Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews :) I appreciate you!
jamestown1991: Haha, I also love reading a story in bed, so I can understand the enthusiasm :D Glad I was able to give it to someone else! HA, well, I'm here to provide you with your next fix of that too ;p It really is a different dynamic with only having changed one small thing (EVILNESS, ha) but I hope it still works for you! And seriously about the smut. I need it as well. nibarna: HEY! Wahooo, I do what I can! (I really just want to get you guys [and me!] to the smut ASAP!) Guest: YESSSS! Okay, well, I'll let you in on a little secret... there will be pleeeenty of those kinds of flashbacks. I'm not doing all this backstory for nothin'. No sireeeee. Bubbles: Thank you for letting me know :) I will! orianawhite: That is a very interesting point you are making :) cscs01: Poor James. It will only get worse for him too... like... steadily, steadily worse :O You get the explanation for the demise of his and Susie's relationship here... AND YES. I LOVE WHERE YOUR MIND IS AT. Story of James' life, he can't escape her XD Guest: Thank you for your support 3 I wish so too jilyfever: Omg, if you could picture it, I am happy... we all deserve to imagine James Potter stripping for us :)
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. This author knows Lily is not a good person here, she hopes you know she is not a good person here, this story is not condoning bad behavior, just exploring it, if you are uncomfortable you can always stop reading, I won't mind :) Art work by the super talented windbyfire (insta)
Dolls ~ Bella Poarch
7th Year
It was only a few days into the new school year, but James had already learned far more than he needed to about his new roommate.
One: she was a night owl, and would work in their common room — on her side — until the wee hours of the morning. This would normally bother James, but as it were, it meant that mornings were blissfully his, and he could shower and meander around their bathroom perfectly content that he would not be disturbed.
Two: she wore the most revealing and skimpy of nightgowns. James supposed he shouldn't be surprised considering just how far she always pushed the limits of Hogwarts' already lax dress code, casually rolling up her pleated skirts just a little too high, or unbuttoning her shirts just a little too low. She liked looking sexy, fine, whatever, but who the hell was she really trying to impress at night? Her bed?
Three…
Well, he'd forgotten about discovery number three, because this fine morning Evans was breaking discovery one while wearing discovery two. James really never got used to seeing the silky green material of her nightgown leaving absolutely none of her curves to the imagination. He knew that girls didn't sleep in bras, but for his sanity, he really wished this particular one would.
James looked towards the long dead logs of his fireplace, avoiding Evans' figure as it appeared at the bottom of her spiral staircase — he looked at his watch — at 7 in the morning. James had just been pleasantly lounging on his end of the couch, going over the Quidditch plays he'd be teaching his team tonight.
"Why are you up?" he asked gruffly, pissed off at her disturbance.
Before she could answer, a blond Slytherin boy that he thought might be a 5th year followed her out the staircase, lanky and… blushing?
A dragon inside of James' stomach roared.
"Thanks, Lily," the boy said, giving her a smile before he put his head back down and made a beeline for their portrait door.
James watched the boy leave with his jaw hanging wide open before whipping his head back to Evans. "Wowwww. Real classy, Evans. Bit young, but at least old enough to have the manners to thank you for your services."
Evans' spine straightened in anger as she drew a deep breath into her lungs. James refused to give her the satisfaction of looking down to what she was so clearly displaying, but man, did he want to sneak another peek. "Typical," she snorted under her breath as she shook her head, refusing to look back at him.
That was not what he expected her to say. "What's typical?"
She rolled her eyes. "You. You think you're so noble, and so chivalrous, but you're just like every other man." Her eyes sliced to him, and he nearly cowered under the intensity of her glare. "Willing to cut a woman down the moment it suits you."
What? No, that wasn't what he'd just done. "Hang on— I didn't—"
"Didn't what, Potter?" she asked, crossing her arms as she turned her body in his direction. "Didn't just insinuate that I was a slag?"
Well. When she put it like that…
"Didn't just drop the whole facade of being this great Gryffindor because it was no longer convenient for you, because I don't deserve that sort of treatment, only the girls in other houses do?"
This conversation had gotten extremely awkward, extremely fast. James opened his mouth to refute her claims, but he found that he couldn't. It was a very uncomfortable position to find himself in.
"You may not like me, Potter, but at least you know my true colors. I've never pretended to be anyone's savior, but you?" She laughed. "You? You do it even while you torment those you don't like. Hero Potter, the Pureblood who claims to champion those he deems marginalized by being the world's largest arsehole to everyone else. So really, who's actually the classy one?"
James rose to his feet. Sure, he hadn't always been perfect, but who was she, an actual Death Eater, to tell him that? "Standing up for the less fortunate is the right thing to do, Evans—!"
"Pantsing losers and slut-shaming me isn't standing up for anyone! It's just an excuse for you to let your vindictive, bullying side out to play without having to feel any remorse over it! Stop lying to yourself!"
