Chapter 9 : Seventh Year, Part One
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 21|
Background: Font color:
He knew it would be her.
Who else could it have been? What other witch possessed her intellect, her kindness, her leadership? Who else could stop a delinquent dead in his tracks with just a look?
Lily was the only logical choice.
Deep down, he knew it would be him too.
It was less obvious, of course. He was a troublemaker, and he didn’t believe in rules. But the school respected him, and followed his lead, and well, he was pretty smart too. Had he been a prefect, it would have been a no-brainer. He wasn’t a prefect though, so unless one thought about it, it didn’t make sense.
Remus would’ve been the logical choice. But there were certain restrictions on Remus. He had said himself that it would’ve been reckless for Dumbledore to make him Head Boy. So the position fell to James.
It was clear to him. It made sense.
Lily, however, was not so easily convinced.
“James,” she breathed as she walked into the Prefects’ compartment. “What are you doing here?”
He rose from his seat, and sauntered over to greet her. “Waiting for you of course.” He murmured. He did not kiss her, but his flesh was so close to hers, he could feel the heat emanating off of her.
“I can’t do this right now, James.” She whispered, “I’ve got to meet the Head Boy soon.”
He rested his forehead against hers, “You’re a bit late, actually.”
She pulled away immediately. “Was he here? Did he see you?” She began pacing frantically.
“Calm down.” He moved toward her and put his soothing hands on her hips.
“But what if he thinks that I’m unorganized or unreliable or irresponsible or-“
“I would never think that about you.” He grinned.
“Well I know you wouldn’t but-” her eyes fell to a glare on his chest. “Oh, very funny, Potter. Who’d you knick that from?” She pointed to the badge pinned proudly to his chest.
“No one, funnily enough. I got it with my letter.” He said.
Lily burst into laughter. “Right. Okay, really, that was very funny, Potter. Now where’s Remus. I’m sure it’s him.”
“It’s not.” He snapped. “Would you like to see my letter?”
“Oi. You’re not joking, are you?” He shook his head. “Bloody Hell. Has Dumbledore actually gone insane?”
“Well, I certainly hope not. Now, shall we get down to business?”
She agreed silently, and the pair set to organizing themselves before the prefects began to trickle in. When all of them had arrived, Lily began to describe duties, responsibilities, and privileges that came with being a prefect. When she paused, James chimed in, and together, they educated the group very well.
After the prefects’ had left, James dutifully began to reorganize the compartment. Lily moved to help, but ended up staring at him for a good few minutes, her eyebrows knit together in concentration.
Finally noticing her gaze, James looked up at her questioningly.
“Did you bribe him?”
James chuckled. “Why in the name of Merlin would I want to do that?”
“I don’t know.” Lily had finally begun helping him, “Your parents’ expectations, your resume…” she trailed off, before hesitantly adding, “to spend more time with me?”
He scoffed, “My parents would be proud of me even if I sat around their house all day drinking firewhiskey and scratching myself.” Lily laughed, “I don’t need to pad my resume, it’s pretty well loaded already. And I spend entirely too much time with you as it is.” She was clearly offended, though James shrugged it off. He exhaled loudly, “This job is going to ruin all my fun.”
She rolled her eyes, briefly annoyed with his complaints. Then, smirking wickedly, she turned to him. With a step, she had managed to move herself close enough to him that her lips could easily brush his ear as she whispered, “All of your fun?”
He turned sharply and wrapped his arms around her waist, “Perhaps not all of it…”
She moved away from him coyly, “You do spend entirely too much time with me, though, so maybe I should leave?” She turned and, as expected, he caught her wrist before she could move.
“Did I say that? What I meant was I don’t spend nearly enough time with you.”
Lazily, she flicked her wand at the door, closing the blind and locking the door effectively. Slowly she turned back toward him, “Now, that’s what I thought you meant…”
Three weeks into term, James decided that he really did enjoy being Head Boy. While it did indeed ruin some of his fun, there were certain benefits that almost made up for it.
“Hey, Evans!” He jogged to her table in the common room just as she was packing up. She paused briefly and looked up at him.
“Yes, Potter?” He was faintly sure that it was the kindest tone she had ever used with him in public.
“We need to organize the prefects’ schedules.” She nodded, “When are you free?”
“That’s a question really more poised to you.” She quipped. “I can rearrange anything I need to.”
“Right,” he stammered, “Well, I have quidditch Wednesday and Tuesday, so, does Thursday work for you?”
She had gone back to packing her things, “Yes it does. Here at seven?”
“Library. It’s quieter.”
“I’ll be there.”
Thursday came, and at quarter to seven, James made his way to the Library. He pulled everything he needed out of his bag, and leaned back to wait for Lily.
She arrived five minutes later, at seven o’clock sharp. Glancing at her watch, she spoke, “You’re early?”
“Yes.” His eyebrows knit together to question her.
“How did that happen? You’re late for everything. Always.”
“I resent that.” She raised her eyebrows in response. “Okay, but I don’t mean to be. I’m just easily distracted.”
“By what?” she chuckled.
“You, mostly.” She attempted to scowl, but failed miserably. She broke into a grin and started to giggle.
James beamed back at her. He swore her laugh was the most beautiful thing he would ever hear. The rest of the meeting passed in a blur. He wasn’t sure if they actually got any work done, but he didn’t care.
He had made her laugh; that was accomplishment enough.
“Hey.” It was a raspy whisper; so sultry it stopped James in his tracks. The sight before him added to his surprise, leaving him shocked still as a statue.
Lily was there, sitting on his bed, clad only in her under things. After a moment of basking in her beauty, he was able to speak, “H-hey.” She smirked, and rose from the bed, approaching him. “What brings you here?”
