Happy New year! *throws confetti*
I've really been lapsing when it comes to updating things, but hopefully that'll change with the start of the new year and all (it probably won't.)
So this is exactly like what the summary says: a series of AU drabbles written for jily week over on tumblr (which starts today and finishes on Sunday.) Basically, everything I've written for this week is going to be posted here and if you all want to give me any AU prompts (this is a not so subtle hint) you can leave it in a review down at the bottom.
Bloody Professor Evans
James Potter was very rarely truly angry, but at that moment he was.
And it was all because of stupid Evans- sorry, Professor Evans- with her stupid hair and stupid eyes and stupid laugh and stupid robes that weren't supposed to be that tight.
James Potter was very rarely truly angry, but at that moment he was very truly angry at Evans. He'll be damned if he calls her Professor.
But the truth was, even though James who was very rarely truly angry Potter was very truly angry at Evans, he was also very truly angry at himself for succumbing to the stupid bint's stupid tricks, like her stupid hair and stupid eyes and stupid god awful laugh that sounded like angels were singing from above which James would ignore because he was fully intent on trying to hate stupid Lily Evans, and her having a pretty laugh (and pretty everything else) did not help with matters.
The point was, if he hadn't fallen for the stupid bint's tricks which encompassed all of the above, then he would have never found himself in stupid Lily Evans with her stupid hair and stupid eyes and stupid laugh's bed.
When James had agreed to take over McGonagall's job (poor sod broke her leg over the holidays and was now out of commission for the entire term), he was pretty sure that nowhere in the manual did it say he was required to have mind-blowing sex – he means stupid sex; everything should be considered stupid when it came to Lily Evans – with his co-worker, no matter how good said co-worker might be in bed.
And really, if he wanted to blame someone for his misfortune, he would place it directly on the shoulders of none other than Horace Slughorn, who decided to finally take up the offer from one his former students to go gallivanting throughout Europe to see some of the most historical sites in the Wizarding world. He could have gone next term. Then James wouldn't have to put up with his replacement; the ever present thorn in his side, whose stupid tricks worked and would probably get him in real trouble if anyone ever found out.
Stupid Slughorn and stupid Evans.
But the proverbial icing on the archetypal cake was that within her first few days of being here, she seemed to have every Tom, Dick and Harry wrapped around her little finger. James would hear conversations in the staff room about how wonderful Professor Evans whipped up a cough suppressant potion for Professor Sprout when she was a trifle under the weather while Flitwick would rave about her charms skills. Students would chat in the corridor that Professor Evans gave out lollies to those who did well in class. And James wasn't even going to think about how Madam Pomfrey doted on the redheaded wench because, as if brewing potions for the nurse wasn't enough, Evans would go and help out in the hospital wing during her free time. Who the hell does that?
James prided himself on being the only one in the school who had not been blinded by Evans' supposedly 'nice' gestures. So maybe he had helped Professor Vector get rid of the boggart tucked away in the closet outside the Arithmancy classroom after he heard Sprout and Flitwick and yeah, he started giving out sugar quills whenever someone did brilliantly and he may have sort of picked up with the Gryffindor Quidditch team to give some pointers every Saturday. None of that was influenced by Evans at all.
Nope, not at all. He did those things off his own accord.
It all started normally enough.
James had Apparated to Hogsmeade with his things a few days before the school term was due to start, and it was no feat to make himself at home in the same castle he had inhabited for several years of his life. Indeed, Hogwarts hadn't changed much in the last five years. He could remember his teenage self running through those halls with his mates from Filch (who was none too happy about James' position) as though it was yesterday. Most of the staff already knew him from his days there at the castle and everything was going well.
Until the morning of the second week of classes, that is.
Dumbledore had told him - and the rest of the staff - that the substitute for Slughorn would be arriving late, as the Ministry required her to finish up the project she was working on first. James didn't pay too much attention; after all, what would this Potions teacher have to do with him?
If only he knew how much she would have to do with him.
