Fic: Need; October 6
Title: Need (Part Two)
Author: apohdiopsis
Pairing: Lily/Sirius, Lily/James
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,287
Prompt: Day Six
Warnings: Language, sexual imagery, smoking
Summary: Lily still does not get laid. Neither does James. Sirius might.
Author's Notes: Technically speaking, because I think of the MWPP-world as this coherent whole, all of my fics fit together no matter when I wrote them, but this is mostly meant to go with part one of Need. I'm not sure if it can stand alone. Maybe it can. I wouldn't try it.
Saturday evening and Lily Evans doesn't need anyone, not anyone, and she never, never will.
All the same, it's hard not to feel relieved when James finds her sitting by the lake, smoking and wearing his robes. He sits beside her without asking, just close enough to reach out and steal her half-ashed cigarette from between her fingers. She lets him. She watches his reflection in the lake take one drag, then another, and then stub it out prematurely. She takes a new cigarette from the pack in her lap, sticks it between her lips and lights it. He steals this one, too, drags twice, and stubs it out. She does not light a third.
He aches for her in so many ways that he can't decide if it's pity or yearning, revulsion or love. She doesn't seem to notice. If not for her eyes on his reflection in the water, he would accuse her of ignoring him.
For a lack of anything better to say, he asks, "Alright, Evans?"
If he were Sirius, she might throw him a bone, say something like, 'Fine' and excuse him from his pitiful attempt at saving her from something he does not and cannot understand. He isn't. "Potter?"
"Hm?"
"How old were you when you lost your virginity?"
"What?" In another life, he would have joked about her sudden interest in his sex life, but he can feel her stirring inside herself. It's something he can't explain, but he knows she's there, suddenly, really there, and if he lets her, she will reach out to him, and maybe just once he'll get a peek at who's at the center of all these dizzying Evanses.
Not that she doesn't test his patience. Lily repeats herself with annoying precision, "How old were you when you fucked someone for the first time? Fourteen? Fifteen?"
"Er--fifteen."
"Hmm."
"Why? How old were you?"
Lily only answers with another question, "How was it?"
"Er--" Quick. Messy. Awful. Awkward. "Itchy."
"Itchy?" Dear Merlin, but he's never realized how much Lily looks like Sirius when she arches her eyebrow like that, like he's a madman and she's the last sane woman in Hogwarts.
"Yeah. She wore a lot of perfume--awful, floral stuff. My sinuses are very sensitive." James doesn't miss the way she brings her wrist to her nose, sniffing delicately. "You smell lovely, by the way."
"I smell like smoke," she deadpans. "And you."
Startled, "What?"
She raises her arm to display the length of fabric that hangs loosely from it. "I'm wearing your robes."
"Oh. Right." He doesn’t ask why.
For something to do with her hands, Lily takes out a cigarette and lights it with the tip of her wand. She only takes one drag before she hands it to James, who takes a drag and hands it back. Something in the way she holds herself relaxes. She asks, "Did you feel different, afterwards?"
"After ... ? Oh, um." He blows a huge, perfect smoke ring. Showoff, she thinks, impressed. "No. Not really. Relieved, mostly, that it was done. Sirius lost it three months before me. I hated being left out."
He braces himself for some snarky comment, but all she says is, "That's the general consensus." She shakes her head a little when he offers her the cigarette back, watches him take another drag. "I guess I should just get it over with." When he coughs, startled, smoke escapes through his mouth and nose. "I know I'm too old to be a virgin."
"No, you're not--"
"--And it's not like I've never done anything, of course. I've ... I've done most things, and I've liked it, really. I'm not some kind of freak. It's just that, when it comes down to it, you know, all the way, I just ... I'm not even scared. Everyone thinks I'm scared, but I'm not. And I'm not trying to make too big a deal of it. I know it's not some grand event. I'm a liberated woman. We're all liberated. I'm not trying to wait until marriage, I just ... I just don't want to."
"Lily," he is very serious, "is someone trying to pressure you?"
"No." She makes a face. "Well, yes, but not like you think. It's just like everyone in the whole world is looking at me, wondering if I must be hideously deformed or--It's not like there haven't been offers, you know."
"I know." James broke Amos Diggory's nose in fifth year for his "offers."
