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"McKinnon, what's the best snog you've ever had? It better be me."
Sirius waggles his eyebrows at Marlene, who snorts and elbows him in the side. Next to her, Mary has her arm slung around Marlene's shoulders, and she's chatting with Remus. Lily's a few steps behind her friends, watching the conversation with interest, and Peter is hovering on Sirius' left, perking up immediately.
James smiles slightly, warmth filling his chest. He's glad that their friend groups are getting along— in fact, they're getting along so well that he's spent more time with the Gryffindor Seventh-Year girls these past two months than all of their first five years of Hogwarts.
"Don't flatter yourself, Black. I was fifteen and drunk; I hardly even remember the kiss."
Sirius scoffs in response, and James snickers, remembering the New Year's party they had thrown in the Common Room during the fifth year. Marlene had been dared to kiss Sirius, so she'd waltzed over to him, pulled his head down to hers, and kissed him for several seconds before letting go. Many people had thought they'd get together after that, but they'd ended up dancing around each other, flirting terribly, until Marlene came out as a lesbian at the end of the year.
"Best snog... Florence Garter, nine out of ten," Marlene decides.
"Florence?" Mary interjects, wrinkling her nose. "But she was two years older than us!"
Marlene only smirks in response, flipping her hair over her shoulder and ignoring Mary and Lily's scandalized exclamations.
"You never told us!" Lily cries. "Mar! It's the friend code!"
"Worst snog," Marlene continues, continuing to ignore her friends, "Is definitely Matthew Langden. I was a fourth-year, he was a fifth-year, and it was my first kiss."
Mary makes a retching noise and sends her friends into a fit of giggles. "That's the bloke whose mouth smelled of garlic, isn't it?"
James can't help but bring his hand up to his mouth to discreetly check his breath, before lowering it quickly, embarrassed, and hoping that no one noticed.
"Definitely a two out of ten max. Your turn, Remus," Marlene says, inclining her head to where he stands, hands tucked awkwardly into the pockets of his robe.
"Well..." Remus clears his throat, his face flushing. "I've only had a couple of kisses, but... worst one? Veronica Stinch. It was a Dare in third-year," He adds with a grimace. "She was a year above us, remember? Three out of ten. It was unbelievably awkward."
The group continues to move down the hallway at a snail's pace, with no specific destination in mind other than the Common Room, jostling and laughing with each other. James is content to remain on the sidelines, smiling softly as his friends enjoy themselves.
"And best?" Sirius prods, a wicked smile on his face.
Remus coughs, definitely blushing now. "Rather not say, actually."
A chorus of oohs comes from the girls, and Lily pouts adorably, her green eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Come on, Remus, it's part of the game!" She says brightly.
Remus shakes his head and ducks it, embarrassed, still blushing. "Maybe another time."
Sirius is still grinning widely, but he only claps Remus across the back and turns to James.
"What about you, Prongs? Best and worst songs?" Sirius suggests, raising an eyebrow. James tries to keep his eyes from darting toward Lily but fails miserably. He reminds himself that he's allowed to look at Lily, but not when the conversation is about snogging, because he's likely to give away his emotions just by eye contact. And now that they're properly mates, he wouldn't ruin that friendship for anything, least of all his unrequited affections for a certain redheaded Head Girl.
Now flustered, James turns his attention back to Sirius. "Er, worst snog... Louise Pickory. It was some party in the Hufflepuff Common Room back in our fifth year. I think we were both drunk," He admits sheepishly. "Three out of ten."
"And the best?" Someone asks, and James is startled to find that the voice belongs to Lily, who's watching him with an even expression. He tries to keep himself from blushing, and his hand jumps to his hair, missing it nervously.
He thinks back to who his best kiss was with. It could be Liv Smith, the Hufflepuff who had been a year above them that he had had a with-benefits relationship during fifth-year, or maybe Catherine, his Muggle girlfriend the summer after...
"Moira," He decides, naming the ex-girlfriend that he dated the first few months of his sixth year. "Moira Cashington. She was a good kisser." He tries to push away the uncomfortable prickling at the back of his neck from talking about his exes with Lily Evans.
Marlene whistles in response, and his attention is pulled away from Lily, who had tugged her bottom lip in between her teeth, her expression unreadable. Marlene raises a knowing eyebrow in his direction, and he smiles sheepishly in response.
"Rating?" Mary asks curiously, a hand on her hip.
"Erm," He says awkwardly, ruffling his hair again. "Nine out of ten."
Once again, he doesn't meet Lily's gaze and instead turns to where Sirius and Peter stand, the former looking incredibly amused.
"Prongs," Sirius drawls, leaning forward with an expression that screams trouble, "If you had to kiss dear Evans here, what do you think you would rate it?"
James' eyes widen and he immediately thinks ten out of ten, obviously, but knows that if he blurts that out it would be painfully obvious that he still has feelings for her.
Carefully avoiding her gaze, he says as casually as he can manage, "I dunno, an eight, or something?"
