(no subject)
Title: Smoke Gets In Your Eyes (1/3)
Author: Me, nellie_darlin
Disclaimer: Not mine. Jo's.
Pairing/Characters: Lily/Sirius, Lily/James
Rating: NC-17
Length: 6,420 words
Summary: The real reason Lily Evans keeps turning James Potter down? She's already sleeping with his best friend...
Teaser: It’s breakfast time at Hogwarts on the first day back after the summer holidays, and the Great Hall is already in an uproar.
Notes: This is the first part of three; the second will go up tomorrow and the third the day after. A million and one thanks to the gorgeous sazzlette - not only did she beta this monster of a fic, despite having tons of better stuff to do, she also looked stuff up in the books for me when I was in Cambridge. The title is from the song of the same name by Jerome Kern; the full quotation is When your heart's on fire, smoke gets in your eyes.
It’s breakfast time at Hogwarts on the first day back after the summer holidays, and the Great Hall is already in an uproar. The two first-year girls sitting next to Lily are craning their necks, trying to see what’s happening, but Lily doesn’t even look up. She doesn’t need to. She knows who the culprits were; she could even make a reasonably accurate guess as to what the commotion is about. Black and Potter, of course; plus at least one Slytherin, a ridiculously complicated yet ridiculously puerile hex, and a few weeks’ detention at the end of it. Easy as pie. Just as much a routine as the round of lessons and bells. A loud bang echoes round the hall, and Lily and the more experienced students duck instinctively.
Another bang, and a gale of laughter, and Lily looks up to see silky knickers falling softly through the air like snow.
Home sweet home, she thinks, standing up and pulling a black lacy thong off her ear.
~*~
Lily has just settled into her seat and is getting her copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Book 6 out of her bag, when Black and Potter saunter into the classroom, still laughing at the silken devastation they’d wreaked on breakfast. Rosalind Jacobs, Hufflepuff, gives a lovelorn sigh, and Lily groans.
Sirius must have heard her, because his dark eyes flicker to her and narrow slightly. Uncomfortable despite herself, Lily straightens in her chair, staring back with haughty disdain. Sirius looks at her for a moment, his expression unreadable, then smirks.
“All right, Evans?” he says as he passes her desk on his way to the back of the classroom, James a few steps behind.
“Black,” she replies coolly, trying to ignore the slow burn of anger that is already heating in her chest. The school year hasn’t even started and already he’s annoying her. At least Potter hasn’t…
“Evans!” Damn. Lily resists the urge to bang her head against the desk now, just to save time. “Light of my life, flower of my heart, the months that we have been apart have been torture to me.” Lily is now resisting the even stronger urge to bang Potter’s head against the desk. Instead, she turns to him, smiles sweetly, and replies, “Potter, if that was torture, I’ll happily take a year of it.”
Black laughs, and Lily grits her teeth. “Kinky,” he says. “D’you provide the whips, Evans, or should we bring our own?”
James tuts. “Ignore him,” he says. “He’s just jealous of our love.”
“What love?” Lily splutters. “I certainly don’t love you, and sometimes I wonder if you don’t love yourself more than you love me.” She winces. That had sounded better in her head.
“Ridiculous!” says Potter, sounding scandalised. “And just to prove it…” He picks up Lily’s quill from the desk, twirls it between his fingers, then presents it to her with a flourish. Lily blinks. He’s Transfigured her quill into a rose. It’s not a red rose, either, those deep, almost dirty red roses that Lily’s never liked, but a rich peachy colour with a beautiful scent, and Lily stares at it stupidly for an age before coming to her senses and flinging it down.
“I’d like my quill back, please,” she grates, refusing to contemplate even for a moment how difficult it is to create a rose that smells.
James smiles and Sirius smirks, and as they turn to go, Sirius casually changes her quill into a whip.
~*~
It had all started back in first year. Her first day, actually. She was standing at the top of the stairs, hopelessly lost, and they came clattering down the stairs and pushed roughly past her as if she didn’t even exist.
“Excuse me,” she snapped.
They paused, looking back at her. Potter looked puzzled, Black bored. “Sorry,” Black said eventually. “Didn’t see you there.” And at once he turned back to Potter, saying, “Of course I remember Aunt Mildred. She always gave me a knut and told me not to spend it all at once.”
“She did that to me too! And she had that awful fox fur that always tried to bite me…”
As they reached the bottom, laughing, Lily felt tears prick behind her eyes.
~*~
She was scooped up eventually by a girl called Cass who was from one of the lesser pureblood families (“I suppose I’m probably related to them somewhere down the line”) and was thus a brilliant friend to have when you’re small and insecure and have been catapulted not just into a new school, but into a completely new world as well. But it took a while for Lily to settle in, as wonderful as Hogwarts was, and Black and Potter’s supreme confidence and unbelievable arrogance just rubbed her nose in it, the careless ease with which they sailed through Hogwarts life in stark contrast to Lily’s uncertain, stumbling steps. And it was depressing how academically brilliant they were - their consistent bad behaviour and inattention, coupled with their consistent high marks, made a mockery of Lily’s careful and methodical progress.
Had they showed any interest in her or made any attempt to make friends, she would have forgiven them their faults. But they didn’t, and they persisted in being annoying and irreverent and a bit smelly, and they kept making teachers cross, which made life difficult for the rest of the class. And they kept losing Gryffindor points, while being hideously parochial, which made no sense at all as far as Lily was concerned.
Eventually they started noticing Lily, but this only made things worse. They discovered an unerring ability to find her sore spots and an unceasing delight in prodding at them until she snapped. One incident in particular never fails to infuriate Lily, even six years on. It was the first weekend of the first year, and Lily was still horribly out of her depth. Everything was alien, everything surprised her; nothing could have prepared her for Hogwarts’ peculiar eccentricities. And she was still adjusting to the demands of the lessons and the realisation that she was no longer the top of the class. Lily had never felt so small.
Enter Black and Potter, spoiled princelings both, thrilled to have Hogwarts as their kingdom and its occupants as their court. That particular day they were hunched in a corner of the common room, testing the explosive properties of various substances and pretending not to notice the stares and whispers of the other Gryffindors. Lily herself was trying to work and finding it hard to concentrate, what with the bangs and the mutterings and then the excited squeaking when Peter Pettigrew was invited over to play the adoring crowd. And so she eventually got up and went over, intending to be polite. They ignored her. She coughed. They ignored her, although Peter giggled once, and Potter’s mouth was twitching.
“Excuse me,” Lily said shortly. Peter giggled again, an inane, nervous sound. Lily wondered if he was laughing at her - judging her! - and her anger increased. “Well answer me,” she snapped.
Slowly Black lifted his head and looked at her, and after inspecting her for a second he drawled, “You haven’t asked anything, so how can we answer?”
Lily felt herself flush. “You know what I mean.”
“No, actually, I don’t. Who are you, anyway?”
“Lily Evans.”
“Oh.” Sirius looked back at his experiments, obviously not interested. Lily was enraged. She felt a fool, and she hated feeling a fool more than anything.
“Some of us,” she said haughtily, “are trying to work.”
“We’re not stopping you,” Sirius said, a little puzzled. “You’re talking to us.”
“You are stopping us with all the noise you’re making.”
“But this is our work.”
“It’s not for school.”
“So?” Sirius was clearly bewildered, and also a little irritated.
“So you shouldn’t disturb those of us who are doing real work.”
James gave Sirius a look that clearly said Muggleborns! Sirius ignored him, just chewed his lip. Lily remembers he had ink on his cheek.
“Fair enough,” Sirius said.
“What?” she asked, astonished.
“I said, fair enough.” Sirius smiled. “Come on, James. We’ll probably get better results outside anyway.” And with a wide, cheeky grin at Lily, he gathered up his wand and his vials and his tie (already scorched at the end) and left. Technically, Lily had won the argument, but she always felt that in reality, she’d lost. She never forgave Sirius for this.
~*~
“Miss Evans! Miss Evans!”
“Professor?”
“Miss Evans. There are some things we need to discuss about your latest essay. Would you be able to meet me after school in the Charms classroom? I’m afraid my study is unavailable - Peeves, you know. Shall we say four-thirty?”
“Certainly, sir. But may I -”
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. The contrary, actually.”
And Professor Flitwick walks away, chuckling to himself.