Like every morning, he strode down to the Great Hall a few minutes to eight, making small talk with many of the students he passed on his way there. Despite only teaching for a week, his students loved him. He was by far the youngest on staff and he could tell that his students liked his approach to things.
So he walked towards the Great Hall, only to come to a complete stand still as soon as he caught a glimpse of the staff table at the head of the room.
Sitting there, laughing amicably with Flitwick, was perhaps one of the prettiest witches he had ever seen. She had thick, dark red hair that looped past her shoulders and when she looked up for a bare second, James could see a pair of brilliant emerald eyes. Her robes hung over the back of her chair, exposing her very muggle attire, consisting of a white shirt (whose collar James thought dipped dangerously low) and a tight black pencil skirt that showed off her milky white legs that apparently went on for miles, only to end of in a pair of black pumps.
He swallowed audibly and realised that he had been staring.
Stopping a passing student, he asked, "Who's that talking to Professor Flitwick?"
The student - a Ravenclaw, he realised belatedly - looked up at the staff table and said, "Oh; that's the new Potions teacher, Professor Evans. She came in last night. Dumbledore introduced her this morning." Ravenclaw boy then frowned. "Aren't you supposed to know this, Professor? I mean -"
"Yeah, okay thanks," James said, cutting off the boy before he resumed his way to the table. He easily managed to pull out the empty chair next to Evans and slide in, smiling charmingly at her as he held out his hand. "James Potter," he introduced himself. "I'm filling in as the Transfiguration professor."
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly when she looked over at him and her gaze travelled down the length of his body and back up again, before she daintily grabbed his hand and shook it. James repressed a smirk. He suspected that Evans - like him when he first agreed to take the job - was under the impression that most of Hogwarts' teachers were on the older side. She obviously didn't expect to see any young faces. Or one that was significantly good-looking...
"Lily Evans," she smiled. "Fill in Potions professor."
"Pleasure, Miss Evans," he said, before nodding at Flitwick. He spent the rest of his breakfast chatting with Evans. He learnt that she was his age and also a Muggleborn, but she had never attended Hogwarts because her parents, who were new to this world, didn't feel comfortable sending their daughter off to some unknown school. Instead, Dumbledore managed to arrange some sort of tutor for her and some other Muggleborns so they were able to stay at home. Now, she owned a part of an apothecary and was one of the best potion-makers anyone had ever known, even having the Ministry commission her a few times to do things for them.
James, of course, told her about himself as well; how he came to Hogwarts and was one of the best Transfiguration students McGonagall ever taught, what mischief he and his mates got up to and how he worked in the Ministry of Magic but, since work has been a bit slow lately, he had nothing of significance to do, which was how he ended up here, being a substitute Transfiguration teacher. Their talk was cut short however, by the warning bell and they both had classes first period this morning.
They parted ways at the grand staircase outside the Great Hall.
He liked Professor Evans.
He absolutely loathed bloody Professor Evans.
Before she had shown up, he was everyone's favourite teacher. He used to hear students talking about him in the hallways and he knew that most of the female population thought he was fit (he was) and they speculated whether or not he had a girlfriend (he didn't) and if he would date one of them (he wouldn't).
And then along came Professor Evans, who snatched everything from underneath him in a matter of seconds, leaving him to fall to his demise. Soon enough, he was hearing everyone talk about how wonderful bloody Professor Evans was, while most of the male population was trying to cop a glance down her shirt; he'd already given two sets of boys detention for talking about her in a way that made his blood boil. James should have known that he wasn't the only one who could have found her good-looking (although now he would firmly attest that she was a cow. A stupid cow that didn't have pretty hair or pretty eyes and long legs that looked great in those skirts of hers and – Merlin, was he fucked).
Whenever he wrote to Sirius, he always mentioned her: how she gave out sweets in class, how she was way too nice to everyone (though he makes it sound as though she was kissing arse; he realised afterwards that maybe he should have worded it a bit better, but he was angry at the time so he'd be damned) and how she smiled at him whenever she saw him and how irrationally angry it made him because the stupid bint was basically teasing him as if she knew that people liked her better and that wasn't fucking fair, now was it.
