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He does not know how he ended up in this situation, truly. Tied up to a chair, blood trickling down the side of his face, eye a rather marvellous shade of purple he is guessing by his inability to look through it properly. He has lost his glasses, too, of course, but those are fakes anyway. He’s worn contacts ever since he started working for Dumbledore. Keeping the glasses had been a nostalgic effort to cling to the person he used to be, before he ordered his drinks shaken, not stirred. (He had not been able to resist it. His parents truly had gifted him with the perfect first name, after all.) Sharing his first name with the protagonist, he had not, however, imagined that the Bond novels and films – he had seen them all – were grounded in another truth: the hottest women always turned out to be the villain.
Honestly, her legs were to die for.
“You’d think,” she said, voice sugary sweet and in perfect juxtaposition with the gun she carried, “that Dumbledore would only send their very best.” It was an insult he could not bear to take lying down, really. Or, sitting down in this case.
“Who hurt you as a child?” He spat, the iron taste of blood in his mouth explaining the difficulty with which he could talk. “Isn’t that what all you villains have in common? Some sort of tragic childhood sob story that explains why you clung to the dark side? Honestly, hit me with it, make me bloody cry.”
Her eyebrows rose up her forehead, a laugh escaping. “Getting personal, are we?” She cocked her head to the side. “What’s your name anyway?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Maybe I like to know the name of my victims. Perhaps I collect them like some kind of prize.”
The way that she spoke, the mocking nature of her tone, made his nostrils flare. He had always imagined going down heroically – perhaps jumping out of an airplane, his parachute failing; or giving his life for his brothers in arms. This woman – while incredibly sexy – seemed to wish to emasculate him, rob him off his pride.
“All right,” she told him, “how about I give you mine first?” She walked up to him, gun relaxed in her grip as she let it kiss his cheek. “My name is Lily Evans,” her nose very nearly touched his own, up close she was as beautiful as from a distance and he hated himself for wanting to jut his chin forward, for wanting to feel the ghost of her lips brush against his own. “If you’re wondering about my childhood… I’m the second daughter of a vicar and a teacher, not really what you’d expect, perhaps, but my sister has always hated me, so maybe that’s why I made the choices I’ve made.”
His disdain for her grew, even if the smell of her perfume filling his nostrils was making him slightly dizzy with longing. “In other words, you have no fucking excuse, do you?”
“I guess not,” she told him, eyes pinched at the corner as her smile widened. It went straight to his cock and he gritted his teeth, frustrated that someone as morally bankrupt as this woman in front of him could inspire such feelings in him. “It’s a shame, really. If only I had a clear motive, maybe it could have saved me if you’d caught me. But here you are… all tied up, at my complete and utter mercy…”
Fuck, he thought, her words not at all helping his situation down below. He wondered how it was possible for her to do this to him without so much as touching him, what would happen when she did. Still, he was not about to give her the satisfaction of knowing how she impacted him.
“Riddle sent you, did he? What were his orders? Did he ask you to kill me?”
She clucked her tongue then, shaking her head. “Oh dear,” she told him. “I’m afraid I haven’t been clear, have I?” A crinkle appeared between his eyebrows. “You see… I don’t work for Riddle,” the gun that had rested against his cheek now traced his jaw, “I work for McGonagall, actually.”
As her words registered, he jolted in his seat. “What?” She laughed in earnest now, throwing her head back and lowering her gun. “You’re fucking MI6, too?”
“I could simply not resist,” she stood to her full height, flipped her hair over her shoulder. He was relieved, in a way, that the woman who had given him a semi was not in fact the antagonist he had believed her to be. “You’re funny, I’ll give it to you. Asking for my childhood sob story…”
“What did you tie me up for?” He asked, ignoring her amusement as he frowned. He struggled against the rope that bit into his wrists. “If we work for the same bloody agency… do you realise you’re breaking about a hundred different codes right now?”
“Slight exaggeration,” she told him. “Also, why would you think I am responsible for tying you up when I’m here to help. You’re very dramatic, aren’t you? Makes me wonder how you made it through training, really. You don’t seem level-headed enough.”