Do I have a vindictive side? James didn't think so, but the conviction in Evans' voice didn't sound like an act at all. It was almost like she was… hurt? Nah, she's probably only faking it to get sympathy. He wasn't sure. But he knew he wasn't as bad as she'd just claimed he was — he couldn't be. James knew himself, knew his true nature… she had to just be trying to manipulate him, trying to get him to start doubting himself in order to claim advantage in their sick battle. But… he guessed he really couldn't fight her on her assertions, because fine, he'd sort of been a dick to her just now. However, he also couldn't admit that. Admitting that he'd been in the wrong and had taken his insults too far would be akin to committing blasphemy — so he pivoted. Deflection was always such a handy tool, was it not? "I don't want you giving our password around."
She snorted. "Oh, because you didn't give it to all of your little friends already?"
"That's different," James replied staunchly.
She thrust her open palms out. "How?!"
"Because I trust them," he growled. "None of them are my fuck buddies."
Her face went completely blank, but the step she took in his direction told her she was positively fuming. "Not that it's any of your business, but Zanders isn't my fuck buddy."
James took a step towards her too, not wanting to be outdone. Sure. Whatever you say.
"He got in, because he knocked," she sassed, taking another step so that her toes were now touching the carpet. James' nostrils flared at her near intrusion. "It's this thing people do where they rap their knuckles against a door and then the other person answers."
This bitch. "I know what knocking is, Evans." They were face to face now, although he still had a good few inches on her in height. During the day, she always wore chunky, black boots with a heel that made her tall as fuck, but here, at home? He still had the advantage.
"Thought perhaps you may have forgotten with all those knocks you've gotten to your head," she hissed.
"Fuck. You," James snarled.
"You're not my type."
Merlin he hated this woman. He hated her so fucking much, but he had to give her credit: she was always just so quick on the draw. But he knew she was lying, of course she was. He'd seen the way her eyes strayed appreciatively, heard her whispers that she may or may not have wanted him to hear. This time, she'd chosen a retort that he found truly comical.
James smiled devilishly, getting ready to turn on his heel. "I'm everyone's type, darling."
She snorted harder than she ever had before in her life, stopping him in his tracks. "You act like you're this big, hot shot, but you wouldn't even know the difference between an asshole and a clitoris if I drew you a diagram."
James really wanted to go fly some laps to clear his head, or maybe cool down his cheeks, right about now. "Watch it, Evans."
Not only had everyone heard that James was a virgin (although he'd confessed it on the last night of school, it had been a long train ride back to London the next morning… meaning there had been plenty of time for a rumor that juicy to spread to literally everyone), but recently Susan had started bragging about how the two of them were saving it for marriage as well. James had felt like someone had pushed him head first into the Great Lake when he'd heard that story from a grinning Sirius. There was just so much to unpack there; it really felt like Susan was pushing him to his limits. It was so weird that the first time he became privy to this monumental decision that he had apparently made with his girlfriend was when he was told by… Padfoot. He and Susan had literally never talked about having sex before. Sure, he knew that she wanted to take things slow, and he still wholeheartedly respected her boundaries, but he didn't think he was the 'save it for marriage' type of bloke. To James, it seemed like those folks ended up getting married way too young for the sole purpose of fucking instead of really mulling over what a serious lifelong commitment it was supposed to be. Didn't 'saving it for marriage' sort of reduce the union to being all about sex? Not only that, but wasn't it a little presumptuous of Susan to be telling people that they were — basically — going to be getting married in the future? He liked Susan, he really really did, but thinking about marriage?
He was bloody 17.
And he really wanted to have sex.
But perhaps the worst realization to come from hearing about Susan's declaration was the sinking feeling that they truly were drifting in different directions. While James had hoped that a summer away would clear Susan's head and relax her a bit, Paris had radicalized her in a way, as though teaching her that her purity and virtue were the most precious commodities that she had, and that she had to guard them with her life or she'd be tainted in some unidentifiable (patriarchal) way. Worse than that, her silly etiquette school had told her that it was okay to push those beliefs onto other people as well — in essence to save them from ruining themselves too. James had uncomfortably watched it happen a couple times already when Susan had chastised her friends who had gotten (in her opinion) a little too affectionate with their boyfriends at the Great Hall tables.
James thought that if she wanted to live her life that way, fine, that was completely her choice. But it was truly bizarre when she started trying to dictate how those around her should behave as well — as though, for whatever reason, she knew best, and that those who disagreed with her were inferior. It was like in her mind, she thought that if she could abstain from such debauchery, why couldn't everyone else do the same? Or maybe James was giving her too much credit. Perhaps it wasn't that Susan was thinking about strength of character, but instead thinking about fairness: after all, who would be able to stomach watching others enjoy baser pleasures when they were denying them for themselves? No one liked watching someone else eat a cookie when they were on a diet.
