Chapter Three: Happiness Is A Warm Gun
"We should have a Christmas Ball." The hot brunette from Hufflepuff said. James grimaced, wondering what it was with girls and anything that involved dressing up and dancing. It was certainly not something on his list. He stared at the blank sheet of parchment in his lap. The Prefects and Heads had been sitting in the classroom for almost thirty minutes now, and he hadn't thought of a single thing, except, anything but dances. Dances, gatherings, salons, whatever. If it didn't involve massive amounts of alcohol and some kind of rock' n' roll, it wasn't his thing.
"Pass. Next?" James said, dismissing the idea. Jules blanched at the coldness in his voice.
"I think its a wonderful idea. We don't have enough social gatherings." Lily Evans said, flipping her long red hair out of her face. James glanced sideways at her. Did she have to disagree with him about everything? He hadn't pictured Evans for the frilly girly-girl type like Jules or her best friend Marlene McKinnon. Well, you know what they say when you assume.
James focused on Lily, who was now smiling at Jules. "We could decorate the Great Hall with snowmen and ice sculptures, and hang mistletoe and wreaths and have a Christmas tree and everything! It would be fun!"
None of the boys seemed too thrilled with the idea, and he couldn't blame them. He gripped the bottom of the desk.
Lily continued. "It will have to be before the holidays, of course, maybe the night before? But no, that would be pushing it, students need to pack and everything." She was talking to herself, more than talking to the Prefects sitting in the room.
She was perched in the chair behind the Professor's desk, looking regal and controlled as always. Her back was straight, her face collected as she sorted through a pile of parchment. James sat lazily on top of the desk, his back to her.
"Okay, with all the fun aside," she trailed off thoughtfully as she flipped through her papers. "...Let's discuss the Patrolling schedule. Ravenclaw, you'll be from seven until nine on Mondays and Fridays. Slytherin, you have Tuesdays and Thursdays. Gryffindor, I want you out there on Wednesday and Sunday. Potter and I will take Saturdays, as well as finishing up patrols after nine."
Scribbling could be heard as the Prefects all wrote down their schedules hurriedly. James frowned. Lily hadn't discussed a training schedule with him at all. In fact, it seemed like she wasn't making any decisions with him. So much for teamwork, he thought sourly.
He leaned back on his haunches and stared out into the crowd of Prefects. No one seemed to oblige, then again he didn't figure anyone would. Prefects were goody-goodies, just like Evans.
"Hm, what else was there..." Evans was talking to herself again. It was like he wasn't even Head Boy, like she was the only one to make the rules. He fumed, feeling the anger bubble up again. It was too easy to get angry at her, and even easier to forgive her. But not right now. She stared down at her papers, promptly ignoring his presence. He frowned and stared at the Prefects. He would have interrupted her train of thought, spoken his mind and remind her that he, too, made decisions, but nothing came to mind just then, and he wasn't about to make a fool out of himself in front of all these people by saying something stupid.
He glanced up at the clock overhead and counted down the minutes before dinner would begin, and he could flee this bloody classroom and Evan's obnoxiously cool demeanor. He didn't want to deal with it tonight, not on his first night of school, after listening to her criticize and tear apart his character, like she had been doing from the second he walked into the Head compartment on the Hogwarts Express. He was sick of it, sick of her smart ass tongue and bitchy attitude. He'd spent six years taking one for the team, letting go of what technically made her Evans.
He ran his hand through his hair, huffing in anger. She continued on, muttering to herself and conducting the classroom like she was some fucking professor. He wondered why he was so infatuated with her. She didn't even respect him, not even with the Head Boy badge that was stuffed in his pocket. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, that would be enough. That she would realize that he wasn't just some irresponsible toerag and eventually see that somewhere between hexing Snivellus and September First he had grown up.
But it was to no avail because Evans thought it was still a joke, and when she wasn't going off about how infuriating it was that she had to work with someone like him, she was pretending he didn't exist. She was lucky she was who she was, and James would never hurt a hair on her stupid, bitchy head. He messed up his hair again, forcing down the anger that was rising up in his throat like bile.
He didn't know when he became like this or what it was about Lily that made him act so. Maybe it was six years of turning him down. Whatever it was, it was beginning to wane on his nerves and he had to force himself not to go postal on her like he had on just about everyone else that summer. Even Sirius.
James recalled that day. It was a few days after the funeral and Sirius was over at the Potter's house, trying to convince him to leave the place for a few days and come and stay in London with him. He was trying to be nice, be supportive and be his best friend, James knew, but he had said something, something James could no longer remember, and it had been like the last string. James had blown up and the anger bubbled over, his voice screaming, echoing off the empty halls of the Potter estate.
Sirius had taken it. Listened as his best friend shot every explicative known to man. Allowed the boy to insult him over and over again because in the end he wound up crying. And James Potter never cried, not even at the funeral. Even Sirius cried that day as they lowered the bodies of the only real parents he had ever known into the rich soil. James hadn't cried. He didn't cry when he heard the news or when someone wrapped their arms around him and cried into his shoulder. He wound up comforting them, patting them on the back and saying that everything would be okay, that his mum and dad wouldn't want to see them so upset.
