The Sweetest Death

He was dying.

He was sure of it.

There was a sharp, persistent pounding in his head, the pain there only surpassed by the pain in his ears, which were partially blocked up. Or maybe it was surpassed by rawness of his throat. It was awfully hard to swallow and even harder to talk; the only sounds he could produce were rasps and pitiful wheezes. Come to think of it, though, his nose was pretty achy. Stuffed up and sneezey with those sudden sorts of sneezes that nearly shoot your lungs right of your nose wasn't exactly fun. Oh, and his left eye kept twitching....

All in all, James was a right mess.

A right dying mess, for sure.

Maybe that was a little excessive, as far as things went. It was just a cold, a dead nasty one at that. But you never knew. Anything was possible.

The cold could very well kill him.

And if the cold didn't kill him, Evans definitely would.

Evans.

Shite.

He was standing her up right that very minute.

Well, not that he was standing or anything, as he was currently a big ball of duvets and self-pity on the middle of his four-poster.

Still and all, Lily was not going to be chuffed about any of this.

If the Fates had any mercy, maybe they'd let the cold claim him now. Surely that would be kinder than leaving him to face the wrath of a scorned Lily Evans?

It was a Hogsmeade day and he was to have met her for tea at some horrid little teashop where all the birds dragged their blokes for hand-holding and tacky decorations. When Lily had suggested it, he had wanted to turn her down straight away but she gave him a look that made his stomach flip-flop and he couldn't refuse. Besides, it was the first time that she had asked him for another date and he didn't want to bugger this up. It'd taken him years to get her to agree to give him the time of day and if she deliberately wanted to make him suffer through bad tea and the sounds of couples far less attractive than them snogging just to prove that he'd do anything to be able to spend time with her, he would gladly do it.

If only he hadn't gotten the blasted cold and overslept.

Groaning (and then wincing immediately after doing so because of the strain on his tender throat), he kicked the duvet down his legs and rolled over.

Definitely too late. The dorm was empty; Sirius, Remus, and Peter had left without him. But oh ho, someone at least has the decency to leave behind a note of some sort.

Probably Moony.

Sitting up, James coughed and rubbed at his eyes, then leaned over the small bedside table. It was a bit of a strain, but he managed to catch a corner of the parchment between two fingers, drawing it toward him.

His glasses were on the table as well and, since he couldn't be arsed to reach for them, so he just squinted and held the note as close to his face as possible. Because his eyesight was utter crap, the words were still a touch blurry but he managed to work them out.

James--

You look like utter shite.

Get some beauty sleep.

God and Merlin know you need it, you manky git.

Be back later,

--Sirius

Rolling his eyes, James wadded the note in his fist and plopped back on the bed, wallowing in his misery. Of all the days to sleep late.... Git mates he had, letting him sleep through a Hogsmeade day. They didn't know he was to meet Lily for tea, so it wasn't as though they actually wanted him dead, he decided after a small amount of consideration. They'd just left him sleeping and behind for his own health or his own good or something. Wankers. Lobbing the note across the room without so much as propping himself up to see where it landed, he sighed a world-weary sigh. Misery. This was absolute misery.

Out of nowhere a sneeze came on and James' shoulders lifted off of the mattress from the force of it. Eyes watering, he wiped at his nose with the back of his hand and made a few whimpering sounds as he settled back down. Not like anyone could hear him or anything, but it made him feel a little better all the same.

But then he thought about just how cross Evans was going to be with him and it caused any momentary relief from his little self-pity party to instantly dissolve.

Bugger.

He sneezed again and then cursed.

He was a dead man. No sense whatsoever in forcing himself out of bed and shuffling down to the hospital wing for some Pepper-Up Potion. When the students returned from Hogsmeade as sunset, he'd be a dead man.

Here Lies James Harfoot Potter
A Handsome Bloke Felled By A Scorned Bird

That sounded about right. Maybe he'd get one of those smart rose granite stones. That would be close enough to Gryffindor colours. Maybe a nice griffin carved at the top and--

The door swung open and then slammed shut. Probably Peter. He had a weak stomach; without fail, he always ate something at Honeydukes that disagreed with him and came back early. Well, this would be fun. They could commiserate together and maybe James could get him to recopy his Charms notes for him.

"All right, Peter?" James croaked, mentally cursing himself for not just grunting in greeting or something. His throat was like murder.

