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captainpookey
Feb. 20th, 2010 10:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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rarepair_shortsAuthor: cuban_sombrero
Recipient:captainpookey
Title: Admissions
Pairing: Sirius/Lily
Rating: PG 13+
Word Count: 1450
Summary:
Author's Notes: captainpookey, I hope you enjoy this. I've never written Sirius/Lily before, so it was nice to have an opportunity to step outside my comfort zone. :) A big thank you also to theepiccek for the beta.
“Going to bed early, Evans, I see.“
Sirius’ voice is slurred; there’s a half empty bottle of beer in his hand and she’s willing to bet he’s already had about a dozen more. He’s alone, his table empty save for a few discarded pieces of parchment – first year essays judging by the length - and Lily finds herself wondering how she missed it before. The Marauders are the last people in all of Hogwarts’ history to miss a party.
They must have left early, she decides, not wanting to give it too much thought – any party where the Marauders aren’t handing out enchanted pastries can only be a good one. She’d like to say she remembers the disaster that was last year’s Quidditch final party, but she doesn’t, not really – except for the bit where she woke up in the hospital wing a week later with no feeling in her left arm.
Instead, she just sighs and says, “At this rate, Sirius, you’re going to kill yourself with liver cancer before you turn eighteen. You really shouldn’t drink this much.”
He smirks at her. “Good ol’ Lily Evans, always the voice of reason. Don’t think I didn’t notice you cheering along with all the commoners in the stands today – so much for Quidditch being a barbaric sport, I guess.”
Lily pauses, looking for something to say that keeps this in neutral territory. There’s something about Sirius that puts her automatically on edge; maybe it’s the realisation of what everyone else sees in him – when he’s not showing off and she’s not berating him, she can admit that’s he’s kind-of-really handsome. Kind-of-really handsome, but also kind-of-really an arse.
“It was a good game Sirius,” she says finally, because it was, really – Lily liked to think that she was above the barbaric behaviour that Quidditch could sometimes call for, but damn if that bludger Sirius had hit into Nott’s head hadn’t been one of the best Gryffindor plays she’d ever seen. “You played really well.” It’s strange, talking to him in a situation that doesn’t involve both of them knowing James, a prank that went wrong or points being taken from Gryffindor for inappropriate language in the hallways. Lily will never acknowledge it, but she feels awkward standing here, chatting to Sirius Black about something as simple as Quidditch.
These days, there’s a lot of things she won’t admit to herself.
“Thanks,” he says. “Although, I notice you’re not acknowledging any of those twenty-seven goals James scored, even if they were against an admittedly under strength and well… pathetic… opposition.” Sirius sighs dramatically. “The Hufflepuffs are more like sloths than badgers when they get on broomsticks – you’d think they’d fall off.”
“James doesn’t need my help inflating his already rather large head, you know that better than anyone.” It’s so easy to fall back into this routine; the old habits she knew were slipping quickly through her fingers, only for her to grasp at them, right at the end. She’s a Gryffindor; the Sorting Hat told her all about right over easy but at times, the road to reconciliation with James seems like it’s neither.
Lately, Lily’s learnt that it’s much harder to follow a path when you’re not entirely sure where it ends.
“Really? After everything James has done lately to try and prove to you that he’s not an idiot, you can still say that? And he’s not just doing it for you – said something or other at the start of the year about making a good and concerted effort. That’s where him and Remus and Peter are now – talking to McGonagall about their plan to improve the Charms Club. I would have gone but… I’m not really in Minnie’s good books right now.” Sirius quirks an eyebrow in a gesture certainly designed to mock her, and yet… Lily doesn’t find it as irritating and insulting as she once would have.
Maybe it’s the Firewhiskey (she had one sneaky glass in the corner; she might be euphoric about winning, but it wouldn’t do for the first years to see the Head Girl drinking alcohol), or maybe it’s something else. Either way, she’s not sure, but she knows she doesn’t like not being in control of the situation.
“He’s trying to prove to me that he’s not an idiot?” Lily finds herself musing over that one – he had been mostly responsible in his duties as Head Boy, and even his attempts to court her, his constant comments on her beauty, they now seemed less like a blatant attempt at flirting and more… charming.
The word catches in her throat before she can mention any of this to Sirius; it’s a scary realisation, to say the least. Over the years, the James that he had once been is the James that has always stuck in her mind, impervious, resistant to change. That’s what terrifies her most about the new James - in her mind, he wasn’t supposed to exist.
Sirius continues. “James told us that you two had agreed to put aside your differences to work together for the good of Hogwarts, or something like that. It’s like I told Remus – nothing good can come of a union with Lily Evans. Of course, he and James seem to think that James’ new found maturity -” It’s Sirius who’s choking on his words now “- will make him endearing to you.”
Lily finds herself giving him her customary glare, and he laughs. “What? You could even marry him to try and prove me wrong, and it would still be true.”
