When I asked my beta for an idea for a story, she suggested "over exposure," and this was born. This is actually an idea I've had in my head for about six months, but haven't actually been able to put down on paper (don't you HATE those?). Don't own HP.
.x. Down .x.
"Potter, put me down."
"Explain to me how that would benefit me in the slightest? And besides, you're injured. You can't walk."
"Fine. Let me rephrase. If you ever want to have children, I'd suggest that you put me down. Now." Despite her firm tone, Lily's face was flush with embarrassment as James carried her through a crowd of incredulous onlookers.
"I'm not setting you down on that ankle. You could hurt yourself."
Of all the days to slip in the Great Hall, it had to be today, the night before everyone else, including James bloody Potter, was leaving for the Christmas holidays. One night later, twelve hours later, and she would have been able to save herself from being scooped into his well-defined arms and carried out of the room as her classmates took the mickey out of her.
"I'm fine. It twisted."
"Lily, darling, it cracked. Not a broken bone sort of crack, but a crack nonetheless."
"Ooh, three syllables in one word, Potter. I'm impressed."
"That was vaguely rude."
"Well, I keep hoping that you'll take a hint."
James simply smirked and carried her up the moving staircases as she squirmed in her arms. She hated to admit it, but she was impressed by his strength. Years of Quidditch had certainly had an affect.
...On his ego, of course, because there was nothing remotely attractive about James Potter. Once you got past the hair, the eyes, the smile, and the – no. Nothing attractive about him at all.
"How was your day?"
"It'll be better when you let me down." She had stopped fighting and was now perfectly still, her arms crossed and a delicate pout on her lips.
"Fine." He set her down gently and she immediately winced. She couldn't remember the ankle hurting her quite so badly when he was cradling her. Lily took a few more steps before turning a significant shade of green and freezing. "Would you like some help?"
"No."
Out of the corner of her vision, she saw his eyes roll in their sockets. "Here. How about this?" Before she could protest, he had taken her arm and wrapped it around his shoulder. He held her waist and supported the side that she had injured. She took a step and he stepped forward with her. "Better?"
It was.
He supported her until the entrance of the common room and helped her up into the portrait hole. As the other Gryffindors were still at dinner, the common room was empty apart from them. James led her to one of the overstuffed armchairs near the fire and she sat down.
"Hold out your ankle."
"No offense, Potter, but I'd rather go to the Hospital Wing – " She attempted to hoist herself out of the chair by her arms, but James forced her back down with a withering look.
"It's just a sprain. Even I can help heal a sprain." A million horrid scenarios flitted through Lily's thoughts. "Hold out your ankle, please."
She reluctantly outstretched her leg and closed her eyes tightly. She felt James' hand grip the bottom of her calf gently to support her and had to convince herself that the goose bumps on her arms were from a nonexistent draft. A moment later, the dull throbbing pain ceased and James' hold on her released. She opened her eyes and glanced down at her ankle tentatively.
All bones were in tact. Which was an excellent sign.
"I…"
"I realize that 'thank you' is far too much to expect from you, but that 'I' summed it up beautifully, Lily flower."
She glared at him. "And you managed to do it all without looking up my skirt," she said. "I'm so proud of you."
She was really beginning to think that maybe James Potter wasn't so bad after all – that perhaps she had missed something, or exaggerated something else.
"Of course not. Why in the name of Merlin would I want to sneak a glance at your checked panties?"
As Lily's eyes widened in horror, James quickly jumped up and walked out of the common room.
She ought to have known she'd been wrong.