~*~
It’s turning into a beautiful evening when Lily leaves the dungeons and head towards Charms, and she finds the corridor flooded with warm afternoon light. Pushing open the door, however, her good mood is destroyed utterly. Because there he is, shattering the moment with his angular, annoying, unignorable presence, there he sits with his back to her, poring over a tome. Sirius Black. Sirius Black with messy hair, tie hanging loose around his neck, and his robes crumpled on the floor by his chair. Sirius Black, a tattered quill in his ink-stained fingers and his shirt-tails untucked; Sirius Black, for once intent on his work, his shoulders bent.
He hasn’t heard her come in, and Lily feels a sudden need to register her presence, but then he is so intent, so focussed, that it seems a shame to disturb his concentration. She watches as he grabs a piece of parchment and starts scribbling, as he bites his thumbnail, as he pushes his too-long hair out of his eyes.
He really is gorgeous, Lily thinks. Shame everyone’s so shallow, ignoring his character because he’s so good-looking. But all of a sudden, she wonders if she has the wrong idea.
“Come on…” Sirius mutters, “where are you?”
Because come to think of it, he’s never actively horrible. He’s cruel to Snape of course, but Snape deserves it really. And his sense of humour is a bit… well, warped, but he never actually tries to hurt anyone. And he’s often cheerful and he’s always friendly. He’s just annoying. Is he nice? Is he sweet, as Cass maintains? There has to be something there, because Lupin likes him and Lupin is sensible. Perhaps he - and then two third years walk past, chattering loudly, and Sirius looks up.
“Sorry!” Lily blurts. “Sorry, I didn’t mean -”
“It’s - it’s nothing,” he replies weakly. He looks like he’s been miles away, a little blinky and dazed. It’s oddly endearing. Then he recognises Lily and his face hardens. “It’s you,” he says flatly.
“Are you doing homework?”
“Yes, actually. Your faith in me is flattering.”
“It’s what you deserve,” Lily replies lightly.
Sirius frowns. “What do you want?”
“I’m supposed to be meeting Flitwick here at four-thirty.”
“Surely it’ll be in his study?” Sirius asks.
“How dare you?” Lily exclaims, feeling his insinuation like a punch. She hates him.
“What?” He seems bewildered. “Oh. Oh! You thought -”
“Yes. Didn’t you?”
“Don’t be stupid,” he says scathingly. “I’m not Snape.”
Lily hears the bitterness in his tone and senses a story, but she isn’t interested enough to probe further, even if she thought Sirius would answer. She feels awkward and stupid and irritated, and she realises she’s chewing her hair again. This is all Black’s fault. If he wasn’t so disagreeable… She hoists up her bag and marches over to an empty desk, a few rows away from Black. She doesn’t look at him.
After a minute the scratching of a quill starts again, and the sound of turning pages. It annoys her. I bet he’s being deliberately noisy, she thinks. She puts up with it for a few minutes, trying her hardest not to rise to the bait, but finally she sighs and tuts.
“Am I disturbing you?” Black asks coldly.
“A bit.”
“Would you like me to breathe more quietly too?” he continues. ‘Why I don’t I stop breathing altogether? How does that sound?”
“Sounds perfect,” Lily snaps. She turns, expecting to see rage on Black’s face, but she only sees contempt and an odd, cynical twist to the mouth that she immediately recognises as self-loathing. It shocks her. And then Black notices her looking and drops his head, hiding his expression.
Fine. Be like that.
Where is Flitwick? This is intolerable. She hadn’t wanted to see him, but now she can’t wait, because it will rid her of Black’s unwelcome company. Perhaps she can persuade Black to leave? That might work.
“So, what are you doing here?” she asks casually.
“Trying to work,” Sirius replies shortly.
“But why here? Why not in the dorm or the common room?”
“Too noisy.”
“The library then.”
Black looks pained, and Lily is amused by his vanity. “Oh, I forgot,” she taunts. “Sirius Black wouldn’t be seen dead in the library.” And yet he’s working, which is strange enough.
“I’m working here,” he says slowly, “because I need to use some of Flitwick’s books, and I thought I may have to prepare a spell map.”
“You’re not allowed,” Lily hears herself say; it sounds stupid even to herself.
“Ooh, what’s that?” He points to the floor. “Oh look, you dropped your halo.” And he returns to his book, scowling.
It occurs to Lily suddenly that there is no pleasantness in Sirius’s voice, as there normally is, and it surprises her. She realises that although he’s trying to hurt her now, he never has before. It’s only ever been teasing. The uncomfortable feeling that she may have misjudged him rises once more.
“What are you doing?” she asks, in a half-hearted attempt at an apology.
Black sighs at this further interruption. “I’m doing James’s homework. He’s got Quidditch. And yes, I know I’m not allowed to. I don’t care. He needed my help, so I’m helping him. That’s what friends do.”
Lily is a little chastened by this, quailing under Black’s derisive stare. She can’t explain it, but she finds it depressing that Black has such a low opinion of her. Hatred she could deal with, but contempt? She realises she misses the old, light-hearted Black. He was always annoying, but he was rarely cruel - at least, not to her. And even when he was cruel to others, he wasn’t particularly malicious, just careless, or angry. She finds a little bud of respect growing in her chest, mingled with a powerful exasperation - why does he have to be such an enigma? Why can’t he make up his mind whether to be sweet or an idiot? More importantly, why can’t she make up her mind?
“Look, could you just read a book or something?” Black asks a little wearily. “This exercise is hard enough without you staring at me.”
And BAM! she’s angry with him again.
“I wasn’t staring,” she snaps, although actually she was. She’d been looking for the real Sirius Black, trying to work him out. She hadn’t succeeded, but she had noticed the ink- and potion-stains on his collar, the deep grey of his eyes, and the irritatingly tanned patch of skin at the base of his throat - irritating, that is, because Lily never tans, no matter how hard she tries. Perhaps it’s dirt, she thinks. Wouldn’t surprise me. But Lily is nothing if not honest, and she’s forced to admit that actually, Black isn’t dirty. And although he’d gone through the requisite phase of over-indulging in aftershave and after Quidditch he could be a bit whiffy, he doesn’t really smell either. She remembers that horrible time when she’d had to sit next to him in Transfiguration back in fifth year and he’d hummed A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love at her for what felt like hours - she had been grateful then that for all his faults, there was no miasma of sweat and feet and teenage boy around him, just a clean smell with just a hint of cigarettes (which should have been disgusting but wasn’t).
And luckily Flitwick appears just then, before Lily goes any further down that disturbing mental path, and it is with relief that she follows him to his de-Peeved study.
~*~
Another week passes and the first Hogsmeade weekend rolls around.
“Why can’t he just accept it!’ she exclaims that Thursday at breakfast.
“He’s in love,” Cass says, fluttering her eyelashes and helping herself to more sausages.
“He’s not,” Lily replies. “He can’t be. He barely knows me.”
“He’s known you for six years.”
“Yes, but not known me known me.”
“Well, no, not in the Biblical sense, but that’s because you won’t let him.”
“We’ve never even had a proper conversation!”
“And whose fault is that?”
“His. He’s an idiot.”
“Yes, he is. But he is significantly less of an idiot now than he used to be, and even then he was supposed to be quite sweet underneath - or so I was told by the people who bothered to talk to him.”
“Saying he’s not such an idiot anymore is hardly a recommendation.” The bell goes and they start to gather their stuff. “That’s like saying - I don’t know - oh, flu’s great because it’s not as bad as pneumonia.”
“What’s pneumonia?”
“It’s a Muggle disease. But that’s not the point.” There’s a loud bang behind them, and Lily looks round - a Slytherin first year has been dyed bright gold. She sighs. “That’s the point. Still say he’s not that bad?”
“Look, sweetheart, he’s sixteen. What do you expect? Boys don’t grow up as quickly as girls, but they do grow up eventually. Most of the time.”
“I bet he’ll be the exception,” Lily mutters darkly.
“Then find someone else. Seriously, why does it bother you so much? It’s not as if you like the guy.”
“I know - it’s just, well - look, I don’t really know. It just does. Both of them.”
“You’re weird,” Cass tells her affectionately.
~*~
Black and Potter are up to their usual tricks in Charms and finally Professor Flitwick snaps and separates them. Potter is given to poor Madge Andrews, and Black is sent to sit next to Lily. She ignores him.
They’re set to practicing the charm, and under cover of this Black says, “So, what did he want?”
“Who?”
“Flitwick. Last week?”
“Oh!” Strange… “Not much. We were just talking about an essay of mine.”