Lily makes an affronted noise and he turns his attention back to her, immediately regretting it. Her lips are pursed and her bright green eyes are narrowed, her hand perched on her hip at the waist of the gray school skirt that flares out past her hips. She looks bloody gorgeous, and she doesn't even realize it.
"You think I would be a worse snog than your ex?" She asks, sounding annoyed. James blinks, confused and slightly alarmed, but with enough sense to know that whatever answer he says is going to be the wrong one.
Meanwhile, their mates are looking on with badly concealed amusement, Sirius openly grinning by now.
"I didn't say that!" James says quickly.
"You said I would be an eight," Lily says stubbornly. "And Cashington was a nine, so you think I'm a worse kisser than her."
James opens his mouth and closes it, trying to choose his words carefully.
They've completely stopped walking now, their group of seven pausing near a staircase to watch James and Lily argue.
"I mean..." James trails off and knows by Lily's murderous expression that he's said the wrong thing, but he doesn't know why.
"I don't know! How am I supposed to know?" He defends, starting to become slightly annoyed. Lily's still glaring at him, a hard expression on her face, and he half expects her to whip out her wand and hex him even though he's done nothing wrong.
"You think I'm such a prude that I would be an awful snog," Lily accuses.
James gapes, alarmed. "I never said you're a—"
She takes a step closer to him, her thick red hair tumbling over her shoulder, hands still on her waist, eyes still blazing.
"You think I'm an eight out of ten?" She demands, now so close to him that he can't think straight. His thoughts are consumed by Lily, Lily, Lily and the smell of her conditioner wafting up to his nose.
"No, I—" He stammers, words failing him.
"Well," Lily says, barely an inch away from him. His gaze is trained on her lips; red and soft and incredibly enticing. It's like the rest of the hallway has fallen out of the picture, and it's just James and Lily's red, red lips.
"I'll have you know that Lily Evans doesn't do anything less than astounding, and that includes kissing," She says lowly, her breath ghosting his face. Then her hand grabs his collar and he's shoved backward, his legs and back hitting the stone wall, and her lips are on his and he can no longer form any coherent thoughts.
When he's pictured his first kiss with Lily Evans before, it's always been slow, languid, and sweet; tender and loving and gentle.
This is the complete opposite of that.
From the first moment she kisses him it's fierce and passionate, her lips moving against his rapidly, her right hand pressing his chest to the wall and her left one tangling in his hair and pulling his head down to meet her kiss. He kisses her back fervently and complies readily when her tongue swipes across his lips and darts into his mouth. He takes a second to thank fate that he had a choco-mint earlier that day until all other thoughts are shot from his mind when he feels her hands moving across him, sliding down his body sensually, the pace incredibly slow compared to the speed of their lips and tongues.
Belatedly, he wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and lets the other hand travel up and down her body before resting low on her waist. The kisses only get faster, and he takes the opportunity to tangle his hands in her hair like he's imagined so many times before, relishing in the softness and its sweet smell. He bites on her lip gently, questioningly, and allows himself a satisfied smile when she groans in reply, the sound reverberating deeply in her throat. It's his turn to groan when she retaliates by her hands moving down, down, down to squeeze his bum slightly, and he can't help but think Lily Evans is touching my bum for a moment before he lets his hands travel downward to clutch at her lower hips, her flesh soft and curving beneath his hands.
She slows the kisses, littering little pecks around his mouth, his jaw, his chin, before finally leaving one last, lingering kiss on his lips and pulling away slowly, her hands moving off of his body. He almost groans from the loss of warmth but stops in his tracks when he sees her face.
She looks thoroughly debauched, her hair messy, her shirt somehow untucked (though he can't remember doing that), her skirt riding up her thighs, and her lips swollen and unbelievably red.
He gasps for breath like a fish out of water, unable to form any words when she looks like that and she just kissed him like that.
"I—" He tries, his voice coming out choked, and Lily's expression goes from apprehensive to a satisfied smirk.
He's suddenly aware of the five other people surrounding them, and that several others have apparently stopped to watch the spectacle of Lily Evans kissing James Potter, and he blushes furiously under their stares.
"How's that for a snog?" Lily asks smugly, taking deep breaths herself and smoothing out her skirt. "I daresay that was better than an eight out of ten."
He opens his mouth to respond, to say anything, most likely that was the best goddamn kiss I've ever had and you're a bloody tease, but before he can say anything she turns on her heel, her skirt flaring around her thighs, and strides away, her head held high, her wide grin not wavering at all.
In her wake, she leaves a shellshocked James Potter, still unconvinced that this isn't a dream.
Finally, finally, several moments of silence later, he finds his voice.
"Bloody hell, Evans— I don't— that was—" He chokes out, before he stops floundering and straightens up slightly, still standing with his back against the stone wall.
Everyone around him is watching curiously, and he knows they're wondering what he'll rate Lily's kiss; knows that there's no way that he can rate a kiss like that, not when it doesn't even compare to any other girl he's kissed before.
A slow smile spreads across his face as he sees a familiar face hovering at the end of the corridor, her eyebrows raised and the lips he can still remember tasting pulled up into a smug grin.
"A thousand out of ten."