Oh, the balls she had…
“I’ll have you know I graduated top of my year –”
“They must have been rather desperate then.” She was damn witty, he thought, and if there was one thing he hated, it was being outwitted. “Anyway, you still did not give me your name,” she continued. “It would be good to know what to call you if I’m going to help you get out of here. Something tells me you’ll be needing it, that you can’t possibly do this without me.”
He considered her for a moment, thought about contradicting her but – to be fair – her assistance would certainly speed up the process. He tilted his chin, mustering up as much confidence as he could in his rather precarious position. “It’s Potter,” he said. “James Potter.”
He did not appreciate the burst of laughter this inspired.
You brush past me in the hallway,
And you don’t think I, I, I can see ya, do ya?
I’ve been watchin’ you for ages,
And I spend my time tryin’ not to feel it.
“Honestly,” he told his mates, feet up on the table in the MI6 Conference Room, “she’s late? What kind of agent is she?”
“She did save your life, James,” Remus replied, ever the practical one, a quality he usually admired in his friend and colleague but now rather abhorred.
“Hardly,” he muttered, annoyed that Remus would be rational rather than empathetic. “I would have managed to get myself out.” Eventually, he thought but would not voice out of sheer pride. “Not to mention that Sirius would have noted my absence.”
“Nonetheless,” Remus told him, “I think you might want to thank her. We’re going to be working together on the Riddle case –”
“We don’t fucking need anyone to help us out,” interjected Sirius. Peter nodded, too, ever loyal to his and Sirius’ opinion. “What does she have that we don’t? So, what? Prongs messes up the once and suddenly we need someone to join the team? What has she got to offer?”
“The fact that she is a she,” Remus spoke exasperatedly. Both Sirius and James grunted in response, prompting Remus to sigh. “Look, we do this, we take Riddle down and we’re done with it.”
This pacified James’ disgruntlement slightly. Remus was right, of course. They did need a woman to complete the mission and even if she was truly horrible, she had proven to be quite adept, getting James and herself out of the Malfoy mansion unseen.
They did not get to discuss this point any further, however, for Albus Dumbledore entered the conference room now, followed by both stern-looking Minerva McGonagall – James lifted his feet off the table after one withering look sent his way – and the MI6 spy who was the very bane of his existence. Her long auburn hair was pulled up in a ponytail, her figure – fully on display last time he saw her as she’d worn an emerald green cocktail dress then to blend in with the Malfoy crowd – concealed by the black trousers, white button-up and black jacket she wore. Her bum, he noted, looked rather spectacular still.
He sat up straighter, sleeves of his own button-up rolled up to the elbows. He felt quite suddenly underdressed, a little unsettled, too, when Evans – upon sitting down – turned her gaze on him, eyes roaming his face where he knew his bruised eye was still visible, the colour of it now a softer green and yellow.
“Welcome everyone,” Dumbledore started. “Minerva, Lily, we are most grateful for the two of you to join us today. Some introductions on our side are in order – you both know our Intelligence Officer James Potter, of course.” James managed a tight nod, trying to ignore the scrutiny of Evans’ gaze.
Dumbledore continued, “These are Sirius Black, another one of our Intelligence Officers,” Sirius flashed a confident grin, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease, “Remus Lupin, one of our best MI6 analysts,” Remus offered a polite smile, “and Peter Pettigrew, who is an Operation Officer.” Peter bobbed his head quickly.
“Potter, Black,” Dumbledore addressed the two Intelligence Officers only now. “Lily Evans is one of Minerva’s very best. She has infiltrated Riddle’s gang for over a year now. She knows the case inside and out.”
“You’re a rat?” Asked Sirius, eyebrows having shot up his forehead as he surveyed Lily, scrutinizing her with his slightly narrowed, grey eyes.
Evans didn’t flinch under Sirius’ gaze. “I prefer the term ‘undercover agent,’” she replied smoothly, her voice steady and unyielding. “And yes, I’ve been deep inside Riddle’s operations, if that’s what you were asking me, Black.” Turning her gaze to Potter then, she said: “The relationships I have built with some of Riddle’s most trusted Death Eaters has proven invaluable. It’s how I found out you had been caught, Potter.”
James felt a mix of irritation and grudging respect. He met her gaze, his voice clipped and measured. “Well, I suppose I owe you one, then.”
Lily’s lips curled into a faint, confident smile. “Just doing my job. Let’s hope you’re as good at yours as I’m at mine. As good as your first name implies.”
