last hurrah of the challenge...?
Title: Why Amos Can't Stand Harry
Rating: R
Pairings: James/Lily, Amos/James
Warnings: het, slash, crossdressing
Notes: For Laurel's Make Sure James Is Straight Challenge. I feel like it isn't as good as the first one, but that might be because I'm unfamiliar with Amos.
James Potter is too manly to be completely straight.
I know. I've been watching him.
It isn't as creepy as it sounds. I've only followed him on purpose once. I mean, I don't have to follow him: I see him all the time anyway--hard not to, with his antics.
And that's kind of the point. He does everything a guy is supposed to: he plays Quidditch, pranks like no body's business, can drink anyone but Black under the table, is handsome, Head Boy, and about to marry his First Love, who also happens to be pretty and smart.
How can that be real? There's nothing original about him.
So, this skirt and the spells Alice taught me are going to help me prove it, since I can't nearly afford any kind of 'Make Sure James Is Really Straight Spectacular' or anything.
He should know if he's gay. Lily should, too. I'm helping them out, really.
He's sitting at a table on the other side of the Muggle Studies section, and I'm failing to concentrate on my copy of Goethe. I keep watching his reflection in the blackness of the window, in case I don't hear him get up.
The Vulture swoops down just as I realize I've read the same passage at least thirteen times, and threatens disembowelment if we're still around in ten minutes, or don't put our books away properly.
I nod, and carefully stack my books in alphabetical order, then make a show of straightening my notes and slipping them into my bag.
I turn around just to see James leaving, and hurry after him, trying to keep the unfamiliar shoes from clicking frantically. Though I've practiced a little, I'm wobbling, and can't keep up.
I flinch a little, and resort to plan B. "James!" It's low, and doesn't sound particularly feminine to me, but that spell should keep him from noticing, right?
He turns, and waits for me to catch up. "You've had Vector for Arithmancy, right?"
"Last term, yeah. Why?" He looks a little confused, though he's probably used to being stopped by people he doesn't recognize by now.
"What did you do for the big project? I don't feel I quite know what I'm doing, and she's no help…" I'm proud of myself, for appealing to his ego.
He smiles, and gestures to a small classroom. "I'll look at it, if you've got the time, Miss…?"
Amos. "Amy." I grin, and wait for him to open the door. "Thanks so much. It's due Monday, along with about a hundred other things, and I just can't seem to get it…"
"I know what you mean," he agrees, lighting the candles with a flick of his wand, and pulling out a chair for me. "Arithmancy's a bit nasty as it is, without midterms. I have three for tomorrow, and two rolls of parchement for Muggle lit on Tuesday."
"If you don't have time for this, I'll understand--" No no no…
"It's fine. I can use the break from theme and motif."
"My cousin teaches lit in Exeter. Who are you reading?"
"Milton."
"Ah. I can see why you need a break."
"Yeah. Where are you having problems?"
"Oh--" I'd gotten lost in watching him, listening to him, "--here," I managed, without shuffling too much in my bag. I spread the sheets on the table. "I think I've done everything right, but I can't get it to resolve here--" I point to the second sheet, " or here," then the third. "I've redone it about six times, and keep getting the same thing!"
He stares at it quietly for awhile, chewing his lip a bit, gesturing vaguely on the desk, and I watch the shape of his lips change as he murmurs to himself.
Two minutes later: "There it is!" and he smiles at me. I lean closer, my chest brushing against his upper arm, and watch as he points to the errors I had noticed, but had left alone for this express purpose. "You just switched these around," he did, his scrawl barely distinguishable from mine, then taps the parchement with his wand. The symbols wiggle, then resolve perfectly.
I laugh nervously, and hope it sounds like something else. "That's it? Really?"
"Yeah," he smiles, leaning back in the chair and looking pleased with himself.
