Bludgers & Toerags
Author: LarryTheStapler
A/N: The story delves into James' and Lily's tough love.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Lily cracked her knuckles. A fierce hyper competitive streak painted her eyes as she peered out the desolate Quidditch filed through blood red tainted goggles. Today was the day. Ladies versus gentlemen. Feminists versus misogynists. Either way of saying it, the male gender was going down. And that arrogant toerag was not going to be spared. Her kindness lost to a relentless ambition. Armored in thick robes and shields, Lily felt a surge of confidence making its way through her head, spiking her respiration and heart rate.
"Ow!" A screech emanated from a fellow cohort. She turned over to see Priscilla Brown with a deep, open gash on her left arm. Bright red blood dripped on the field's floor, and cringes, rather than consolations, sprung from team members. Lily sighed as she foraged the small aid kit for decent gauze. To her luck, there was none left.
"Stay here, and use the herb in the upper left drawer of the kit to reduce the bleeding," she directed at a tall, thin girl.
Grumbling, she marched to the hut of egotistical males a short distance away.
***
James clenched his teeth with a stubborn reluctance. His cool, indifferent hazel eyes were replaced with a staunch aggressiveness. A handsome, rugged young man approached him, and out of brotherly tribute, they both spat into their palms and slapped their hands together. A jaded ego floated in the boys' locker room as an air of light feminism danced gracefully a distance away. The arrogant young man rested his foot on a rigid first aid kit dully.
And he smelled that odd flowery scent elegantly pirouetting towards him. He could only imagine a youthful, confident woman with lustrous red hair and a fair physique. But only her lucid, brilliant green eyes really caught his attention. He felt feverish yet oddly complaisant thinking about her, though the same woman curtly interrupted him:
"We need Fix-Quick gauze. You guys have any?" She shot a look of impatience at him through the ruby blood-red goggles. He rose from his daydream and fumbled through the kit beneath him. Even in heavy armor and Quidditch ware, there was still something so hypnotizing about her.
"Right here." A shooting roll of gauze came at Lily, and she gracefully caught it. She took note of the shooter and saw a smug James Potter leaning against the wall with the intent of rudely wooing her.
"Oy, what do you say, Evans, you and me for a date after this bloody match?" James inquired glibly. "No real woman alive can resist James Potter," he added quickly.
"You're a patronizing ass." She threw a glare of deepest repulsion and turned her back to him.
"A patronizing ass you can't resist. Besides, don't you want my ass?" Play it cool, dammit. James placed a fake façade of smugness over his face and loosely smirked at Lily.
"You're so hot, my knees are shaking," the redhead answered. Lily walked back to her team's small haven, untouched by the fact that James coolly waited for her to reply.
"I'M TAKING THAT AS A YES," James called behind her.
"Me, go out with you? You do nothing but hex poor students who annoy you, tussle your hair like it makes you cool, and flaunting your stupid Quidditch skills. Don't hold your breath, you blithering idiot," the redhead replied icily as she turned to him, facing him with her green almond eyes. She stiffly continued on her path back to her team, though James consumed more of her thoughts than she would have liked to admit.
"Blithering hot idiot." James yawned casually and tussled his hair unconsciously. Lily's mouth twitched into a vague smile, though concealed by the disgust she bore on her wrinkling nose.
"You're whipped," Sirius sniggered. The handsome young man stroke his thick coat of hair, and flashed a billboard-worthy smile. His friend's head sank down.
"That, was condescending and derogatory to all women."
"Nyah, nyah," Sirius taunted.
"Not helping!" He felt his cheeks reddening, more scarlet than the blood red robes the boys' team put on for the dawning match.
"Sad, you can get any other witch to gush at you. But Lily Evans is impossible."
"I only want a sand witch right now." James' stomach grumbled.
"Bad luck, mate. Come on, focus on the game buddy. After all we can't lose to a bunch of girls." Girls? Girls?Try Amazons. Sirius gave James a genuinely consoling pat on the back. James' eyes looked over at the glistening lake, hoping, waiting, praying.
***
"People, we're going to win today. Think positively and have balls. Or ovaries. Whatever floats your boat. We need to go out there and do our best," Lily said in a hushed tone. Half of her team connected with the same rushing determination, impervious to the handsome, jocky looks of the male team. The other half was not too resilient and remained impervious to her.
Lily groaned when a bespectacled girl with curly blonde raised a masculine, tackily red-clawed hand with a whimper.
"Yes, Rita?"