James' blood started to boil as her smile turned into a smirk, his nostrils flaring. If Dumbledore and McGonagall hadn’t been in the room, he might have given her a piece of his mind. In different times, he might have even challenged her to a duel, but he had been raised a gentleman, and the idea of fighting a woman turned his stomach. In short, there was little else for him to do but passive-aggressively shoot daggers at her, all the while thinking, You know where you can stick it, Evans?
Sirius, luckily, came to the rescue, eyes still narrowed and far from impressed. “How do we know you haven’t turned?” he asked, arms crossed defensively. “You wouldn’t be the first to be tempted by the sight of the money they make.”
The female intelligence officer’s face hardened. “Do I look like someone who would support human trafficking and the exploitation of mostly women to you?”
It was Remus who attempted to douse the fire. “Of course not,” he smiled kindly. “I do apologise. We just care deeply about the mission and are not used to working with someone outside the four of us. I am sure, however,” and here Remus turned to look at both Sirius and James, sending them a warning look, “that we will be able to make this work.”
“Excellent.” It was Minerva McGonagall who spoke next. “I am certain we will be able to put an end to Riddle’s business once and for all if we all work together. To assure you, though, Mr Black,” she arched one eyebrow, “I am happy to vouch for Miss Evans. Let us also not forget that she chose to rescue Mr Potter, risking her own cover in doing so.” When no one else said anything, she leaned her elbows on the table: “Now, can we please focus on the mission? Let’s see how we can help each other.”
As the meeting progressed, James’ gaze was drawn towards Lily Evans more than once, lamenting that she dared to look this good even in the artificial light of the MI6 Headquarters.
But what would you do, if I went to touch you now?
What would you do, if they never found us out?
What would you do, if we never made a sound?
“Gross,” muttered Sirius from the van as they watched the footage that Evans provided by wearing a camera embedded in the broach that held up her dress. She looked sinfully good, something which did not go unnoticed as Severus Snape – one of Riddle’s favourites, many called him the unlikely crown prince of the man’s organisation – handed her a glass of wine, his eyes hungrily roaming her body. James’ jaw tightened with an emotion he refused to acknowledge as jealousy. “Do you think he actually believes he’s got a shot with her? Does he own a mirror?” Sirius added, voice dripping with disdain.
James didn’t say anything, but he did purse his lips as Evans laughed, he could tell it was a false one, knew that Evans was playing a part – he better than anyone in this van knew the extent of her acting skills, she having fooled him quite successfully when they’d first met – but he did not like it all the same.
He also didn’t like that she was in there all by herself, no other agent at her side. Specifically, he did not like that he wasn’t there. As skilled as she may be – and he had to admit that she was good at what she did – there was a danger in facing Riddle and his Death Eaters alone, even if you had all of them convinced that you were on their side.
He had sparred with Evans a couple of times that week. Sirius had been there, too, of course, but it had been mostly him and the redhaired infiltrator. She had hit him square in the jaw once and as he rubbed his hand over the spot, he could feel it still. He had definitely gotten off to the look of triumph in her eye in the shower after, something he had not been able to hide from Sirius, he reckoned as his best friend and brother had smirked wide as he’d stepped out of the cubicle, entering the locker room to dry off and get dressed.
Now, his brother patted him on the knee. “You’ve got some competition there, Prongs.”
“Competition?” Peter asked, his forehead crinkled. Remus, in the meantime, chuckled as James shot Sirius a withering look. “Do you like her then?”
“He wants to shag her, that’s for sure,” Sirius answered for him, James pulling at the collar of his black jumper. “That’s why he’s been in such a foul mood all day, why he so desperately wanted to join Evans in there.”
“That’s not why I wanted to go in with her,” he grumbled. “I’m merely looking out for her like I would for any of you. It's dangerous –”
“I think she knows that, James. She did save you last time,” Remus spoke, ever the voice of reason.
“And who is there to save her now, if things go wrong?” He questioned, eyes still on the screen. Evans was talking to Severus Snape, still. Riddle’s righthand man very nearly drooling at the sight of her.
“I swear,” Sirius said, pointing at the screen, “he’s one of those weirdos who will sniff her hair or her clothes when she’s not looking. We should name him Snivellus for it. Are we all in agreement?”
