James cajoles
For the Fluff thread's cajoling theme:
~*~
Lily opened the door of the cottage kitchen closet looking for twine, but halted in surprise. The setting rays of the sun spilled out…
There stood a broom. The blindingly polished mahogany handle bore a shiny gold label which read, 'Quality Quidditch Supplies' in scrolling black script. She reached in, pulled it out, and spun it around for inspection. She cast a glance towards the floor: barely a twig out of place on the tail.
Her brow furrowed.
“James?” she queried towards the living room of their little cottage.
“Yes?” he answered.
“Is this a new broom?”
He left a telling pause. “Uh…no… I’ve had that one for…a while.”
In the privacy of the kitchen, Lily rolled her eyes, then stepped into the doorway holding the broom.
James peered sheepishly over the top of the Daily Prophet which he was reading while lying on the couch. He’d been out late with Sirius on a shift for the Order. The morning light had brought him home.
“A while, huh?” She noticeably drew her eyes to the label. Omnipotence came so easily to her around James. He thought he was so clever, but he was really quite obvious....
He gave that guilty little eye shift she’d decoded years ago at Hogwarts, then put down the Prophet and pulled himself up. His black hair was as tousled as ever, his collar askew, and he wore a slightly worn set of robes-the kind that increased in softness with laundering.
Standing his full height, he gazed at her from across the room with those softly expressive hazel eyes she’d once tried to overlook. His lips breached a smile. He was every bit the stag sometimes, she marvelled.
Yes, it was always the same problem with James-too cute to be ignored, too mischievous for his own good. If only his parents hadn't pampered him so.
A determined Lily crossed her arms around the handle and leaned against the doorframe, cocking her shoulder just a bit higher to portray an edge. The truth would come out. The living room was too small for him to evade her-only enough room for a couch, two chairs, and a fireplace.
His broadening grin pleaded guilty.
“You don’t want me riding one of my old school brooms while I’m working for the Order, do you?” he asked, wide-eyed.
“Old school brooms,” she scoffed. “You mean the ones everyone wanted to try?” Oh, the number of times she saw them circling the tower!
“It might be dangerous!” he objected, his voice rising an octave in alarm.
Merlin, could he lay it on thick, that husband of hers.
“I’m sure that was your reasoning behind buying a new one,” she cheeked, but inside she felt her old traitorous smirk threatening to give away her edge.
Oh no! He approached the doorway with a familiar confidence in his gait; Lily steeled herself. James braced an arm to the doorway and adopted a jocular pose, every bit his old Quidditch Captain self.
“How do you know I didn’t just polish one up?” His eyes flitted toward the broom handle, twinkling suggestively.
Did the devil always get into him after a night with Sirius?
“I wasn’t Head Girl for nothing,” she replied, her chin rising, Petunia-like.
James smiled sorrowfully back at her. “Did I ever tell you that back at Hogwarts I used to go flying every time you turned me down?”
Lily eyebrows jumped into her hairline. She’d never heard this sorry story before.
“Mmmm... takes your mind off the fact that the girl of your dreams doesn’t want to walk down the stairs with you," he leaned in and lowered his voice.
She exhaled in exasperation.
“So can I keep it?” he beamed, childlike. He took a step closer, closing the gap between them and pulled the broom out of her grasp. He leaned it softly against the wall before his hands moved adeptly to her waist. She gave one last effort at rigidity, but the smirk finally betrayed her.
“I suppose... It’s your money,” she breathed. Her shoulders softened as he pulled her closer. Her stomach leapt in anticipation.
“I think the return policy ran out anyway,” he muttered as he bent his head to kiss her, capturing her bottom lip. She smiled into the kiss, shaking her head in defiance until, a second later, her hands crept up to his neck...Her fingers curled into the roots of his hair...
She pulled back for air. “Luckily for you, your return policy ran out,” she quipped. She flashed a smiled as he charged forward to meet her again.
He leaned her against the doorway, beginning to make amends. The little cottage was small indeed.