Of course, this gave Sirius the wrong vision of her in his mind; he thought that the woman who was filling in for Slughorn was this haggish brute, who was rude and bought people's affection, which was nothing like the real Evans, but James wasn't going to correct him. He preferred having someone to listen to him complain about Evans and her too-tight shirts without getting teased, and he could do that as long as Sirius kept the image of the previously-mentioned haggish brute in his mind, because those shirts drove him mad.
James had been completely ignoring her lately, because he realised that the less her saw and interacted with Evans, then the less he would think about her. And the less he thought about her, then the better it was for his sanity. The only downside to this plan was that she stopped giving him those little smiles of hers. He guessed that he could live with that.
James managed ignoring her for two weeks straight.
He would have lasted longer, but he saw her in the library tutoring a first year and couldn't help himself.
He didn't know why he was in the library of all places. He was just jaywalking and for some reason his feet led him here. About to turn back, he suddenly caught a glance of dark red hair that could only belong to Evans. Suddenly the library didn't seem like a bad idea.
She was sitting with what looked like a first year, a patient look on her face as she helped him with his wand movements. James wandered over to the Transfiguration section, where he pretended to thumb through a few textbooks as he watched them. She appeared to tutoring him in something.
Luckily enough, they seemed to be at the end of their lesson and James watched as she gave the little blighter a smile before sending him off with a lolly. Once he left, she methodically began packing her things. James, acting as inconspicuously as he could, grabbed a few of the biggest, heaviest and most complicated Transfiguration textbooks that he could find before walking towards her, 'accidentally' bumping into her shoulder.
"Sorry," he said, easily placing the books on the desk before facing her. "All right, Evans?"
The witch in question harrumphed belligerently, dusting off her shoulders before replying coolly, "Fine, Potter."
He leant against the desk, one hand in his pocket while the other tangled itself in his hair. She was wearing her typical Muggle wear: a pair of jeans and (James sent a small prayer to whoever was listening up there) thankfully, a normal t-shirt with something that looked like 'Pink Floyd' written on it. As if he knew what that was.
"What're you up to this fine evening?" he asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
She held her head proudly and said, "I don't believe that's any of your business."
James blinked, clearly taken aback. He had never heard her be so curt with anyone before. Craning his neck, he struggled to see the title of one of her textbooks. Too late did Lily realise what he was trying to do and she immediately slapped her hand down on the cover to block his view, but he had already seen.
"Charms?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes Potter, Charms," she hissed as she began to grab her things helter skelter. At this point, James noticed some of the students beginning to watch them, whispering behind their hands. "Does it amaze you that I know how to do other things besides Potions? I'll have you know that if you ever decide to pull your head out of your arse you'll realise that you're not some sort of special being here on earth. Other people can do things just as well as you!" she snapped.
Her voice had risen significantly and almost all the students in that section of the library were watching them in rapture. James narrowed his eyes and said, "Isn't it a bit pretentious of you to go around helping first years with Charms? I'm sure if Flitwick knew he needed help he would have arranged for a seventh year to help and not another teacher."
"You bastard," she swore, struggling to grab her things. A book slipped out and landed on the floor, but she didn't notice. "It's not pretentious one bit," she spat, shoving her wand in her pocket. "And I'll have you know that Flitwick asked me to help, you tosser!"
She turned on her heel, storming out of the library and leaving a very angry and very stunned James Potter. Realising that everyone was still watching him, he banished the heavy Transfiguration tomes and picked up the book that slipped out of her grasp before he too stomped out of the library, back to his office where a bottle of Firewhiskey was beckoning him, as he wrote yet another letter to Sirius.
Bloody Evans yelling at him back there. He didn't even know what they were fighting over! In fact, all he knew was that for some reason, Evans made him angry beyond belief and he was willing to bet that he did the same to her.
Bloody Evans.
Their little spectacle in the library had been the main source of gossip for at least a week after, and James was surprised that Dumbledore hadn't called them up to his office to discuss it. He and Evans made sure to keep out of each other's way since then.