“That is a rather excellent nickname, Sirius,” Remus complimented him just as Lily’s camera showed that Lucius Malfoy and his girlfriend Narcissa had joined the conversation, which was – in James’ opinion – perfectly boring. He wondered if Evans thought so, too, or if there was a part of her that was having fun.
You’re funny, you’re dramatic, she had told him the night they had met – he bloody-nosed and black-eyed, hardly his best ever look, she looking as if she’d stepped straight out of his wildest dreams. He was still deciding whether these assessments of hers were to be taken as a compliment, yes or no. Whether she appreciated his sense of humour or his flair for the drama. He ran a hand through his hair, the image of Evans in her maroon dress earlier that evening, slit high up on her leg, imprinted in his brain forever. He thought he might never recover from seeing the gun strapped around her thigh, was convinced that he would most likely fantasise of removing it that night, only to wake up with a raging case of morning wood.
“You know,” Sirius spoke, yawning and stretching, “going into this job you think it’s always high stakes and thrilling, while in reality hours are spent watching shitty people enjoy themselves at dinner parties.”
“Not to mention that half of them are – one way or another – related to you,” snickered Peter. James shot their Operation Officer a warning look, which saw him cringe just slightly.
Sirius had furrowed his brow, the look on his face darkening. James attempted to calm him down with a hand on his shoulder. “You got out, mate,” he said softly, squeezing his shoulder to stress the importance of the statement he made. “That’s all that matters. You’ve chosen your path, they’ve chosen theirs.”
He could not imagine what it was like to be in Sirius’ shoes, to know that his entire family was involved with Riddle. They had found out a mere three months before that his younger brother – Regulus – had been ignited, too. His best friend and brother had insisted he did not care, but James knew him far too well for Sirius’ lies to be successful. He could feel it radiate off of him, the waves of sadness that he masked with a smile.
“The cargo is on its way, I trust, Severus? Our investment secured?”
James’ attention – and with that those of the others – returned to the screen. The camera pinned to Evans’ chest twitched slightly and he imagined it might have to do with her adjusting it, so they could see it properly, so there was no chance they were missing this part of the conversation, which could be both enlightening and incriminating in court.
“Everything is proceeding according to plan, yes,” Snape spoke, enunciating clearly. James knew he did not imagine the twitch of a smile at the corner of the man’s mouth. “The shipment will arrive on Tuesday night. The merchandise is looking particularly promising this time.”
“What does that even mean?” James muttered under his breath, Remus had turned to his computer, was typing and scrolling furiously. “Do we have eyes on the ship, Remus?” He asked. Remus looked as if he were about to crawl inside the screen.
“Such wonderful news,” Lucius Malfoy responded with a lazy smile. “Our most trusted friends will be there to collect it?”
“Certainly,” Snape replied, before adding on some charm – it made bile rise up James’ throat – and stating: “But we have the two most beautiful ladies in the room at our side. Surely, Lucius, we should not be speaking business.”
The conversation continued and while James had gritted his teeth when the snake had complimented Lily, his attention was with Remus, Sirius and Peter, as the four of them worked on finding the ship that carried Riddle’s precious cargo in the form of human life. An hour later they had tracked it successfully and were discussing the next steps to take, when the backdoor to the van opened and Lily Evans stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
“Fuck,” the expletive escaped her almost carelessly, her eyes closed as she did, “next time, pretty boy, I’m sending you in. The number of times he groped my arse –”
“I don’t think I’m his type, Evans,” snorted Sirius, to which the female agent opened her eyes again, arching one of her eyebrows.
“Interesting how you instantly assume I was talking to you, Black,” she replied, opening her eyes and arching an eyebrow before reaching for the strap that had lain hidden beneath the fabric of her dress, untying it and removing the gun in the process. James had to bite the insides of his cheek to keep a most embarrassing noise from escaping him.
“Who else could you have been speaking to, though?” His best friend countered, arms crossed. “I’m the prettiest boy in here.”
Evans shrugged as she looked up again, gun hanging loosely in her hand. “Subjective, really,” she straightened herself, walked over to where Remus was still working on the tracing of the ship’s direct movements. She sandwiched herself in between the analyst and James himself, surprising him when she moved to sit, perching on his knee. He had to resist touching her waist, pulling her back against his chest. “What have you got?”
