Burned and Doused
Title: Burned and Doused
Rating: PG-13 (language, sexual references)
Genre: (unapologetic) Fluff, romance, humor
Characters/Pairings: Lily/James, Marauder-era crew,
Spoilers: Pre-series, so none, really.
Summary: Boy likes girl, girl likes boy. Near-death experiences and sarcasm ensue.
Notes: No beta, except myself. Cross posted. Prompt "new every morning" for 7spells. No, there's not a ton of plot, but fluffy happiness is okay too. =)
Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and Scholastic Press, and is used without permission here. I, however, do not claim what is theirs and only what is mine.
Burned and Doused
He didn’t know when he first began loving her. Maybe it was during first year, when she was still a quiet, bookish girl, frightened of her peers. Possibly, it was in the middle of their third year, when she walked out on a debate over the rights of witches, though it cost James a few Sickles when he lost the bet on the outcome. Perhaps it was in fifth year, when he found her crying in a lonely stone hallway after a group of girls had just teased her about her parentage, allowing him to see her awkwardly vulnerable side.
Whenever it was, one thing was very, very certain to James Potter. He was hopelessly, terribly in love with Lily Evans. And that in itself was a problem.
It wasn’t that she was a hag, but she wasn’t a Veela, either. She was a few inches shorter than his six feet and two inches. He figured she’d fit right underneath his chin; they’d be a good match, height-wise, which James considered important so as not to over-populate the earth with tiny warlocks. And it wasn’t as if she was unnoticeable, either. In fact, the first thing people noticed about her was the brilliant mass of red curls that flamed in a halo around her head-at least, when it wasn’t severely pulled back into a ponytail. And her eyes-he could write sonnets just to them. He’d get lost staring at her eyes; deepest green, with little sparkles of gold in them. He imagined them as emeralds set to life. Not that he’d ever tell her that, of course. She'd probably hex him for being a non-poetic idiot.
See, the only problem with James’ love for Lily was that it was rather unrequited. Well, not that she knew he loved her anyway. Truthfully, he’d keep it that way in any case. At least until he knew that she didn’t hate him.
- - -
Lily was sitting underneath a spreading oak tree, a large book open on her lap. The uncut grass brushed against her stockings, curling its long stems over her bare feet. She had let her hair tumble down in its natural curls and it stirred briefly in the warm autumn wind. The Head Girl was frowning slightly, and unconsciously tapping her wand against the edge of the book, concentrating on whatever piece of information she was reading.
James sat in a window alcove in the castle above watching Lily. He wasn’t stalking her; he’d just been sitting, working on the latest play for his next match, when she sat there. So it was her fault, really. And besides, he had to ensure that his co-Head didn’t fall over and die suddenly. Occupational hazard and all.
His parchment lay on the stone in front of him, but he paid no notice to it as tiny black figures waved at him, trying to get his attention. A miniature Beater was violently attempting to smash a Bludger into three-dimensional reality, but it wouldn’t break James’s concentration. Something larger would be the only distraction.
That diversion from his daydreams came in the form of Sirius Black. Sirius was walking to his room, he later would swear, when he saw James vacantly staring out the window. Knowing that there were few things in the world James would stare intently at-and Sirius highly doubted that the Swedish all-women’s quidditch team was having a naked match--he decided intervention was imperative.
Leaping onto James with a wild yell, he dragged his friend down to the floor where a wrestling match commenced.
“Get off me!” James laughed, as Sirius pummeled him. He swung at Sirius’s stomach, and hit him, causing the latter to double over. “What the hell was that?”
Sirius giggled, shaking the ends of his hair out of his face and stood, helping James to his feet. “My gorgeous body cried out for attention. Alas, you were the only person here!”
“Oh shut up. You make it sound like we’re lovers.”
“Ooh but baby, I wish we were!” Sirius stage-whispered, fluttering his eyelashes. “I mean you are Head Boy and the captain of the quidditch team, and what with the way you ride that broom!” He sighed dramatically, then with a faked change of emotion, growled. “It makes like me want to make you ride me like that!”