“What about?”
“Gravitatis! He wants to submit it to the Charms Essay Competition.”
“Congratulations.” Is he being sarcastic? Lily is suddenly unsure. “Gravitatis! So all that sucking up helped, eh?”
“Not causing mayhem isn’t sucking up.”
Black grins. “Admit it, Evans, you’re a teacher’s pet.” He makes exaggerated kissy-kissy noises, and he looks so comic that Lily wants to laugh. It unsettles her: she’s not supposed to find him funny. She must be tired.
“I’m not a teacher’s pet,” she says, scowling. “Far from it. I just find it convenient to have teachers that like me. I get better marks and better reports, and when I get into trouble or don’t do my work I can get away with it. Gravitatis! Unlike you.”
“Unlike me,” Black echoes, still smiling, and tipping back in his chair. He looks arrogant and inscrutable and gorgeous, and Lily starts to feel irritated again. This reassures her - she didn’t like liking Black. It was unnatural. “People blame me,” he continues, “even when I had nothing to do with it.” Almost absently he flicks his wand and once more, his feather plummets to earth, rigid.
“You generally have something to do with it,” Lily remarks.
“True. But not always. You know when the upstairs carpets made orgasmic noises when walked on?”
“You?”
“Not me. But I got the blame. Although to be honest, that was a brilliant one, I wish I had done it.”
Despite herself, Lily’s intrigued. “So all these practical jokes aren’t you lot?”
“Oh, most are. Gotta pass the time, you know? But some - a growing number - aren’t. Copycats, mostly, and mostly pisspoor efforts, but there’ve been one or two that I’ve been proud to take the credit for.”
“So you’re the victims really?” Lily teases, and Black nods seriously.
“Oh yes, definitely,” he says, and then grins. And it’s not the first time Lily has seen that grin - wicked and charismatic and a little self-satisfied - but it’s the first time it’s been directed at her, with full eye-contact, and the effect is staggering. She feels hot and shivery, her heart clenches, and there’s a definite twitch between her legs, and although Lily can’t for the life of her remember why she didn’t like Black, she conjures up her anger (He’s arrogant and manipulative and how dare he make me feel like this!) and takes refuge in rage until her treacherous body submits once more to her will.
~*~
It’s a few months later, and Lily’s patrolling the corridors. The castle is dark and silent and Lily’s skin crawls a little as she passes the deepest shadows. It’s an irrational fear, born of instinct, since ghosts hold no terror for her, and it’s not as if a Death Eater is going to be hiding behind that cabinet. Still, she draws her robes tighter and keeps a firm grip on her wand, and strains her eyes against the darkness.
Her feet echo loudly in the quiet, and it occurs to her that she should hear anyone coming. This reassures her a little. Around her a symphony of noises reach her ears - the snoring of the portraits, the rustling of a tapestry up ahead, the hundreds of creaks and scufflings as the castle settles into its foundations. And there - her ears prick up - the sound of voices. Soft and far off certainly, but recognisable, and Lily hurries towards the sound.
The voices are distinct now, and she rounds the corner into the Charms corridor, expecting to see the perpetrators there, but the corridor is empty. Puzzled, Lily walks on, her feet muffled here by the carpet and then she stops by the main classroom. Aha!
The door swings open and there she finds Remus Lupin talking urgently to Sirius Black, and Lily stops dead. At the sound of the door opening they look up guiltily - when they see who it is, Remus flushes bright red, and Black’s face hardens.
“You’re out of bed,” Lily hears herself say, and immediately regrets it. Black fixes her with a withering, contemptuous stare. Remus looks unhappy and starts to chew his lip. Lily gets the feeling she’s interrupted something important. “Well,” she says lamely, “just - just don’t be long.”
Remus nods. Black snorts and turns away. Feeling stupid, Lily backs from the room. As the door clicks shut she hears Black speak at once, and his words are crystal clear.
“What a fucking shambles,” he spits, then there’s Remus’s voice, although he’s speaking too softly for her to catch his words.
Her face burning, Lily walks on.
~*~
The incident was not particularly important, but it sticks with Lily nonetheless. Something about the look in Remus’s eyes - and in Black’s, for that matter - makes her feel oddly sad, and a little excluded. She doesn’t like the thought that things happen that she doesn’t know about. And it’s strange, but she finds she doesn’t like the thought of Black having a life that doesn’t include her. He’s been her problem for so long that she’s forgotten he might be other people’s problem as well. Remus’s, for instance. She realises that she’s only ever thought about Sirius in relation to herself - he was defined purely by her emotions. He existed only to annoy her, to tease her, or to act as an outlet when she was cross and she needed someone to shout at.
She’s dwelling on this the following day as she sits in the small eastern courtyard, books on her lap, and when Black appears it’s as if she’s conjured him by force of will. She jumps, suddenly shaky. She feels sick when she realises he’s avoiding her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts, as he walks past. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
Black sighs and comes over, leaning against the pillar next to her. He smiles a wry smile at her, and Lily feels very young and very foolish under his world-weary gaze.
“It’s nothing,” he says simply. “Anyone could have done it. We weren’t being careful enough, that’s all.” He’s silent for a moment, looking at his shoes, but then he says, “I guess I should thank you, though.”
“Why?”
“For not ratting on us. I thought we were done for when I saw it was you.”
“I should have told,” Lily admits. “I don’t know why I didn’t. I just - it looked important, what you were talking about.”
“It was. That’s why I’m grateful.”
Silence, and Lily finds herself unable to move, unable even to look away, caught by Sirius’s - Black’s! - steady, unreadable gaze. Her stomach is fluttering and her mouth is dry, and she wonders vaguely what madness this is. Is it yet another trick of his? If it is, it isn’t funny.
“You’re awfully flushed,” Sirius remarks. “Are you all right?”
And the glint in his eye convinces her. Shaking, she jumps to her feet.
“Take it off,” she grates, her voice unsteady. “Take it off now.”
“Take what off?” Sirius asks, looking amused.
“The spell, the potion, whatever, take it off!”
“I haven’t put a spell on you.”
“Don’t bother lying. Just take it off me and McGonagall won’t hear of this.”
“You’re cracked! I haven’t put a spell on you.”
“You have, you have, I know you have!” Lily shouts. “You must have. It doesn’t make sense otherwise.” It has to be a spell! Why can’t she stop thinking about him? Why does she suddenly really, really fancy him, although she still can’t stand his character? Why can he make her hot with desire like this, if it’s not through a spell? It’s just another of his sick jokes.
“It doesn’t make sense anyway,” Sirius is saying. “Why would I put a spell on you?”
“It’s just one of your jokes - you and Potter. You think it’s so funny - I bet he’s even hiding behind a pillar right now, sniggering!”
“He’s not here, Evans. I can call him if you want, though. I think he’d appreciate the way your bosom is heaving.” And with a mocking smile he goes to his bag, adding, “Is that a new bra, perchance?”
“Stop it!” Lily shrieks, beyond herself. “Just stop it!”
“Ok,” Sirius says, “I’m stopped.” He regards her unflinchingly, an amused, superior smile on his face. “The question is, are you? Are you quite finished, madam?”
Lily takes a deep breath, feeling that she should try and regain some of her dignity. “Yes,” she manages, “for now.”
“Good,” Sirius says, “Because I’ve never heard such a load of bollocks in my life.” And with a cheeky grin he grabs her wrist and pulls her close; there’s a blur of skin and eyes and nose, and then he’s kissing her.
And maybe Lily goes a little mad, or maybe her instincts kick in, or maybe it’s because she hasn’t had a snog, let alone a shag, since the previous summer, but she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t slap him.
She kisses him back.
It could be curiosity, could be purely in the sprit of enquiry, to see if the notorious Sirius Black lives up to his reputation. It could be because she can, to prove that she is desirable, she isn’t all angles like she sometimes feels at her most low. Or she could stop pretending and accept that she fancies the pants off him. It seems Earth logic, even Hogwarts logic (which may be as complicated and tortuous as Hogwarts itself but still has a method in its madness) has been left far behind. Lily is in uncharted territory, and everything is topsy-turvy.
She loves it.