He dared scarcely breathe, shooting daggers at his best friend as Sirius waggled his eyebrows at him, shit-eating grin in place, mouthing a voiceless: “Pretty boy, ey?”
Remus, who was oblivious to this exchange, answered Lily’s question, laser-focused as he was on the different screens: “The ship’s on course to dock at Port Gaunt on Tuesday,” he supplied. “We’ve got a narrow window to intercept it.”
Lily leaned closer to the screen, her thigh pressing more heavily against his own. “Do you have any idea what kind of security we are looking at?”
Remus grimaced. “We’re looking at heavily armed guards, most likely ex-military as well.”
“Right,” Evans leaned back again, turned around to look at Sirius, Peter and himself, “what’s the plan then?”
James cleared his throat, trying to refocus his mind on the mission at hand rather than the intoxicating presence of Lily Evans on his lap. “We’ll need a two-pronged approach,” he started. “Remus and Peter, you handle the tech – disable their security systems and create a diversion. Sirius and I will lead the extraction team –”
“What about me?” Lily frowned.
“You’re the rat,” Sirius spoke before he could, explaining his train of thought. “If they see you, Evans, the rouse is up.”
Evans’ frown deepened. “If you think for a second, I will be sitting this one out –”
“You’ve worked hard on this, we know,” James interjected, daring to touch her back ever so lightly, hoping to convey his sympathy. The dress she wore revealed nearly all of her spine, meaning that his fingertips brushed against her bare skin. “But Sirius is right. We cannot risk you blowing your cover.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he was quick to add: “We will need your insight, though. I swear that we will be in near constant communication. You’ll be with Pete and Remus, talking us through the whole thing.”
Her eyes were on his. James could tell she wanted to argue, but – eventually – her sense seemed to win out. “Fine,” she stated, her voice clipped, “but if at any point, you two need help, don’t expect me to just sit here and wait –”
“Agreed,” he nodded, knowing that he would have said the exact same thing in her situation. He was relieved, though – however brief their acquaintance might have been – that she saw reason. He did not think he could handle her being in any sort of danger, did not know what he might do.
Remus nodded, too, turning towards the four others in the van. “All right, here’s the rundown: the ship docks at Port Gaunt near eleven in the evening this Tuesday. Peter and I will be in the van, disabling their security systems. Lily will be communicating our progress to you, and will tell you exactly where all the key players are at any given moment.”
Peter, who had been quiet until now, added: “I’ve found the blueprints of the dock area. There’s a couple of blind spots we might be able to use to our advantage.”
“Brilliant,” James said, “we’ll need to inform MI6, of course. Any idea on the size of the cargo? How many people are we talking about that might be trapped on that ship?”
“Difficult to say,” Remus spoke. “We’ll need someone on the inside to confirm –”
The analyst’s eyes slid to Lily’s, who sighed, running a hand through her hair. She seemed a little unsettled for a moment and James almost wanted to contradict Remus, to say that they needed to be creative, that they had to find out a different way. Lily, however, nodded curtly. “I will see what I can do,” she said. “Snape seems to know exactly what is going on at any time.”
“And seeing as he’s got a pretty stiff boner for you –” Sirius spoke, grin wide.
“Fuck you, Black,” the woman on his lap said, eyes narrowed at his best friend.
James’ stomach turned, his mouth a little dry all of a sudden as he proposed: “Meet with him at The Three Broomsticks tomorrow. I know the person that owns the pub pretty well. I can sit in the back, keep an eye on things –” Let me be there for you, he thought but did not add. Let me take care of you, ensure your safety.
Her eyes found his and after searching his face for a second, she nodded. “Thanks, Potter. I appreciate that.” He sent her a soft smile, their eyes locked for a couple more seconds before the both of them turned away from the other, returning to the discussion of their mission plans.
As their meeting drew to a close and James readied himself to climb out of the back of the van, intending to drive it back to headquarters, Evans’ fingers circled his wrist. He looked back at her, question in his eyes. When she didn’t say anything, his free hand found her shoulder.
“Hey,” he spoke softly, “it’ll be all right, you’ll see.”
“Yeah, I know,” she nodded, looking down, swallowing hard. “I just… I don’t trust him, Potter. He’s dangerous, I can tell.” She did not need to clarify who she was talking about exactly.