“And you make me want to puke. You really made no sense, either, you know that?” James asked, picking up his paper from where it had fallen.
Sirius made a face. “Of course I made sense. It was just wrong in nearly every conceivable way.”
“True,” James said offhandedly, staring out the window again. “Merlin, Sirius, why doesn’t she like me? I’ve tried, I really have. But she never seems to care. I don’t get it!” He sighed.
Sirius shook his hair out of his eyes. “Off on the Lily tangent again, eh? Just… go tell her how you feel. Wait, no. Don’t tell. Show. Just go out there and kiss the daylights of that girl. Honestly. I do it all the time. Not to her. To other girls. Works wonders. I haven’t been celibate since puberty.”
James arched a dark eyebrow at him. “I don’t think I needed to know that.” He rolled his eyes. “Not that I didn’t already. I do share a room with you. But no need to reiterate your escapades to those of us pining away. Anyway, I can’t just go start kissing her. It’s not…it’s not how I want this relationship to go.”
He looked longingly out the window, and then shook himself. “Well, we’ve got a match to win tomorrow, and I intend to get another team practice in today,” James said, slinging an arm around Sirius’s shoulders and walking out of the room.
- - -
The next day was cloudy, with large, pot-bellied thunderheads threatening rain. James prayed it would hold off for at least most of the match. It had also rained the night before, so the ground was slick with mud. He sighed; only in Britain would it rain just to spite all his prayers.
Shaking hands with the Slytherin captain, some hulking bloke who needed a shave and a Q-tip, James steeled himself. This was the most important match of the whole season; not only would it decide who went on to compete for the Cup, but also because Slytherins were Gryffindors’ most hated rivals. Everyone knew that.
Rolling his shoulders, James swung a leg over his broom and grasped the wooden handle. He flexed his hands, encased in the tight black leather of his grips, as his red quidditch robes snapped cheekily in the wind. The referee’s shrill whistle blew, and he kicked off with a powerful bunch of his legs.
James was up in the air quickly, weaving in and out of the players, yelling occasional instructions to his team and insults at the other, holding tight to the quaffle while searching for the terribly elusive Golden Snitch-his Seeker had had a nasty run-in with a man-eating plant in Herbology earlier in the week, and though the boy was valiantly on his broom, he wasn’t feeling too well, so the entire Gryffindor team was playing Seeker. James caught a gleaming glimpse to his right, and swung his head to look. Damn, it wasn’t the sly flying ball. However, it did happen to be Lily’s hair. She had ended up coming.
James knew she didn’t like the matches too much, but he was glad she had come all the same. He also happened to know that she was deathly afraid of heights, and resolved that someday he’d teach her to fly.
He was approaching the goal posts and raised his arm to let the ball fly home when he felt a tug on the back of his broom. One of the Slytherin Chasers had hold of the tail. Neither the referee nor the crowd had noticed-they were busy yelling at the Slytherin beater who had just smashed a Bludger into the horribly unlucky Gryffindor Seeker’s face.
James banked sharply left, though he kept the quaffle secure. He twisted a few more times, then felt the pressure slacken on his broom. He’d shaken the other seeker off, though he noticed the eerie silence that had filled the pitch.
“James! Your broom!” A high voice screamed from the stands. He turned to see. The end of his broom was on fire. The Slytherin must’ve set it alight. He swore as the fire crept up the twigs.
He was directly above in front of the goals and distractedly tossed the quaffle in. He looked down and calculated his odds; there was nearly thirty feet of air between him and the ground. The smell of smoke was sharp and acrid now, and the attention of the crowd was shifting to him, after the person had yelled. James made his decision. He jumped.
