes, I just turned twenty," he replied, glad she seemed to take somewhat of an interest in him. "Did you make the invite list? I don't recall seeing you inside—"
"Me?" Lily snorted in amusement, an ironic smile lighting her face. "I very much doubt I would merit an invitation to a party like yours. In fact, I expect I'd be regarded as common riff-raff not fit to clean your shoes."
Her comment made him frown. "I wish you wouldn't say that," James said in annoyance, frustration evident in his voice. "I'm no better than you or the local beggar around the corner, so please don't diminish yourself."
Lily was taken aback: she never would've fathomed a high society gentleman to be anything but pompous and ignorant. She'd been wrong to assume James Potter was an old man, and now was wrong about him being an arrogant fop too.
Today has been a downright revelation...
"I must confess, Lord Potter—" Lily started, swallowing back her bashfulness.
"James," the waterlogged gentleman corrected her.
"James," Lily's voice was shaky as she spoke his name. "You are not the man I assumed you to be...to be perfectly honest I had you pinned as an old wrinkled aristocrat."
James smiled as he ran a hand through his messy, wet hair. As water irritably beaded on his glasses, he took them off and put them in his back pocket. "I see you don't read the tabloids."
"Sorry," Lily apologized, though a small smile played on her blue lips, "I don't waste my time with gossip magazines."
Though I might start reading them now...
"You're shivering," James said, taking off his white dress-shirt and wrapping it around an uncoordinated and slightly embarrassed Lily. "Are you cold?"
Lily wished James hadn't taken off his shirt, for his muscular chest was seductively built and cruelly tempting. It took a small reserve of will power for her not to let a sigh of approval emit from her lips as he wrapped the damp shirt around her. Did all society gentlemen act in such a way?
"This really isn't necessary...perhaps I should be on my way," Lily murmured, battling the conflicting feelings that commanded her to both stay and go. "It's getting quite late—"
"I couldn't possibly let you march back home in the state you're in," James said, his jaw set stubbornly. "Not to mention it isn't safe for a young lady to be walking the streets at night."
"I assure you, James, I am more than capable of taking care of myself," Lily defied him, letting her fiery personality peek through the gentle and helpless façade she imagined puke-worthy. She needed to get a grip.
"I didn't think otherwise, Miss...?" James paused. "You haven't told me your name yet."
"It's not important," Lily said offhandedly, looking away from James' curious glance and turning her attention toward the dewy grass once more.
"What are you afraid of?" he asked, his brow creasing.
"I just..." Lily started, looking into James' dessert-coloured eyes. "What's the point of giving you my name if you will never see me again?"
"Why do you presume that? I may see you again...perhaps you'll be taking a stroll down the street, or doing something else common; either way, I won't know how to address you," James persisted.
The stubborn man leaned against the tree heedlessly, his hair a complete mess and his bare chest exposed to the rain and chilly night air. Lily wondered if he knew how appealing he looked as he positioned himself, looking more like Hercules than an actual man.
James noticed Lily's persistent trembling was growing worse, reckoning that if she stood outside in such a divulging dress any longer she would catch her death. Instead of investigating her name any further, James reached for her hand.
"What are you doing?" Lily asked, her heart leaping as James' fingers became entwined with her own.
"I'm taking you inside the manor. I can't have you quivering to death out here," James replied, concerned as he registered her clammy, wet skin.
"I couldn't possibly go in there!" Lily yelped in surprise. "I must be getting home—"
"I've already made it clear I'm not letting you walk home alone at this hour," James said, matching the girl's obstinacy, "Lord knows what some of those street men would do to you if they found you alone and in that dress." After all, I know what I want to do to you in that dress, he thought.
"I can handle myself, thank you very much!" Lily countered, her green eyes flashing defensively. "I'm not your problem."
To Lily's surprise, James took evasive action and rapidly pinned her against the tree they both dwelled beneath. He used his body to entrap her, holding her arms over her head. It made her damn cleavage even more famous.
"What are you doing?" Lily shrieked in protest as James' bare chest pressed against hers.
"Try and get out of this situation—" James said, a calculating smirk on his attractive face. "—then perhaps I'll let you attempt to take on the lustful men lurking about at this ungodly hour."
