I own nothing, except for the plot. But props to J.K. Rowling for the fabulous characters. =)
Lily wasn't sure how long she'd been walking, but since Alice had (inconsiderately, she might add) ditched her on a log to get directions, walking seemed like her only option. Though to be honest, Lily did have to admit that the view wasn't bad. The road she'd been walking on had long since become a stretch of cleared grass instead of paved concrete, but she didn't mind that much. Every now and then a small cluster of trees would obstruct the once clear blue sky, which had ever so slowly become a thousand overlapping shades of grey, but Lily tried to ignore that. There hadn't been a house for a while now and it didn't look like there would be one in the very near future either. She glanced up at the sky once again. It looked threateningly dark and ominous and she almost thought she hear a crackle of thunder in the distance. But no, she was only imagining that. Wasn't she? God Alice, where've you gone? She thought desperately, slightly nervous now. She began to walk faster, constantly checking the sky for signs of rain. Please don't rain, please don't rain, no rain no rain no rain, she chanted over and over again in her head, pleading to whatever sort of God was out there to stop the inevitable downpour.
Plink. The first droplet of water hit her shoulder and she lifted a finger to feel it, just to convince herself that it was real. Crap. was her only thought as that one raindrop became a soft drizzle, then a torrential downpour that soaked her to the skin and drenched her hair. She reached around desperately for her wand, though she knew in the back of her mind that she'd left it at Alice's because she very well couldn't hide a wand in her shorts. Crap, crap, shit, bloody hell, she swore vehemently in her mind as she struggled to plough through the rain.
There! There was a light in the distance, maybe a person, or better yet, a house. With a wild, desperate hope, she redoubled her efforts, all the while praying that it wasn't just her imagination.
It was a house, a large, elegant, Victorian-style mansion. Lily's steps faltered. Whoever lived here was probably rich, and probably going scorn someone like her. And she had rather rudely pushed past the front gate, she thought guiltily. But the stinging sensation of raindrops smacking against her skin reminded her that if she didn't get under shelter soon, well, whatever happened next wasn't likely to be pleasant. Twin brass knockers hung on each side of the wooden double doors. She tentatively reached out a hand, lifting the knocker, it was a lot heavier than she expected, and brought it down heavily on the door. A deep bang resonated in the air around her and she cringed slightly. Suddenly self conscious, she lifted a hand and ran it through her drenched red locks and tried to straighten her soaked clothes. After a torturous minute of waiting, the door finally slid open, revealing
"James?" she gasped, her mouth dropping open in surprise.
"Lily," he croaked, his hand flying, as it usually did, to his hair. "Wha-what are you doing here?" He barely managed to force those words out of his mouth; he was so preoccupied with taking in the sight of her. Merlin, she's so beautiful, was all he could really wrap his head around, eyes roaming up the long expanse of her slim legs to her bare arms and rain-soaked hair. And what I wouldn't give to be able to give her a good, proper snog right here, right now.
"Well, it's raining really hard out and I well, I kind of got caught in the downpour," she admitted sheepishly, blushing a pretty pink. They stood like that for a while, Lily shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly while James just stared, his mind desperately trying to process what had just happened. Lily coughed quietly to ease the tense silence and James's mind finally decided that it was time to start working and stop ogling the girl of his dreams.
"Oh, right, sorry. Bloody hell, should've invited in you in. Right. Sorry." He bumbled around, ushering her in and closing the door, never taking his eyes off her. Bloody hell, she still looks amazing, even when she's wet. Wet- Merlin's pants get your head out of the gutter, James. With a firm shake of his head, he attempted to distract himself from the none-too-appropriate thoughts that flew around his head whenever Lily was concerned.
"You've got a beautiful house, James," she spun around slowly, taking in the whole foyer and the grandeur and size of the house.
"Yeah, well, my parents are rather… ah prominent in the wizarding world," he admitted reluctantly. He knew how much she hated it when he mentioned that and he himself thought it was rather unfair to point it out when she was such a brilliant witch herself. There was a short silence, and the only sound that could be heard was the soft chattering of Lily's teeth as she shivered slightly. "Oh shit, Lily, you're shivering. I, fuck, wait. No, just, come, I'll find something else for you to wear." Get it together, James. Don't be such a tosser. He mentally berated himself, as he led her up the stairs. Once they'd climbed the large staircase, he directed her to the hallway right of the stairs.