“Maybe I just will marry James then, if it means driving you nuts for the rest of your natural born life.”
Like so many things, she regrets it as soon as she says it – give Sirius Black an inch and he’ll take a mile, that much she knows. Maybe it’s this knowledge – knowing that one false move on her part could unravel everything – that makes her so nervous. Even after seven years of rebuking him and seven minutes of conversing with him, she’s not entirely sure where she stands.
“You’d have to admit to the fact that you love him, first.” Sirius has her cornered, and he knows it. Maybe he buys into James’ delusions, she’s not sure, but somehow, he’s managed to discover something she’s not even completely willing to admit to herself.
“And pigs may fly,” she says finally; it’s the first retort that comes to mind. But the second of silence, that momentary pause, it’s enough to lure Sirius in. Sometimes, he reminds her of a dog, so easily able to sniff out the smallest of reactions in people, the tiniest of vulnerabilities.
“You’re forgetting something, Lily.” He’s smirking at her again – she’d wipe it off his damn face with a slap if it wasn’t so attractive. “It’s the Wizarding world now, they already do.”
And then, she’s not sure what happens next but he kisses her or she kisses him, Lily can never quite tell.
It’s sweet at first, so unlike what she expected from Sirius (in the split second she’d had to expect anything, at least). And then slowly, it becomes more forceful; he pushes her against the wall, pinning her in position with his body as the kiss deepens. She finds herself kissing him back, her body arching into his and her hands tangling in his hair. Sirius’ smile burns against her lips, she can taste the alcohol and, somehow, almost subconsciously, the guilt. The walls seem to close in around her and, thank Merlin, here in the corner, nobody can see, because James might hear; what about James? After everything that she’s learnt tonight, how can she bring herself to betray him like this? And yet, is it such a betrayal – six months of genuine respect can’t always override six years of arrogance, at least not that easily.
She can tell that Sirius is thinking the same thing, because she can feel him pulling slowly away. Gently, he releases her, a guilty smile playing across his lips. He looks down at the ground, studiously avoiding her eyes and Lily knows: they will never talk about this.
In fact, later she’ll deny it so vehemently that she’ll wonder if it really did happen or it was just a hazy recollection induced by too much Firewhiskey and another night spent diligently resisting James Potter’s drunken sexual advances. Eventually the lines will become so blurred that they won’t even exist and it will just be another almost-truth that may or may not actually be a lie –James, I never screwed Sirius Black.
She never did, anyway; it’s just an innocent kiss.
Or at least that’s what she tells herself.
cuban_sombreroRecipient:
captainpookeyTitle: Admissions
Pairing: Sirius/Lily
Rating: PG 13+
Word Count: 1450
Summary:
Author's Notes: captainpookey, I hope you enjoy this. I've never written Sirius/Lily before, so it was nice to have an opportunity to step outside my comfort zone. :) A big thank you also to theepiccek for the beta.
“Going to bed early, Evans, I see.“
Sirius’ voice is slurred; there’s a half empty bottle of beer in his hand and she’s willing to bet he’s already had about a dozen more. He’s alone, his table empty save for a few discarded pieces of parchment – first year essays judging by the length - and Lily finds herself wondering how she missed it before. The Marauders are the last people in all of Hogwarts’ history to miss a party.
They must have left early, she decides, not wanting to give it too much thought – any party where the Marauders aren’t handing out enchanted pastries can only be a good one. She’d like to say she remembers the disaster that was last year’s Quidditch final party, but she doesn’t, not really – except for the bit where she woke up in the hospital wing a week later with no feeling in her left arm.
Instead, she just sighs and says, “At this rate, Sirius, you’re going to kill yourself with liver cancer before you turn eighteen. You really shouldn’t drink this much.”
He smirks at her. “Good ol’ Lily Evans, always the voice of reason. Don’t think I didn’t notice you cheering along with all the commoners in the stands today – so much for Quidditch being a barbaric sport, I guess.”
Lily pauses, looking for something to say that keeps this in neutral territory. There’s something about Sirius that puts her automatically on edge; maybe it’s the realisation of what everyone else sees in him – when he’s not showing off and she’s not berating him, she can admit that’s he’s kind-of-really handsome. Kind-of-really handsome, but also kind-of-really an arse.
“It was a good game Sirius,” she says finally, because it was, really – Lily liked to think that she was above the barbaric behaviour that Quidditch could sometimes call for, but damn if that bludger Sirius had hit into Nott’s head hadn’t been one of the best Gryffindor plays she’d ever seen. “You played really well.” It’s strange, talking to him in a situation that doesn’t involve both of them knowing James, a prank that went wrong or points being taken from Gryffindor for inappropriate language in the hallways. Lily will never acknowledge it, but she feels awkward standing here, chatting to Sirius Black about something as simple as Quidditch.
These days, there’s a lot of things she won’t admit to herself.
