The Unforseen
Courtesy of Airerédiel
Disclaimer: Airerédiel owns nothing, she claims nothing. Everything seen here [excusing the plot and the dialogue] is the property of J.K.Rowling. Airerédiel owns little more than the aged laptop she uses to produce this poor excuse of a story, and her cat. You can't have her cat, but she'd be more than willing to give up the laptop for whatever computer you are using to read this.
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Lily Evans' mouth slowly curled into a smile. The fan in the corner clicked softly as it changed direction and turned yet again in a slow arc around the room. It was almost nine in the evening and a toasty dusk was settling on the landscape around her tower window.
Lily lay, spread-eagled on her double bed in little more than lingerie. She hoped that somehow her prone position would dispel the heat that had settled on her, blanketing everything in a thick, humid layer.
Lily stared into the pits of her empty fireplace, hands thrown up onto her wrought iron bed head.
Her mind wandered from the present. First, it cast back to Severus. Her Fiance, her one, her only. He was tall and strong, with a mop of black hair and a strict face. Only Lily had seen behind his façade, into the man to whom she was being married. They had been friends since first year, and dated since fifth.
It was amusing, really, because he had been ecstatic when they had become engaged, only to be hidden away in his empty mansion while he was out on family business.
Then there was also James, who's memory pained her slightly. James Potter was a lanky, clumsy kid, with messy black hair and a little gang of his own. At the Yulle ball that year he had kissed her, but Lily had patted him on the arm and spoken of eternal friendship.
The tall and clumsy boy seemed no match for calculating, gentle Severus, but something about him, maybe it was the boyish glint in his eyes or the little spring in his step, fascinated her.
Lily had been a uncertain friend of James's, feeding her curiosity and his infatuation, up until that fateful ball
A hissing sound broke into her thoughts, signalling that someone was about to arrive by floo powder. Lily, expecting Severus, payed little attention and a tower of green flame burst forth from the empty fireplace.
Suddenly, she fought back a shriek as a different tall, black-haired man appeared in front of her.
"James!" she screamed, snatching up the blankets strewn carelessly around her and covering herself. She was suddenly sickeningly aware that she was wearing little but a lacy black thong and camisole. "What in all hells are you doing here?"
James Potter stood, tall and lanky and scruffy and handsome as he always had. He gaped openly for a few seconds and then regained his composure, giving Lily the James-Potter-haughty-gaze once again.
"I came to talk to you," the pale boy said softly, never once taking his eyes off Lily's face "to apologise."
Lily looked at him darkly. He may be a fool, yes, but he's not insincere.
"Very well," she muttered, getting as close to an 'apology accepted' as she ever would with her lanky friend.
"About the Yule ball. I'm sorry I kissed you. You you were taken, I should've seen that" James murmured, stopping and starting but never once his gaze leaving her face.
Lily got as close to a smile as she would in front of James Potter. "I was your date, James, I don't resent you for that" she said gently, sitting up to meet his penetrating gaze.
"But Snape" James spluttered, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Severus, James. Soon I will be a 'Snape'" Lily's demeanour had lost none of it's gentleness, but a new steel resolve was showing in her emerald eyes. James glanced furtively at her engagement ring, hoping his glare might turn it into a fine dust and blow away with the sickly air from the fan.
"So where is he?" James asked, voice hinting a sneer.
Lily shot ice at him with her eyes. "Off with his parents. Family business."
James paused. "Oh."
Lily lightened a little, forcing herself to smile at the intruder.
"So how has life been treating you?" he asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Lily was laying on her bed in her lingerie, gazing up at him sadly.
After a few moments of hurried thinking, she sat up again. "Kiss me" Lily said spontaneously, flipping her hair crimson back over a shoulder.
"What?" James spluttered, gazing at Lily with a mix of hope and dismay.
"Kiss me. It's been three months since I've had a proper kiss, James. What, with Severus away with his family and all. Oh hell James, please kiss me!"
"You mean it?" Here he was, an eighteen-year-old boy looking all of two. It was irresistible.
She had soft, red lips, as warm and tentative as her gaze. With emerald eyes shut softly she had kissed him, soft and chaste and brief.
James' eyes were shut as she pulled back and faced him, forehead resting on his.
"Kiss me again" James murmured, pale lips moving little as he spoke.
Their second kiss was everything the first had not been, wild and passionate and untamed. James lowered Lily to the bed, kissing his way down her jawbone and back to those soft, warm lips.
This would not last, this could not last, because neither of them had the patience to make it. With a strangled gasp Lily pulled away, lying forlornly in her bed.
James looked slightly shell-shocked. He stood shakily, turned to the silent Lily one last time then left through her fireplace.
Lily lay there, still recovering from the suddenness of it all
.
Life whirred on. The toasty dusk had set and crickets chirped outside. Lily's fan clicked softly on its corners, gracing the air in slow, steady arcs.
Lily pulled on a sundress and threw some floo powder into the fireplace.
"Oh no you don't, James Potter."
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