The corner of Evans' lip tugged up the tiniest fraction; she knew she was getting to him. James supposed his internal struggle was probably readily apparent. "Aw," she cooed, "did I hit a nerve?"
"Nah," James said, trying to recover from her jabs, "I have a girlfriend. I'm good."
Evans broke into a full blown smile. "Yeah, one that believes even a little handie is against her morals." Her eyes dropped to the front of James' trousers, suddenly making him realize just how hard he'd started breathing. He was momentarily so grateful he'd already brushed his teeth. She looked back into his eyes through her thick lashes. "I've seen the way you two kiss, Potter. I doubt even nuns would get jealous."
What the fuck is a nun? James thought. "It's not a bad thing to have principals, Evans," he snarled, fully aware that he was spewing some of the very same talking points that Susan herself had used in the past. He didn't usually like reusing other people's words, but he was desperate, and he knew that certain language just packed a stronger punch. "I like that she believes in something. It's attractive."
Evans licked her lips. James didn't think that they could have gotten any closer, but somehow they managed, Evans' chest nearly grazing his. "Keep telling yourself that, love."
What were they fighting about? James wasn't even sure anymore, but he was now distinctly aware that Evans' nipples were hard and that silk really was a fucking wonderful fabric. With his vantage point of standing above her, her chest and eyes were so close to one another, and it was hardly fair to expect his eyes not to wander the short distance to her cleavage, to not bloody notice, but he still saw the triumph on her face when his eyes snapped back to hers. He knew he'd been caught. Fuck.
"Your girlfriend is trying to put a collar on a lion." She brought her hand up between them, fingers hovering dangerously close to the waistband of his sweatpants. "It's only a matter of time before you break free."
The feel of her touch on his bare skin, just below his shirt, was enough to knock James out of her trance. Repressing a shiver, James grabbed her wrist, holding it up between them as he took a step back, at a complete loss for words. If he was a lesser man, he might have stood still just to see what exactly she planned to do next, but he wasn't. He was James Potter — and he had a girlfriend.
Lily grinned, as though him holding her wrist in a vice grip was nothing new. "You really are a one-woman kind of bloke, aren't you, Potter?" She pulled her arm back, and James let her go. "Too bad we both know you're with the wrong woman."
She sauntered back up her staircase, leaving an awestruck James in her wake. What the fuck was that?
Had Evans just tried to seduce him? And worse than that… why had his first thought been: Let her.
Present Day
Days had gone by. Days. Which to James felt like… well, if he was being honest, they felt like bloody years. He was miserable, this was miserable — he didn't know just how much longer he could take this.
At least tonight he had a Quidditch match to watch. James settled himself down onto his bed, punching a pillow into shape behind him as he pulled out his pocket player, lighting up the holograms that showed all the players whisking around the miniature stadium. Nothing could beat the energy of watching a game live, but even James had to admit that watching matches like this actually made it easier to catch every brilliant play. You missed so very many when you had to track players flying a billion kilometers per hour with tiny omnioculars.
James mindlessly munched on his popcorn, watching Belgium absolutely crushing Canada, when he started to feel a small pang of discomfort. If I'm bored, imagine how bad it must be for Evans right now.
Evans had been keeping them fed with what Sirius had brought them, but unsurprisingly, it was the oddest assortment of ingredients imaginable, so she'd really had to get creative for some of their meals, using their fresh goods with random stuff they'd been able to scrounge up from his pantry. She always managed to whip up something delicious, but she'd inevitably look so disappointed when James would leave to go eat in his room. At this point, it really felt like kicking a puppy when they were down. He knew he was doing it for self-preservation, but… when did her need for any sort of human connection outweigh his need to… stay the fuck away from her?
He was a fully grown man. He could do this. He could be around a woman who he used to love, and who he was still wildly attracted to, and not do anything. Of course he could. Suck it up.
The very least he could do was offer to let her watch with him. Truly. Now that he thought about it, she didn't have any form of entertainment in her room. What the fuck has she been doing this whole time?!
Having made up his mind, James sighed and got to his feet, banishing his pocket player and popcorn to the living room so they could watch it there. He tentatively walked to Evans' door and was about to knock, when a strange sound made him falter. Was that… music? As quietly as he could, he cracked open her door, peeking his head inside. She had flung open her window as far as it would go, letting a breeze not only gently billow Sirius' old curtains about, but also waft in the heavy beat of the nightclub at the basement of their complex. James had soundproofed his room so long ago that he'd forgotten about its very existence — but not Evans. On the contrary, it looked like second-hand music had become her saving grace, since she was currently dancing like no one was watching (which he supposed was true in her mind).