- - -
She didn’t know when she’d started loving him. It could’ve been during second year, when he made the Gryffindor quidditch team, and instead of being at the party his friends had thrown for him; he went out to the pitch and practiced by himself until after dark. Maybe it was in fourth year, when she had to sit next him during Transfiguration, and he would mutter curse words under his breath-she’d learned some of her more colorful wizarding sayings from him. There was a good chance it was last year, sixth year, when he’d finally stopped being such an ass. He had reformed himself-saving a lost first year, stopping Sirius from torturing Severus too badly, that sort of thing. She might’ve accepted one of his offers to take her to Hogsmeade even, but she was scared he was still a selfish bastard.
Besides, it wasn’t as if he, the quidditch captain and charming rogue would really consider dating her. Sure, she liked the odd joke and could make just as snide of remarks as he, but they were friends only. Coworkers even! And you know what people say about relationships in the workplace. She and James were completely different, Lily had managed to tell herself, and it would never work, so she should stop thinking about him.
And she did, for the most part. She could think of him as a colleague and acquaintance most of the time, but it was those little moments, when he’d turn and smile wickedly at her when he caught someone doing something particularly embarrassing after hours, or when he would yell her name from across the lawn, making her blush and wave, that Lily couldn’t quite help but mentally sigh with unrequited love.
- - -
Lily wasn’t exactly sure why she was sitting next to his bed, hoping he was going to wake up soon. His friends had left already, taking with them scads of candy, and it was cold in the hospital. No lights were on, making it still and dark. Madame Pomfrey, the young nurse in charge, had tried to get Lily to leave more than once, but Lily had told her that as Head Girl she needed to make sure the Head Boy was all right. The nurse had bought it and left them alone. Poor woman, Lily thought, she’d probably believe that gullible was written on the ceiling of the Great Hall if you told her so.
After James had leapt from his burning broom and smashed onto the ground, the entire school had gone into frenzy.
The Headmaster had stalked onto the pitch and suspended the Slytherin chaser from school right then and there for, he said, “endangerment of and a deliberate attempt to harm another student.” About that time, it had started to pour, the clouds finally releasing their promised storm, and the fire on James’s broom was extinguished. The Gryffindor team, by this time soaking, had followed James’s stretcher up to the hospital where he lay now. Lily had done her rounds as Head Girl with the Prefects and then had come here to watch him. That was close to three hours ago; the team had already left.
She had managed to shed her scarf and coat, but her sweater and jeans weren’t very warm in the cold room. Her fingers were a little stiff, and she kept curling and uncurling them to keep them from going numb. Lily knew that she could cast a heating spell to keep herself warm, but Madame Pomfrey said that the temperature of the room needed to be kept down. For what reason, Lily wasn’t sure, but perhaps magical healing was different from the muggle way. She frowned, eyebrows knitted, trying to think of how.
She was concentrating on that and at first, didn’t notice James’s eyes fluttering open until he spoke.
“What happened?” he croaked. Lily jumped, surprised at the sound of his voice, rough and unused.
“Well hi there, hero. Um,” Lily began. “Your broom was burning. Do you remember that?”
“Yeah. It’s kinda vague, but I remember hitting the ground and that’s about it,” James said. His eyes widened and he struggled into a sitting position. “Who won?” he asked desperately.
A smirk ghosted onto Lily’s face “We did. Our Seeker finally caught the Snitch during the commotion and we beat Slytherin, you twat. And to top it off, the Slytherin chaser was suspended and sent to his dorms for the rest of the day.” Lily smirked. “Expulsion, I believe, has been considered as well.”
James flopped back down then winced. “Oof. Shouldn't have done that. Well, at least we won,” he grumbled. “How long do I have to stay here?”
“The nurse said at least until tomorrow. I think you’ve suffered some sort of concussion, but whatever remedy she has for it apparently works quickly. At least, well… at least you’re all right.” Lily offered with a small smile.
James slowly sat back up. Agitatedly, he ran a hand through his hair, the starlight silvering the black tips of it. “Yeah, thanks to whomever it was in the stands that yelled to me. Merlin, I can’t believe I didn’t notice my broom was on fire.”
A slow blush was working its way up Lily’s cheeks and James noticed it in the dim light.
“You! You were the one who yelled at me?” Lily nodded and bent her head downward, face completely pink. James laughed. “If I could get out of bed, I would hug you right now.”