I fidget with my sweater, trying to throw my chest out and resist the urge to adjust the bra that isn't really doing much for me. After a moment, I tuck my strangely-long hair behind my ear, then steel myself. I swoop in to kiss him, think better of it, aim for his cheek, overshoot, and kiss his neck.
He shivers a little, and I start to apologize, but it sticks in my throat. I'm half-leaning over him, steadying myself with a hand on his chest, and he looks…intrigued, somehow, not dismayed or terribly awkward.
I kiss his neck again, then trace his jaw with my tongue, and let myself slide into his lap, losing all possibility of backing out of this.
I kiss him, and he is hard and I am too and I breathe, "Lily…?" and immediately want to die.
He pauses, looks momentarily mortified, then guilty, then firmly decides, "I won't tell if you won't," with a cheeky-yet-vulnerable grin.
I quirk an eyebrow, then smile back. "I won't tell," I promise, slipping my fingers into his hair and kissing him again.
He's more aggressive now, and soon I'm pinned back against the table--and he stops, and I know he feels me hard against him, and I squinch my eyes shut and wait for him to rant, rave, curse me, be generally disgusted, and storm out of the room…
But my suspicions are confirmed, and he deliberately rubs his erection against mine.
I'm so relieved I gasp, and die a little, clutching him by the front of his shirt and kissing him like the world is ending and just gloating, because I was right, and she doesn't have him like this, and I'm so close already--
He comes first, surprisingly, and just the thought--I made straight James Potter come without even trying-- sets me off, too. He shudders and lets his full weight rest on me, and it's almost suffocating but somehow amazingly comforting, too.
He doesn't look at me while we're cleaning up, but I can't take my eyes off of him.
I want desperately to fill the silence, and finally I say, "I guess it's a good thing I'm going to have to redo this anyway--the ink's all smeared." I try to laugh, and it falls flat.
"Yeah," he agrees tersely. "Sorry. I--" He pauses, and I wait, but he's thought better of whatever he was going to say.
As he moves to leave, the words burn in my throat, but I promise again, "I won't tell."
And I mean it.
Rating: R
Pairings: James/Lily, Amos/James
Warnings: het, slash, crossdressing
Notes: For Laurel's Make Sure James Is Straight Challenge. I feel like it isn't as good as the first one, but that might be because I'm unfamiliar with Amos.
James Potter is too manly to be completely straight.
I know. I've been watching him.
It isn't as creepy as it sounds. I've only followed him on purpose once. I mean, I don't have to follow him: I see him all the time anyway--hard not to, with his antics.
And that's kind of the point. He does everything a guy is supposed to: he plays Quidditch, pranks like no body's business, can drink anyone but Black under the table, is handsome, Head Boy, and about to marry his First Love, who also happens to be pretty and smart.
How can that be real? There's nothing original about him.
So, this skirt and the spells Alice taught me are going to help me prove it, since I can't nearly afford any kind of 'Make Sure James Is Really Straight Spectacular' or anything.
He should know if he's gay. Lily should, too. I'm helping them out, really.
He's sitting at a table on the other side of the Muggle Studies section, and I'm failing to concentrate on my copy of Goethe. I keep watching his reflection in the blackness of the window, in case I don't hear him get up.
The Vulture swoops down just as I realize I've read the same passage at least thirteen times, and threatens disembowelment if we're still around in ten minutes, or don't put our books away properly.
I nod, and carefully stack my books in alphabetical order, then make a show of straightening my notes and slipping them into my bag.
I turn around just to see James leaving, and hurry after him, trying to keep the unfamiliar shoes from clicking frantically. Though I've practiced a little, I'm wobbling, and can't keep up.
I flinch a little, and resort to plan B. "James!" It's low, and doesn't sound particularly feminine to me, but that spell should keep him from noticing, right?
He turns, and waits for me to catch up. "You've had Vector for Arithmancy, right?"
"Last term, yeah. Why?" He looks a little confused, though he's probably used to being stopped by people he doesn't recognize by now.