"Lily—I, I can't play against him. His eyes. They're too beautiful. I'll faint if I look at them," Rita proclaimed. And by "his" they all knew who she was talking about. Lily felt an air of disgust pollute the room from Rita's Sassy & Seductive plum-lipglossed mouth. Why did women make themselves seem so stupid by engaging in such words?
"Be strong, woman! James Potter is a conceited, patronizing, hair-tussling, glib-talking prat. Don't worry yourself with him. Focus on the game! If we win this match we'll get the Cup. Now let's go you guys!"
Madame Hooch shot her spell. A fierce red glow shot from her wand, emanating shrilly, high-pitched sounds.
Both teams rose and marched gravely in two separate lines. Each member aired their broom and faced the opposite team, with truest contempt and respect. The crowd roared, as a group of half-naked males in red and yellow body paint participated in a cliché sport wave from the crowd. Doves and giggles were shot from the opposite side of the crowd, though a fierce chant in respect to the sisterhood immersed from a small group.
Disregarding the noise, Lily stared straight into the murky hazel eyes of her competitor. James Potter. That arrogant smirk was going to be wiped off. An obvious spectator would have noted the dopey glance of infatuation painted in the twinkle of his eyes.
"Captains, shake hands," Madame Hooch called out sternly.
James felt his arm being crushed by Lily's grip.
"Mark your brooms. Ready? Set…GO!!"
James soared near the goals. He felt an insatiable adrenaline rush through him, and eyed the Quaffle cautiously. He wouldn't trade the initiate feeling of soaring off the ground for anything, well except for that one thing.
"Testing? Testing." Dumbledore's serene voice boomed into the crowd. "Today we gather for the semi-annual ladies versus gentlemen match of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please feel free to purchase these delicious lemon drops from our kind vendors from Honeydukes. Oh, I am fond of them as I am with this ingenious Muggle product," Dumbledore said, chuckling into the speaker.
James eyed the red leather ball like an eagle waiting for its prey. He caught it gracefully from a nearing Chaser and shot the ball into the far hoop effortlessly. Lily whacked the approaching Bludger with ease. The rush of whacking the iron ball felt cathartic, secure.
"And Mr. Potter keeps his infamous ability to aim perfectly at the hoops! Ten to zero, with the gentlemen meagerly ahead."
James face flashed with a satisfied smile, and flew near the hoops, as if posing for a picture. An infatuated girl in the crowd sighed, and fainted into the arms of her apathetic friend from James' brilliant smile. Spectators turned their eyes to her.
"Dammit, you're supposed to be rooting for us. Though I can't deny, his hazel eyes penetrate my soul." The infatuated girl awoke, with rosy cheeks and a complacent glow in her eyes.
"Yet another goal for Mr. Potter. Yes, he is quite good indeed, indeed…The ladies are in position of the Quaffle. The Snitch is not in sight yet, though I hear a queer buzzing in my ears, must be old." Dumbledore chirped. The black-haired youth smiled as he heard the ping! of the scoreboard initiate.
Lily glanced lethargically at the hovering hoops. No Bludger in sight. James spotted her and waved at her slowly.
"OI, YOU'RE NOT FALLING FOR ME ARE YOU?" Lily soared a distance away.
"The only thing that's going to fall is you." Lily muttered under her breath. She angled her club, patiently waiting for the lovely Bludgers to make their way next to her.
"And Miss Skeeter scores! The ladies and gentlemen are tied at 50 points, though young Arthur Diggory is in possession of the ball. Bludgers arriving near the gentlemen! Mr. Diggory has taken quite an injury. Madame Pomfrey? Possession back to the ladies, with a tenacious glare on Alicia Bell. "
A plump, short woman made her way through the stands and arrived near the field for medical assistance. The crowd ignored her, as James Potter made another score, the male half of the crowd roaring with animalistic confidence. Lily patiently lurked behind the posts, as she eyed the female keeper keenly. Come on, Emma, don't let him get it this time.
"And Emmeline Vance saves the Quaffle! Ladies are ahead by twenty points. Twenty points! One hundred points to eighty. The Snitch has not yet come out, though it is causing great aggravation amongst the players—oh no? THE GOLDEN SNITCH IS OUT."
Lily felt a bubbling cringe and excitement with the news of the Golden Snitch. She saw a young, good-looking Sirius eyeing the golden ball and planning out carefully what to do in his head. He ruffled his think-dark hair and initiated his Cleansweep broom. Her sight turned to her Seeker, Nymphadora Tonks. Tonks raced after Sirius, dawning nearer to the Golden Snitch by a jiffy. Her hair drastically changed its color, from bubble gum pink, icy blue, to a bizarre cool purple in between.
