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Prompt: Quidditch jerseys
For the Fluff Thread.
A/N: I played directly off Hez’s jersey snippet to break my writing dry-spell this week. Notice it was left on the couch just like Ron's. Thanks Hez for helping me break the curse! Maybe I’ll get some work done on my WIP tomorrow now that my fingers are clicking the keys again.
I just couldn’t resist. Smelly objects are a favorite…
***
Sixth year James Potter was dreaming. Of course he was. How else would she be standing in his dorm room? Dark red hair tumbled over the shoulders of her grey jumper as he drank in her fuzzy visage. He let out a soft sigh of approval, fluttered his eyelids, and gazed back at her again.
This time he took in a broader view, though the image appeared slightly tilted as often happens in dreams. She stood next to the foot of his bed, one hand bracing her cocked hip, a silver Prefect badge glinting on her chest. She looked impatient with him as always.
James, for his part, was sprawled out like a cat, embracing his pillow. Something poked him hard in the buttocks. Damn owls! He groaned in annoyance and swatted it away. Why couldn’t they just bring the letter to breakfast already? Or maybe he’d slept through it again, but he didn’t care. Surely, it was just another letter from his parents.
He rolled over onto his back, hoping the impertinent owl would leave him alone. Dream Lily reappeared before his eyes. A straightened image presented itself as she gazed down on him with those beautiful green eyes. If only she would come into focus well enough for him to make out the sparse, tiny freckles that dotted her nose…
She leaned closer. Merlin, is she going to kiss me? I like this dream! Oh, now I can see the freckles! It was all becoming perfectly clear... She puckered up her soft primrose lips….
…and blew a sharp gust of air on his face.
His expectant body froze.
The skin on his face tingled from the blast...His eyelids fluttered realistically...Meanwhile, a Filibuster Firework exploded in his brain...
James sat bolt upright in his bed.
In a panic, he ignored the girl standing in front of him and checked the window. Bright sunlight blasted him in the eye, confirming his worst suspicions.
He stared back at the real Lily Evans.
“What-?” he sputtered, struggling to form a question.
At least she looked amused. That was always better than annoyed.
“How did you-?” he stammered, rubbing one eye to unglue it. He glanced down at his chest. Fortunately, he’d worn an undershirt last night.
Her eyes followed his. “It’s only the girls’ stairs that are enchanted, Potter,” she pointed out unnecessarily.
“Right.” James’s sleep stupefied brain was not prepared for a volley of wit with the likes of her, especially not whilst wearing his pajamas, since he found her intimidating enough under normal circumstances. His mates hadn't even stirred, so deep was their hibernation. “But why are you-?“
In lieue of an explanation, she produced a Griffindor Quidditch jersey, holding it out in pinched fingers.
James blinked at it. Familiar.
“You left this on the couch again,” she enlightened.
“So?” he asked. Couldn’t she just ignore it, the way she usually ignored…well, him?
“So… it smells,” she emphasized, revealing the route cause for her impatient arrival in his dorm room and subsequent discovery of him canoodling with his pillow.
James's face flooded with embarrassment. Great… Not only had he been caught cuddling his pillow and confronted in his pajamas, but she'd come all the way up here to tell him his jersey smelled badly. He couldn’t imagine a worse start to the day. A Quidditch jersey was supposed to be an object of victory, heroics even. And she was supposed to be impressed by it. Not the case here.
“Sorry,” he mumbled lamely.
She dropped the offending jersey unceremoniously onto his bed.
“It smells that bad, huh?” he squirmed, still feeling pinned by her gaze.
Lily shifted standing legs, looking largely undecided on how to phrase her response. “Unless you like the smell of musty grass...”
"Oh-" A bolt of sentiment overtook him, causing him to forget his embarassment. He raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I like to lie back on the grass after practice." His grin grew much like the new spring blades he liked to lie back on in his post-training exhaustion. “Is that all?” he asked sheepishly. A robust waft of grass wasn’t so bad, was it?
“I wouldn’t know." Lily blushed. "You’d need to ask the giddy third years who were inhaling it downstairs.”
James choked on a laugh. “They were smelling my jersey?” he asked, looking pleasantly incredulous.
Lily’s censuring look faltered so she rolled her eyes instead. “Yes, that and they were about to try it on.”
James' eyebrows shot up. He didn’t dare smile, unless you counted the one leaking through.
“It was making Genevieve miserable to watch them since Kingsley just broke up with her last night,” Lily went on.
“So you decided to bring it to me?” he asked. Hopeful incredulity leaked out everywhere.
“It was either that or tell those girls downstairs you had a horrible outbreak of highly contagious warts on your back,” she responded with a devilishly casual air as she turned to leave. “You know how fast that rumor would spread,” she smirked.
He grabbed the hem of her skirt just before she trotted out of reach, coaxing her to a stop.
“But you didn’t,” James pointed out satisfactorily. If only I can get her to admit it.
Lily nodded slowly.
Was there anything he could possibly say to further detain her? She wore an oddly companionable look that somehow made him decide not to press his luck for once. He released the hem, watching as it snapped back to her knees.
“Thanks, Evans,” he stated softly, gesturing to the jersey.
She smiled in acknowledgment before making her way back toward the heavy wooden door and slipping behind it. He listened closely to the soft patter of her footsteps descending the stairs until he could no longer make it out. Then he glanced asunder at his still slumbering mates, noticing Remus's slightly open piehole. They'd never believe it, of course. Finally, he fell victoriously onto his back, smiling to himself. His pillow let out a satisfying “woooosh” as it deflated to cradle his head anew. Time to go back to dreaming…
***
Of course, they all wear Quidditch ROBES, but those aren't as fun to write about.