Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though). For this chapter, I additionally would like to clarify that I do not own The Godfather.

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

Chapter Eight: Leave the Gun, Take the Cannoli

Late Saturday afternoon, James Potter and Luke Kettleburn strolled down the brick pathway leading to the Quidditch Pitch, readying themselves for the year's first night game. Autumn's dry air whipped around the pair as they trekked the narrow, unevenly paved path that seemingly led straight into the setting sun.

"They all failed," Kettleburn harped, unable to forget his Advanced Arithmetic's miserable performance earlier that week. "Everyone of them. The class average was a 43. Not even a 45."

"It's not your fault."

Pausing with a slight sigh, Kettleburn slowed their walking pace. "Can I confide in you?"

"Sure," James responded, shrugging indifferently.

"I don't think I'm coming back next year. I'm bored, and there's nothing here for me anymore. I don't care about the students as much as I used to—well that's obvious. They all failed their test. I should have taught them better."

James shook his head, slightly shocked by the announcement. "I'm sure your teaching is fine—"

"No, it's not. I'm resigning if they don't fire me first for my utter lack of teaching capacity."

"You're being rash."

Kettleburn ignored him and focused his eyes on the weed-like flowers framing their path. "I kind of want to go out with a bang—make some sort of impact. Hopefully it will be for something better than smuggling firewhiskey into the Quidditch games, though. That's amateur." Reaching into his coat's inside breast pocket, he pulled out a rusted silver flask and unscrewed the cap to drink from it.

With bulging eyes, James started spluttering before regaining enough syllabicity to articulate: "You're insane! What'll happen if someone sees?!"

Kettleburn gave a single, defiant laugh. "Nothing, probably. You saw, and look at the effort you've made to report me."

James straightened his collar to add to his authority. "Well, someone, like myself, who has witnessed your illegal activities, could be waiting for a more discreet moment to casually hint to Dumbledore to check your coat pockets."

"If such a situation arose, I might just have to bribe them with this other flask," Kettleburn said, withdrawing a matching flask from his outerwear.

Clearing his throat, James glanced left and right to ensure the absence of witnesses and then quickly snatched the bribe. "Well, I'll have to confiscate that one to ensure no bargaining will interfere with proper law enforcement."

Kettleburn smirked. "How noble of you."

Without enough warning for Kettleburn to duck behind nearby foliage, Allegra Giotonee came sprinting wildly across the lawn with Lily Evans jogging not far behind her. Falling into stride with the two older men, Allegra's smile beamed at them. "Hello, Professors."

James returned her smile as Kettleburn contemplated making a run for it. "Hello. How are you ladies today?"

"We're excellent," Allegra replied eagerly, her eyes not leaving Kettleburn.

Lily grinned briefly to James in a greeting gesture, causing his heart to leap into his throat.

Attempting to elicit conversation from the object of her affection, Allegra specifically addressed Kettleburn. "Have you graded the exams yet?"

He did not look from the ground and replied with a monotonous, "You don't want to know."

"Oh." Dropping her gaze to the bricks they passed over, she searched for a new topic to pursue and commented, "The flowers are starting to wilt. I guess winter's coming quickly this year."

Kettleburn remained silent.

James glanced toward Lily, who had apparently been staring at him, as she visibly jerked her head from his direction when their eyes met. "Yes," he agreed, feeling slight pity for Allegra's failure in her romantic conquest. "I saw some frost on my window this morning. I had to drink a cup of coffee just to warm up."

Glaring daggers at James, Kettleburn made it apparent that he did not appreciate James encouraging his stalker.

"I love coffee. You know, there's an excellent tea and coffee shop in Hogsmeade. You simply must have their caramel foamed latte."

Finally heeding Allegra's request for his attention, Kettleburn commented, "I only like black coffee. Anything you put in it just detracts from the caffeine."

She scrunched her nose in disgust. "That'll rot your teeth, though—just pure black coffee."

"And caramel's going to actually whiten the enamel."

