Tension in my body needs physical release. In the darkness where it is less imperative for me to think clearly/to answer for my actions... I reach for myself with hands that should be hers
Oh her beautiful hands.
I grow hard as I think of her wonderful self. Her hair, thick and luscious... I would have touched it, just once; she would not have minded... not... back then anyway.... bugger, I was always afraid of Sirius. Sirius the watchdog-- ha!
Her laugh was so real. She never laughed merely to flirt; she was always genuinely amused by nearly everything around her. I suppose that's why she enjoyed hanging out with that bunch-- they were always out for play. Her laugh made her a goddess, and if you made her laugh you were her god.
I never knew how to be funny or charming.
My pulse quickens and I am breathing deeply and more rhythmically now. I have temporarily, desperately managed to put aside the condemning fact of her absence in this world, and whose fault it is. My mental images grow more imagined, as I enter the shamefully familiar world of erotic fantasy. Now she is mine, at least for a few minutes... not James's... not Death's... She was always the creature of my dreams when I took to myself, even from that first time in my boyhood. How many times had I imagined her my bride, melting softly into my arms like the embrace of sleep.... her eyes looking longingly into mine.... her green eyes.... those emerald pathways to what she was thinking....
We were alone together, now. This was *my* fantasy, and her thoughts were only of me. I lifted my free hand to the right cheek that wasn't there and caressed her face in my memories. She helped me with my homework once, even when none of the other Gryffindors would speak to me. I knew that if I could have only made her laugh, she would have instantly considered me a friend. I force regret back into desire and imagine her smiling pink lips opening slightly to recieve my kiss.
Kissing her is enough to bring me to full-blown arousal and I am moving my hand faster and faster. In my mind, she is breathing deeply as she slowly unbuttons her white blouse to show her breasts, clad in a black satin brassiere. That Muggle item confused me momentarily, that one time she had spilled deadly acid on herself in our Potions class and had to strip slightly so that she could save herself. Seeing her like that in class, in front of James and Sirius and the others.... No, will think only of her.... and her wonderful clear, smooth skin.... so much exposed... I was so glad she was safe. Oh if only she could be as safe now... if not for me... Silence the thought and touch myself into a further darkness of Nepenthes.
I move my hand across the swell of her breasts and imagine the warmth. My hips are rocking me into my hand as I slip both bra-straps down and expose her chest to me fully. She is smiling and making little sighing noises as I tenderly massage her nipples with my old, potion-scarred fingers. She never joined in with her friends in making me feel like I shouldn't have been born. I know she had a good heart. If it were only to beat again I could die instantly.
I pull her closer to me and she parts her dream-legs and sits on my lap, lowering herself onto the distressed core of my passion. As I hold on tight to the shoulders of her memory, imagining this envelopment by goodness, by sweetness and light, and all that she was to me, is to me.... sends me over the edge and I come violently into my hand. I also immediately start to sob and sob... oh I cannot stop crying!!!
LILY!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And all is dark.