But what did Evans know, anyway, James thought angrily. Nothing. Because he knew the Evans lived happily in their world. Maybe Lily had informed them on the Dark Lord's rise to power, but they certainly had nothing to fear. Muggle borns were dying along with the pure bloods, but it was rare, and only in priority matters. Voldemort had no interest in the Muggle parents of some seventeen year old girl, not when he had his hands full with people like the Potters; pure blood witches and wizards who he tried to recruit and who had boldly refused and made it their goal to see his demise. Instead, they met their own and now were buried in some meadow while that-thing-walked around, commanding his followers who did his bidding fervently, like dogs.
She acted like she knew everything, He thought, as she went on about something in her bossy voice. But she didn't, not really.
When the dinner bell sounded, Lily had just finished her speech, and the Prefects were gathering their things and heading out the door. James jumped off the desk and walked with speed toward the exist. He ignored her when Evans called out, "Potter."
Instead of going to dinner, he marched up to the Head dorms. He didn't even stop to chat with the girl in the portrait, who beamed when she saw him. He rushed into this bedroom, threw open his trunk and unzipped his bag. His hands were shaking harshly, and the bottle of pills fell out and onto the floor with a clatter.
James grabbed them and then reached into his trunk again, pulling out a bottle of Firewhiskey. He cracked open the small medicine bottle and popped four white pills into his mouth, chasing them down with the whiskey. The alcohol burned his throat more than the pills did and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
He knew already, that this wasn't enough. He fumbled around in his trunk and pulled out a tin box with a lock on it. He fiddled with the lock until it fell open and reached inside. There was plenty in there, many things to chose from. That summer he had learned a lot, researched even. Wouldn't Evans be proud? He smirked at the idea of the Head Girl seeing him with the little multi-colored beans or the small vial of clear liquid. Evans may know everything Hogwarts: A History had to offer but she probably didn't know what those colorful pills did to your mind and your body, or that if you chase some allergy pills with a small bottle of cough medicine that it made the world around you vibrate in a beautiful way. No way perfect little Evans knew that.
"Decisions, decisions," he contemplated wildly. He decided on the bag full of colorful beans, and pulled one out, tossing it in his mouth and biting down. His face contorted in disgust. The drug wasn't known for its pleasant taste but James thought, no risk no reward. He took another swallow of Firewhiskey to wash away the nasty taste of the MDMA.
Then he moved to his feet and out the door, flying down the halls as if on a mission. He was on a mission, though, and had less than forty minutes to complete said mission. Most students were already down in the Great Hall enjoying dinner, but a few lone ones wandered the halls. A group of Hugglepuff girls sat on the staircase, a magazine spread out between them.
Perfect, James thought, noticing the familiar brunette.
"Oi, Robinson." Jules, and co, looked up to see James Potter standing there, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. She smiled and he noticed the two girls sitting with her echoing their friend's wide grin.
"Yes, boss?" She asked flirtatiously. Even better, James thought, flashing a perfect grin at her. The girl melted a little. He was working his charm. This would only take seconds, if even that. Jules had shown signs right from the start that she would be an easy conquest and a perfect candidate for his mission tonight.
"I was wondering if I could have a word. About your ideas for the year, you know." He needn't say more. Jules jumped to her feet and was down the stairs on his demand.
"Of course!" She said breathlessly. James smirked inwardly. Whether they were brainless bimbos like Melissa Berkheart, his first of many many times, or Prefect material, girls were sluts. They were animals in bed, and putty in the capable hands of men like him and his friends. No one refused him for long, except Evans, he thought unnervingly. The thought flashed another spurt of eagerness through him and he played the game perfectly, throwing his arm around her dainty shoulders. He knew the moves by heart. All of them did. Even Remus played the game, reeled them in and had his way with them.
None of them were particularly ashamed of it. It wasn't as if they had no respect for females. In fact, Mari Potter had made sure that all four boys knew how to treat a woman; the old-fashioned way. No son of hers, and no friends of her son, would behave unchivalrously. Then again, he doubted his mother knew anything of his long list of conquests. He'd have gotten a sure beating if she had. Still, this was different. He didn't take girls out on dates and ignore them. He never and would never force a girl into anything. Each girl came willingly, practically throwing themselves at him. They were the ones who suggested it, who lead him to his or her bed with playful smiles. They were the ones who pulled at his robes or pulled his tie so that he was pressed against them. It wasn't his fault that he complied.
This was the seldom moment that he made the move. Because it wasn't the same as it was without the drug coursing through his veins. It was better this way. Seeing their tight, perfect little figures wiggling beneath him was more erotic this way.
He noticed Jules shoot a smug smile in the direction of her friends as he steered her back toward the Head dorms. She followed.
"Sorry about turning down the idea. Evans was right, it was a smashing idea." Jules beamed again at his compliment.
