That arrogant prick, Lily Evans thought as she stormed away from the Heads' Dorm in which she'd left James Potter and down to the Black Lake. Why did I ever think dating him would be a good idea?

Because you realised you're madly in love with him, a small voice in her head replied cheekily. Lily silenced it in a distracted manner and flung herself down at the base of a huge tree on the shore of the lake. She hurriedly kicked off her shoes and tugged off the scarlet-and-gold-striped knee socks she had been wearing in celebration of Gryffindor's final Quidditch game of the season, and tossed them to the side before extending her long, pale legs, and poking her toes into the pleasantly cool water of the lake.

Leaning her head back against the gnarly surface of the old oak tree behind her, she loosened her tie and let herself relax completely. A small wave washed over her feet all the way to the ankle and Lily let out a sigh of pleasure. She wasn't quite sure why she had run out on James exactly, all he was doing was being his normal arrogant self over Gryffindor's crushing victory in the House Cup Final, but somehow that which she normally found lovable irritated her to no end and made her storm outside.

Oh well, she mused as she let the water wash the day's grime off her feet, let him stew for a while. She'd make it up to him later, and she knew he would consider it worth it.

Slowly, she drifted off into a comfortable doze.


James is there in her dream.

It isn't surprising, really – in the past half a year, he's been in a lot of her dreams. Especially the very good ones, and she can tell already that this was one of them.

She's still sprawled against the trunk of the old oak tree by the shore of the lake, with her tie hanging half off, shoes and socks lying off to the side and legs slightly spread, ending in the water, but she's no longer alone; James is there. He's in the lake – for what reason, she doesn't know – and as she watches, he swims up to where her toes dangle and takes one in his mouth.

Lily giggles, and he bites down teasingly. She catches his eye, and sees there the expression she knows to mean she is in for a good time. Slowly, James spreads her legs and pushes himself out of the lake to crouch in front of her.

He's only wearing a pair of Gryffindor-coloured boxers, and she can see the water pouring off a chest defined by years of hard work on the Quidditch pitch. He winks at her, and all she can do is stay still as he closes the distance between them in one swift movement.

The water from his hair is dripping onto her shirt now, and she can feel the icy stings of the droplets on her chest; when she looks down, she sees that her shirt is unbuttoned and her breasts are on full display in a lacy black bra she doesn't recognise but James doesn't seem to mind. He shakes his head teasingly, and a fresh shower of water falls on her. A few rivulets are substantial enough to begin a journey down the curve of one breast, and she gasps as their cold path reaches her nipple, which instantly begins to stiffen.

James grins and reaches down to capture her lips in a kiss. His lips are cold and taste of bracken and lake water, but she doesn't mind; she never minds what he tastes like as long as she can taste it, and she is so focused on him, on his mouth, that she doesn't realise what else he is doing until his wet fingers unhook her bra, and as his arms come up to her shoulders to push away her flimsy blouse, she shivers in his grasp and rolls her shoulders, intentionally pushing her chest into his as the shirt is discarded.


On the shores of the lake, in reality, Lily is lay completely still as she dreamt of James. There were no other students nearby – no one to see that, from the seemingly bottomless black water of the lake, two tentacles had crept up. One of them wrapped around her ankle and began slowly curling its way up, while the other one pushed its way under her shirt and to her back, where it pushed at her bra strap until it succeeded in either opening it or breaking it, it didn't matter either way.

As the bra fell away, the tentacle made its way to Lily's front, where it was soon joined by a third tentacle, and slowly they began to toy with her breasts, making lazy circles around them, smaller circles each time until it was encircling her stiff nipples, pulling and squeezing at them as best a tentacle could. Lily let out a soft noise in her sleep, but that was her only reaction.

The tentacle by her ankle had, by now, reached halfway up her thigh, where it began to make soft strokes across her inner thighs, slowly making its way to the black panties so clearly visible against Lily's milky skin, the skirt and the slight spread of her legs granting easy access. Finally, the tentacle reached its goal, and ventured to gently drag its very thinnest tip along the border between skin and fabric.