Standing abruptly, Lily rubbed her hands on her trousers. “Yeah, well, wouldn’t want to see your bum burned or anything. And really, I’m fine without the hugs, just get yourself better.”
James raised an eyebrow and grinned at her. “Sure. I owe you, Evans.”
She fled the room, bright red and blushing. Her face only returned to its normal color once she was far away from the hospital room and James’ smirk.
- - -
It was evening the next day when she finally saw James again. She was sitting on a large rock on the edge of the lake, finishing up a report for History of Magic (on Gundelvard the Grunge’s use of house elves as missiles in the second Goblin War), when she heard her name being called
Twisting around, she saw his lanky frame walking towards her. She stood up on the rock, and was turning around, when she felt-something hit her chest.
Shrieking sharply, she fell backwards into the water, her parchment and quill flying from her hands in a corona of schoolwork. The lake was only about six feet deep at the end of the rock, and Lily was a good swimmer, but the frigid waves robbed the breath from her lungs.
Coughing, Lily surfaced, and shaking her sodden curls from her eyes, awkwardly paddled to the rock. She heard laughter, and figured it must’ve been some Slytherin boys who’d cast the spell to make her fall. She’d have their hairy asses in detention, the little-
Trying to crawl back up onto the rock with all her outer clothes on was impossible, so Lily shed her coat and flung upwards. Teeth chattering, she was pulling herself onto the edge of the rock, when she felt a warm pair of hands grasp her arms. They helped heave her out of the water, and Lily looked up into James’s eyes.
“T-t-thanks,” she stammered, soaked through and freezing. She climbed to her feet, looking to where her attackers had gone. However, the lakeshore was empty, and the sun was nearly below the tree line.
“No problem,” James genially chuckled. “You saved me, I saved you. We’re on even terms again. I would’ve cursed those bastards for you, but since saving you was my other option…” he trailed off, winking at her.
Lily picked up her coat and wrung the water out of it. “That’s all right. I know who it was and they’ll be getting what’s coming to them. I’ll chop off sacred bits of their anatomy and…” she trailed off, fuming and shivering.
Grinning, James took her coat from her. He shrugged off his robe and handed it to her. “There you go. Can’t have you freezing to death on me, now can we?”
Lily gratefully took it, wrapping it around herself as she tried not to start blushing. White shirts were terribly translucent when wet. “Thanks.”
They started walking up to the castle together, Lily’s shoes making squishing noises as she went. Grumbling about bastards who were going to get thoroughly cursed and hung by their ears when she found them, and worrying about her now see-through shirt and making it back to her dormitory, Lily didn’t noticed at first that James had stopped.
“Are you coming?” she asked, waving her hands in the direction of the castle. He grinned at her.
“Come here.”
Lily squelched over to him, a poster child for teenage despondency. “Yeah?” She reached a hand up and tugged her wet curls off her face.
James wrapped his arms around her in a hug, pulling her tight to him. Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around him. They stayed like that for a long minute.
- - -
She fit just under his chin, as he had thought. Admittedly, this wasn’t how James had figured it would go, with her cold and wet and looking dead sexy in a wet white shirt (was that lace Evans was wearing?), but he was in the acting hero part. This was a point in his column. And she was wearing his robe, which, he thought, looked adorable on her.
Finally, he let go of Lily. “Told you I was going to hug you.”
She smiled up at him. “But I thought you said we were even after you pulled me out of the water.”
“So? Promise is a promise. And a Potter’s promise is…promising. Punctual. Pungent…or whatever.”
She shook her head and laughed, a sound James loved. “Fine. You win this time. After all, you have won every match for your team. I wouldn’t want to spoil your record.” She turned to go inside.
James grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him, her eyes wide. “You’re not something to win, Lily. This is far different than a match.”
Seeing her lips curve up into a delighted smile, James ducked his head and kissed Lily, winding his arms around her as her fingers tangled in his hair.
