It's no surprise for him: after all he has travel in his blood. It's no surprise for her either: she's always been that way. It's certainly not a surprise for each other. Sometimes you just get that urge and sometimes you just need to sit outside the morning after a storm with your best friend and talk about your dreams. Wanderlust, they've both got it.

This is first and foremost not a love story; it's a story about people. People who changed the world one kiss at a time. People who fought and kissed and studied and laughed and screamed and hated and fell in love. Because they did fall in love, eventually. This is the story of James and Lily. And boy, what a story.

Lily smelt Lysander. Lysander smelt Lily. And only one of them was aware of it.

She didn't use it during the light when there was nowhere to hide. She didn't use it when her words were casual fleeting things that didn't stay long enough on the tip of her tongue or in his ears. She saved the use of Sander for special occasion when nothing else seemed right.

It didn't matter that they were cold. It didn't matter that they were both naked. It didn't matter that neither of them could make sense of what the others presence did to them. All that mattered was the sun on their faces and the water surrounding them.