She was circling him, her finger leaving trails of tingles as she walked, “You, mostly.”
He chuckled. “Are you sure? Because I don’t remember having anything to do with that.”
“I should clarify.” She was facing him now, her arms snaked around his neck, “It was lack of you, actually.” She brushed her nose against his, “You see, we’re nearly a month into term here, and we’ve yet to do anything,” she kissed him lightly, “fun.”
“Hmmmmm,” he leaned his head against hers, “We’ve been busy.” She had begun to kiss his neck, “I’ve had quidditch,” She was sucking on his pulse point, “And Head Duties,” she nipped lightly, “And classes…” He trailed off with a particularly well-placed bite. His hands slipped to her hips, his fingers slipping just beneath her knickers. He felt her smile against his neck. She began unbuttoning his shirt, without her mouth leaving him. He closed his eyes to enjoy her movements with no distractions. He stayed that way, perfectly content, for a few moments, until his shirt dropped to the floor. The sudden chill brought him back to his senses, and he began pushing Lily toward his bed.
There was always time for fun.
Lily was thoroughly surprised by the immense joy she received from her Head Duties. James was just as entertaining—if not more so—during their meetings, as he was during their meetings. He made her laugh constantly, he laughed at her, and he even carried on intelligent conversations on the rare occasion she desired it. In fact, Lily found that the more time she spent with James in their meetings, the more time she wanted to spend with James… outside of their meetings.
Truly, she had always enjoyed his company. They had a unique form of chemistry that made everything- fighting, talking, sex- more fun that it would have been with anyone else.
She supposed that she had always known that, certainly she hadn’t enjoyed arguing with anyone else quite as much as him. It was an unrealized- or perhaps unacknowledged- fact. A statement of truth that she could no longer deny: she liked spending time with him.
It was quite the revelation.
He stared at her with an artist’s eye, trying desperately to soak in every single detail of her, before the scene changed. Before she left.
She was an exquisite sight: lying in his bed with nothing to cover her, except occasionally him. She was silent, a small smile played at her lips, her chest rose and fell as she recovered; she was still positively glowing. Her hair was splayed about her, some sticking to her face, piling around her shoulders, or fanned out on his pillow. Brilliant green eyes traveled the room, flashing to the window, the ceiling, the posters on the walls, him.
Their eyes met, and both of them grinned. He moved toward her, and brushed the hair out of her face. His hand remained and gently caressed her cheek. She lightly took hold of it, removing it from her face. Immediately, she returned it, bringing it gently to her lips. She continued, trailing slow, wet kisses up his arm, shoulder and neck. Too soon, though not quickly enough, she found his mouth. They kissed slowly, sweetly, softly; the type of kiss only lovers know.
She pulled away, though he clung to her, expecting her to leave. She smiled at him and moved closer, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He kissed her hair, “Don’t go.”
“I won’t,” she said softly, he smiled to himself, “there’s no where else I’d rather be.”
When he thought about her, and when he thought about him, and when he thought about the two of them together, it didn’t make sense.
She was cool and distant. She remained aloof and mysterious, unless she was aggravated. She had a temper of course, but igniting it was quite the task. If she could help it, she would not show her emotions. She tended to push people away. She had loads of friends, but none of them were particularly close to her. In fact, the only close friend he could remember her having, was Snape.
He was friendly and welcoming, to most people, anyway. He talked to everyone but Slytherins, and was always a source of gossip. Everyone knew him, and everyone knew about him, and frankly, he liked it that way. He wore his heart on his sleeve, in the manliest way possible. If he was happy, it showed. If he was angry, it showed. Sad, calm, mischievous, frustrated, whatever he was feeling, anyone could tell. He always welcomed new conversation, and loved to meet new people. He was friendly enough with everyone, though he called few friends. They were fiercely close, closer than brothers.
She was stringent on rules. They all had a purpose, and were there to prevent chaos, and protect the weak, she believed. She readily reprimanded rule breakers, and stood up for those who needed it. She broke rules rarely, and only when it suited her.
He did not exactly believe in rules. They were usually good guidelines, but that was all they were good for. Almost anything could fly if it was for a good cause. He broke most of them, big and small.
She was sweet and delicate, truly a flower worthy of her name.
He was rough and strong: a man’s man, with a poet’s soul.
She was selfish. She planned everything according to how it would affect her.
He was selfless. He would do anything for someone he loved.
She did not want a relationship.
He wanted nothing more.
She and he were completely separate entities. They did not make sense.
But really, he did not care.
He didn’t care that she didn’t want a relationship.
He didn’t mind that she thought of herself first.
He appreciated how fragile she seemed. And it amused him when she proved that she wasn’t.
He enjoyed her reluctant pride on the occasions she broke a rule, he especially enjoyed her rule breaking when he- as he usually did- benefited from it. He admired her ability to protect the weak, and stand up for what she believed in, even if he didn’t agree with her. He had the highest regard for her strict following of the rules; she believed in them, after all, even if he did not.
He was infinitely fond of her mystery; it never failed to keep him intrigued. He liked being able to force emotions out of her. He adored being the only one who had such power. He absolutely loved being closer to her than anyone else.
It didn’t make sense. But love, he reasoned, hardly ever makes any sense at all.
AN: I'm not even going to apologize. It's completely pointless at this point. But I do hope that you enjoy this. It's a lot shorter than I had originally planned, of course, all of my chapters are... but I think it's a good start to the seventh year. I know it's short, but hopefully it'll keep you satisfied until my fall break... in October. :( Review?
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories
I Still Love...
Gone to the dogs
by Sharpie M...