"I just don't want to." Maybe because he isn't looking at her like she has six heads, or maybe because he hasn't asked, Lily tries to explain, "I just never want to be that vulnerable. Everyone says it's not a big deal. The first time's the worst; get it out of the way so it can be really good when you find a bloke you like. And I want to, but I just ..."
He lets her have the cigarette and waits for her to take two drags without saying anything. She rewards his patience by continuing, "After I first ... let a bloke touch me ... down there, I kept staring at myself in the mirror. I was obsessed with my reflection. I kept waiting for it to change, for some outward sign that I was different. But it never happened. Even he, the only person who knew, he didn't look at me any different, and I took that to mean I shouldn't feel any differently, either, but I did. I was just full of this--this feeling, I don't know. Not love or anything dimwitted like that, just ... Just emptiness. The sort of emptiness that fills you up, if you ... I don't know. I don't know what I mean. That's how it felt.
"After, he would come to me sometimes and we would, you know, wank each other, I guess. And it felt really, really good--not the, well, the physical part, too, but mostly it just felt like he needed me, and I thought, 'If there's something in me for him to need, I must not be as empty as I think.' Only now he doesn't need me anymore. So maybe I am. Or maybe I just need to find some other bloke to shack up with, and this time I should give it up to him, so it'll be over with and I won't have to think about it anymore."
Ashes are all that's left of the cigarette Lily was holding. She lets it fall into the grass. It's a mark of how intently James was listening that he doesn't ask who the bloke was, or offer to relieve her of her little burden, or say anything at all.
It makes her want to crawl into his lap and sit there for a very long time, but there are several inches between them, and that is too far a gap to bridge alone. So she doesn’t.
Sunday morning and Lily and James are chain smoking again, but only half as much as they could be, because they're sharing one cigarette at a time between them. He hardly seems like an intruder upon her solitude. Somehow, he has become integrated into her internal geography, as much a part of her as her place by the window in their Common Room or her table in the library. Then the sun begins to rise, and she can once again see her reflection in the glass-still mirror of the lake. For the first morning in a very long time, she can see herself not waking up alone--only she doesn't know how James Potter fits into this picture, not yet.
Author: apohdiopsis
Pairing: Lily/Sirius, Lily/James
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,287
Prompt: Day Six
Warnings: Language, sexual imagery, smoking
Summary: Lily still does not get laid. Neither does James. Sirius might.
Author's Notes: Technically speaking, because I think of the MWPP-world as this coherent whole, all of my fics fit together no matter when I wrote them, but this is mostly meant to go with part one of Need. I'm not sure if it can stand alone. Maybe it can. I wouldn't try it.
Saturday evening and Lily Evans doesn't need anyone, not anyone, and she never, never will.
All the same, it's hard not to feel relieved when James finds her sitting by the lake, smoking and wearing his robes. He sits beside her without asking, just close enough to reach out and steal her half-ashed cigarette from between her fingers. She lets him. She watches his reflection in the lake take one drag, then another, and then stub it out prematurely. She takes a new cigarette from the pack in her lap, sticks it between her lips and lights it. He steals this one, too, drags twice, and stubs it out. She does not light a third.
He aches for her in so many ways that he can't decide if it's pity or yearning, revulsion or love. She doesn't seem to notice. If not for her eyes on his reflection in the water, he would accuse her of ignoring him.
For a lack of anything better to say, he asks, "Alright, Evans?"
If he were Sirius, she might throw him a bone, say something like, 'Fine' and excuse him from his pitiful attempt at saving her from something he does not and cannot understand. He isn't. "Potter?"
"Hm?"
"How old were you when you lost your virginity?"
"What?" In another life, he would have joked about her sudden interest in his sex life, but he can feel her stirring inside herself. It's something he can't explain, but he knows she's there, suddenly, really there, and if he lets her, she will reach out to him, and maybe just once he'll get a peek at who's at the center of all these dizzying Evanses.
Not that she doesn't test his patience. Lily repeats herself with annoying precision, "How old were you when you fucked someone for the first time? Fourteen? Fifteen?"
"Er--fifteen."
"Hmm."
"Why? How old were you?"
Lily only answers with another question, "How was it?"
"Er--" Quick. Messy. Awful. Awkward. "Itchy."