“I won’t let him touch you, I swear,” he promised, his eyes narrowing slightly at the thought of Severus Snape doing anything to harm her. “If he does, just know that he will not be leaving that pub in one piece.”
’Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me,
And I could see you up against the wall with me,
And what would you do? Baby, if you only knew,
That I can see you?
She arrived the next morning looking fresh-faced, cheeks rosy, hair loose and falling down her shoulders in waves. He’d never seen her resembling a mere mortal before, and even now – he thought – she was nothing short of extraordinary.
“Sorry, I’m a little late,” she spoke, just a tad out of breath. “Benjy wanted to have breakfast together, so my morning routine was thrown slightly off balance.” His stomach sank, his smile – which he was certain had been stupidly wide upon her arrival – tightening around the edges. Who the fuck is Benjy? He managed to swallow. “Thanks for meeting me here, I really do appreciate you giving up your day off just to make me feel a little less uncomfortable.”
“Yeah, sure,” he managed to get out, opening the door to The Three Broomsticks. “I’ve spoken to Ros already. All is set.” He gestured for her to enter, which she did, sending him a smile over her shoulder, which made his heart stutter to a halt. He grimaced as she passed, an echo of her earlier words – Benjy wanted to have breakfast together – reminding him that – of bloody course – this beautiful, incredibly sexy and intelligent woman was unavailable.
Once inside, he kept a professional distance from her, pointing towards a table near the window that he had chosen for the purpose of her meeting with Snape. He would sit in a booth at the back, in-ears connected to the mic that Lily would be hearing, so he could listen in on her conversation with the man, gather the intel they needed, protect her if things were to go south.
Lily Evans took her seat at the table, smiling up at him as he handed her the mic that Peter had prepared for them. “Thank you,” she told him. “This is actually quite nice. Do you go here often, or -?” Her mouth clamped shut as James felt a hand on his shoulder, Rosmerta grinning down at his fellow agent.
“You’re a super spy, too, then,” the woman winked. Evans appeared frozen for a moment, widening eyes darting ever so slowly to James. Rosmerta, in the meantime, laughed. “Sorry,” she said, “it’s a bit of a running gag we’ve got going, James and I. I like to call him Bond, because he always orders his drinks shaken, but not stirred. When he said his colleague would be here, I just assumed.” She leaned a little closer. “I know you’re actually here for a Tinder date and that James is making sure whoever walks in next is not a creep.”
“Right,” Evans spoke, blinking up at the barwoman, “a Tinder date.”
“We get them all the time,” Rosmerta waved her hand. “Anyway, what would you like, love? I make a pretty mean avocado on toast. You look like the healthy type.” James knew it wasn’t meant as a slight, but Lily very clearly took it as a challenge of sorts, jutting her chin forward.
“Actually, can I have a full English breakfast, please?”
It was nearing twelve, meaning that Snape was set to arrive soon. James sat at his corner booth, baseball cap pulled over his dark and curly hair, sunglasses on to give off the impression of a severely hungover patron. As a few other people arrived and took their seats, Evans spoke up: “Snape incoming.”
He moved his head in the direction of the door almost imperceptibly, and indeed the man was there. Sirius was right: whatever possessed the man to think that a woman like Lily would ever be interested in him? He looked like he had just rolled out of bed, as if he had not taken a proper shower in days, while Evans – notwithstanding that she did, so James had found out, have a Benjy to enjoy breakfast with – was as dewy-eyed as if she had just returned from a three-week, relaxing holiday.
The man took his seat opposite Evans, who greeted him with a smile that made him feel utterly nauseous with envy. “Good morning,” she spoke, her voice upbeat as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. Snape’s gaze was firmly locked on the neck she exposed in the process. “Would you like to order anything? I ordered a full English breakfast. I don’t know if you'd care to join me?”
“A full English?” This seemed to snap the other man out of his stupor, his mouth widening in a toothy snarl that James refused to call a smile. “You’re a patriot, are you? England first and all?”
“Of course,” Evans replied smoothly, maintaining her poised demeanour.