This happened of course, because they were already in love and it was inevitable.
fin
Rating: PG-13 (language, sexual references)
Genre: (unapologetic) Fluff, romance, humor
Characters/Pairings: Lily/James, Marauder-era crew,
Spoilers: Pre-series, so none, really.
Summary: Boy likes girl, girl likes boy. Near-death experiences and sarcasm ensue.
Notes: No beta, except myself. Cross posted. Prompt "new every morning" for 7spells. No, there's not a ton of plot, but fluffy happiness is okay too. =)
Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and Scholastic Press, and is used without permission here. I, however, do not claim what is theirs and only what is mine.
Burned and Doused
He didn’t know when he first began loving her. Maybe it was during first year, when she was still a quiet, bookish girl, frightened of her peers. Possibly, it was in the middle of their third year, when she walked out on a debate over the rights of witches, though it cost James a few Sickles when he lost the bet on the outcome. Perhaps it was in fifth year, when he found her crying in a lonely stone hallway after a group of girls had just teased her about her parentage, allowing him to see her awkwardly vulnerable side.
Whenever it was, one thing was very, very certain to James Potter. He was hopelessly, terribly in love with Lily Evans. And that in itself was a problem.
It wasn’t that she was a hag, but she wasn’t a Veela, either. She was a few inches shorter than his six feet and two inches. He figured she’d fit right underneath his chin; they’d be a good match, height-wise, which James considered important so as not to over-populate the earth with tiny warlocks. And it wasn’t as if she was unnoticeable, either. In fact, the first thing people noticed about her was the brilliant mass of red curls that flamed in a halo around her head-at least, when it wasn’t severely pulled back into a ponytail. And her eyes-he could write sonnets just to them. He’d get lost staring at her eyes; deepest green, with little sparkles of gold in them. He imagined them as emeralds set to life. Not that he’d ever tell her that, of course. She'd probably hex him for being a non-poetic idiot.
See, the only problem with James’ love for Lily was that it was rather unrequited. Well, not that she knew he loved her anyway. Truthfully, he’d keep it that way in any case. At least until he knew that she didn’t hate him.
- - -
Lily was sitting underneath a spreading oak tree, a large book open on her lap. The uncut grass brushed against her stockings, curling its long stems over her bare feet. She had let her hair tumble down in its natural curls and it stirred briefly in the warm autumn wind. The Head Girl was frowning slightly, and unconsciously tapping her wand against the edge of the book, concentrating on whatever piece of information she was reading.
James sat in a window alcove in the castle above watching Lily. He wasn’t stalking her; he’d just been sitting, working on the latest play for his next match, when she sat there. So it was her fault, really. And besides, he had to ensure that his co-Head didn’t fall over and die suddenly. Occupational hazard and all.
His parchment lay on the stone in front of him, but he paid no notice to it as tiny black figures waved at him, trying to get his attention. A miniature Beater was violently attempting to smash a Bludger into three-dimensional reality, but it wouldn’t break James’s concentration. Something larger would be the only distraction.
That diversion from his daydreams came in the form of Sirius Black. Sirius was walking to his room, he later would swear, when he saw James vacantly staring out the window. Knowing that there were few things in the world James would stare intently at-and Sirius highly doubted that the Swedish all-women’s quidditch team was having a naked match--he decided intervention was imperative.
Leaping onto James with a wild yell, he dragged his friend down to the floor where a wrestling match commenced.
“Get off me!” James laughed, as Sirius pummeled him. He swung at Sirius’s stomach, and hit him, causing the latter to double over. “What the hell was that?”
Sirius giggled, shaking the ends of his hair out of his face and stood, helping James to his feet. “My gorgeous body cried out for attention. Alas, you were the only person here!”
“Oh shut up. You make it sound like we’re lovers.”
“Ooh but baby, I wish we were!” Sirius stage-whispered, fluttering his eyelashes. “I mean you are Head Boy and the captain of the quidditch team, and what with the way you ride that broom!” He sighed dramatically, then with a faked change of emotion, growled. “It makes like me want to make you ride me like that!”
