He tangled her hair in his hands and noticed that it blended with her scarf, the scarf she'd discarded so quickly in exchange for a small comfort to shield her from the ground. Gryffindor's golden girl. Who would have imagined her to be found under the stands with the snake of snakes.
But with every stolen kiss, and every time he thought of the match above them - Saint Potter and his Gryffindors and their precious little Quidditch - he was reminded that flowers didn't grow in the dungeons, and she was not within his grasp. Not truly.
He knew what she thought when she kissed him. It was obvious in the way she held back, slightly primly, always ready to bolt. Apparently Gryffindor bravery didn't extend to being caught with a Slytherin's hand on your thigh.
The game was above them and he was sure that Hurt would get the Snitch sooner or later, and this would all be over. He brought it up first, but she was the one set on edge. "Quidditch matches aren't a matter of life and death to Slytherins?" she asked, and he kissed the corner of her pale mouth, savouring the sight of her skin.
"Oh, no," he murmured, "it's far more important than that." He kissed her again and for a brief moment they remained united, just two bodies.
Above them, the game ended, and she rose up, and he watched the gold of the sun play in her hair, and she brushed the dirt from her skirt. The pointed gesture was not lost on him in any way. "I've got to go," she whispered, and he had known that so long ago.
He threw her the scarf, watching as she caught it deftly and wrapped it around herself, transforming so quickly that even Potter's bespectacled glance wouldn't discern what Gryffindor's golden girl had been up to during the match. "Some things are just a matter of life and death," he said slowly, watching her. "Just remember that there are worse things out there, Lily." Things like Lucius Malfoy and talk of the future and a rising and a slow darkness that promised to take over the world. Things that would crush flowers in their path without a whit of care. "Not everything's about Quidditch," he finished coldly.
She met his eyes and shuddered, as the sun moved and they passed into shadow.
He didn't take his eyes off her until the sun was on her hair once again, and she was lost in a crowd of celebrating Gryffindors.
Funny, he thought. He thought they'd teach them rather better in Gryffindor. After all, you can die from a snake's bite.