"What did you do for the big project? I don't feel I quite know what I'm doing, and she's no help…" I'm proud of myself, for appealing to his ego.
He smiles, and gestures to a small classroom. "I'll look at it, if you've got the time, Miss…?"
Amos. "Amy." I grin, and wait for him to open the door. "Thanks so much. It's due Monday, along with about a hundred other things, and I just can't seem to get it…"
"I know what you mean," he agrees, lighting the candles with a flick of his wand, and pulling out a chair for me. "Arithmancy's a bit nasty as it is, without midterms. I have three for tomorrow, and two rolls of parchement for Muggle lit on Tuesday."
"If you don't have time for this, I'll understand--" No no no…
"It's fine. I can use the break from theme and motif."
"My cousin teaches lit in Exeter. Who are you reading?"
"Milton."
"Ah. I can see why you need a break."
"Yeah. Where are you having problems?"
"Oh--" I'd gotten lost in watching him, listening to him, "--here," I managed, without shuffling too much in my bag. I spread the sheets on the table. "I think I've done everything right, but I can't get it to resolve here--" I point to the second sheet, " or here," then the third. "I've redone it about six times, and keep getting the same thing!"
He stares at it quietly for awhile, chewing his lip a bit, gesturing vaguely on the desk, and I watch the shape of his lips change as he murmurs to himself.
Two minutes later: "There it is!" and he smiles at me. I lean closer, my chest brushing against his upper arm, and watch as he points to the errors I had noticed, but had left alone for this express purpose. "You just switched these around," he did, his scrawl barely distinguishable from mine, then taps the parchement with his wand. The symbols wiggle, then resolve perfectly.
I laugh nervously, and hope it sounds like something else. "That's it? Really?"
"Yeah," he smiles, leaning back in the chair and looking pleased with himself.
I fidget with my sweater, trying to throw my chest out and resist the urge to adjust the bra that isn't really doing much for me. After a moment, I tuck my strangely-long hair behind my ear, then steel myself. I swoop in to kiss him, think better of it, aim for his cheek, overshoot, and kiss his neck.
He shivers a little, and I start to apologize, but it sticks in my throat. I'm half-leaning over him, steadying myself with a hand on his chest, and he looks…intrigued, somehow, not dismayed or terribly awkward.
I kiss his neck again, then trace his jaw with my tongue, and let myself slide into his lap, losing all possibility of backing out of this.
I kiss him, and he is hard and I am too and I breathe, "Lily…?" and immediately want to die.
He pauses, looks momentarily mortified, then guilty, then firmly decides, "I won't tell if you won't," with a cheeky-yet-vulnerable grin.
I quirk an eyebrow, then smile back. "I won't tell," I promise, slipping my fingers into his hair and kissing him again.
He's more aggressive now, and soon I'm pinned back against the table--and he stops, and I know he feels me hard against him, and I squinch my eyes shut and wait for him to rant, rave, curse me, be generally disgusted, and storm out of the room…
But my suspicions are confirmed, and he deliberately rubs his erection against mine.
I'm so relieved I gasp, and die a little, clutching him by the front of his shirt and kissing him like the world is ending and just gloating, because I was right, and she doesn't have him like this, and I'm so close already--
He comes first, surprisingly, and just the thought--I made straight James Potter come without even trying-- sets me off, too. He shudders and lets his full weight rest on me, and it's almost suffocating but somehow amazingly comforting, too.
He doesn't look at me while we're cleaning up, but I can't take my eyes off of him.
I want desperately to fill the silence, and finally I say, "I guess it's a good thing I'm going to have to redo this anyway--the ink's all smeared." I try to laugh, and it falls flat.
"Yeah," he agrees tersely. "Sorry. I--" He pauses, and I wait, but he's thought better of whatever he was going to say.
As he moves to leave, the words burn in my throat, but I promise again, "I won't tell."
And I mean it.