"No," said a clipped voice that was decidedly not Peter's, as Peter would not use such a tone with him and definitely did not sound like a bird. "I'm not all right, you insufferable toerag. And I'm not Peter."

Oi.

Death, party of one. Right this way.

"Hullo, Evans," said James slowly, feeling a scratch in his throat with each syllable, propping himself up on one elbow. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Yes, fancy seeing me here, I'm sure, although I was certain that we made arrangements to meet at Madam Puddifoot's about a half-hour ago. Silly me, mucking up the place!" She crossed her arms about her chest and glared at him, leaning against a post at the foot of Remus' bed.

"Look, Lily," said James around a cough, eyes widening with surprised as he managed to form actual words. "I didn't mean to--"

"Oh, no, you didn't mean to make me out to be a fool, did you, James Potter? You just strung me along, asking me out on date after date until I decided that I should ask you out for a change finally and then you skived off on me!"

"I'm dying!" he protested, voice breaking. "That's the only reason I'd skiv off on you, Evans. Only DEATH would get in the way of me seeing you." Now, James wasn't entirely sure this was going to make her reconsider her anger, so he played the only hand he had left. He raised a hand to his head and fluffed up the back of his already-messy hair. The windblown-just-got-off-the-broom-look.

Lily snorted. "What are you doing?"

He lowered his hand guiltily, then thought better of it and adopted a wounded expression. "I don't know what you're talking about, honestl--" He sneezed again, then coughed and moaned pitifully.

"Oh, James," Lily said after a long moment of silence, pushing off of the bedpost and crossing to James' bed.

Eying him shrewdly, she sat on the edge of his mattress, looking him over.

His eye started bloody twitching again.

Clapping a hand over said eye, he whined and reached out for her with his free hand.

"See?" he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up while he threaded his fingers with hers. "Dying. Only death can keep me and you apart, Lily Evans. But I think you're an angel of some sort, cos suddenly I'm feeling a tiny bit better."

She didn't say anything to that, although he could tell by the way her lips were pursing that she wanted to berate him but wasn't sure if she should laugh first or not. "Let me see your eye," she said finally.

"No!" He pressed his hand tighter over his eye, which was still twitching, much to his chagrin.

"Why not?"

"Because it's FREAKISH, that's why. It's trying to leap right out of my HEAD."

"James," said Lily calmly. "Your eye will not try to leap out of your head. Now, stop being a prat and let me see." Smoothing hair off of his forehead, she added, "You sound horrid. Have you been to Madam Pomfrey? I expect you have a temperature; your forehead is burning up."

"I haven't," he admitted as he withdrew his hand.

"And why not?" asked Lily, placing a hand under his chin and lifting his head up a bit, inspecting him properly.

"Cos I've been too weak to do much of anything," he rasped, closing his eyes. The light pressure of her fingers on his chin left and his head rolled to the side. Pressing his cheek against the pillow, he added helpfully, "Really weak. It's impressive I even have the strength to go on."

"Hush," Lily admonished. The mattress dipped slightly as she changed her position on the bed, swinging a leg over his thighs and straddling him.

Yeah, she was definitely straddling him.

Opening up the non-twitchy eye, he confirmed as much, then opened up the other as well.

"What?" said Lily, tipping her head to the side and staring down at him.

"Nothing."

She frowned, fingers brushing along his side. "If you won't go to the hospital wing, you ought to take some tea and honey. It'll help."

James quirked a brow, threading his fingers together and shifting to rest his head on his joined hands. "Help with what, exactly? Is that some sort of Muggle cure?"

That earned him a rather large roll of the eyes. "No," said Lily as though she were explaining something to a toddler. "It's not a cure, not like a potion. Tea and honey helps to ease the discomfort in your chest and sore throat. It also clears up any extraneous mucus at the same time."

"You're a romantic sort, Evans," said James with a wrinkle of his nose.

Lifting her brows, Lily rewarded him with a scathing look. Taking her wand from her back pocket, she conjured up a small tea service, levitating it beside the bed.

"Give me a moment, James, and I'll have you feeling better in no time," she said as she slid off of the bed.

He really wasn't in the mood for tea, to be perfectly honest.

"Lily?" he said said hoarsely, then coughed into his hand.

He heard the metallic clank of the kettle being sat down, followed by a "Yes, James?"

"I've got an awful lot of discomfort."

"Oh, you have, have you?"

"Yes. Tonnes." She turned round to face him and he gave a little whimper for emphasis, patting a spot next to him on the bed.