"Well, no—"

"If you're going to ruin your teeth," Kettleburn interrupted, "you should do it the right way."

"And your way is the right way?" Allegra scoffed.

"Yes," he responded quickly in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'm your teacher. By definition, I know more than you."

"Too bad this isn't a differential equation. You know less about teeth than I know about Eight Tracks."

"I've had my teeth for a good ten years longer than you've had yours. Ergo, I have the superior knowledge base."

James sensed he and Lily were officially excluded from the discussion. There was some natural force between their two bickering companions that drew them together and locked them in a constant battle, of which neither put up a real effort to avoid.

She rolled her eyes. "Length of ownership has nothing to do with knowledge. I have two feet, but I can't count them any better now than I could have fifteen years ago."

"Perhaps that would explain your mathematical incompetence: You're counting like a three year old."

James fell slightly behind the line and gently took hold of Lily's shoulder to steer her onto a different path, perpendicular to the one Allegra and Kettleburn continued to travel.

"What are—oh," she said, ending her initial protest. "Wait, shouldn't we tell them they missed the turn?"

As the Quidditch Pitch appeared from behind a small treeline, James shrugged. "We could if we wanted to listen to them argue more."

Lily smiled and continued walking.

"Do they always do that?" James asked.

"Yeah. It's kind of entertaining," she replied, the apples of her cheeks obtaining a slight red hue from the wind rushing against them.

James repositioned himself to protect her from the larger gusts while subconsciously running a hand through his messed hair. "I suppose."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Once at the Pitch, James headed for the team entrance and walked the familiar hallway past the equipment and locker rooms, memories of his glory days as the Gryffindor Captain returning with each step. He approached the large wooden doors at the edge to the field and released the latch to allow the sunlight into the dimly lit arena beneath the bleachers. New cheers from the crowd came in response to James' action, and the players customarily filtered into the small area, preparing to mount their brooms. Not surprisingly, protective-padding-clad Nathaniel led the pack to where James stood.

"Why hello, Professor," he greeted with a sarcastic air while making a final adjustment to his right elbow pad strap.

"Mr. Rockwell," James acknowledged.

Nathaniel stared at him. "Well?"

"Well what?"

He smirked arrogantly and spun the broomstick in his hand. "Wish me luck. I am on the Gryffindor team, after all."

"Yes, have a good game," James replied dryly.

"Thank you for your empty well-wishing, sir. Good luck to you, too."

James looked the boy up and down. "Why do I need luck?"

"Oh, you know," he shrugged. "Every once in a while a mis-thrown quaffle heads toward the referee. Not to worry, though. It's not like I'll be aiming at you or anything."

As Nathaniel left the ground, James resisted the urge to kick the end of Nathaniel's broomstick, which would launch his enemy off the broom and into a complete face-plant on the green below. But he was an adult. James just had to keep reminding himself of that.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Overall, the match passed relatively smoothely (A/N: yes, there's an e). A few 'mis-aimed' shots from Nathaniel headed in James' direction, and the Ravenclaw Chasers were fast to intercept, eventually leading to Nathaniel's benching. Without the star player, the Gryffindor team lost its early lead, but luckily, the strong defense line won Gryffindor the game. After filling out ten 'Incident Reports' in the Pitch's administration office for all the fallen players, James hastily filed the forms and left the cramped room only to find himself in complete darkness.

With a quick Lumos charm, James lit his way to the Quidditch hallway, turning toward the field instead of the exit. 'No one's around,' James thought while extinguishing the artificial light in favor of the moon's glow. 'I'll just take a few jogs around the Pitch for old time's sake.' Upon reaching the Pitch, however, James noticed he was not alone: a small, lone figure laid tranquilly in the stands, radiating a sense of calm while looking upward to the stars and swinging a dangled foot in steady rhythm. Silently climbing the bleacher's steps, James neared the mysterious person until recognizing her.

"Miss Evans?"

Without rising, she stopped swinging her foot and looked innocently to him with her large green eyes. "Yes, Professor?"