"I'm so glad-"
"And I was wondering what else went on in that brilliant little head of yours. Tell me a little bit about yourself." He knew his best mate would have blanched at this question. Sirius wasn't one for much taking; he was an action-man. Never would you find Sirius asking a girl to tell him all about herself, not even to reel them in. All he had to do was flash them his perfect smile and whisper in their ear and snap; they'd practically drag him to their bedrooms or a nearby broom closet. Anything and everything worked. He was Sirius Black after all. Who cared if he shagged you in a bed or on the desk you sat at for Potions?
"Oh, you know. I'm nothing special." She was feigning modesty. One look at how she acted around her friends and James knew she was the conceited type. He recalled the name Robinson and figured she came from a pure blood family, or pretty close to it, at least a family with lots of money. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as she continued.
"My mum and dad work in the ministry." She didn't dare apologize for his parents, no, that would ruin the moment. She was hanging off James Potter's arm, for Merlin's sake. Pity could come later. Right now, all that mattered was James Potter and that he was leading her in the direction of the Head dorms. She felt the excitement rise in her stomach.
"Wonderful. I bet you're the apple of your father's eye, a beautiful thing like you. I reckon all the Hufflepuff boys are after you; being that you're brilliant and beautiful."
She melted just a little again. "I have my suitors." There was the modesty again. They had reached the portrait by then and just in time. James was beginning to feel the first effects of the Ecstasy taking over. His mouth grew dry and his vision began to vibrate violently.
"Dragon Wing." He said softly to the witch, who didn't bother to hide her deep glare at the dark haired Prefect. She swung open anyway, and James led Jules in. The common room was still empty, and James led her across slowly making his way to his bedroom. Jules made no questions and he gave her no answers. Time to talk was over. Now, it was time to get down to business. Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.
"So, he said, turning so they were facing one another. He ran a hand up and down her arm and felt her shudder with delight.
"So?" She echoed, giggling slightly. James smirked and reached out to touch her face, thumbing her cheek and then her bottom lip. He leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against hers. The soft motion sent waves of pleasure coursing through his veins. He gasped, and then pressed his lips hard against hers. She complied with a whimper and he pushed back against his door, pushing it open. They staggered toward he bed, where she fell on top of him and eagerly began pulling at his clothes. With a smirk he pushed her robes off her shoulders and then went for her tie. Her shirt was off followed by her white lacy bra and then her skirt. James snorted at the thong beneath. Slut. She was pulling at his clothes again. He helped her slide his shirt and tie off, his shoes and pants and boxers following. The feel of her soft skin against his made him groan in pleasure and he was pulling her roughly on top of him, smashing his mouth against her.
Without warning, he settled her before him and pushed deep in, not even bothering to let her grow accustomed to his size before he began pushing in and out. She cried out, tightening around him. He groaned along with her and dropped his arms as she sat up, allowing her to ride him with all the bravado that the girl seemed to have.
She was good, he admitted, real good. Then there was was, crying his name, calling it out loudly enough that it echoed through his bedroom. He didn't care though, and gripped her hips in his large hands, forcing her to go down hard and faster on his stiff cock. She cried out again and he hissed with pleasure.
Fucking while rolling was better than anything he ever felt before. It was good for them too, James noted, because it made him cling to them and kiss them with a passion that was akin to love. He mentally snorted at the word. Not that he loved any of these girls. He had never shagged anyone he loved. Mostly because there was only one girl he had ever admitted to loving and she was downstairs, chatting with Marlene McKinnon and ignoring his existence.
As always, thoughts of Evans fueled him with rage; rage that he converted into passion and he flipped them over, plowing into her with such fervor that he knew Jules would have trouble walking the next morning. Perfect.
She clutched at his shoulders and her long legs wrapped around his waist as she pulled him into her. The little bookworm beneath him sure was a wild one and he made a mental note to keep her in mind whenever he felt up for a good shag.
"Oh, James!" She cried loudly as the first of her spasms began. Her inner walls tightened around him and he howled in pleasure. Soon, his own crashing waves of sexual ecstasy followed and he fell on top of her, sweaty body under sweaty body.
He quickly rolled off, not wanting to crush her under his weight. He sighed loudly, the foreign chemicals in his system forcing energy though his veins. He was ready for round two, but she clearly wasn't. Jules panted beside him, her eyes fluttering close. He frowned. Maybe she wasn't such a good pick, after all. He'd have to pick someone with a little more gusto next time. Somewhere in the time that they had finished and he had fallen deep in thought, the sixth year had fallen asleep. Her light snores filled the otherwise silence, striking a nerve deep within him.
Who did she think she was, falling asleep in his bed? He nudged her in an attempt to wake her up so he could promptly toss her out. No such luck. She was in a deep slumber, albeit a rather happy smile on her perfect lips. He gave up, rolling his eyes and pulling himself out of bed. He looked around on the dark floor for something to put on and eventually found his boxers. He slipped them on, fixed his glasses on his nose and marched straight out the door and straight into someone else.
The small figure stepped back and into the moonlight that shone through the large window.
"Evans." James whispered. Green eyes bore into hazel ones.
"You broke Rule Number Three."