Now however, it was the middle of October and subsequently, the first Hogsmeade visit of the term. Being a teacher, James could go to Hogsmeade whenever he fancied, but with all the work he had to do, he barely had any free time. Today though, he was using this opportunity to meet up with Sirius for a drink or two in one of the pubs. Since he began working at Hogwarts, he'd only communicated with his best friend through letters and their magic mirrors.
Sirius was waiting for him when he entered the Three Broomsticks that morning. Jokes were made, pleasantries exchanged and the two of them sat down in the pub and talked for hours on end.
James was in the middle of some spiel when he realised that Sirius' attentions were no longer on him, but on something behind his left shoulder. Thoroughly annoyed, he rapped the side of his head sharply and said, "Oi, I was talking to you, you blighter."
He shrugged unapologetically. "Sorry, a very fit bird just strolled in here and I'm afraid she's more interesting than you, Prongs."
James glared at him. "If you're looking at one of the students, Sirius, I swear to Merlin, I'll-"
"Don't get your knickers in knot," Sirius scoffed. "I don't intend on jeopardizing your beloved students' reputation. Besides, she looks too old to be in Hogwarts."
He rolled his eyes and turned around. "Then who the hell are you-" James froze and his eyes almost bugged out of his head. Sitting on the barstool was a pretty redheaded witch, clad in muggle jeans and a blue jumper.
Evans.
Bloody hell.
James had never got around to telling Sirius that who he thought Evans was, wasn't really Evans. In fact, he never really thought that he would have to tell Sirius that Evans wasn't the size of a baby beluga and wasn't haggish and rude the slightest, but in fact probably the nicest person to everyone who wasn't named James Potter. But someone didn't relay that plan to her, because here she sat in the Three Broomsticks, directly in Sirius' line of vision and he already thought that she was fit. Brilliant.
The scraping of a chair jolted James out of his reverie and he looked up to see Sirius standing, obviously intending on heading over to the counter where Evans sat. James almost fell off his chair.
"What - what are you doing?" he asked, stumbling out of his chair.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "What does it look like I'm doing James? I'm going to buy the bird a drink."
James blocked him as he tried to sidestep around him. "You really shouldn't do that."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "And why shouldn't I?"
"Because- because," James sputtered.
A small cough came from behind them. "If you could refrain from making such a clamour, Potter, that would be lovely," a new voice said softly, but James could hear the snarkiness lurking below the surface.
"You know each other?" Sirius asked James, surprised.
Before James could reply, Lily scoffed and said, "Unfortunately, yes." She smiled at Sirius. "We work together, you see, and Potter's a right pain."
"Of course he is," Sirius agreed. He smiled charmingly at her and extended a hand. "Sirius Black."
Lily took it, smiling all the while. "Lily Evans."
Fuck.
James saw the flash of recognition in Sirius' eyes and he glanced over at James. "It's been lovely to meet you, Miss Evans, but I'm afraid I need to get this tosser," he jerked his thumb at James, "Back to the castle before he causes an even bigger ruckus."
"It's been a pleasure, Mr. Black," she said sweetly, before turning back to her drink.
With the tip of an imaginary top hat, Sirius bid farewell to the redhead before pulling James out of the pub with him and giving him the best glare he could muster. "Oh yeah," he said. "What a cow. Lily Evans is definitely the worst person I've ever met Prongs."
"Shut up."
"You're a terrible judge of character, you know. I mean, look at the girl! She's gorgeous! And she has to have a good mind if Dumbledore hired her. Plus she's funny and-" Sirius stopped talking immediately as his eyes brightened in realisation. "And you fancy her," he said slowly, at last.
"What?" said James, stopping suddenly. He squinted at his best friend. "Are you drunk?"
"You fancy her!"
"No, I don't!"
"You fancy Evans!"
"Fuck off, Sirius!"
All right, so maybe he did.
Just a little bit.