“And you make me want to puke. You really made no sense, either, you know that?” James asked, picking up his paper from where it had fallen.
Sirius made a face. “Of course I made sense. It was just wrong in nearly every conceivable way.”
“True,” James said offhandedly, staring out the window again. “Merlin, Sirius, why doesn’t she like me? I’ve tried, I really have. But she never seems to care. I don’t get it!” He sighed.
Sirius shook his hair out of his eyes. “Off on the Lily tangent again, eh? Just… go tell her how you feel. Wait, no. Don’t tell. Show. Just go out there and kiss the daylights of that girl. Honestly. I do it all the time. Not to her. To other girls. Works wonders. I haven’t been celibate since puberty.”
James arched a dark eyebrow at him. “I don’t think I needed to know that.” He rolled his eyes. “Not that I didn’t already. I do share a room with you. But no need to reiterate your escapades to those of us pining away. Anyway, I can’t just go start kissing her. It’s not…it’s not how I want this relationship to go.”
He looked longingly out the window, and then shook himself. “Well, we’ve got a match to win tomorrow, and I intend to get another team practice in today,” James said, slinging an arm around Sirius’s shoulders and walking out of the room.
- - -
The next day was cloudy, with large, pot-bellied thunderheads threatening rain. James prayed it would hold off for at least most of the match. It had also rained the night before, so the ground was slick with mud. He sighed; only in Britain would it rain just to spite all his prayers.
Shaking hands with the Slytherin captain, some hulking bloke who needed a shave and a Q-tip, James steeled himself. This was the most important match of the whole season; not only would it decide who went on to compete for the Cup, but also because Slytherins were Gryffindors’ most hated rivals. Everyone knew that.
Rolling his shoulders, James swung a leg over his broom and grasped the wooden handle. He flexed his hands, encased in the tight black leather of his grips, as his red quidditch robes snapped cheekily in the wind. The referee’s shrill whistle blew, and he kicked off with a powerful bunch of his legs.
James was up in the air quickly, weaving in and out of the players, yelling occasional instructions to his team and insults at the other, holding tight to the quaffle while searching for the terribly elusive Golden Snitch-his Seeker had had a nasty run-in with a man-eating plant in Herbology earlier in the week, and though the boy was valiantly on his broom, he wasn’t feeling too well, so the entire Gryffindor team was playing Seeker. James caught a gleaming glimpse to his right, and swung his head to look. Damn, it wasn’t the sly flying ball. However, it did happen to be Lily’s hair. She had ended up coming.
James knew she didn’t like the matches too much, but he was glad she had come all the same. He also happened to know that she was deathly afraid of heights, and resolved that someday he’d teach her to fly.
He was approaching the goal posts and raised his arm to let the ball fly home when he felt a tug on the back of his broom. One of the Slytherin Chasers had hold of the tail. Neither the referee nor the crowd had noticed-they were busy yelling at the Slytherin beater who had just smashed a Bludger into the horribly unlucky Gryffindor Seeker’s face.
James banked sharply left, though he kept the quaffle secure. He twisted a few more times, then felt the pressure slacken on his broom. He’d shaken the other seeker off, though he noticed the eerie silence that had filled the pitch.
“James! Your broom!” A high voice screamed from the stands. He turned to see. The end of his broom was on fire. The Slytherin must’ve set it alight. He swore as the fire crept up the twigs.
He was directly above in front of the goals and distractedly tossed the quaffle in. He looked down and calculated his odds; there was nearly thirty feet of air between him and the ground. The smell of smoke was sharp and acrid now, and the attention of the crowd was shifting to him, after the person had yelled. James made his decision. He jumped.
- - -
She didn’t know when she’d started loving him. It could’ve been during second year, when he made the Gryffindor quidditch team, and instead of being at the party his friends had thrown for him; he went out to the pitch and practiced by himself until after dark. Maybe it was in fourth year, when she had to sit next him during Transfiguration, and he would mutter curse words under his breath-she’d learned some of her more colorful wizarding sayings from him. There was a good chance it was last year, sixth year, when he’d finally stopped being such an ass. He had reformed himself-saving a lost first year, stopping Sirius from torturing Severus too badly, that sort of thing. She might’ve accepted one of his offers to take her to Hogsmeade even, but she was scared he was still a selfish bastard.