"Show me where," she said simply, taking a seat.

His face screwed up for a second and then he pointed to his temple.

"Here."

"Poor thing," she said seriously, then leaned over and pressed her lips to the spot.

"And here," he added, letting his eyes fall closed and pointed to the twitchy one. A moment later he felt her lips brush over his lid. "And here, too." He pointed to his mouth.

"You're so brave," Lily said dryly, but she kissed him there, too, anyway. Grinning against her mouth, it took James but a beat to return the kiss, their lips moving slowly against each other, tongues flicking and retreating and circling.

"Mmm," he said, pulling back. "Angel. That's what I said."

"I'm no angel, Potter," she whispered, laying a hand on his chest.

"Siren, then."

Lily snorted, but, when James opened his eyes, he could have sworn up and down that her cheeks coloured.

"Oh!" said Lily abruptly, turning toward the tea service. "Your tea!"

Beside her, James stretched, making small and pitiful noises. "But I have an awful lot of discomfort," he said again. "I don't think tea's going to be able to fix everything."

"It's the honey that really helps," she said absently, speaking over the clinking of dishes.

"Is it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Well, I'd like to be helped."

The jostling of the dishes stopped. "You would?"

If James didn't know any better, it sounded an awful lot like Lily was up to something.

Intrigued, he said, "Yeah, I would."

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Do you trust me, James?"

"They're closed."

"Good."

He lay there, wondering what she was scheming.

There was a fair amount of shifting and then she was straddling him once more. His hands automatically settled on her thighs, fingers brushing against her corduroy trousers.

"Hold still." Her voice was low, almost lilting, and he nodded. Then the hem of his shirt was being pushed up his chest, air cool on his skin. James sighed from the sensation of it, then gasped when he felt something trickle and pool on his stomach.

"What the sodding hell--"

"Hold. Still."

Trust her. Just trust her.

More of the something drizzled down his stomach and he inhaled deeply, then felt instantly foolish. Honey.

Oh.

Well then.

Lily's tongue laved across his chest just then and all was bloody right with the world. Right then and there, James decided that honey was the best thing known to man and that he was going to make sure he had some on hand at all times. Oh yes.

Groaning a little, his shoulders dug down into the mattress and his back bowed into a C, pushing his stomach against her mouth. This was brilliant. He didn't even give a toss if it was a bit sticky. Lily Evans had poured honey on him and was eating it off of his stomach. He could die tomorrow and be completely happy about it. She licked and then nibbled on a bit of flesh, before moving down a bit more. Sometimes she sucked on his skin and every once in a while she lightly bit at him and it was sofuckinghot and he couldn't stand it.

He'd just decided that they would have to have tea and honey at all of their Head Boy/Head Girl meetings when he felt hands yank down pyjama bottoms and then oh hells there went his shorts -

And there was a hand wrapped around his cock.

A small hand that had that permanent ink stain on the index finger. Lily's hand.

Maybe she was trying to kill him, after all.

He gasped, gritting his teeth and flopping back onto the bed.

"I promised I'd be having you feeling better in no time."

"Nnnghhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmm."

How could he possibly be more coherent than that when her hand was fisting around him like that? She squeezed and then stroked up, down, up, down, following those motions with a swipe across the head of his cock, thumb pressing against the slit, then slipped her hand back down the length, tracing the vein on the underside. James was having an awfully difficult time not ramming his cock through her fist and he had an even harder time not coming on the spot when her fingers pushed back the foreskin and she sucked on the head before taking him entirely in her mouth.

God.

Of course, she was as brilliant at sucking his cock as she had been at wanking him, but none of those things surprised him. Lily was top at everything she did and pleasuring him wasn't any different. He held off for as long as he could stand it, and then he had to be touching her. Hands tangled in her fiery hair, twisting and guiding her to him. Her mouth moved over him like it had a thousand times before and he hope that it would do so a thousand times more after today. She worked him and teased him until finally, with a strangled cry, he came deep and hard in her mouth and he felt her sucking, sucking, sucking and then his cock was heavy and limp and sated, falling out of her lips.

He knew the warmth he felt now wasn't from a fever; it was from Lily and what she'd done to him.

Uncaring of the sticky residue from the honey on his stomach, Lily draped herself across James' form, looking down at him seriously.

"How do you feel, James?"

"Like I've just died the sweetest death," he grinned, brushing a thumb against her cheek. "And I'm glad to have died with you."