But it was Evans, for Merlin's sake! The bird positively hated him! And he should hate her too, after all, wasn't she trying to get everyone to like her more than him? Why did she want people to ignore him? He knew that her helping out and being generous was just something that she did, but it still didn't help his wounded pride. So he should hate her. That was way easier than doing what Sirius suggested. Honestly, why would he try talking to the girl? James was sure that once he opened his mouth she might have hexed him.
He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. Were all women this complicated?
The only thing he knew was that Evans hated him for some unknown reason, and if he continued trying to figure out why, then chances were he would go mad. The only person who knew was Evans and she sure as hell wouldn't tell him.
Stupid bird.
One minute she was smiling and being nice with him, and then the next they were yelling at each other in the library for no damn reason and... yeah, okay, maybe Sirius was right. They should talk about things.
Merlin, he was such a pansy.
After several minutes of pacing and talking to himself, James found himself standing in front of Evans' door, clutching the Charms textbook she had dropped in the library all those weeks ago. He needed some excuse for popping into her room. When she opened the door, he obviously couldn't say, 'Well Evans, I sort of fancy you and think you're fit but you seem to hate me and I'm confused now. Help a bloke out?'
That would earn him a slap, at least.
At this point, that simple wooden door looked awfully daunting as he stood in front of it.
Merlin, he was afraid to knock on a door. Godric Gryffindor must have been rolling over in his grave at the moment.
Straightening his back with grim determination, James raised his free arm and knocked sharply on the door. He waited for a few moments, but there was no answer. Frowning, he knocked again, louder this time. "Evans?" he called, pressing close to the wood, "Are you in there?"
No answer.
His shoulders sagged. All of that build up, that mental preparation for what he was about to get into - what he was planning to get into - and she wasn't even there. Of course. Just as his luck would have it. James turned, fully intending on going back to his room, when he heard the door open and Evans' voice incredulously saying, "Potter?"
He turned back around. Her hair was wet and she looked as though she just threw on a dressing gown over her clothes (or, as James' terrible mind jumped to, lack thereof). She cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sounding thick.
James narrowed his eyes and ignored her question. "All right there, Evans?" He took a closer look at her appearance and noticed that her nose was rubbed raw and her eyes rimmed red. "You're not ill, are you? Because you looked perfectly fine earlier -"
"No," she cut him off. "I'm fine. It's nothing."
He knew that it obviously wasn't 'nothing', but he certainly was not going to push her, not when the two of them were actually having a conversation without any yelling, insults or use of expletives. "All right... if you say so," he replied warily, before handing the book out to her. "I - er, had this for a while."
She took the book, glancing at the cover and turning it over in her hands before looking up at him suspiciously. "I was missing it ever since tutoring in the library," she said flatly.
James ruffled his hair and grinned sheepishly. "You might have dropped it and I might have picked it up. I fully intended on giving it back to you!" he quickly reassured her.
"And yet you kept it for almost three weeks."
He didn't know how to respond to that, and was left standing speechless in the middle of the corridor like a moron. But then Lily did something that would have struck him speechless if he had been speaking; she laughed. Not some sort of fake, derisive snort, but a genuine laugh. James froze like a deer in headlights, one hand still stuck in his hair, as she threw her head back and simply laughed. At what, he had no idea. Perhaps she was going a bit mad.
"Goodness, Potter," she said indulgently. "You really are something."
"Um..."
"Would you like to come in for a drink?"
He stared at her. Merlin, she really was going mad, wasn't she? "A what?"
"A drink," she said coyly. "Surely you of all people are most familiar with the concept. After all, don't you have an entire stash of Firewhiskey in your office?" She grinned at him, making him even more confused.
"Er, okay - wait," he narrowed his eyes at her. "How did you know that I have Firewhiskey in my office?"
She smirked - holy mother of Merlin, James tried to ignore what that smirk did to him, but it didn't help. "Well, I certainly can't give away all my secrets in one go, now can I?" she said, still smirking. "So how about that drink, Potter?"
Not knowing that he was probably digging his own grave, James nodded and followed her into her chambers, where she locked the door behind him.