Sirius kisses with confidence and assurance and not a little skill, and Lily finds herself leaning closer and kissing deeper, her fury and passionate dislike and the adrenaline from her outburst transmuted by some strange alchemy into a healthy lust. Sirius’s right hand - which had held hers - is now cupping the back of her head, his fingers entwined in her hair, while his left rests on the small of her back, holding her close. One of Lily’s is tangled in Sirius’s hair, the other rests on his hip for balance. She’s glad he’s leaning against the pillar; otherwise she would probably fall down. The thought of falling, feeling Sirius’s hard, lean body beneath hers, is distinctly unsettling and Lily finds herself suddenly short of breath and a little dizzy. She tries to get even closer but succeeds only in stumbling over Sirius’s feet - she catches herself before she falls, but it’s embarrassing.
“Steady,” Sirius murmurs into her hair. “Steady.”
But the moment has gone, and realisation hits her like a bucket of freezing water.
“Sirius, I -” She takes a step back. “I - I’ve got to go!”
And she wrenches herself from his grasp and flees.
~*~
She struggles for a week, trying to reason with herself. He’s arrogant, she tells herself over and over again, he’s childish, he’s a bully. He doesn’t even like you. And there she was, kissing him, fingers digging into his arse, his back, clawing him - Lily feels sick with shame and confusion every time she thinks of it. He’ll probably tell everyone now, and then it’ll be the whispering and the giggling and - well, hopefully a little admiration - but life won’t be worth living. She hates the thought that she of all people has given in, when she’s always prided herself on her strength of character. It’s so - well, so degrading. Especially as she enjoyed it, which is the most ludicrous part of the whole thing. She puts it down to hormones, and ignores the voices in her head that tell her she is very, very wrong.
But the whispers never happen, and it begins to dawn on her that maybe he’s kept quiet. Relief battles with vanity (Is he ashamed?) until she feels dizzy with conflicting emotions, and she’s forced to give in to what she’s known all along, simply to get some peace of mind.
Yes, she thinks, after a lesson spent watching him, gauging her reaction, I fancy him. And badly. You can fancy someone you don’t like, can’t you? It’s just sex, I suppose. Sex appeal. That’s it. Sirius exerts a fascination over her that is undeniable. She finds herself restless, full of unspecific yearnings that coalesce and focus to laser-like intensity when Sirius is there. She just can’t seem to forget the taste of him, the feel of his mouth against hers.
She watches him as she chews her lip or a thumbnail, feet fidgeting, brain and body feverish with visions of bare skin and dark hair and grey eyes. On Tuesday she is obsessed with his hips - how slim they are, and how the skin stretches over them, so invitingly taut. Wednesday it’s his hands and their grace, how they felt in her hair and on her back, and how they’d feel again. Thursday, it’s his arse, because Thursday is Quidditch practice and the uniform is the perfect showcase. That evening she also notices his cheekbones, because he’s got a cut there and is showing it off to his friends. He looks especially handsome that evening, alive and warm and exuberant, with his wide grin and flashing eyes and cheeks ruddy from sun and exercise. That evening is the first time in four days that he’s made eye contact with her, and the shock when he does is incredible - an electric current running from her eyes straight to her lips and then flaming down her spine to her cunt. She’s terrified and infuriated and aroused, and she bites her lip until it bleeds.
On Friday she decides she’s gone mad, and spends the whole of Transfiguration being furious at Sirius’s mouth and its perfection.
~*~
Things come to a head that afternoon. She’s stayed behind after Charms to use one of the huge golden encyclopaedias that sit on the bookshelves on the right of the wall, and she’s deep into the theoretical and practical differences between the charms to animate an inanimate object and to reanimate an unconscious human or animal when the door swings open and in comes none other than Sirius Black.
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes and he stops dead in the doorway, right hand holding the strap of his bag on his shoulder. His robes are unbuttoned and his tie is unknotted, hanging down around his neck, revealing that little patch of skin between his collarbones that Lily loves and hates so much. His hair is tousled and his shirt is spotted with ink, and surprise, surprise, there is also ink on his cheek. Lily wonders idly if it’s deliberate, it’s there so often - but her musing is only to take her mind off the way her legs are shaking.
“Well, hello,” he drawls, having regained his composure, and Lily gulps. His voice! He smiles at her and deliberately shuts the door. Lily looks down at her parchment.
“’Lo,” she mutters.
“Whatcha doin’?” he asks, singsong, dropping his bag to the floor and coming closer.
“Charms.” Lily hopes he’ll leave, and hopes he’ll stay, and she finds her heart is tight. So tight she can’t breathe very well.
“Anything I can help you with?” And now he’s sitting on the desk next to hers, grinning infuriatingly at her and resting his chin in his hand.
“No, I think I can manage,” Lily replies icily. “Although if I can’t I’ll be sure to ask you.”
“Makes sense to,” he agrees, and Lily wonders how he can be so calm.
“Look,” she says, taking the bull by the horns. “Look, Black -”
He cuts her off. “Big mistake,” he parrots, sneering a little. “Shouldn’t have happened, let’s not mention it again, let’s be friends!” He shakes his head. “Except of course we’re not friends, we never were, and we probably never will be while you hold this ridiculous aversion to me and James - who is, incidentally, a fantastic guy who is completely stupid about you and who deserves not to be treated like crap.” He takes a deep breath; his cheeks are a little flushed.
“I’m sorry,” Lily says, “are you chatting me up - for Potter?”
“He’s the one who likes you,” Black says, shrugging.
“But -” Lily protests, dumbstruck and bewildered and a little hurt.
“I know, I know,” Sirius says, and Lily realises he’s angry - this relieves her, as it puts them on an even footing. “The fact is, Evans, you’re all in a tizzy because I kissed you despite never having fallen at your feet and your vanity can’t cope with that.”
Lily gasps with fury; “You’re one to talk about vanity,” she hisses, but Sirius just smiles.
“Perfect for each other, then,” he says. “We can stroke each other’s egos. And other things of course, but egos mostly.”
“You -” Lily tries to say something, but she’s so angry she finds herself laughing a little at the sheer ridiculousness of everything he’s said.
“You see,” Sirius ploughs on, “you’re trying to be all reasonable and sensible and neat about everything, which is stupid because something like this isn’t neat but messy and complicated and that’s why it’s so much fun.”
“You’re mad,” Lily says weakly. “You’re completely mad.”
“Probably,” he says calmly. “But then so are you. Perfect for each other, you see?”
Lily doesn’t think it can possibly get much worse than this, but it does.
“The thing is, Evans,” Sirius continues, relentlessly. She’s almost impressed by his perseverance. “It turns out that I rather fancy you. I like the way you’re the only one who tells us to fuck off. I like the way I can get under your skin. I hate the way you’ve got under mine, but hey, that’s harmans for you.”
“Hormones,” Lily murmurs.
“Thanks, hormones. That’s another thing - you fascinate me because you’re Muggleborn and that’s - well, that’s something I don’t really know about. And that makes me rather more like my family than I would like.”
Was that - was that sensitivity? “Are you going to research me, then?” Lily asks.
“Definitely,” Sirius says with a wink. “Inside and out. If you’ll let me. Which you will do because you’ve been ogling me all week and now you’re so mad for it you’re practically panting. Although that may be rage and undying hatred, who knows?” He leans forward. “I could do romance, you know. But since we don’t really like each other, that’d be wrong. And I know how much you hate hypocrisy.”
Lily gropes for a smart reply, but her mind is a horrible, yawning blank, so she simply glares.
“Are you going to slap me?” Sirius whispers.
“I’m tempted.”
“Go on then. I like it rough.”
“You -”
And then they’re kissing again, hard and angry and wild; hands fisted into clothes, bodies jammed tight, noses bumping as they move. Lily’s heart is hammering and her skin is on fire; she can feel Sirius’s growing erection against her thigh. She’s consumed by desire, hot and thoughtless, and although she knows the cure lies in the cause of the madness, for once this cycle doesn’t bother her.
Black’s hands are moving, roaming, already plucking at her robes and cupping her breasts. The fabric parted, his right hand slips under her shirt, while the other finds her leg, then quickly he strokes upward to Lily’s crotch. All at once her legs go weak and she nearly falls, but he holds on to her, laughing a little against her mouth.
“Like that?” He sounds so fucking smug - Lily feels another wash of irritation.
“Just - just don’t talk.”
“Fine by me,” he says, and slips his hand inside her knickers.
But she grabs his wrist and he looks up, startled.
“If we do this -” Lily pants, “it doesn’t mean I like you.”
“That’s fine.” Sirius smiles sweetly. “I don’t like you either.”
“Just a fuck.”