Lily's gaze was venom, though she had to admit it'd been a miracle she hadn't encountered any street trash on her way to the Potter mansion in the first place. She began to panic, knowing she couldn't break out of James' hold on her and that the sun would rise in a few hours. What would Sister Agatha say when she found Lily's bed empty?
"I must return home immediately," Lily said inflexibly. "You cannot prevent me!"
"And that, my dear, is where you are incorrect." James replied in a mischievously-innocent tone.
Before Lily could even blink, James Potter had her slung over his shoulder, her upper body draped down his naked back. He trotted back into the heavy downpour toward the mansion as she pounded on his back, cursing like a pirate.
"You're appalling language isn't going to get you anywhere—" James exclaimed as he cautiously entered the back of the mansion, hoping to slip in unnoticed. "—so I suggest you cease your sputtering so my guests don't realize our arrival."
He smoothly deposited Lily back onto her feet, cringing when he met her sharp glare. Though she was soaked to the bone and her face was scrunched up in anger, he still found her irresistible.
How is it possible that this woman leaves me breathless with little to no effort on her part? Women barely prompt me to smile, never mind swoon...he thought.
"Well excuse me if I don't comply with you kidnapping me," Lily whispered irritably, though her anger weakened as she began to look about the mansion. "Where are we going?"
James breathed a sigh of relief, glad the woman's tone had softened and her shivering had ceased. As she was still in a soaked dress, he would provide her with a clean, dry one and then walk her home—a task he hoped would extend over a long period of time.
"We'll head up to my quarters and I'll fetch you a dry dress—" James whispered, hoping no intoxicated guest lurked around the corner, "—then I'll walk you home."
"If you insist," Lily huffed, relenting to James and his stubborn demands: she figured it was pointless to argue with him, and was suddenly curious to explore the rest of the Potter mansion...
James seized Lily's clammy hand and led her into a lavish hallway, chock-full of priceless antiques, satin upholstery and a glittering chandelier that proceeded over the impressive entrance. Lily noticed that the high ceiling in the entrance hall—which housed the grand staircase—had intricate designs engraved into it, displaying breath-taking images of angels, fairies and other creatures Lily had not seen before. As they walked beneath it, Lily could hear the soft tinkling of glasses and song from behind the oak doors near the staircase.
The odd-appareled pair made their way toward the staircase, but before Lily had even ascended the first step, she felt James pull her back into a small alcove under the flight of steps. She attempted to complain about the manhandling, but the words didn't have a chance to escape her lips as she felt him press one of his hands over her mouth.
"Someone is coming," James whispered in Lily's ear as one hand covered her lips and the other crept around her waist—a protective gesture she supposed. She felt sure he could feel her quiver beneath his touch.
James' intuition was correct, for two stunning women stopped abruptly before the carpeted stairs. They froze in the positions they were in, hoping the women would soon move to a more appropriate location to chat.
"Well? Have you and Lord Potter danced yet?" one of the beautiful young ladies asked her companion, twirling her shiny locks between her spidery fingers.
"No, but I expect he is just intimidated by my looks and charm," a pompous female said airily, her nose upturned. "After all, it isn't everyday he meets a woman that would make the perfect wife."
Lily heard James snort as the woman continued to speak of her beauty and talent. Hes gradually dropped his hand from Lily's lips and rested it on her bare shoulder; however, he was so entertained by the two women's chatter that he didn't notice his hand slipping down towards Lily's breasts...
"If that hand slips any lower I will box you in the nose," she hissed in James' ear, causing him to send a bashful look her way.
"—I mean, it's apparent that James is fond of me," the flaxen woman continued as Lily and James focused on them again. "The impious looks he sends me are enough to make my knees go weak! Don't you dare mention this to anyone, but I most certainly wouldn't wait until marriage to get him in my bed…"
Lily looked over her shoulder, finding James' face contorted in repulsion and fury. Whoever the woman was, it was obvious to her that James was not fond of her.
"Miss Collins has some effrontery," James said in a low growl, his lips tickling Lily's ear. "The only looks I send her are ones of contempt."
Lily looked at the blonde woman again. Miss Collins seemed to fit her stereotypical outlook on the wealthy to a tee, exuding arrogance and privilege from her very pores. It was intriguing to know James did not find such a dazzling woman beautiful, for Lily herself thought she was the epitome of perfection.