"Itchy?" Dear Merlin, but he's never realized how much Lily looks like Sirius when she arches her eyebrow like that, like he's a madman and she's the last sane woman in Hogwarts.
"Yeah. She wore a lot of perfume--awful, floral stuff. My sinuses are very sensitive." James doesn't miss the way she brings her wrist to her nose, sniffing delicately. "You smell lovely, by the way."
"I smell like smoke," she deadpans. "And you."
Startled, "What?"
She raises her arm to display the length of fabric that hangs loosely from it. "I'm wearing your robes."
"Oh. Right." He doesn’t ask why.
For something to do with her hands, Lily takes out a cigarette and lights it with the tip of her wand. She only takes one drag before she hands it to James, who takes a drag and hands it back. Something in the way she holds herself relaxes. She asks, "Did you feel different, afterwards?"
"After ... ? Oh, um." He blows a huge, perfect smoke ring. Showoff, she thinks, impressed. "No. Not really. Relieved, mostly, that it was done. Sirius lost it three months before me. I hated being left out."
He braces himself for some snarky comment, but all she says is, "That's the general consensus." She shakes her head a little when he offers her the cigarette back, watches him take another drag. "I guess I should just get it over with." When he coughs, startled, smoke escapes through his mouth and nose. "I know I'm too old to be a virgin."
"No, you're not--"
"--And it's not like I've never done anything, of course. I've ... I've done most things, and I've liked it, really. I'm not some kind of freak. It's just that, when it comes down to it, you know, all the way, I just ... I'm not even scared. Everyone thinks I'm scared, but I'm not. And I'm not trying to make too big a deal of it. I know it's not some grand event. I'm a liberated woman. We're all liberated. I'm not trying to wait until marriage, I just ... I just don't want to."
"Lily," he is very serious, "is someone trying to pressure you?"
"No." She makes a face. "Well, yes, but not like you think. It's just like everyone in the whole world is looking at me, wondering if I must be hideously deformed or--It's not like there haven't been offers, you know."
"I know." James broke Amos Diggory's nose in fifth year for his "offers."
"I just don't want to." Maybe because he isn't looking at her like she has six heads, or maybe because he hasn't asked, Lily tries to explain, "I just never want to be that vulnerable. Everyone says it's not a big deal. The first time's the worst; get it out of the way so it can be really good when you find a bloke you like. And I want to, but I just ..."
He lets her have the cigarette and waits for her to take two drags without saying anything. She rewards his patience by continuing, "After I first ... let a bloke touch me ... down there, I kept staring at myself in the mirror. I was obsessed with my reflection. I kept waiting for it to change, for some outward sign that I was different. But it never happened. Even he, the only person who knew, he didn't look at me any different, and I took that to mean I shouldn't feel any differently, either, but I did. I was just full of this--this feeling, I don't know. Not love or anything dimwitted like that, just ... Just emptiness. The sort of emptiness that fills you up, if you ... I don't know. I don't know what I mean. That's how it felt.
"After, he would come to me sometimes and we would, you know, wank each other, I guess. And it felt really, really good--not the, well, the physical part, too, but mostly it just felt like he needed me, and I thought, 'If there's something in me for him to need, I must not be as empty as I think.' Only now he doesn't need me anymore. So maybe I am. Or maybe I just need to find some other bloke to shack up with, and this time I should give it up to him, so it'll be over with and I won't have to think about it anymore."
Ashes are all that's left of the cigarette Lily was holding. She lets it fall into the grass. It's a mark of how intently James was listening that he doesn't ask who the bloke was, or offer to relieve her of her little burden, or say anything at all.
It makes her want to crawl into his lap and sit there for a very long time, but there are several inches between them, and that is too far a gap to bridge alone. So she doesn’t.
Sunday morning and Lily and James are chain smoking again, but only half as much as they could be, because they're sharing one cigarette at a time between them. He hardly seems like an intruder upon her solitude. Somehow, he has become integrated into her internal geography, as much a part of her as her place by the window in their Common Room or her table in the library. Then the sun begins to rise, and she can once again see her reflection in the glass-still mirror of the lake. For the first morning in a very long time, she can see herself not waking up alone--only she doesn't know how James Potter fits into this picture, not yet.