This definitely seemed to please Snape and as they ordered him a similar breakfast, they fell into easy conversation, talking about a number of things. James did not know fact from fiction as Lily Evans started to babble on about a number of things to do with her personal life. In training, they were always told they ought to stick to truth as much as possible, so as not to be caught in the lie. Lily Evans, though – so he thought – would make a rather amazing actress for how easily the lies slipped off her lips.
She spoke of a cat, who was – so she said – a British shorthair and an absolute nuisance. Apparently, he would not leave her alone, watched her as she slept, too. “You do like cats?” She asked Snape halfway through her retelling of a story in which her cat featured as a damn near super villain, but one that she absolutely loved and adored.
“For sure,” Snape replied eagerly and James wondered if this truly was the case or if the man lied through his teeth to get into Evans’ good graces. “They are my favourite animals by far.”
Evans’ smile turned sugary sweet, not unlike the one she had sent him upon first meeting him, when she’d pretended to be someone she was most certainly not. “But you don’t have time for pets, do you? You’re such an important man within Riddle’s organisation…” She reached for her hair, twirled a lock of it around her finger.
The gesture saw James very nearly choke on his drink. He could hardly believe the level of charm she was pouring on. It was impressive, and also deeply unsettling to watch.
In contrast, Snape’s expression softened, his ego clearly stroked by the compliment. “It’s true,” he admitted, leaning in a bit closer. “My work keeps me quite busy. Too busy to keep any pets happy. But it’s gratifying to be part of something so significant.” James resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I have had to work hard to get where I am now.”
“I’m sure,” spoke Evans sympathetically, cocking her head to the side. “Tell me a little bit more about yourself. Where did you grow up? What were young Severus’ hopes and dreams? What makes you tick?” He could have sworn that she glanced at him ever so slightly, making something click for him. His own words – spat in her direction that first time he’d seen her – coming back to him: Who hurt you as a child? Isn’t that what all you villains have in common? Some sort of tragic childhood sob story that explains why you clung to the dark side? Honestly, hit me with it, make me bloody cry? He chuckled softly, now, shaking his head at her gutsy behaviour.
Snape, however, leaned back in his seat, somewhat taken aback and most certainly not amused as his eyes narrowed slightly. “Why do you want to know?” He asked, tone guarded.
Luckily, Rosmerta arrived with their food at that moment. James breathing a little easier as the woman placed the plates in front of both Snape and Evans. As the barwoman turned around, she pulled a face at James, a clear indication that she thought the so-called Tinder date was a bust.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” said Lily smoothly, as she reached for her cutlery. “I just felt like I had been rambling on and on about myself, never giving you a moment to tell me a little bit more about you.” Her smile was a close-lipped, sympathetic one. “I hope you can forgive me for wanting to get to know you just a little better.”
This seemed to pacify Snape, who watched her as she took a first bite of her hashbrown. “You’re right,” he said, slowly. “I’m sorry, I just… it’s difficult for me to talk about my past.” Lily nodded encouragingly, reaching for the water at her side and taking a sip, her eyes now very deliberately met James’ for a moment. “You see,” started Snape, almost a little wistful, “I grew up in a small, run-down neighbourhood. My father was... not a kind man, and my mother was too weak to stand up to him. I decided very early on that I was never going to let anyone hurt me like my father hurt my mother.”
“That’s horrible,” Lily said, her sympathy – for his mother, he imagined – genuine now. “Are they still alive, or -?”
“My mother passed away a couple of years ago,” Snape shrugged. “My father – as far as I know – is still rotting in the same chair she left him in.” His nostrils flared. “He’s not English, barely speaks it. Only cares about his vodka.”
Ah, thought James, villain origin story explained.
“That sounds incredibly difficult,” Lily added and then bravely – for he would not have dreamed of ever coming close enough to the man to do so – placed a hand on top of his balled fist. “But it sounds like you pushed through and are a better man for it.”
“Disputable,” muttered James under his breath. He was glad Evans could not hear him for he was fairly certain he had not been able to keep his jealousy out of his voice.
Snape, on the other hand, seemed pleased, his smile not necessarily making his face any more pleasant to behold – or perhaps this was his personal bias – but certainly making him seem all buttered up. Evans’ goal – for this was surely why she’d said it – achieved: Snape was putty in her hands now, willing to give her his kidney if she asked for it, most likely.
“Everyone seemed very happy about the shipment coming in,” the female intelligence officer pressed ever so gently.
