That All Too Familiar Smile (Lee/Lily Luna, PG-13)
Author: katmarajade
Title: That All Too Familiar Smile
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1100
Pairing(s): Lee Jordan/Lily Luna Potter
Warnings: cross gen (47/18), a very foul-mouthed Lee, a lot of innuendo
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Nightclub owner Lee Jordan thought he was over the young, fresh-faced, straight-out-of-Hogwarts type, but when she walks in he can't help himself. There's something all too familiar about her ...
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my brilliant beta!
Lee Jordan, owner of Fandango, one of the hottest Wizarding nightclubs in London, is used to being surrounded by scantily-clad, heavily made-up girls. His club has gotten a huge surge from the late teens/early twenties crowd, and he is proud of its success.
Normally, the young ones-all fresh-faced and just out of Hogwarts-don't do much for him, though he's had a dalliance or two. He's past that stage now, preferring his women a bit fuller, more worldly and experienced. It makes the game more interesting.
So he's more than a little surprised to find himself watching the new girl. There's just something about her. She's come in twice in the past two weeks, her shorts and high heels displaying long, pale, perfect legs, and her red hair a glorious, fiery cascade down her back. He sees a million girls like her-young, pretty, impossibly proportioned in the way only the under twenty set can be. There's just something about her … something familiar.
It's the third time she shows up that he comes face to face with her. He likes to sit in a quiet enclave at the far corner of the bar. It keeps him more or less out of sight, except to those who know to look for him, but gives him a decent view of the place. He likes to keep an eye on things.
She orders a drink, leaning in to shout her request to the bartender, and Lee can't help but notice the silky, red dress that pulls even further up her ridiculously long legs. She takes her drink, which he's surprised to see isn't one of the brightly-coloured, fruity concoctions that most of the young girls drink. Taking a sip through the tiny straw, she turns and their eyes meet. Her expression is sassy, smug, and all-too-familiar.
Of course she's a Weasley.
Bugger, wank, shit, and a fucking blowtorch up his perfect arse.
Of course she is.
She narrows her eyes at him and then they brighten in recognition. As she sashays over in her tiny slip of scarlet silk, he gets a mad urge to hide under the table.
"Lee Jordan," she says, and he curses again when he hears a low, throaty voice just as sexy as the rest of her. This is so, so wrong.
"The one and only," he replies, trying to capture his normal bravado. He succeeds, if only marginally. "And you must be a Weasley."
"Potter, actually," she corrects with a dismissive shrug. "But, yes. I'm Lily." She thrusts out a hand, slender and pale with surprisingly unpainted, neatly-clipped, short nails. He takes it. What else can he do?
"Last time I saw you, you were still in pigtails."
"Last time I saw you, you had hair," she shoots back with a cheeky grin.
Lee winces and runs a hand over his smooth head. Embarrassed at his premature receding hairline, he'd started shaving his head around his thirtieth birthday.
"Touché."
"To be honest, I think we're both much improved." The easy, flirtatious banter helps, but it is the electric expression, loaded with mischief, danger, and fire and hiding behind a winning smile, ever-so-slightly crooked teeth, dancing eyes, and those thrice-damned dimples that gets him.
The girl is Fred and George at eighteen, just with better legs and tits. And fuck if it isn't turning Lee's entire world upside down-and then shaking it violently for good measure.
It was that grin that always got him. It was that grin that had gotten him into so much trouble back at Hogwarts. It was that grin that convinced him to start up a rogue wireless program and go on the run. It was that grin that haunted him, still etched on his best friend's face, even in death. It was that grin, or the loss of it really, that contributed to Lee and George gradually growing apart over the years. And it is that grin right now that's making something inside him growl with shockingly strong insistence.
She flips her hair and gives him another smile. He knows that smile. He can see what she wants, though he can't quite believe it.
It's not that he thinks he's too old or not attractive enough-hell, no! He's fit as fuck and a damn sight better looking than most of the drooling school boys in this place. But this is Fred and George's niece, the only daughter of the bleeding Boy Wonder himself, and Lee is a bad, bad man for perving on the kid.