"May I ask why you've chosen to rebel and not abide to curfew?"

She swung her feet over the bench to face him and sat up lazily. "I'm not feeling well. I think I've caught a cold."

James gave her a ridiculous look. "Probably. It's almost subzero out here. Where's global warming when you need it, eh?"

She smiled lightly and tugged her coat to tightlier constrict her body, shivering slightly. "I went inside, and all of the parties were so loud. I just wanted quiet."

"You know, some faculty members might punish students who wander the grounds after curfew," James said while taking a seat on the bench below hers and reclining backward to lean against her upper seating level.

"You know, some Head Girls might report professors who carry illegal articles in their coat pockets."

James placed a hand atop his breast pocket where Kettleburn's now empty flask rested. "Touché. You saw that earlier?"

She smirked. "Never join the Mafia. You're terribly indiscreet."

With his best Marlon Brando impersonation, James brought a hand to his face, contemplatively feeling the stubble along his chin, while straining his voice into a grainy tone. "What have I ever done... to make you treat me... so disrespectfully?"

Lily began to giggle, only triggering a deep, echoing cough.

James looked to her in concern and moved further down the bench, closer to her, extending a hand to feel her lymph nodes.

His approaching hand appeared to surprise her, and she leaned away, looking curiously at his open palm.

"No, it's okay. I'm diagnosing you," he reassured as his hand firmly, yet gently, grasped her throat. Their first deliberate physical contact distracted James, who took a minute to overcome the friction made from his course fingers against the soft delicateness of her skin, before remembering his initial purpose. Her lymph nodes were, in fact, inflamed. "Does your throat hurt?"

"A bit," she said, coughing again.

Chivalrously, he removed his own scarf and wrapped it snuggly around her bare neck. "If you want to go to the Kitchens with me, I could make you some tea."

Her nose crinkled. "I'm not really a tea drinker. There's that one shop in Hogsmeade—that Allegra was talking about earlier, remember?—they have the best tea. Other than that, the outcome isn't worth the effort."

James stood with a sigh and turned to face her, his hands placed in his pockets. "Well, then there's only one thing we can do."

"Go to the mattresses?" she guessed, drawing on their early conversation.

"As appealing as that sounds," James started, adolescently winking at her, "I was going to suggest a staff-supervised excursion to Hogsmeade."

Lily blushed heatedly. "We could get in troub—" she spoke before another cough interrupted her.

"I'll take that as a 'Yes, let's go'. Come on," he called to her from below, already beginning the descent from their seats to the field below.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With a faint bell chime, James opened the coffee shop door for his female counterpart with a low bow. "After you, my lady."

"Why thank you, kind sir," Lily said, curtsying and stepping into the small store. Coffee bean containers covered the walls, hiding the peeling marigold wallpaper, while candles lit the room from an elk antler chandelier hung above the ordering counter, behind which stood a tanned, tired, thirty-something man. Coffee Man, however, appeared to animate upon noticing the Second to the Minister of Magic's son entering his humble establishment with an obvious student just as the wall-hung clock tolled eleven—most definately after curfew and most definately illegal.

"Anything for a beautiful girl," he sighed while extending her his elbow to escort to the counter. "Not to worry, though; I'll make an exception in your case."

Her arm dropped, as did her jaw. "Woah."

From behind the long counter, Coffee Man cleared his throat and looked to them anixously. "May I help you?"

"One green tea for the lady, one tall latte for myself. And if it isn't too much trouble," James said while slyly sliding a golden galleon across the counter, "we were never here."

Coffee Man flipped two wall-mounted switches beside him, resulting in a mechanical sounding roar as the contraption along the wall commenced its assembly line process, and with a brief glance to his new customers, he placed the coin into his pocket. Soon after, their drinks floated onto the counter as plastic lids sealed themselves to the cups' rims. "Here you are, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. That'd be two sickles."

As James exchanged currency with Coffee Man, Lily quietly told him, "I'll pay you back later."