“Just a fuck,” Sirius agrees, and slips a finger inside her.
next
Author: Me, nellie_darlin
Disclaimer: Not mine. Jo's.
Pairing/Characters: Lily/Sirius, Lily/James
Rating: NC-17
Length: 6,420 words
Summary: The real reason Lily Evans keeps turning James Potter down? She's already sleeping with his best friend...
Teaser: It’s breakfast time at Hogwarts on the first day back after the summer holidays, and the Great Hall is already in an uproar.
Notes: This is the first part of three; the second will go up tomorrow and the third the day after. A million and one thanks to the gorgeous sazzlette - not only did she beta this monster of a fic, despite having tons of better stuff to do, she also looked stuff up in the books for me when I was in Cambridge. The title is from the song of the same name by Jerome Kern; the full quotation is When your heart's on fire, smoke gets in your eyes.
It’s breakfast time at Hogwarts on the first day back after the summer holidays, and the Great Hall is already in an uproar. The two first-year girls sitting next to Lily are craning their necks, trying to see what’s happening, but Lily doesn’t even look up. She doesn’t need to. She knows who the culprits were; she could even make a reasonably accurate guess as to what the commotion is about. Black and Potter, of course; plus at least one Slytherin, a ridiculously complicated yet ridiculously puerile hex, and a few weeks’ detention at the end of it. Easy as pie. Just as much a routine as the round of lessons and bells. A loud bang echoes round the hall, and Lily and the more experienced students duck instinctively.
Another bang, and a gale of laughter, and Lily looks up to see silky knickers falling softly through the air like snow.
Home sweet home, she thinks, standing up and pulling a black lacy thong off her ear.
~*~
Lily has just settled into her seat and is getting her copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Book 6 out of her bag, when Black and Potter saunter into the classroom, still laughing at the silken devastation they’d wreaked on breakfast. Rosalind Jacobs, Hufflepuff, gives a lovelorn sigh, and Lily groans.
Sirius must have heard her, because his dark eyes flicker to her and narrow slightly. Uncomfortable despite herself, Lily straightens in her chair, staring back with haughty disdain. Sirius looks at her for a moment, his expression unreadable, then smirks.
“All right, Evans?” he says as he passes her desk on his way to the back of the classroom, James a few steps behind.
“Black,” she replies coolly, trying to ignore the slow burn of anger that is already heating in her chest. The school year hasn’t even started and already he’s annoying her. At least Potter hasn’t…
“Evans!” Damn. Lily resists the urge to bang her head against the desk now, just to save time. “Light of my life, flower of my heart, the months that we have been apart have been torture to me.” Lily is now resisting the even stronger urge to bang Potter’s head against the desk. Instead, she turns to him, smiles sweetly, and replies, “Potter, if that was torture, I’ll happily take a year of it.”
Black laughs, and Lily grits her teeth. “Kinky,” he says. “D’you provide the whips, Evans, or should we bring our own?”
James tuts. “Ignore him,” he says. “He’s just jealous of our love.”
“What love?” Lily splutters. “I certainly don’t love you, and sometimes I wonder if you don’t love yourself more than you love me.” She winces. That had sounded better in her head.
“Ridiculous!” says Potter, sounding scandalised. “And just to prove it…” He picks up Lily’s quill from the desk, twirls it between his fingers, then presents it to her with a flourish. Lily blinks. He’s Transfigured her quill into a rose. It’s not a red rose, either, those deep, almost dirty red roses that Lily’s never liked, but a rich peachy colour with a beautiful scent, and Lily stares at it stupidly for an age before coming to her senses and flinging it down.
“I’d like my quill back, please,” she grates, refusing to contemplate even for a moment how difficult it is to create a rose that smells.
James smiles and Sirius smirks, and as they turn to go, Sirius casually changes her quill into a whip.
~*~
It had all started back in first year. Her first day, actually. She was standing at the top of the stairs, hopelessly lost, and they came clattering down the stairs and pushed roughly past her as if she didn’t even exist.
“Excuse me,” she snapped.
They paused, looking back at her. Potter looked puzzled, Black bored. “Sorry,” Black said eventually. “Didn’t see you there.” And at once he turned back to Potter, saying, “Of course I remember Aunt Mildred. She always gave me a knut and told me not to spend it all at once.”
“She did that to me too! And she had that awful fox fur that always tried to bite me…”
As they reached the bottom, laughing, Lily felt tears prick behind her eyes.
~*~
She was scooped up eventually by a girl called Cass who was from one of the lesser pureblood families (“I suppose I’m probably related to them somewhere down the line”) and was thus a brilliant friend to have when you’re small and insecure and have been catapulted not just into a new school, but into a completely new world as well. But it took a while for Lily to settle in, as wonderful as Hogwarts was, and Black and Potter’s supreme confidence and unbelievable arrogance just rubbed her nose in it, the careless ease with which they sailed through Hogwarts life in stark contrast to Lily’s uncertain, stumbling steps. And it was depressing how academically brilliant they were - their consistent bad behaviour and inattention, coupled with their consistent high marks, made a mockery of Lily’s careful and methodical progress.
Had they showed any interest in her or made any attempt to make friends, she would have forgiven them their faults. But they didn’t, and they persisted in being annoying and irreverent and a bit smelly, and they kept making teachers cross, which made life difficult for the rest of the class. And they kept losing Gryffindor points, while being hideously parochial, which made no sense at all as far as Lily was concerned.
Eventually they started noticing Lily, but this only made things worse. They discovered an unerring ability to find her sore spots and an unceasing delight in prodding at them until she snapped. One incident in particular never fails to infuriate Lily, even six years on. It was the first weekend of the first year, and Lily was still horribly out of her depth. Everything was alien, everything surprised her; nothing could have prepared her for Hogwarts’ peculiar eccentricities. And she was still adjusting to the demands of the lessons and the realisation that she was no longer the top of the class. Lily had never felt so small.
Enter Black and Potter, spoiled princelings both, thrilled to have Hogwarts as their kingdom and its occupants as their court. That particular day they were hunched in a corner of the common room, testing the explosive properties of various substances and pretending not to notice the stares and whispers of the other Gryffindors. Lily herself was trying to work and finding it hard to concentrate, what with the bangs and the mutterings and then the excited squeaking when Peter Pettigrew was invited over to play the adoring crowd. And so she eventually got up and went over, intending to be polite. They ignored her. She coughed. They ignored her, although Peter giggled once, and Potter’s mouth was twitching.
“Excuse me,” Lily said shortly. Peter giggled again, an inane, nervous sound. Lily wondered if he was laughing at her - judging her! - and her anger increased. “Well answer me,” she snapped.
Slowly Black lifted his head and looked at her, and after inspecting her for a second he drawled, “You haven’t asked anything, so how can we answer?”
Lily felt herself flush. “You know what I mean.”
“No, actually, I don’t. Who are you, anyway?”
“Lily Evans.”
“Oh.” Sirius looked back at his experiments, obviously not interested. Lily was enraged. She felt a fool, and she hated feeling a fool more than anything.
“Some of us,” she said haughtily, “are trying to work.”
“We’re not stopping you,” Sirius said, a little puzzled. “You’re talking to us.”
“You are stopping us with all the noise you’re making.”
“But this is our work.”
“It’s not for school.”
“So?” Sirius was clearly bewildered, and also a little irritated.
“So you shouldn’t disturb those of us who are doing real work.”
James gave Sirius a look that clearly said Muggleborns! Sirius ignored him, just chewed his lip. Lily remembers he had ink on his cheek.
“Fair enough,” Sirius said.
“What?” she asked, astonished.
“I said, fair enough.” Sirius smiled. “Come on, James. We’ll probably get better results outside anyway.” And with a wide, cheeky grin at Lily, he gathered up his wand and his vials and his tie (already scorched at the end) and left. Technically, Lily had won the argument, but she always felt that in reality, she’d lost. She never forgave Sirius for this.
~*~
“Miss Evans! Miss Evans!”
“Professor?”
“Miss Evans. There are some things we need to discuss about your latest essay. Would you be able to meet me after school in the Charms classroom? I’m afraid my study is unavailable - Peeves, you know. Shall we say four-thirty?”
“Certainly, sir. But may I -”
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. The contrary, actually.”
And Professor Flitwick walks away, chuckling to himself.