Besides, it wasn’t as if he, the quidditch captain and charming rogue would really consider dating her. Sure, she liked the odd joke and could make just as snide of remarks as he, but they were friends only. Coworkers even! And you know what people say about relationships in the workplace. She and James were completely different, Lily had managed to tell herself, and it would never work, so she should stop thinking about him.
And she did, for the most part. She could think of him as a colleague and acquaintance most of the time, but it was those little moments, when he’d turn and smile wickedly at her when he caught someone doing something particularly embarrassing after hours, or when he would yell her name from across the lawn, making her blush and wave, that Lily couldn’t quite help but mentally sigh with unrequited love.
- - -
Lily wasn’t exactly sure why she was sitting next to his bed, hoping he was going to wake up soon. His friends had left already, taking with them scads of candy, and it was cold in the hospital. No lights were on, making it still and dark. Madame Pomfrey, the young nurse in charge, had tried to get Lily to leave more than once, but Lily had told her that as Head Girl she needed to make sure the Head Boy was all right. The nurse had bought it and left them alone. Poor woman, Lily thought, she’d probably believe that gullible was written on the ceiling of the Great Hall if you told her so.
After James had leapt from his burning broom and smashed onto the ground, the entire school had gone into frenzy.
The Headmaster had stalked onto the pitch and suspended the Slytherin chaser from school right then and there for, he said, “endangerment of and a deliberate attempt to harm another student.” About that time, it had started to pour, the clouds finally releasing their promised storm, and the fire on James’s broom was extinguished. The Gryffindor team, by this time soaking, had followed James’s stretcher up to the hospital where he lay now. Lily had done her rounds as Head Girl with the Prefects and then had come here to watch him. That was close to three hours ago; the team had already left.
She had managed to shed her scarf and coat, but her sweater and jeans weren’t very warm in the cold room. Her fingers were a little stiff, and she kept curling and uncurling them to keep them from going numb. Lily knew that she could cast a heating spell to keep herself warm, but Madame Pomfrey said that the temperature of the room needed to be kept down. For what reason, Lily wasn’t sure, but perhaps magical healing was different from the muggle way. She frowned, eyebrows knitted, trying to think of how.
She was concentrating on that and at first, didn’t notice James’s eyes fluttering open until he spoke.
“What happened?” he croaked. Lily jumped, surprised at the sound of his voice, rough and unused.
“Well hi there, hero. Um,” Lily began. “Your broom was burning. Do you remember that?”
“Yeah. It’s kinda vague, but I remember hitting the ground and that’s about it,” James said. His eyes widened and he struggled into a sitting position. “Who won?” he asked desperately.
A smirk ghosted onto Lily’s face “We did. Our Seeker finally caught the Snitch during the commotion and we beat Slytherin, you twat. And to top it off, the Slytherin chaser was suspended and sent to his dorms for the rest of the day.” Lily smirked. “Expulsion, I believe, has been considered as well.”
James flopped back down then winced. “Oof. Shouldn't have done that. Well, at least we won,” he grumbled. “How long do I have to stay here?”
“The nurse said at least until tomorrow. I think you’ve suffered some sort of concussion, but whatever remedy she has for it apparently works quickly. At least, well… at least you’re all right.” Lily offered with a small smile.
James slowly sat back up. Agitatedly, he ran a hand through his hair, the starlight silvering the black tips of it. “Yeah, thanks to whomever it was in the stands that yelled to me. Merlin, I can’t believe I didn’t notice my broom was on fire.”
A slow blush was working its way up Lily’s cheeks and James noticed it in the dim light.
“You! You were the one who yelled at me?” Lily nodded and bent her head downward, face completely pink. James laughed. “If I could get out of bed, I would hug you right now.”