"Nonsense," James said with a wave of his hand. "It's tax money anyhow." He laughed at his own joke and withdrew another galleon to bribe the possible press informant. "That was never said."

Coffee Man took the second coin with more gusto than the first.

James meandered to the window-side table and pulled Lily's chair out before taking his own. Watching her, he noted how the candlelight deepened her crimson hair color and how, as she drank her tea, a warm glow, previously robbed by the night's cold air, returned to her face.

"It's strange to be here at night," she said conversationally between sips, not realizing his fascination with her, his bated breath in response to every word she spoke. "It seems so much cheerier during the daylight."

Nodding, he agreed. "Truth be told, this town isn't what the students perceive it as. A lot of undercover Ministry workers and Deatheaters live in Hogsmeade. The government likes to keep it here because then they'll know what's going on near the school, and any unofficial fighting can be called a bar brawl that moved to the streets. They all mill around the streets at night, you see."

Lily's eye's widened in alarm.

"Oh, no, no. Don't worry."

Her gaze began darting around the shop in a panicky survey, fixating finally on her cup. "People are looking at us through the window."

"Relax," he said, crossing his legs and leaning into the chair. "Look, in the case of an attack, just remember the golden rule."

She continued to stare into her tea as she thought before looking to him, confused. "What's that?"

"Leave the gun. Take the cannoli."

"This is serious. Stop joking around," she whispered magisterially while glancing 'discreetly' again through the window.

"Would you stop with that?" James snapped. "You're peering surreptitiously—they'll think you're up to something."

"How can you act so casually? I want to go back," she whispered with a violent tone, her eyes beginning to sport a red hue and shine with tears.

"Don't get upset. It's fine."

She shook her head angrily. "It is not."

"It is."

"It is not."

"It is."

"It most certainly is not!" Lily exclaimed, her voice beginning to crack.

"Calm down!"

"Take me back."

"Okay, just—"

"Take me back now," she repeated with insistency. "I want to go back."

James sighed. He'd managed to ruin their almost-maybe-kind-of-sort-of first date, of which his 'date' had no idea she was on. "Okay, come on."

"Thank you," she sniffed, and buttoned her coat.

Just as they stood, a green light shot sharply between them, splintering the muffin casing glass behind them and launching the muffins airborne. James caught a rouge cinnamon-topped blackberry muffin, tossed it to Lily, and grabbed her, pulling her into a sandwich between himself and the wall alongside the door. "I know, I know, it's not a cannoli, but we're not in Italy, so I figure the English equivalent will suffice."

Coffee Man ran into the back storeroom as he shouted for them to leave, and James unpocketed out his wand, looking briefly out the shop's glass door to locate the curse's sender.

"Don't panic," he told her as he released her from his embrace, only to find her clutching his overcoat relentlessly. "Just let go... let go... okay, that's good. Now put the muffin in your pocket and get out your wand."

"We're leaving now?!" she yelled as the hexing shouts grew louder from beyond the storefront's assaulted window.

Realizing she was too hysteric to follow orders, James took the muffin from her, dropped it into her pocket, and drew the zipper to secure it. "You want to go, you want to stay. Which is it?"

"They're killing people out there!" she rationed as her trembling hands turned white from gripping her wand with such force.

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but a coffee shop wall is a weak barricade against the killing curse," James said and pushed her to his other side. "Get behind me."

With little choice in the matter, Lily was pulled from the coffee shop's confines onto the street, where the hex lights appeared more vividly luminous. Unfortunately, though, what they illuminated were the masks of Deatheaters.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving! Sorry for the delay in posting this. I originally was trying to write a sequence during the Quidditch Match, but it wasn't working the way I wanted it to, so I eventually just cut it out completely. Did you like the chapter? If yes, review. If no, review. If you're indifferent, review and say so. I am a public servant, so your wish is my command. Plot suggestions are welcome. What do you want to happen? And YES, the muffin is significant.

Check out my profile for a preview scene of the next chapter. Love to all, Nicole.