"So, Lee, do you want to dance?" she asks, and he can't help but notice it's the same damn too-cheeky, overly-confident, nothing's-too-much, go-big-or-get-the-hell-out-of-the-way tone that he spent years trying to imitate.
"Dunno if that's such a great idea. I barely know you, kid."
"Know me?" She smirks and he knows she knows he's stalling, pretending. "Well, what's to know? I'm eighteen, a Libra, Gryffindor, and I start a ridiculously prestigious Potions Mastery program in September, because I'm spectacularly brilliant." She winks in that too-familiar, cocky way and he falters again; she presses on.
"I love long rambles in dangerous woodlands, Banoffee pie, and surprises. I hate boring conversations and peas-I think it's a texture thing, like eating spoonfuls of itty bitty eyeballs, ick. Oh, and not dancing, especially when I'm standing here looking exceptionally hot and there's a gorgeous, fit bloke right next to me who clearly wants me and is probably nursing a serious hard-on in those scrumptiously tight trousers of his."
He can't help the laugh and grin that bubble out. His cool, suave persona vanishes and he feels younger than he has in years. He's missed this. Perhaps that should disturb him more than it currently is, but there are freckles peeking out of her dress and a grin on her face that's always been able to convince him to go along with even the most insane plans.
"So, what do you say, Jordan?" she taunts. "Time to drag that sexy arse of yours out of the seat and onto the dance floor where I can inspect it much more closely?"
Her eyes are flashing that same mix of fire, danger, and laughter that he remembers so achingly well, and he knows exactly where this is going to lead. But really, there's no way he can say no to this, even if he wanted to, and, to be perfectly (and possibly shamefully) honest, he wants this. He wants it a whole hell of a lot.
She takes his hand and gives him a sizzling smirk as she pulls him towards the throng of dancers. His answering gaze is hot and loaded with anticipation. It might be wrong, but this is going to be really fucking fun.
Title: That All Too Familiar Smile
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1100
Pairing(s): Lee Jordan/Lily Luna Potter
Warnings: cross gen (47/18), a very foul-mouthed Lee, a lot of innuendo
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Nightclub owner Lee Jordan thought he was over the young, fresh-faced, straight-out-of-Hogwarts type, but when she walks in he can't help himself. There's something all too familiar about her ...
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my brilliant beta!
Lee Jordan, owner of Fandango, one of the hottest Wizarding nightclubs in London, is used to being surrounded by scantily-clad, heavily made-up girls. His club has gotten a huge surge from the late teens/early twenties crowd, and he is proud of its success.
Normally, the young ones-all fresh-faced and just out of Hogwarts-don't do much for him, though he's had a dalliance or two. He's past that stage now, preferring his women a bit fuller, more worldly and experienced. It makes the game more interesting.
So he's more than a little surprised to find himself watching the new girl. There's just something about her. She's come in twice in the past two weeks, her shorts and high heels displaying long, pale, perfect legs, and her red hair a glorious, fiery cascade down her back. He sees a million girls like her-young, pretty, impossibly proportioned in the way only the under twenty set can be. There's just something about her … something familiar.
It's the third time she shows up that he comes face to face with her. He likes to sit in a quiet enclave at the far corner of the bar. It keeps him more or less out of sight, except to those who know to look for him, but gives him a decent view of the place. He likes to keep an eye on things.
She orders a drink, leaning in to shout her request to the bartender, and Lee can't help but notice the silky, red dress that pulls even further up her ridiculously long legs. She takes her drink, which he's surprised to see isn't one of the brightly-coloured, fruity concoctions that most of the young girls drink. Taking a sip through the tiny straw, she turns and their eyes meet. Her expression is sassy, smug, and all-too-familiar.
Of course she's a Weasley.
Bugger, wank, shit, and a fucking blowtorch up his perfect arse.
Of course she is.