As James throws her shirt aside, his other hand is already reaching to pull off the now-unhooked bra. Her full breasts pop out, nipples standing at attention, and he takes the briefest moment to appreciate them before returning to her mouth, giving attention to each rosy breast with his hands while ravishing her with his lips.

Lily is pliant under him, subjecting totally to his wishes, but at the same time wanting more, and when one of his hands leaves her bosom to travel down her body to caress the mound at the juncture of her thighs, she bucks against it impatiently. He gives a low chuckle, one which she feels reverberate through her body rather than hears, and gladly obliges her, pressing his hand fully against her.

She presses against him, again and again, and the friction she causes makes her moan; but it is nothing compared to what she feels when he finally (or so it seems to her, though it can't be more than a few moments after his hand first appeared there) tears off her underwear and slips a single finger between her folds, by now slick and almost dripping.

She sighs, a sigh of equal parts relief and pleasure, and he increases his pace until he has her crying out; his other hand remains at her breast, and as he squeezes one of her nipples at the opportune moment and bends down to kiss the other, she shouts out a final time and clenches around his hand. Her torso strains forward as she arches her back, and then she flops back against the tree with a gasp. Her arms reach out, and she grabs his face, pulls his mouth to her own, and in that moment she is convinced she could be no closer to him if she tries.


By then, no one could have doubted something was going on as they watched the Head Girl writhe around under the tree in what seemed to be ecstasy – there was still no one there to observe this unforeseen event, but had there been someone that someone could no longer have failed to see the involvement of the Giant Squid, for it was indeed the squid's that these tentacles surrounding her were.

There were more than three now, and they were all over her, but judging from the sounds coming from the sleeping Lily's mouth, or the way she moved, subconsciously, with the two tentacles thrusting within her, she had no problem with it.

Two tentacles pounded at her tender cunt, and at least another four were having their variously wicked ways with the rest of her, and the hitherto prim and proper Head Girl lay under the tree and moaned. At precisely the same moment as James in her dream, the tentacles finally pushed her over the edge into her climax, and the almost animalistic sound she emitted echoed around the lake for a good few seconds.

Soundlessly, the tentacles withdrew and slithered into the lake, and were it not for the girl leaning against the tree with weak knees and a heaving chest half-covered by a mangled shirt, no one would have known they were there in the first place.


Lily woke feeling sticky, with a distinct wetness between her legs and a deep throbbing in the pit of her stomach. Her shirt was partly ripped off, her skirt was flipped up over her waist, and her underwear were nowhere to be seen, there was a general smell of sex in the air, but she concerned herself with none of this; there was only one thought in her brain, James, she wanted James.

Without stopping to pick up her scattered belongings, she stood up, wavering for the slightest of moments on knees abnormally weak before taking off at a run in the direction of the castle and ultimately the Heads' Dorm in which she had left her boyfriend some time ago. She gave no thought to her appearance, or the curious if not entirely shocked glances she got from her fellow students as she rushed by them; she was singularly focused on getting to one room, on getting to one person in that room.

When she finally reached the portrait that hid the entrance to the Head Students' private quarters, she hardly waited for the portrait to swing forwards after she had gasped out the password before pushing her way through the short tunnel. James was sprawling on the sofa, leaning against one armrest, and she went straight to him, straddling him and leaning down to kiss him.

Instinctively, his arms went around her and he kissed her back, but then she reached down to undo his pants and his brain took over, even if his body was rather reluctant to give up control. He pushed her back, taking hold of her chin to make her look at him.

"Lils?" he asked curiously, "everything okay?"

She looked down at him fiercely. "James Potter, if you do not fuck me right now, so help me God I will –"

But what she would have done James never found out, because that was affirmation enough for him; he pulled her face back to his and let her keep working at his fly, and it didn't take long before his cock was poking out, fully erect, and in a series of frantic movements James grabbed Lily's hips and she impaled herself on him. They were both gasping, and reaching out to touch whatever part of each other they could reach, James's stomach, Lily's breasts, James's neck, Lily's hair; and it was not long before Lily fell into utter bliss for the second time that night, this time dragging what she realised to be the love of her life with her.