She looked at him with hatred and he looked right back steadily. His
insides lurched pleasantly as he thought to take another tack. He withdrew
his own wand from his pocket again and brandished it like a champion. "I
can disrobe you myself, if you need a hand."
Her face turned utterly white, but the fire never left her eyes.
"The sooner you listen to me, and accept that I know what's best for you" he missed the look she threw him at this comment, "the sooner I can. warm you up." The look of wildness returned to her face and she took an involuntary step back. He hadn't meant to scare her, after all he was only HALF serious and so he added, "and you can leave."
With this she turned her back on him resolutely and peeled her sopping robes off of her shoulders, letting them drop in a thud to the ground. She missed the look of interest he had while he surveyed her perfect shoulders through the wet t-shirt she wore underneath. He supposed that she was lucky she couldn't see the less-than-wholesome look on his face as his eyes traced the parts of her back where her shirt hung wetly to her skin. With out turning, she began to lift her shirt over her head. James knew exactly what he was, a seventeen year old boy, and didn't even try to make himself turn his head. His bad deeds were rewarded with the gossamer skin of Lily Evans back, whining wet above the waistline of her pants. He saw her arms reach down to slide off her pants and now he shivered. He afforded himself one more look of her standing in her bra and panties, back to him, and then he quickly turned away. "I do have some decency," he told himself, but knew that his action stemmed not from his decency, but from how he knew he had thought of her for so long. He had needed to, in order to keep his intentions to what they were when he first picked her up, honorable.
His knees, the knees that had never failed to hold him to his broomstick, nearly buckled when he heard what sounded suspiciously like a wet bra hitting the floor. With effort, for more than one reason, he walked across the room and grabbed a blanket that was hanging from the wall. He backed up towards the bed, feeling behind him, trying not to think too much. He shoved his hand out behind him, blanket extended towards Lily. He was stunned almost to reverence when she didn't snatch it out of his hand immediately. He heard her walk primly towards him, and envisioned her as she must have been, head held high, naked-well-- glistening as she must have been as she walked towards him like a goddess. He knew what kind of brass Lily Evans had to have, to take this with any decorum. She lightly took the blanket from his outstretched, now slightly quivering hand and it was HE who snatched his own hand back, almost as though it were on fire. "Bloody hell, what is she doing? She is only a girl." The inner voice in his head then added, "And by God, I'm only a man." He composed himself by walking towards the unlit fireplace to warm up the flat. He took out his wand and muttered an incantation to start a fire blazing.
He shut all of the curtains closely, so that not a fraction of light would escape, and made sure to lock both doors in the room. By the time he set a kettle of water on to boil, he had composed himself.
"Took that like a champ. Atta-girl." He said to her. His voice almost quavered however when he chanced a glance. Whatever composure he thought he had gained, he felt flitter away as his fingers and toes went numb. He saw Lily sitting primly, in the center of the bed, wrapped in a blanket that showed her bare shoulders and glistening locks of wet hair. She radiated a confidence that told him, she could own any situation.
"Yes well, I thought I'd set an example. Build up the company I'm with, even if it isn't of my choosing, rather than sink to. well your depths." She said this with out the hint of a smile, and her bright green eyes glinted.
"Touche." He merely said. It took everything he had to walk nearer to her to pick up her articles of clothing off of the floor. He threw them non- too neatly as best he could near the hearth of the fire so they could dry. He couldn't bear to wring out her under articles and clothing that had just left her skin, and so he didn't do the job as properly as he should have.
He heard her get up and walk towards him. No, it became clear she wasn't walking towards him, but towards her clothes and the fire. "For having such a fine eye for Quidditch James, you have a terrible way about a house, don't you?"
For the first time since he could remember, he was speechless. The combination of her constant wit and vivacity, coupled with her current state of dress, overcame him. He didn't answer but watched her wring her things out moodily.
"Quiet now, are we? What's the matter Potter, now that you're done saving your unwilling Damsel, you've been deflated?" She said this with less ice than previously, though he couldn't tell as he stared transfixed.
"I-- ah. Well, Evans, you seem to be the bossy sort, thought I'd wait for you to command me about, as I'm sure you will." He thought he did a good job of it and sat smugly.
"Bossy am I? Then again, bossy might seem like another word for competence, from one who can not move a toe without Sirius Black at his side."
He blushed so thoroughly that he thought even the tips of his untidy hair must be red. He nearly jumped out of his chair as she took another near his, at the table. He covered this by moving to stoke the fire. He then rummaged around for a few cups and saucers, some cream and sugar. He took the boiling kettle from the water and poured it into two cups. He sat down and added a tea bag to each.