Mere minutes later, an older gentleman beckoned the two women back into the dining hall, announcing they would be singing "Happy Birthday" to the guest of honour. The pair scurried away, not wanting to miss any important festivities or a glimpse of Lord James Potter.
"My mother is going to be furious," James said merrily as he pulled Lily out from the alcove and up the plush-carpeted stairs.
"I expect she has reason to be!" Lily stammered as she trudged up the stairs behind him, trying not to fumble on her dress hem. "The guest of honour had gone missing at his own party."
"Like I give a damn about what my mother thinks," James shot back, holding Lily's forearm to prevent her from tripping as she missed a step. "Besides, I don't care what a room full of stuffy, society-infatuated people think of me."
Lily couldn't help but admire James' crass outlook on his own self- image: it was much like Lily's, for she didn't care about what the nuns or other peers thought of her either.
"My room is this way," James said formally, leading Lily down a hallway fashioned with marble sculptures, tapestries and oil paintings.
He fumbled with a rusty key in his trouser pocket when they finally stopped in front of his bedroom door. As James hastened to open it, Lily looked at one of the portraits and gasped, horrified.
"That painting just winked at me!" Lily mewed, tugging on James' arm.
"You're chilled and tired," James returned, scolding himself for forgetting she was a muggle. "It was probably just a trick of the light."
Her frown deepened. When he finally pushed open his bedroom door, Lily strolled in, reprimanding her flourishing imagination.
Her eyes flitted about James bedroom as he locked the door behind them to prevent any rude interruptions. Against the far wall was a magnificent four poster bed carved out of rosewood, expensive sheets and pillows adorning it, while another wall housed shelves stocked to the brim with books, all of them looking ancient and tattered. An inviting, crackling fire provided the massive room with warmth and light, lush chairs and a changing screen placed before it, and outside of James' door-length windows was a marble balcony overlooking the River Thames.
James let Lily take in the room's interior for a few moments before whipping open his cupboard and extracting a dress he quickly conjured with his wand. Lily was too fascinated with the gold trim on the spines of his old books to notice him perform magic.
"I've found a dress for you—" James watched as her attention returned to him. "—but I'll only give it to you if you provide me with your name."
"Are you still on about that?" Lily protested. "It really is of no consequence—"
"It's important to me," James spoke flatly, his gaze sweeping over Lily's flushed face. "I don't understand your reluctance to tell me."
Lily stared into the embers of the fire, hoping James would drop the subject. She wasn't sure why she was disinclined to reveal her name: she had always loved her name, just as she'd loved the flower she was named after, but divulging the small secret to him was like thoughtlessly gifting him her trust.
"Here, take this dress and change behind that screen," James sighed, surmising the girl would willingly turn into a glacier before telling him her name.
Lily took the purple dress from the rather forlorn-looking man and disappeared behind his screen. The fabric divider was placed before the fire and warmed her body as she feebly tried to worm out of the tight, saturated dress she adorned.
James' gaze lingered on his twiddling fingers as he plunged into one of the chairs by the fire, patiently awaiting the mysterious woman and pondering about her unwillingness to tell him her name. He lifted a brow when she came out from behind the screen wearing the same soaked dress.
"That was productive," James commented lightly, though his heart leapt at the look of virginity that passed over the girl's pretty porcelain features.
"I...well I...need your help getting this dress...off." Lily stuttered, clearing her throat as a violent blush coloured her face.
"W-What?" James asked in muted exhilaration, his pants uncomfortably tightening at the notion.
"I can't unclasp the buttons down the back," Lily whispered, wondering how she had managed to do it before. Embarrassment made her cheeks burn hot.
"Oh...not a problem," James said, trying to relax the sexual tension and clear his mind of all the wicked thoughts flooding his brain.
Lily turned her back toward James so that he could have access to her buttons. She thought he seemed reluctant, unaware he was internally berating himself for having such blessedly sinful imaginings.
James finally began to unfasten the buttons on Lily's dress, trying to suppress his hands from trembling at the sight of her exposed back. As he continued, Lily started to slightly quake, her breathing becoming laboured as his fingers mistakenly stroked her smooth skin.