Her room was an exact replica of his, though decidedly neater. There was a bed in the centre with a large bookshelf next to it, packed to the brink with novels and textbooks, and a desk pushed off to the side, covered in neat stacks of paper and, what caught James' attention, a bottle of half-finished Firewhiskey.
"Started already, have you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Just a glass or two," she replied sweetly, though he could hear the underlying stiffness to her voice and decided it was best if he dropped the subject. Lily handed him a glass before pouring out her own, which was significantly fuller than his. He murmured his thanks and took a measured sip, having long learnt to ignore the burning sensation as the liquid made its way down his throat. James was sure that if he knew that all of this was part of her evil plan, he would have already hightailed out of there and barricaded himself in his office, but right then, he didn't see it as anything more than a drink between two co-workers. Poor naive little sod.
They both drank quietly, Lily leaning against her desk while James stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying to look anywhere besides Lily in her loosely-tied dressing gown. His eyes landed on a piece of crumpled parchment that had been smoothened out over by her bed.
"What's that?" he asked, reading it through.
She hastened to grab the letter and tuck it underneath one of the million stacks of parchment on her desk. "Have you always been this nosy?" she glared.
James ignored her. "Who's Petunia?"
What little colour Lily had on her face disappeared and she turned her head away from him, taking up glaring at the wall instead. "That's none of your business," she snapped in an attempt to dissuade him, but her voice cracked and wobbled slightly at the end.
He stayed steadfast. "Come on, Evans," he coaxed. "Who's this Petunia bird and what did she do to make you so upset? Tell me; I'll find her and transfigure her into a-"
"She's my sister!" Lily blurted out. She turned back to face James and he was surprised to see tears brimming in her eyes. (All part of her scheme, he would realise later, but he was still a poor naive little sod.) Somewhere in the back of his mind it clicked that that was the reason for her appearance when she opened the door earlier. She was crying. Because of this Petunia bird. Sister or not, James was terribly angry on Lily's behalf.
"What happened?" he asked softly, in an attempt to sound concerned, but he probably came off as uncomfortable more than anything else.
Lily looked torn, as though one part of her wanted to tell him while the other wanted nothing more than to hex his little nosy arse out of her room. Eventually the former won and she sighed, "We've always been fighting since she found out I was a witch. She's the reason why I wanted to stay closer to home and study, but... but it never worked out." She sniffed, and wiped at her eyes. She looked so broken (she was playing you, you tosser) that James just wanted to stride over there and hold her, but he refrained.
"Tuney absolutely hates magic. She says it's unnatural. I've tried... to talk to her, but she won't have it. She's already set in her beliefs, and now refuses to talk to me, unless it's to throw some insult or the other." She sighed again, before smiling wryly and nodding to the letter she'd hidden. "That was the first bit of correspondence that I've had with her in months and it was just her telling me that she doesn't want to see me at her wedding."
A heavy silence descended upon them, only broken by Lily's sharp intakes of shuddering breath. James stood silently, swirling around the contents of his glass before saying, "Well, I think that your sister is a right idiot."
Lily's head snapped up at this. "What-"
"I mean really, magic is brilliant and you're probably overreacting to things. I'm sure she doesn't hate you. She can't hate her own s-"
"But she does," Lily cut him off. "She does hate me, James. She's said it a million times. She even wrote it in the letter." She started rifling around for the dratted parchment when James crossed the floor in two strides and took her by the shoulders.
"No one can hate you, Evans," he said dryly. "You're practically impossible to hate."
She looked up at him from under her wet lashes. "You hate me," she said in a small voice.
She watched him carefully as another round of quietude came upon them. "Trust me," James said, sounding slightly strangled. "I'm quite sure it was possibly the opposite."
Her eyes widened in shock, and before either of them knew what was going on they were kissing, and soon enough he was untying her dressing gown and pushing her camisole off her shoulders while she tugged his shirt out of his trousers and fought with the buttons, and soon enough it was skin on skin as they finally made it to her bed.
Idiot.
He was a right fucking idiot.