“Thanks,” he says. “Although, I notice you’re not acknowledging any of those twenty-seven goals James scored, even if they were against an admittedly under strength and well… pathetic… opposition.” Sirius sighs dramatically. “The Hufflepuffs are more like sloths than badgers when they get on broomsticks – you’d think they’d fall off.”
“James doesn’t need my help inflating his already rather large head, you know that better than anyone.” It’s so easy to fall back into this routine; the old habits she knew were slipping quickly through her fingers, only for her to grasp at them, right at the end. She’s a Gryffindor; the Sorting Hat told her all about right over easy but at times, the road to reconciliation with James seems like it’s neither.
Lately, Lily’s learnt that it’s much harder to follow a path when you’re not entirely sure where it ends.
“Really? After everything James has done lately to try and prove to you that he’s not an idiot, you can still say that? And he’s not just doing it for you – said something or other at the start of the year about making a good and concerted effort. That’s where him and Remus and Peter are now – talking to McGonagall about their plan to improve the Charms Club. I would have gone but… I’m not really in Minnie’s good books right now.” Sirius quirks an eyebrow in a gesture certainly designed to mock her, and yet… Lily doesn’t find it as irritating and insulting as she once would have.
Maybe it’s the Firewhiskey (she had one sneaky glass in the corner; she might be euphoric about winning, but it wouldn’t do for the first years to see the Head Girl drinking alcohol), or maybe it’s something else. Either way, she’s not sure, but she knows she doesn’t like not being in control of the situation.
“He’s trying to prove to me that he’s not an idiot?” Lily finds herself musing over that one – he had been mostly responsible in his duties as Head Boy, and even his attempts to court her, his constant comments on her beauty, they now seemed less like a blatant attempt at flirting and more… charming.
The word catches in her throat before she can mention any of this to Sirius; it’s a scary realisation, to say the least. Over the years, the James that he had once been is the James that has always stuck in her mind, impervious, resistant to change. That’s what terrifies her most about the new James - in her mind, he wasn’t supposed to exist.
Sirius continues. “James told us that you two had agreed to put aside your differences to work together for the good of Hogwarts, or something like that. It’s like I told Remus – nothing good can come of a union with Lily Evans. Of course, he and James seem to think that James’ new found maturity -” It’s Sirius who’s choking on his words now “- will make him endearing to you.”
Lily finds herself giving him her customary glare, and he laughs. “What? You could even marry him to try and prove me wrong, and it would still be true.”
“Maybe I just will marry James then, if it means driving you nuts for the rest of your natural born life.”
Like so many things, she regrets it as soon as she says it – give Sirius Black an inch and he’ll take a mile, that much she knows. Maybe it’s this knowledge – knowing that one false move on her part could unravel everything – that makes her so nervous. Even after seven years of rebuking him and seven minutes of conversing with him, she’s not entirely sure where she stands.
“You’d have to admit to the fact that you love him, first.” Sirius has her cornered, and he knows it. Maybe he buys into James’ delusions, she’s not sure, but somehow, he’s managed to discover something she’s not even completely willing to admit to herself.
“And pigs may fly,” she says finally; it’s the first retort that comes to mind. But the second of silence, that momentary pause, it’s enough to lure Sirius in. Sometimes, he reminds her of a dog, so easily able to sniff out the smallest of reactions in people, the tiniest of vulnerabilities.
“You’re forgetting something, Lily.” He’s smirking at her again – she’d wipe it off his damn face with a slap if it wasn’t so attractive. “It’s the Wizarding world now, they already do.”
And then, she’s not sure what happens next but he kisses her or she kisses him, Lily can never quite tell.
It’s sweet at first, so unlike what she expected from Sirius (in the split second she’d had to expect anything, at least). And then slowly, it becomes more forceful; he pushes her against the wall, pinning her in position with his body as the kiss deepens. She finds herself kissing him back, her body arching into his and her hands tangling in his hair. Sirius’ smile burns against her lips, she can taste the alcohol and, somehow, almost subconsciously, the guilt. The walls seem to close in around her and, thank Merlin, here in the corner, nobody can see, because James might hear; what about James? After everything that she’s learnt tonight, how can she bring herself to betray him like this? And yet, is it such a betrayal – six months of genuine respect can’t always override six years of arrogance, at least not that easily.
She can tell that Sirius is thinking the same thing, because she can feel him pulling slowly away. Gently, he releases her, a guilty smile playing across his lips. He looks down at the ground, studiously avoiding her eyes and Lily knows: they will never talk about this.
In fact, later she’ll deny it so vehemently that she’ll wonder if it really did happen or it was just a hazy recollection induced by too much Firewhiskey and another night spent diligently resisting James Potter’s drunken sexual advances. Eventually the lines will become so blurred that they won’t even exist and it will just be another almost-truth that may or may not actually be a lie –James, I never screwed Sirius Black.
She never did, anyway; it’s just an innocent kiss.
Or at least that’s what she tells herself.