"Almost done," he mumbled, surprised the beautiful stranger could render such emotion from him.
As James popped open the last button on Lily's soaked dress, his gaze could not be torn away from her skin. With the knuckles of his right hand, he traced them along the length of her spine, causing Lily to gasp in surprise and clasp a hand over her mouth.
She pulled away from James and disappeared behind the changing screen. Cursing his lack of restraint, James took a seat back on his armchair, shaking from the desire that coerced through his body. He had been intent upon being a gentleman, but he found her to be so tantalizing it was torturous.
Gain control of yourself, man!
James looked up toward the changing screen and whimpered quietly. He had received the partition—made out of beautiful Chinese silk—from a an official last year. Placed in front of the fire, James could see every curve of Lily's changing body perfectly, the silhouette clear as could be.
He sighed ruefully, turning his attention to the window to give the woman some privacy and put an end his sexual torment; he would certainly need a cold shower after this evening. James eventually got up and put on another dress shirt, thinking it inappropriate to be walking around shirtless so late at night, then opened the doors to his balcony. He stepped out onto the marble and looked out into the night. As it had stopped raining, only the sounds of the nocturnal darkness floated in from the frosty heavens.
Lily finally emerged from behind the elaborate Chinese screen wearing the plum-coloured dress—trimmed in lace—and a perplexed expression. She stood motionless for a few minutes, wondering when James would turn around and notice her...
"…Lord Potter?" Lily inquired, shaky from her last encounter with his lingering touch.
"James," he whispered in gentle frustration before turning around to face the her once again.
They stared into each other's eyes for what seemed an eternity: both seemed unwilling to break the silence that had overcome the room, both afraid of the foreign feelings that churned their stomachs.
"I...I should be going," Lily whispered, fidgeting awkwardly with the lace around the dress' cuffed sleeves.
"Of course," James said, looking towards the sky and noticing the horizon beginning to burn with orange and red hues. "It seems the sun is starting to come up."
Lily stepped out onto the balcony with James and admired the lovely landscape; however, her warm thoughts turned ice cold when she realized how long she had been out gallivanting around London.
"There is no need to accompany me back home," Lily said, anxiety building up inside her as the thought of Sister Agatha's furious face flashed before her eyes. "You have already done enough for me, and for that I thank you."
"I will be escorting you home; I don't care if you refuse to let me," James crossed his arms and stared at her; her previous nervousness evaporated once more.
"You are impossible to reason with," she exclaimed, admitting defeat.
"A personality trait I am glad to possess," James said smugly, chuckling as his eyes sparkled with laughter.
Lily followed him out of his stately bed quarters and into the adjoining corridor that led toward the grand staircase. She noticed she no longer heard the hustle and bustle of people downstairs, making it apparent that all the extravagant guests had left the Potter mansion and returned home.
The last thing she heard before scurrying down the carpeted stairs and out of the Potter mansion was the giant grandfather clock chiming five times. James noticed Lily's paranoid expression as he thrust open the large iron-gate at the front of the property. Worried, he clasped her hand and began to quickly pull her down the street.
"Where do you live?" James inquired as the clinking of Lily's heels echoed down the quiet streets of London.
"St. Madeline's boarding school," Lily slurred, her breathing becoming laboured.
James cocked an eyebrow and abruptly stopped running, causing Lily to slam back into his chest. She groaned, noticing that one of her spiky heels had snapped off.
"You could have warned me you were stopping! I'm not a rag-doll you can jerk around," she hissed in a mixture of annoyance and apprehension, taking off her destroyed pumps and shuddering as her bare feet made contact with the cold sidewalk.
"You snuck out of St. Madeline's?" James inquired in disbelief, completely ignoring her complaints. "The nuns will strap you if they find you missing from your bed!"
"So you can imagine why I am so eager to get back before they find it empty!" Lily cried.
"Merlin! Why didn't you say that from the start?" James exclaimed, a note of laughter in his voice. "Let's get you home! Are you partial to piggy-backs?"
Without gracing James with an answer, Lily jumped onto his back and threw her spoiled shoes to the curb.
As the large, bricked school finally came into view, Lily sighed in relief; however, she felt gloomy at the thought of her night of fantasy coming to a brutal conclusion.