~*~
It’s turning into a beautiful evening when Lily leaves the dungeons and head towards Charms, and she finds the corridor flooded with warm afternoon light. Pushing open the door, however, her good mood is destroyed utterly. Because there he is, shattering the moment with his angular, annoying, unignorable presence, there he sits with his back to her, poring over a tome. Sirius Black. Sirius Black with messy hair, tie hanging loose around his neck, and his robes crumpled on the floor by his chair. Sirius Black, a tattered quill in his ink-stained fingers and his shirt-tails untucked; Sirius Black, for once intent on his work, his shoulders bent.
He hasn’t heard her come in, and Lily feels a sudden need to register her presence, but then he is so intent, so focussed, that it seems a shame to disturb his concentration. She watches as he grabs a piece of parchment and starts scribbling, as he bites his thumbnail, as he pushes his too-long hair out of his eyes.
He really is gorgeous, Lily thinks. Shame everyone’s so shallow, ignoring his character because he’s so good-looking. But all of a sudden, she wonders if she has the wrong idea.
“Come on…” Sirius mutters, “where are you?”
Because come to think of it, he’s never actively horrible. He’s cruel to Snape of course, but Snape deserves it really. And his sense of humour is a bit… well, warped, but he never actually tries to hurt anyone. And he’s often cheerful and he’s always friendly. He’s just annoying. Is he nice? Is he sweet, as Cass maintains? There has to be something there, because Lupin likes him and Lupin is sensible. Perhaps he - and then two third years walk past, chattering loudly, and Sirius looks up.
“Sorry!” Lily blurts. “Sorry, I didn’t mean -”
“It’s - it’s nothing,” he replies weakly. He looks like he’s been miles away, a little blinky and dazed. It’s oddly endearing. Then he recognises Lily and his face hardens. “It’s you,” he says flatly.
“Are you doing homework?”
“Yes, actually. Your faith in me is flattering.”
“It’s what you deserve,” Lily replies lightly.
Sirius frowns. “What do you want?”
“I’m supposed to be meeting Flitwick here at four-thirty.”
“Surely it’ll be in his study?” Sirius asks.
“How dare you?” Lily exclaims, feeling his insinuation like a punch. She hates him.
“What?” He seems bewildered. “Oh. Oh! You thought -”
“Yes. Didn’t you?”
“Don’t be stupid,” he says scathingly. “I’m not Snape.”
Lily hears the bitterness in his tone and senses a story, but she isn’t interested enough to probe further, even if she thought Sirius would answer. She feels awkward and stupid and irritated, and she realises she’s chewing her hair again. This is all Black’s fault. If he wasn’t so disagreeable… She hoists up her bag and marches over to an empty desk, a few rows away from Black. She doesn’t look at him.
After a minute the scratching of a quill starts again, and the sound of turning pages. It annoys her. I bet he’s being deliberately noisy, she thinks. She puts up with it for a few minutes, trying her hardest not to rise to the bait, but finally she sighs and tuts.
“Am I disturbing you?” Black asks coldly.
“A bit.”
“Would you like me to breathe more quietly too?” he continues. ‘Why I don’t I stop breathing altogether? How does that sound?”
“Sounds perfect,” Lily snaps. She turns, expecting to see rage on Black’s face, but she only sees contempt and an odd, cynical twist to the mouth that she immediately recognises as self-loathing. It shocks her. And then Black notices her looking and drops his head, hiding his expression.
Fine. Be like that.
Where is Flitwick? This is intolerable. She hadn’t wanted to see him, but now she can’t wait, because it will rid her of Black’s unwelcome company. Perhaps she can persuade Black to leave? That might work.
“So, what are you doing here?” she asks casually.
“Trying to work,” Sirius replies shortly.
“But why here? Why not in the dorm or the common room?”
“Too noisy.”
“The library then.”
Black looks pained, and Lily is amused by his vanity. “Oh, I forgot,” she taunts. “Sirius Black wouldn’t be seen dead in the library.” And yet he’s working, which is strange enough.
“I’m working here,” he says slowly, “because I need to use some of Flitwick’s books, and I thought I may have to prepare a spell map.”
“You’re not allowed,” Lily hears herself say; it sounds stupid even to herself.
“Ooh, what’s that?” He points to the floor. “Oh look, you dropped your halo.” And he returns to his book, scowling.
It occurs to Lily suddenly that there is no pleasantness in Sirius’s voice, as there normally is, and it surprises her. She realises that although he’s trying to hurt her now, he never has before. It’s only ever been teasing. The uncomfortable feeling that she may have misjudged him rises once more.
“What are you doing?” she asks, in a half-hearted attempt at an apology.
Black sighs at this further interruption. “I’m doing James’s homework. He’s got Quidditch. And yes, I know I’m not allowed to. I don’t care. He needed my help, so I’m helping him. That’s what friends do.”
Lily is a little chastened by this, quailing under Black’s derisive stare. She can’t explain it, but she finds it depressing that Black has such a low opinion of her. Hatred she could deal with, but contempt? She realises she misses the old, light-hearted Black. He was always annoying, but he was rarely cruel - at least, not to her. And even when he was cruel to others, he wasn’t particularly malicious, just careless, or angry. She finds a little bud of respect growing in her chest, mingled with a powerful exasperation - why does he have to be such an enigma? Why can’t he make up his mind whether to be sweet or an idiot? More importantly, why can’t she make up her mind?
“Look, could you just read a book or something?” Black asks a little wearily. “This exercise is hard enough without you staring at me.”
And BAM! she’s angry with him again.
“I wasn’t staring,” she snaps, although actually she was. She’d been looking for the real Sirius Black, trying to work him out. She hadn’t succeeded, but she had noticed the ink- and potion-stains on his collar, the deep grey of his eyes, and the irritatingly tanned patch of skin at the base of his throat - irritating, that is, because Lily never tans, no matter how hard she tries. Perhaps it’s dirt, she thinks. Wouldn’t surprise me. But Lily is nothing if not honest, and she’s forced to admit that actually, Black isn’t dirty. And although he’d gone through the requisite phase of over-indulging in aftershave and after Quidditch he could be a bit whiffy, he doesn’t really smell either. She remembers that horrible time when she’d had to sit next to him in Transfiguration back in fifth year and he’d hummed A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love at her for what felt like hours - she had been grateful then that for all his faults, there was no miasma of sweat and feet and teenage boy around him, just a clean smell with just a hint of cigarettes (which should have been disgusting but wasn’t).
And luckily Flitwick appears just then, before Lily goes any further down that disturbing mental path, and it is with relief that she follows him to his de-Peeved study.
~*~
Another week passes and the first Hogsmeade weekend rolls around.
“Why can’t he just accept it!’ she exclaims that Thursday at breakfast.
“He’s in love,” Cass says, fluttering her eyelashes and helping herself to more sausages.
“He’s not,” Lily replies. “He can’t be. He barely knows me.”
“He’s known you for six years.”
“Yes, but not known me known me.”
“Well, no, not in the Biblical sense, but that’s because you won’t let him.”
“We’ve never even had a proper conversation!”
“And whose fault is that?”
“His. He’s an idiot.”
“Yes, he is. But he is significantly less of an idiot now than he used to be, and even then he was supposed to be quite sweet underneath - or so I was told by the people who bothered to talk to him.”
“Saying he’s not such an idiot anymore is hardly a recommendation.” The bell goes and they start to gather their stuff. “That’s like saying - I don’t know - oh, flu’s great because it’s not as bad as pneumonia.”
“What’s pneumonia?”
“It’s a Muggle disease. But that’s not the point.” There’s a loud bang behind them, and Lily looks round - a Slytherin first year has been dyed bright gold. She sighs. “That’s the point. Still say he’s not that bad?”
“Look, sweetheart, he’s sixteen. What do you expect? Boys don’t grow up as quickly as girls, but they do grow up eventually. Most of the time.”
“I bet he’ll be the exception,” Lily mutters darkly.
“Then find someone else. Seriously, why does it bother you so much? It’s not as if you like the guy.”
“I know - it’s just, well - look, I don’t really know. It just does. Both of them.”
“You’re weird,” Cass tells her affectionately.
~*~
Black and Potter are up to their usual tricks in Charms and finally Professor Flitwick snaps and separates them. Potter is given to poor Madge Andrews, and Black is sent to sit next to Lily. She ignores him.
They’re set to practicing the charm, and under cover of this Black says, “So, what did he want?”
“Who?”
“Flitwick. Last week?”
“Oh!” Strange… “Not much. We were just talking about an essay of mine.”
“What about?”
