James was having...trouble. He was in bed, with Christine underneath him--and he was having trouble. This had never, ever happened to him before. Ever. But he simply couldn't get there. It wasn't her fault, really. She wasn't doing anything different than usual. Actually, he reflected, that might be part of the problem. Did she have to just lay there like that, all stiff and unresponsive? He couldn't help but contrast her mechanical movements and lack of passion to Lily's firey response to his touch. Lily. The way she'd moaned and clung to him, kissing him as though she'd die without him! The mere thought of it did things to him. The memory of Lily, pinned to the wall and writhing against the length of his erection as it slid up and down the front of her jeans, sprang unbidden to the forefront of his mind...
Oh, fuck. Now that worked.
He was going to hell. No question about it, he was a horrible bastard. He should not be fantasizing about Lily while shagging Christine. It was just wrong. But, he rationalized quickly, lots of blokes did it, right? Fantasies were normal, just so long as they stayed fantasies. It was harmless. Christine would never know. So what if he pictured Lily beneath him, just so long as he remembered who he was really with?
Lily. Beneath him. Her legs wrapped firmly around his waist, her fingernails digging trails down his back as she screamed his name in pleasure. Or maybe, his mind interjected insistantly, on top of him? Her dark red hair would tumble over her shoulders in careless waves as she arched her back, clutching at him and moaning, begging him for more.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Now that really worked!
His entire body tensed. He looked deep into Christine's eyes, crying out her name, the name of the woman he loved, as he found release. And Christine looked back, gazing at him with an expression of...absolute horror. Wait. Absolute horror? Now that wasn't right...
She continued to stare at him, her mouth opening and closing but no sound other than a high-pitched squeak coming out. Finally she moved, her hands beating against his chest urgently, violently.
"James Potter how could you?!" She was crying, shaking. She shoved him bodily off of her, clutching the sheet about her. He tumbled to the floor and landed--hard. She was bloody strong for such a tiny, frail-looking woman!
He sprang up. "Christine! I can...I can explain!"
"How? How could you possibly?" Her wand was out and she was pointing it at him.
The truth was, he didn't know how to explain.
"Nothing has ever happened between me and Lily." He said instead, realizing the lie as soon as the words left his lips. Because, strictly speaking, something had happened. If he was honest, really honest with himself, much more would have happened had she allowed him.
"Maybe not," Her voice was wavering. She choked back a sob. "but you wanted it to."
Now how could he in good conscience deny that? Hadn't that very thought just crossed his own mind?
"Christine..." he said helplessly, not really sure what to say.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" She hissed, waving her wand wildly. "Do you think I'm blind? I've seen the way you look at her, the way you follow her with your eyes." This time a hiccopy sob did escape. "I thought...I mean...you proposed to me, James! Why did you do it if you didn't mean it? How could you do this to me? You-you're a right fucking bastard!"
James jaw dropped. Had Christine just uttered a profanity? She groped at her finger, twisting violently to remove the ring.
"Christine..." he pleaded, but his heart wasn't in it. And she knew it, for her urgency increased.
"Go to hell James!" She pitched the ring at his forehead, striking home with considerable force. He barely managed to catch the ring before it tumbled to the floor. Fuck, that hurt. It was certainly going to leave a mark.
But Christine wasn't finished.
"I never, ever want to see you again, James Potter!"
"Christine..." he tried again. She wasn't having it. She brandished her wand with deadly precision, sending him flying bodily out the door of her flat. Once again, on his bloody arse! Well wasn't this just brilliant? He stood up, intending to rush back in to reason with her, but the door slammed shut in his face. Locked. Genuinely upset now, James pounded on the door.
"Christine! Christine, please!"
Silence.
"I never meant to hurt you!"
Still not so much as a creaking floorboard to indicate she was even there.
"It was an accident!" He raised his voice and pounded harder. "It meant nothing, I swear!"
It was a quiet complex, and James was being loud. It was when Christine's neighbors, most of them women in their sixties, came to investigate, that James realized that Christine had pitched him out into the hallway without his clothes or his wand. Naked and wandless. Fan-fucking-tastic! How the fuck was he going to get home?
A/N: I know I should feel bad for Christine, but I had a hard time not laughing the entire time I wrote this chapter. Don't look at me like that! Alright. Alright. Poor Christine. Are you happy?