"Head toward the wall with the vines, please," Lily whispered in James' ear, her arms wrapped around his neck to support herself.
"Excuse my bewilderment—" James started. "—but isn't it usually custom to enter a building through the front door?"
"Just do as I say," Lily said, rolling her eyes as a sheepish grin played upon her lips.
James—for once—did as he was told and headed toward the wild, serpent-like plant slithering up the brick wall. He gently eased Lily off of his back and onto the dewy lawn.
"You aren't climbing up there, are you?" James questioned, tearing his eyes away from her for a moment to observe their surroundings.
"I most certainly am," Lily said, smiling. "Will you catch me if I fall?"
"That depends," James said, grinning. "But I would love to see you attempt it in that gown."
Lily gave James a mocking look—one that James happily received—before grasping the thick foliage and starting her ascent to her attic. James watched the scene alertly, ready to catch her if she should slip; however, his attention was not needed as Lily reached her bedroom window and carefully entered the her sanctuary.
"Are you all right?" James called up toward her.
"I'm fine," Lily replied in a hushed tone, collecting herself and popping her red-haired head out of the window. "Would you fancy getting this purple dress back?"
"That won't be necessary—ooof!" James started before getting a face-full of lilac fabric.
He untangled himself from the frilly robe, almost stumbling to the ground, and could distinctly hear her tinkling laughter drifting down from above.
Lily leaned slightly out of her window, only her bare shoulders exposed to James' shameless gaze. While he collected himself, Lily admired how his charming, yet idiotic smile could rival the glittering sunrise behind him.
"You seemed awfully eager to squirm out of this outfit," James said, holding the still-warm dress before him. "Shall I climb up there and put you to bed?"
"Don't you dare!" Lily exclaimed, shyly covering her chest with her arms as if James were situated behind her, his eyes lingering on her naked figure. "Besides, you must be on your way."
"If you insist, my lady," James said, smirking at Lily's flushed cheeks.
He has a startling effect on me—Lily thought to herself as she watched James fold the silk gown and ready himself for the short journey home.
"Miss?" James called out once he was ready to leave. "I believe you forgot something."
Lily leaned slightly out of the window again, observing the small, white flower James clenched tightly in his hands. Her eyes widened: it was the flower she had picked from the garden so many hours ago, its delicate white petals still fresh and speckled with droplets of water.
"Shall I throw it up to you?" James inquired, seeing the desire twinkle in Lily's eyes. "Get ready to catch it!"
Lily had to extend quite a distance out of her attic window to catch the small blossom, giving James a staggering eye-full of unclothed, porcelain skin. She sharply backed into the attic again, gasping as she realized her mistake. Below, James was grinning from ear to ear, his body tingling with sexual excitement.
Lily placed the small flower on her nightstand gracefully and, before heading back to the window to bid the dashing lord farewell, threw on a dressing robe, making sure to tie the sash tightly around her waist.
"Goodbye, James. Thank you for all the exciting nonsense you put me through tonight," Lily said, leaning on her window-sill carelessly and giving James an unreadable smile.
"If you ever feel like sneaking out again, you know where to find me," James said, his grin faltering slightly at Lily's lack of enthusiasm.
"I don't think there will be another time, James," Lily replied, her eyes misting over, a mixture of dark green and gold swirls. "It's a miracle I didn't get caught this time around."
James' Cheshire cat smirk disappeared, leaving in its place a numb, indifferent look.
"I must be off then...goodnight," James murmured, giving Lily a meaningful look before gathering the plum dress in his arms and exiting the grounds.
Lily moped as she observed James Potter's retreating figure. Their good-bye exchange had been so abrupt and formal...
"JAMES!" Lily shouted.
James stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face the beckoning woman.
"Yes?"
"My name...is Lily," she spoke softly, relaxed fulfillment dawning on the impish Lord's features. She smiled and vanished into the obscure shadows of her enigmatic attic.
The dark figure paced tiredly off of the extensive school property, hands deep in the pockets of his pants. It would not be the last time James Potter would cross the pristine lawns of St. Madeline's Academy, nor would it be the last time he saw the woman that haunted his dreams that night.
Author's Notes
Please continue to read & review!
-pratty-prongs-princesse
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