"Here, ah, this is my room," Two doors after the stairs, a door stood open, revealing a rather messy room that at first glance was a jumble of gold and maroon. "It's not very neat, but I wasn't expecting company." James admitted, nervously running his hand through his hair again. Merlin, the mere sight of her made him such a wanker.
"It's lovely," she breathed beside him and he suppressed a shiver of his own at the nearness of her voice and the softness of her breath against his neck. "It feels so much like Hogwarts with the Gryffindor colours and all."
"Yeah, didn't want anything else since the moment I got into Gryffindor." She laughed, and he swore it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard in his life. He vowed to make her laugh more often.
"But I don't suppose you've got any clothes I could borrow?" Lily asked hesitantly after a moment's pause. "I mean if you don't mind, I would hate to bother you…" she trailed off, blushing slightly.
"Oh, no, no, it'll be fine." The words practically flew out of James's mouth, desperate as he was to make her happy and comfortable. "I don't think much of my stuff will fit you but you can poke around for something. Umm I don't keep much of my old clothes but maybe you could just, if you don't mind,"
"Whatever you have, it's fine," There was that laugh again, the lilting, happy sound that, to James's ears, was smooth and warm as honey. "But uh, could I have some privacy while I change?" she added, the words rushing out of her mouth in embarrassment.
"Oh, yeah, sure, of course, I'll just be downstairs in the kitchen." He trailed of, at a complete loss for words. To be fair, his mind was rather full of Lily; her laugh, her smile, the way she looked when her clothes clung to her body, the way she bit her lip to keep from shivering, the way he wanted to kiss her and pull her down to his bed and do unspeakably lustful things and – no. He shook his head, trying to clear his head of the dirty thoughts before he actually acted upon them.
"I'll just be a minute," Lily closed the door softly and James leaned against the wall, letting out a soft sigh. Merlin, she was going to be the death of him.
Lily simply stood there for a minute, admiring his room and its grand furnishing. And wondering when Potter had become so easily flustered and since when had his arms been so corded with muscle? Wait, what? She pushed all thoughts related to Potter's famous features and physique to the back of her mind. With small, hesitant steps, she made her way over to his closet, which she hoped had some nice clean clothes she could borrow. And maybe never give back, because Merlin he smelled good. What? No. No. She did not think about Potter like this. Never. But really, could you blame a girl for appreciating his rugged good looks and – NO. Lily Evans certainly never thought about James Potter like that. And she would never do so ever. Seemingly satisfied with her conclusion, she began to rummage around for a suitable shirt for her to wear.
After a good five minutes of searching, it was determined that none of his pants would fit her. Though she did pride herself for being slightly curvier than Alice (who was admittedly very slim) all his pants slid off her hips like water. So she decided instead to search for a long shirt, which wasn't as hard to find. Finally, after deciding that the slightly yellow-ish mark on a button-up shirt meant that it was most likely dirty, she settled for pulling his Quidditch jersey over her head. It was surprisingly warm and comfortable, and she decided that she liked the feel of the soft fabric against her skin. She stood up from where she had been previously kneeling and suddenly realized that the lower half of her body was exceptionally bare. If a breeze fluttered by, James could very well see her knickers, but it's not like his pants fit her. But she couldn't go out like this, didn't he fancy her? But he had begun to ignore her at the end of last year. That memory sent a sharp pang of disappointment though her chest. But no – she couldn't be disappointed that he'd stopped asking her out. Could she? She shook her head, trying to clear it of any of the thoughts about him that had been popping in there recently. Which was when she noticed a golden gleam from his bedside table that seemed to be from a very well polished trinket that very much resembled the Head Girl badge she'd received in the mail last week. But Potter as Head Boy? That was preposterous. Maybe he'd stolen Remus's badge. Deciding that that was a reasonable explanation, she scampered forward to figure out if it really was a Head badge.
It was. And the letter underneath it said as much, though the letter also listed the supplies they'd need for school in the fall and that the badge was James Potter's. James Potter was going to be Head Boy, with her. How in the world did he get this? her mind screamed He's arrogant and foolhardy and egotistic and irresponsible and and a natural born leader with bloody fantastic grades and charm and what? Did I really just think that? She sank to the floor. Admittedly, he would make a brilliant Head Boy, but she couldn't stand working with him. Could she? Lately, her thoughts about James had been rather different from what they used to be. But that was just hormones, right? Unless… No. She didn't fancy him. She – couldn't. But his letters to her over the summer had been somewhat sweet; and true, she had written him back a rather lengthy response that didn't insult him quite as often as it should've (it didn't do anything of the sort in fact). And oh Merlin's pants, she really did fancy him.