She narrows her eyes at him and then they brighten in recognition. As she sashays over in her tiny slip of scarlet silk, he gets a mad urge to hide under the table.
"Lee Jordan," she says, and he curses again when he hears a low, throaty voice just as sexy as the rest of her. This is so, so wrong.
"The one and only," he replies, trying to capture his normal bravado. He succeeds, if only marginally. "And you must be a Weasley."
"Potter, actually," she corrects with a dismissive shrug. "But, yes. I'm Lily." She thrusts out a hand, slender and pale with surprisingly unpainted, neatly-clipped, short nails. He takes it. What else can he do?
"Last time I saw you, you were still in pigtails."
"Last time I saw you, you had hair," she shoots back with a cheeky grin.
Lee winces and runs a hand over his smooth head. Embarrassed at his premature receding hairline, he'd started shaving his head around his thirtieth birthday.
"Touché."
"To be honest, I think we're both much improved." The easy, flirtatious banter helps, but it is the electric expression, loaded with mischief, danger, and fire and hiding behind a winning smile, ever-so-slightly crooked teeth, dancing eyes, and those thrice-damned dimples that gets him.
The girl is Fred and George at eighteen, just with better legs and tits. And fuck if it isn't turning Lee's entire world upside down-and then shaking it violently for good measure.
It was that grin that always got him. It was that grin that had gotten him into so much trouble back at Hogwarts. It was that grin that convinced him to start up a rogue wireless program and go on the run. It was that grin that haunted him, still etched on his best friend's face, even in death. It was that grin, or the loss of it really, that contributed to Lee and George gradually growing apart over the years. And it is that grin right now that's making something inside him growl with shockingly strong insistence.
She flips her hair and gives him another smile. He knows that smile. He can see what she wants, though he can't quite believe it.
It's not that he thinks he's too old or not attractive enough-hell, no! He's fit as fuck and a damn sight better looking than most of the drooling school boys in this place. But this is Fred and George's niece, the only daughter of the bleeding Boy Wonder himself, and Lee is a bad, bad man for perving on the kid.
"So, Lee, do you want to dance?" she asks, and he can't help but notice it's the same damn too-cheeky, overly-confident, nothing's-too-much, go-big-or-get-the-hell-out-of-the-way tone that he spent years trying to imitate.
"Dunno if that's such a great idea. I barely know you, kid."
"Know me?" She smirks and he knows she knows he's stalling, pretending. "Well, what's to know? I'm eighteen, a Libra, Gryffindor, and I start a ridiculously prestigious Potions Mastery program in September, because I'm spectacularly brilliant." She winks in that too-familiar, cocky way and he falters again; she presses on.
"I love long rambles in dangerous woodlands, Banoffee pie, and surprises. I hate boring conversations and peas-I think it's a texture thing, like eating spoonfuls of itty bitty eyeballs, ick. Oh, and not dancing, especially when I'm standing here looking exceptionally hot and there's a gorgeous, fit bloke right next to me who clearly wants me and is probably nursing a serious hard-on in those scrumptiously tight trousers of his."
He can't help the laugh and grin that bubble out. His cool, suave persona vanishes and he feels younger than he has in years. He's missed this. Perhaps that should disturb him more than it currently is, but there are freckles peeking out of her dress and a grin on her face that's always been able to convince him to go along with even the most insane plans.
"So, what do you say, Jordan?" she taunts. "Time to drag that sexy arse of yours out of the seat and onto the dance floor where I can inspect it much more closely?"
Her eyes are flashing that same mix of fire, danger, and laughter that he remembers so achingly well, and he knows exactly where this is going to lead. But really, there's no way he can say no to this, even if he wanted to, and, to be perfectly (and possibly shamefully) honest, he wants this. He wants it a whole hell of a lot.
She takes his hand and gives him a sizzling smirk as she pulls him towards the throng of dancers. His answering gaze is hot and loaded with anticipation. It might be wrong, but this is going to be really fucking fun.