All the time he was saying that Evans was an evil, manipulative cow who was not to be trusted. And yet, all she had to do was tear up, sprout some sort of sob story and bat her eyelashes at him all while wearing that stupid dressing gown which already had his mind juggling up scenarios as to what lay underneath it and he'd end up jumping into bed with her.
Merlin he was so, so stupid.
He should have seen through her tricks.
James Potter was very truly angry with Evans (and himself, but he was by far angrier at Evans) for seducing him into her bed.
Never mind that it had been ages since he'd done that with anyone else, and Evans was bloody good at it (no; he would refuse to think of her as good in bed any more. From now on, he would say that she was terrible) but he should have known what was happening while it was happening and not when he was sneaking out of her chambers at two in the morning.
James groaned and slammed his head down on his desk. Ever since the activities of Saturday night, James had been ignoring her - or the correct term might be 'hiding from her'- for the past three days. He went out of his way to take the long routes to his class and office and made sure to sneak into the Great Hall just before meals began and sneak out as soon as they were finished.
It was pathetic of him, he knew, but he would do anything to not see Evans' surely gloating face.
Stupid Evans.
There was a knock at the door and James froze, hoping that whoever it was would realise that no one was there. Unfortunately, the knocking got more incessant and James ended up sliding out of his chair, swearing.
"All right, keep your bloody knickers on; I'm coming," he muttered under his breath before opening the door.
The first thought that went through his mind when he opened the door was, 'Or off,' a continuation of his former statement. The second thought that went through his mind was that he should not be thinking things like that, because he had already firmly established that on the list of things he wanted to think about, Lily Evans' knickers were at the complete bottom of it.
He gaped at the witch in front of him, who looked to be splitting hairs.
"Evans?" he asked, obviously confused, because why was she standing in front of his office looking ready to murder someone and why was she pushing her way inside and locking the door and - oh.
It's him she's going to murder, isn't it?
Brilliant.
"James Potter, you ignorant moron," she hissed. She had her wand clutched in her hand and James took a step back, afraid, and rightfully so. "You've been ignoring me for three days!"
He held his hands up. "Look Evans, I can explain -"
"I'd like to hear that," she scoffed. "I thought you weren't like those other blokes who spend their time trying to get into a girl's knickers and then move onto the next one when they get what they want."
"What!" he sputtered. "I did nothing of the sort! You're the one who tricked me into bed for your own nefarious purposes!"
She gave him a withering glare. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me right; you were upset that I was the only one in the entire bloody school that didn't think you were some sort of angel, and of course Perfect Little Evans couldn't have that, so you bewitched me and got me to shag you just so I would like you. Well, let me tell you something, Evans; it didn't work!"
"Potter, what the hell are you on are about?" she snapped. "I liked you and I thought you liked me back." Her eyes widened, and she immediately threw a hand across her mouth while her cheeks began to stain red.
James blinked owlishly behind his glasses. "Wait," he said, grabbing her arm as she tried to run away. "You liked me?"
Despite the obvious embarrassment she must have been feeling, Lily still found it in her to roll her eyes. "Well it was obvious, wasn't it? I tried being nice to you and I tried to get your attention, but it didn't work. In fact, I think it made you further dislike me, though I don't know why-"
"I thought you were doing it on purpose to get everyone to focus on you instead of me," he confessed.
Lily stared at him. "Let me get this straight," she said slowly. "You refused to like me because you thought I was trying to steal all the attention you were getting."
He shrugged sheepishly. "Well, when you say it like that..." he trailed off before wincing as her fist came in contact with his shoulder. "Ow."
"You're a prat," she announced.
"But you like me," he countered, grinning.
She ducked her head, trying to hide her growing smile. "No, I don't."
"Yes, you do."
"I don't actually," she said, though she was smiling in earnest now. "I don't date prats who feel threatened that I'm trying to take away all their- oomph!"
The rest of Lily's (inconsequential, as James would have it) sentence was cut off as James pressed his mouth to hers, rendering it busy for a moment or ten as they held a repeat of their practical class from last Saturday, though this time much more in depth and precise.
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~Nai xoxo