“Gravitatis! He wants to submit it to the Charms Essay Competition.”
“Congratulations.” Is he being sarcastic? Lily is suddenly unsure. “Gravitatis! So all that sucking up helped, eh?”
“Not causing mayhem isn’t sucking up.”
Black grins. “Admit it, Evans, you’re a teacher’s pet.” He makes exaggerated kissy-kissy noises, and he looks so comic that Lily wants to laugh. It unsettles her: she’s not supposed to find him funny. She must be tired.
“I’m not a teacher’s pet,” she says, scowling. “Far from it. I just find it convenient to have teachers that like me. I get better marks and better reports, and when I get into trouble or don’t do my work I can get away with it. Gravitatis! Unlike you.”
“Unlike me,” Black echoes, still smiling, and tipping back in his chair. He looks arrogant and inscrutable and gorgeous, and Lily starts to feel irritated again. This reassures her - she didn’t like liking Black. It was unnatural. “People blame me,” he continues, “even when I had nothing to do with it.” Almost absently he flicks his wand and once more, his feather plummets to earth, rigid.
“You generally have something to do with it,” Lily remarks.
“True. But not always. You know when the upstairs carpets made orgasmic noises when walked on?”
“You?”
“Not me. But I got the blame. Although to be honest, that was a brilliant one, I wish I had done it.”
Despite herself, Lily’s intrigued. “So all these practical jokes aren’t you lot?”
“Oh, most are. Gotta pass the time, you know? But some - a growing number - aren’t. Copycats, mostly, and mostly pisspoor efforts, but there’ve been one or two that I’ve been proud to take the credit for.”
“So you’re the victims really?” Lily teases, and Black nods seriously.
“Oh yes, definitely,” he says, and then grins. And it’s not the first time Lily has seen that grin - wicked and charismatic and a little self-satisfied - but it’s the first time it’s been directed at her, with full eye-contact, and the effect is staggering. She feels hot and shivery, her heart clenches, and there’s a definite twitch between her legs, and although Lily can’t for the life of her remember why she didn’t like Black, she conjures up her anger (He’s arrogant and manipulative and how dare he make me feel like this!) and takes refuge in rage until her treacherous body submits once more to her will.
~*~
It’s a few months later, and Lily’s patrolling the corridors. The castle is dark and silent and Lily’s skin crawls a little as she passes the deepest shadows. It’s an irrational fear, born of instinct, since ghosts hold no terror for her, and it’s not as if a Death Eater is going to be hiding behind that cabinet. Still, she draws her robes tighter and keeps a firm grip on her wand, and strains her eyes against the darkness.
Her feet echo loudly in the quiet, and it occurs to her that she should hear anyone coming. This reassures her a little. Around her a symphony of noises reach her ears - the snoring of the portraits, the rustling of a tapestry up ahead, the hundreds of creaks and scufflings as the castle settles into its foundations. And there - her ears prick up - the sound of voices. Soft and far off certainly, but recognisable, and Lily hurries towards the sound.
The voices are distinct now, and she rounds the corner into the Charms corridor, expecting to see the perpetrators there, but the corridor is empty. Puzzled, Lily walks on, her feet muffled here by the carpet and then she stops by the main classroom. Aha!
The door swings open and there she finds Remus Lupin talking urgently to Sirius Black, and Lily stops dead. At the sound of the door opening they look up guiltily - when they see who it is, Remus flushes bright red, and Black’s face hardens.
“You’re out of bed,” Lily hears herself say, and immediately regrets it. Black fixes her with a withering, contemptuous stare. Remus looks unhappy and starts to chew his lip. Lily gets the feeling she’s interrupted something important. “Well,” she says lamely, “just - just don’t be long.”
Remus nods. Black snorts and turns away. Feeling stupid, Lily backs from the room. As the door clicks shut she hears Black speak at once, and his words are crystal clear.
“What a fucking shambles,” he spits, then there’s Remus’s voice, although he’s speaking too softly for her to catch his words.
Her face burning, Lily walks on.
~*~
The incident was not particularly important, but it sticks with Lily nonetheless. Something about the look in Remus’s eyes - and in Black’s, for that matter - makes her feel oddly sad, and a little excluded. She doesn’t like the thought that things happen that she doesn’t know about. And it’s strange, but she finds she doesn’t like the thought of Black having a life that doesn’t include her. He’s been her problem for so long that she’s forgotten he might be other people’s problem as well. Remus’s, for instance. She realises that she’s only ever thought about Sirius in relation to herself - he was defined purely by her emotions. He existed only to annoy her, to tease her, or to act as an outlet when she was cross and she needed someone to shout at.
She’s dwelling on this the following day as she sits in the small eastern courtyard, books on her lap, and when Black appears it’s as if she’s conjured him by force of will. She jumps, suddenly shaky. She feels sick when she realises he’s avoiding her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts, as he walks past. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
Black sighs and comes over, leaning against the pillar next to her. He smiles a wry smile at her, and Lily feels very young and very foolish under his world-weary gaze.
“It’s nothing,” he says simply. “Anyone could have done it. We weren’t being careful enough, that’s all.” He’s silent for a moment, looking at his shoes, but then he says, “I guess I should thank you, though.”
“Why?”
“For not ratting on us. I thought we were done for when I saw it was you.”
“I should have told,” Lily admits. “I don’t know why I didn’t. I just - it looked important, what you were talking about.”
“It was. That’s why I’m grateful.”
Silence, and Lily finds herself unable to move, unable even to look away, caught by Sirius’s - Black’s! - steady, unreadable gaze. Her stomach is fluttering and her mouth is dry, and she wonders vaguely what madness this is. Is it yet another trick of his? If it is, it isn’t funny.
“You’re awfully flushed,” Sirius remarks. “Are you all right?”
And the glint in his eye convinces her. Shaking, she jumps to her feet.
“Take it off,” she grates, her voice unsteady. “Take it off now.”
“Take what off?” Sirius asks, looking amused.
“The spell, the potion, whatever, take it off!”
“I haven’t put a spell on you.”
“Don’t bother lying. Just take it off me and McGonagall won’t hear of this.”
“You’re cracked! I haven’t put a spell on you.”
“You have, you have, I know you have!” Lily shouts. “You must have. It doesn’t make sense otherwise.” It has to be a spell! Why can’t she stop thinking about him? Why does she suddenly really, really fancy him, although she still can’t stand his character? Why can he make her hot with desire like this, if it’s not through a spell? It’s just another of his sick jokes.
“It doesn’t make sense anyway,” Sirius is saying. “Why would I put a spell on you?”
“It’s just one of your jokes - you and Potter. You think it’s so funny - I bet he’s even hiding behind a pillar right now, sniggering!”
“He’s not here, Evans. I can call him if you want, though. I think he’d appreciate the way your bosom is heaving.” And with a mocking smile he goes to his bag, adding, “Is that a new bra, perchance?”
“Stop it!” Lily shrieks, beyond herself. “Just stop it!”
“Ok,” Sirius says, “I’m stopped.” He regards her unflinchingly, an amused, superior smile on his face. “The question is, are you? Are you quite finished, madam?”
Lily takes a deep breath, feeling that she should try and regain some of her dignity. “Yes,” she manages, “for now.”
“Good,” Sirius says, “Because I’ve never heard such a load of bollocks in my life.” And with a cheeky grin he grabs her wrist and pulls her close; there’s a blur of skin and eyes and nose, and then he’s kissing her.
And maybe Lily goes a little mad, or maybe her instincts kick in, or maybe it’s because she hasn’t had a snog, let alone a shag, since the previous summer, but she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t slap him.
She kisses him back.
It could be curiosity, could be purely in the sprit of enquiry, to see if the notorious Sirius Black lives up to his reputation. It could be because she can, to prove that she is desirable, she isn’t all angles like she sometimes feels at her most low. Or she could stop pretending and accept that she fancies the pants off him. It seems Earth logic, even Hogwarts logic (which may be as complicated and tortuous as Hogwarts itself but still has a method in its madness) has been left far behind. Lily is in uncharted territory, and everything is topsy-turvy.
She loves it.