"Cream?"
Her face turned utterly white, but the fire never left her eyes.
"The sooner you listen to me, and accept that I know what's best for you" he missed the look she threw him at this comment, "the sooner I can. warm you up." The look of wildness returned to her face and she took an involuntary step back. He hadn't meant to scare her, after all he was only HALF serious and so he added, "and you can leave."
With this she turned her back on him resolutely and peeled her sopping robes off of her shoulders, letting them drop in a thud to the ground. She missed the look of interest he had while he surveyed her perfect shoulders through the wet t-shirt she wore underneath. He supposed that she was lucky she couldn't see the less-than-wholesome look on his face as his eyes traced the parts of her back where her shirt hung wetly to her skin. With out turning, she began to lift her shirt over her head. James knew exactly what he was, a seventeen year old boy, and didn't even try to make himself turn his head. His bad deeds were rewarded with the gossamer skin of Lily Evans back, whining wet above the waistline of her pants. He saw her arms reach down to slide off her pants and now he shivered. He afforded himself one more look of her standing in her bra and panties, back to him, and then he quickly turned away. "I do have some decency," he told himself, but knew that his action stemmed not from his decency, but from how he knew he had thought of her for so long. He had needed to, in order to keep his intentions to what they were when he first picked her up, honorable.
His knees, the knees that had never failed to hold him to his broomstick, nearly buckled when he heard what sounded suspiciously like a wet bra hitting the floor. With effort, for more than one reason, he walked across the room and grabbed a blanket that was hanging from the wall. He backed up towards the bed, feeling behind him, trying not to think too much. He shoved his hand out behind him, blanket extended towards Lily. He was stunned almost to reverence when she didn't snatch it out of his hand immediately. He heard her walk primly towards him, and envisioned her as she must have been, head held high, naked-well-- glistening as she must have been as she walked towards him like a goddess. He knew what kind of brass Lily Evans had to have, to take this with any decorum. She lightly took the blanket from his outstretched, now slightly quivering hand and it was HE who snatched his own hand back, almost as though it were on fire. "Bloody hell, what is she doing? She is only a girl." The inner voice in his head then added, "And by God, I'm only a man." He composed himself by walking towards the unlit fireplace to warm up the flat. He took out his wand and muttered an incantation to start a fire blazing.
He shut all of the curtains closely, so that not a fraction of light would escape, and made sure to lock both doors in the room. By the time he set a kettle of water on to boil, he had composed himself.
"Took that like a champ. Atta-girl." He said to her. His voice almost quavered however when he chanced a glance. Whatever composure he thought he had gained, he felt flitter away as his fingers and toes went numb. He saw Lily sitting primly, in the center of the bed, wrapped in a blanket that showed her bare shoulders and glistening locks of wet hair. She radiated a confidence that told him, she could own any situation.
"Yes well, I thought I'd set an example. Build up the company I'm with, even if it isn't of my choosing, rather than sink to. well your depths." She said this with out the hint of a smile, and her bright green eyes glinted.
"Touche." He merely said. It took everything he had to walk nearer to her to pick up her articles of clothing off of the floor. He threw them non- too neatly as best he could near the hearth of the fire so they could dry. He couldn't bear to wring out her under articles and clothing that had just left her skin, and so he didn't do the job as properly as he should have.
He heard her get up and walk towards him. No, it became clear she wasn't walking towards him, but towards her clothes and the fire. "For having such a fine eye for Quidditch James, you have a terrible way about a house, don't you?"
For the first time since he could remember, he was speechless. The combination of her constant wit and vivacity, coupled with her current state of dress, overcame him. He didn't answer but watched her wring her things out moodily.
"Quiet now, are we? What's the matter Potter, now that you're done saving your unwilling Damsel, you've been deflated?" She said this with less ice than previously, though he couldn't tell as he stared transfixed.
"I-- ah. Well, Evans, you seem to be the bossy sort, thought I'd wait for you to command me about, as I'm sure you will." He thought he did a good job of it and sat smugly.
"Bossy am I? Then again, bossy might seem like another word for competence, from one who can not move a toe without Sirius Black at his side."
He blushed so thoroughly that he thought even the tips of his untidy hair must be red. He nearly jumped out of his chair as she took another near his, at the table. He covered this by moving to stoke the fire. He then rummaged around for a few cups and saucers, some cream and sugar. He took the boiling kettle from the water and poured it into two cups. He sat down and added a tea bag to each.
"Cream?"