It was such a wholesome moment, seeing her like this, that James couldn't help it — he laughed. If anyone would have told him at Hogwarts that he'd one day walk in on Evans dancing, he would have thought that they were mental. She wasn't doing some sort of striptease to taunt him, or (I don't know) dancing to summon evil spirits or something else equally sinister, she was merely enjoying herself. It was so strange to see her doing something so normal, so human, as letting her hair down and living in the moment. Sure, they'd been younger a decade ago, and the war hadn't started yet, but everything had, for some reason, felt so much more like life and death back then. He was literally at risk of being killed almost every day now, but at school the stakes had never felt higher. Hell, he hadn't even known what Death Eaters really stood for and what they were capable of when he was a teenager, and yet Evans? She'd felt so untouchable, so unattainable, even when he'd technically had her.
And now she was merely a girl — no a woman — dancing in his apartment because she heard a song she liked.
Life was weird like that.
Hearing James' hearty laugh, Evans spun to him and blushed a rosy pink. "James," she said breathlessly, "how long have you been standing there?"
He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, amused by her embarrassment. Honestly, it was so cute. "Just a second. Good song? I didn't know you danced."
Her face scrunched, knowing he wouldn't let her out of her mortification until she squirmed at least a little bit. "Yeah, well, boredom does crazy things to the mind."
Ain't that the truth. His guilt at having kept her so unoccupied doubled. Although, judging by the stack at the foot of her mattress, it looked like she had been nicking some books from off of his coffee table. "Come on, Quidditch is on," James offered.
She rolled her eyes, but he didn't miss the way her face lit up at the prospect of a new pastime. "Of course it's Quidditch."
He stuffed a hand into his pocket, hunching his shoulders slightly as he turned to leave. "Suit yourself, Evans. You're more than welcome to keep doing…" he pointed a finger at her, drawing a circle in the air, "whatever that was."
Instead of answering, Evans only flushed harder and grabbed her pillow, tossing it at his face. How she didn't predict James would have no problems catching it, he had no idea. He liked to think that no one would be able to forget his Quidditch prowess anytime soon.
"Thanks," he teased, walking off to the living room with her pillow. "Very useful. Need to make sure I can achieve maximum comfort levels." He wasn't surprised in the slightest when she followed, joining him on the couch.
They watched in amicable silence for a while, James offering her his popcorn every now and then, and he couldn't help but feel like this was nice. Casual even. They'd lived together for a year before, but they'd never done anything that had felt so domestic back then.
James cheered when Belgium made another spectacular play, almost upending all his popcorn when he jumped to his feet. He stopped his victory dance when he noticed Evans' sly smile. "What?"
She smiled harder. "Nothing. I just realized I don't have to feel embarrassed about being caught dancing at all if that's what you do even when you know I'm here."
"It's called sportsmanship, Evans. You should try it."
She tilted her head. "No, I don't actually think it is—"
He threw a piece of popcorn at her, making her giggle. "Sh, game's back on." James focused back on the match, but he could tell that she was still watching him.
"James?" she probed in a soft whisper.
He repressed a shiver. Her voice had always just done things to him. "Mm?" He grabbed another fistful of popcorn, needing something to do with his hands.
"Thank you."
She had his full attention again now. "For what?" If she was going to say for sitting in her presence for longer than ten minutes he was going to feel like even more of a douche.
She bent her knees, hugging her legs tighter to her torso. Was this what it looked like when she let her guard down? When she was truly letting someone in? He couldn't recall her ever looking like this at school — she'd been so powerful there, a bad bitch in every sense. Now, she was staring at her toes as though scared of what she was about to admit. It made him want to throw an arm around her and comfort her, tell her that it was all going to be all right. It was a completely ridiculous feeling, but he couldn't help it. This girl had always tapped into emotions that somehow seemed to stay dormant for everyone else. "For saving me." Oh. Yeah… that. She looked up at him, and James felt the air get knocked straight out of his lungs. She was so frigging beautiful — she always had been. Those almond shaped, emerald eyes could start wars if she wanted them to. The longer he looked, the farther he felt himself falling into her soul. "You could have just let me die… but you didn't."
James didn't know what to say. "Course," he stammered. He felt so awkward, not wanting to admit that a small part of him had considered how much easier his life would be if he had just let her die. He hadn't let himself think about the possibility long, because he knew he'd never be able to do it, but the fact remained. He didn't want to stew in this sentiment, but he also didn't feel like he deserved her gratitude for doing the bare minimum for her either.
She gave him a sweet smile, which he fumblingly returned before looking back at the offensive play, so thankful for the distraction.
The only sounds for the rest of the game were the crunching of kernels and the screaming inside of James' head.
However, he made sure that by the time she returned to her room, she'd at the very least have a magical boom box waiting for her. She deserved that much.
Next Chapter: Locked Eyes ~ Casual Sex
(Don't get too excited, it's just the name of the band ;p But, at least we're getting there a little bit... Goddamn realism!)