Sirius kisses with confidence and assurance and not a little skill, and Lily finds herself leaning closer and kissing deeper, her fury and passionate dislike and the adrenaline from her outburst transmuted by some strange alchemy into a healthy lust. Sirius’s right hand - which had held hers - is now cupping the back of her head, his fingers entwined in her hair, while his left rests on the small of her back, holding her close. One of Lily’s is tangled in Sirius’s hair, the other rests on his hip for balance. She’s glad he’s leaning against the pillar; otherwise she would probably fall down. The thought of falling, feeling Sirius’s hard, lean body beneath hers, is distinctly unsettling and Lily finds herself suddenly short of breath and a little dizzy. She tries to get even closer but succeeds only in stumbling over Sirius’s feet - she catches herself before she falls, but it’s embarrassing.
“Steady,” Sirius murmurs into her hair. “Steady.”
But the moment has gone, and realisation hits her like a bucket of freezing water.
“Sirius, I -” She takes a step back. “I - I’ve got to go!”
And she wrenches herself from his grasp and flees.
~*~
She struggles for a week, trying to reason with herself. He’s arrogant, she tells herself over and over again, he’s childish, he’s a bully. He doesn’t even like you. And there she was, kissing him, fingers digging into his arse, his back, clawing him - Lily feels sick with shame and confusion every time she thinks of it. He’ll probably tell everyone now, and then it’ll be the whispering and the giggling and - well, hopefully a little admiration - but life won’t be worth living. She hates the thought that she of all people has given in, when she’s always prided herself on her strength of character. It’s so - well, so degrading. Especially as she enjoyed it, which is the most ludicrous part of the whole thing. She puts it down to hormones, and ignores the voices in her head that tell her she is very, very wrong.
But the whispers never happen, and it begins to dawn on her that maybe he’s kept quiet. Relief battles with vanity (Is he ashamed?) until she feels dizzy with conflicting emotions, and she’s forced to give in to what she’s known all along, simply to get some peace of mind.
Yes, she thinks, after a lesson spent watching him, gauging her reaction, I fancy him. And badly. You can fancy someone you don’t like, can’t you? It’s just sex, I suppose. Sex appeal. That’s it. Sirius exerts a fascination over her that is undeniable. She finds herself restless, full of unspecific yearnings that coalesce and focus to laser-like intensity when Sirius is there. She just can’t seem to forget the taste of him, the feel of his mouth against hers.
She watches him as she chews her lip or a thumbnail, feet fidgeting, brain and body feverish with visions of bare skin and dark hair and grey eyes. On Tuesday she is obsessed with his hips - how slim they are, and how the skin stretches over them, so invitingly taut. Wednesday it’s his hands and their grace, how they felt in her hair and on her back, and how they’d feel again. Thursday, it’s his arse, because Thursday is Quidditch practice and the uniform is the perfect showcase. That evening she also notices his cheekbones, because he’s got a cut there and is showing it off to his friends. He looks especially handsome that evening, alive and warm and exuberant, with his wide grin and flashing eyes and cheeks ruddy from sun and exercise. That evening is the first time in four days that he’s made eye contact with her, and the shock when he does is incredible - an electric current running from her eyes straight to her lips and then flaming down her spine to her cunt. She’s terrified and infuriated and aroused, and she bites her lip until it bleeds.
On Friday she decides she’s gone mad, and spends the whole of Transfiguration being furious at Sirius’s mouth and its perfection.
~*~
Things come to a head that afternoon. She’s stayed behind after Charms to use one of the huge golden encyclopaedias that sit on the bookshelves on the right of the wall, and she’s deep into the theoretical and practical differences between the charms to animate an inanimate object and to reanimate an unconscious human or animal when the door swings open and in comes none other than Sirius Black.
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes and he stops dead in the doorway, right hand holding the strap of his bag on his shoulder. His robes are unbuttoned and his tie is unknotted, hanging down around his neck, revealing that little patch of skin between his collarbones that Lily loves and hates so much. His hair is tousled and his shirt is spotted with ink, and surprise, surprise, there is also ink on his cheek. Lily wonders idly if it’s deliberate, it’s there so often - but her musing is only to take her mind off the way her legs are shaking.
“Well, hello,” he drawls, having regained his composure, and Lily gulps. His voice! He smiles at her and deliberately shuts the door. Lily looks down at her parchment.
“’Lo,” she mutters.
“Whatcha doin’?” he asks, singsong, dropping his bag to the floor and coming closer.
“Charms.” Lily hopes he’ll leave, and hopes he’ll stay, and she finds her heart is tight. So tight she can’t breathe very well.
“Anything I can help you with?” And now he’s sitting on the desk next to hers, grinning infuriatingly at her and resting his chin in his hand.
“No, I think I can manage,” Lily replies icily. “Although if I can’t I’ll be sure to ask you.”
“Makes sense to,” he agrees, and Lily wonders how he can be so calm.
“Look,” she says, taking the bull by the horns. “Look, Black -”
He cuts her off. “Big mistake,” he parrots, sneering a little. “Shouldn’t have happened, let’s not mention it again, let’s be friends!” He shakes his head. “Except of course we’re not friends, we never were, and we probably never will be while you hold this ridiculous aversion to me and James - who is, incidentally, a fantastic guy who is completely stupid about you and who deserves not to be treated like crap.” He takes a deep breath; his cheeks are a little flushed.
“I’m sorry,” Lily says, “are you chatting me up - for Potter?”
“He’s the one who likes you,” Black says, shrugging.
“But -” Lily protests, dumbstruck and bewildered and a little hurt.
“I know, I know,” Sirius says, and Lily realises he’s angry - this relieves her, as it puts them on an even footing. “The fact is, Evans, you’re all in a tizzy because I kissed you despite never having fallen at your feet and your vanity can’t cope with that.”
Lily gasps with fury; “You’re one to talk about vanity,” she hisses, but Sirius just smiles.
“Perfect for each other, then,” he says. “We can stroke each other’s egos. And other things of course, but egos mostly.”
“You -” Lily tries to say something, but she’s so angry she finds herself laughing a little at the sheer ridiculousness of everything he’s said.
“You see,” Sirius ploughs on, “you’re trying to be all reasonable and sensible and neat about everything, which is stupid because something like this isn’t neat but messy and complicated and that’s why it’s so much fun.”
“You’re mad,” Lily says weakly. “You’re completely mad.”
“Probably,” he says calmly. “But then so are you. Perfect for each other, you see?”
Lily doesn’t think it can possibly get much worse than this, but it does.
“The thing is, Evans,” Sirius continues, relentlessly. She’s almost impressed by his perseverance. “It turns out that I rather fancy you. I like the way you’re the only one who tells us to fuck off. I like the way I can get under your skin. I hate the way you’ve got under mine, but hey, that’s harmans for you.”
“Hormones,” Lily murmurs.
“Thanks, hormones. That’s another thing - you fascinate me because you’re Muggleborn and that’s - well, that’s something I don’t really know about. And that makes me rather more like my family than I would like.”
Was that - was that sensitivity? “Are you going to research me, then?” Lily asks.
“Definitely,” Sirius says with a wink. “Inside and out. If you’ll let me. Which you will do because you’ve been ogling me all week and now you’re so mad for it you’re practically panting. Although that may be rage and undying hatred, who knows?” He leans forward. “I could do romance, you know. But since we don’t really like each other, that’d be wrong. And I know how much you hate hypocrisy.”
Lily gropes for a smart reply, but her mind is a horrible, yawning blank, so she simply glares.
“Are you going to slap me?” Sirius whispers.
“I’m tempted.”
“Go on then. I like it rough.”
“You -”
And then they’re kissing again, hard and angry and wild; hands fisted into clothes, bodies jammed tight, noses bumping as they move. Lily’s heart is hammering and her skin is on fire; she can feel Sirius’s growing erection against her thigh. She’s consumed by desire, hot and thoughtless, and although she knows the cure lies in the cause of the madness, for once this cycle doesn’t bother her.
Black’s hands are moving, roaming, already plucking at her robes and cupping her breasts. The fabric parted, his right hand slips under her shirt, while the other finds her leg, then quickly he strokes upward to Lily’s crotch. All at once her legs go weak and she nearly falls, but he holds on to her, laughing a little against her mouth.
“Like that?” He sounds so fucking smug - Lily feels another wash of irritation.
“Just - just don’t talk.”
“Fine by me,” he says, and slips his hand inside her knickers.
But she grabs his wrist and he looks up, startled.
“If we do this -” Lily pants, “it doesn’t mean I like you.”
“That’s fine.” Sirius smiles sweetly. “I don’t like you either.”
“Just a fuck.”
“Just a fuck,” Sirius agrees, and slips a finger inside her.
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