Standing abruptly, Lily rubbed her hands on her trousers. “Yeah, well, wouldn’t want to see your bum burned or anything. And really, I’m fine without the hugs, just get yourself better.”
James raised an eyebrow and grinned at her. “Sure. I owe you, Evans.”
She fled the room, bright red and blushing. Her face only returned to its normal color once she was far away from the hospital room and James’ smirk.
- - -
It was evening the next day when she finally saw James again. She was sitting on a large rock on the edge of the lake, finishing up a report for History of Magic (on Gundelvard the Grunge’s use of house elves as missiles in the second Goblin War), when she heard her name being called
Twisting around, she saw his lanky frame walking towards her. She stood up on the rock, and was turning around, when she felt-something hit her chest.
Shrieking sharply, she fell backwards into the water, her parchment and quill flying from her hands in a corona of schoolwork. The lake was only about six feet deep at the end of the rock, and Lily was a good swimmer, but the frigid waves robbed the breath from her lungs.
Coughing, Lily surfaced, and shaking her sodden curls from her eyes, awkwardly paddled to the rock. She heard laughter, and figured it must’ve been some Slytherin boys who’d cast the spell to make her fall. She’d have their hairy asses in detention, the little-
Trying to crawl back up onto the rock with all her outer clothes on was impossible, so Lily shed her coat and flung upwards. Teeth chattering, she was pulling herself onto the edge of the rock, when she felt a warm pair of hands grasp her arms. They helped heave her out of the water, and Lily looked up into James’s eyes.
“T-t-thanks,” she stammered, soaked through and freezing. She climbed to her feet, looking to where her attackers had gone. However, the lakeshore was empty, and the sun was nearly below the tree line.
“No problem,” James genially chuckled. “You saved me, I saved you. We’re on even terms again. I would’ve cursed those bastards for you, but since saving you was my other option…” he trailed off, winking at her.
Lily picked up her coat and wrung the water out of it. “That’s all right. I know who it was and they’ll be getting what’s coming to them. I’ll chop off sacred bits of their anatomy and…” she trailed off, fuming and shivering.
Grinning, James took her coat from her. He shrugged off his robe and handed it to her. “There you go. Can’t have you freezing to death on me, now can we?”
Lily gratefully took it, wrapping it around herself as she tried not to start blushing. White shirts were terribly translucent when wet. “Thanks.”
They started walking up to the castle together, Lily’s shoes making squishing noises as she went. Grumbling about bastards who were going to get thoroughly cursed and hung by their ears when she found them, and worrying about her now see-through shirt and making it back to her dormitory, Lily didn’t noticed at first that James had stopped.
“Are you coming?” she asked, waving her hands in the direction of the castle. He grinned at her.
“Come here.”
Lily squelched over to him, a poster child for teenage despondency. “Yeah?” She reached a hand up and tugged her wet curls off her face.
James wrapped his arms around her in a hug, pulling her tight to him. Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around him. They stayed like that for a long minute.
- - -
She fit just under his chin, as he had thought. Admittedly, this wasn’t how James had figured it would go, with her cold and wet and looking dead sexy in a wet white shirt (was that lace Evans was wearing?), but he was in the acting hero part. This was a point in his column. And she was wearing his robe, which, he thought, looked adorable on her.
Finally, he let go of Lily. “Told you I was going to hug you.”
She smiled up at him. “But I thought you said we were even after you pulled me out of the water.”
“So? Promise is a promise. And a Potter’s promise is…promising. Punctual. Pungent…or whatever.”
She shook her head and laughed, a sound James loved. “Fine. You win this time. After all, you have won every match for your team. I wouldn’t want to spoil your record.” She turned to go inside.
James grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him, her eyes wide. “You’re not something to win, Lily. This is far different than a match.”
Seeing her lips curve up into a delighted smile, James ducked his head and kissed Lily, winding his arms around her as her fingers tangled in his hair.
This happened of course, because they were already in love and it was inevitable.
fin