And then, there was the Bludger. And it was coming right at her. The Beater looked at James pitifully, who was unaware at the grim whooshing of the heavy ball, smiling at a flabbergasted crowd. Lily took the few seconds she had left cautiously planning what to do. She had shot the ball several times already. Should she hit him? After all, he vomited arrogance everywhere, leaving everyone but himself an awful aftertaste. Still, he didn't deserve to be pummeled in the face with a twenty-pound iron ball. Still he was the opposing team, and the wise redhead chose the latter option.
She felt her chest pounding. The ball was going to hit her any moment now as it zoomed pass dodging players. She took a firm grip on her club and focused her sight on the turbulent ball. And whack!
BAM!
CRACK!
A Bludger smacked James squarely in the arm. Before his impending doom, he saw the determined smirk of his object of affection. She stood on her broom complacently, with a weary club in her hand. The untidy-haired boy screamed from the agonizing pain. The heavy iron ball smashed its fiery momentum against his left arm, leaving a resonating sentiment of excruciating pain. After his brief moment, he bit his tongue and continued playing in the game, disregarding the heavy amounts of blood dripping from his left elbow. He took solace in how shameful she must have felt. He heard the dull blow of Madame Hooch's whistle.
"Lovely Miss Lily Evans has once again, hit the dastard Bludger with such accuracy and skill. Such pluck! Kudos, though the males have lost a brilliant member, no? He has chosen to continue with the game…how valiant, if I may add."
Clutching his arm, James hunted for Lily. When he finally found her, he hissed, "You. Will. Pay." Lily fell into hysterical laughter.
"Oh, I hope so," Lily sniggered after her tumultuous laughter died down. "Oi, watch it! You don't want the Bludger in your head."
"Thank you." James muttered in surprise. He zoomed after the Quaffle, clutching his elbow awkwardly with a healthy arm. Competition died down when the Snitch became hot news. He watched his team mates fierce with a sentiment of predation, though lacked rigor when it meant competing the ladies.
"First-year prodigy Nymphadora Tonks is tailing her suave cousin as they both compete for the glory of the Golden Snitch. Mighty dodge, Mr. Potter has taken again from the Bludger, though this time, successfully. Nymphadora is close, close, close to the Golden Snitch, only an arm's length away. Will she catch it? Black is close behind her—" Tonks flipped a full three hundred-sixty degrees on her broom, in mousy brown hair and caught the twittering object. Shrillish cheers deafened the apathetic, and sorority sisters hugged each other in ecstasy and satisfaction. The gentlemen sat, staring blandly into the opposite side of the Quidditch Field.
"The lovely ladies of Hogwarts have won the magnificent cup!" Dumbledore roared. He raised the massive golden cup into the air.
"Players, shake hands!" Madame Hooch shouted over the crowd. Everything grew dead silent as the players shook hands.
Lily mumbled, "Good game. No hard feelings?" though had difficulty hiding her satisfied grin as she shook James' hand lightly. He lost the gut to maintain eye contact with her, humbling his ego from shame of losing.
***
"This, ladies, is a battle scar, thanks to that lovely young lady over there. Ten stitches because of her doing." James pointed to a smug Lily Evans in the far corner of the Gryffindor complex, sitting near a warm fire, holding tightly on a think novel. A group of dreamy-eyed teenage girls gushed over James' scar. He deliberately wore a tight tee, revealing his flexing arm muscles and dark, scabby gash.
"James, are you okay?" Rita's eyes glistened as she stroked James' arm. He felt a vomiting complex turn and winced a quiet reply.
"ASK EVANS."
"Oh, stop, Potter, you're making me blush," Lily curtly interrupted, above the covers of her book now. The girls eyed her like hawks choosing out a prey. She remained impervious to their threats. James walked to her chair.
"You know, Evans, I can never forgive you now." His brows furrowed in contempt and dislike. She smiled vaguely.
"Au contraire."
Then James felt a burning, soothing, exciting touch on his cheek from the soft lips of Lily Evans. He could faintly smell the scent of the cherry chapstick on her lips as they parted from his rugged face.
"I forgive you."
A/N: Ehh, tried to get back into writing. I've been adding more and more every day this week, so it might not make sense. Click on that review button please!