Snape’s lips curled further, his scrawny chest puffed out as he chewed on his sausage. “We’ve struck gold, really. We’ve got an especially good supplier overseas these days.”
Knowing that the shipment Snape was discussing with Evans consisted of actual living and breathing human beings, ones that had been taken against their will, made James grip his cup tighter, the ceramic almost cracking under the pressure.
Lily’s expression remained neutral, but James could see the tension in the set of her jaw. “Does Riddle find his suppliers himself or is this mostly your success?”
Snape shrugged. “This was my initiation, of sorts. A test to see if I could handle it.” The man leaned on his elbows, voice lowered and smile spread ever so wide, as he said: “Turns out I fucking could.”
James had to force himself to stay seated, his muscles tensed with the urge to wipe the smug look off Snape’s face. He took a deep breath, willing himself to stay focused, to stay calm. Despite the fact that his fists had balled, he remained where he was. This was about gathering intel and he needed to allow Evans to do her job, to get them the information they desperately needed. Evans’ eyes flickered ever so slightly with disgust, but she maintained her composure.
“I’ve got it all under control, you see,” Snape continued. “We’ve got top-notch security in place, armed guards, surveillance, the works... Riddle will even be there to survey the goods himself.”
“Riddle will be there? Truly?”
This was new information that needed to be relayed to Sirius, Remus and Peter immediately. He grabbed his phone, sent them a quick message: TR present Tuesday. Almost instantly, Peter replied with a wide-eyed, shocked emoji.
“In other words,” Snape spoke, almost pissing himself with excitement by the look of it, “if I can make this work, I’ll be all set. I’ll finally have proven to be ten times the man my father is.”
James' heart pounded as he absorbed Snape's revelation. Riddle himself being present was a game-changer, one that could tip the scales in their favour if they played their cards right. He quickly sent a follow-up message to the group: We need eyes on TR, adding to it a petty, but heartfelt: SS is a real wanker. Sirius was quick to reply with a cheeky All right, pretty boy, which saw James turn over his phone and return to his task at hand, cheeks the slightest hue of pink now.
“I can’t wait to see it happen,” Evans told him and there was a deep-rooted satisfaction in knowing that Snape had no idea how much his words would come back to bite him, how they would likely haunt him as he spent years of his life in prison.
Evans and Snape sat there for half an hour longer before – finally – Snape excused himself, not before – however – grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss on it. After a minute had passed and he had seen the man pass the window, James stood and made his way over to where his colleague sat, sitting across from her in the seat that Snape had just vacated.
“What the fuck, right?” He whispered. “Riddle will be there? Do you know what that means?” It took a couple of seconds for him to register that she’d turned grey almost. “Evans, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I –” she stood somewhat clumsily, “– sorry, I just need to wash my hands.”
James watched her hurry to the bathroom, silently cursing himself for having been so insensitive as to get to business straight away. If his stomach had turned continuously, he could not imagine how the conversation might have made Lily feel. He sat back in his seat, fingers drumming on the table, as he waited for her to return.
When she did, he grimaced and ran a hand through his hair, having taken off his baseball cap. “I’m sorry,” he told her, “I should have given you a moment to breathe.”
She shook her head, eyes red-rimmed he noticed now, as if she’d had a proper cry in the bathroom before returning to the table. “It’s not you,” she told him, deflated almost. “I cannot stand him, all that he is, all that he represents, all that he wants to be…” She sent him a watery smile. “Does it help? Knowing he’s had a shitty childhood? Does it justify anything for you at all?”
He reached for her hand, waited for her to place her fingers in his palm before he curled his own around hers, giving them a little squeeze. “No,” he spoke simply. "It doesn't help a damn thing, Evans."
Lily looked down at their intertwined fingers, nodding slowly before softly whispering: "Thank you." She hesitated. "It's just...” her breath was a shudder, “… it’s hard to keep up the act. To pretend like I'm interested in anything he has to say, knowing what he's done and what he's planning to do still... To have to pretend I’m impressed –”
“I know,” he squeezed her hand again, causing her to look up. He sent her a gentle smile. “I know it’s worth nothing at all, but damn, Evans… you were amazing. The intel you just gathered… You got him to open up, people will be saved because of you now. We'll get him, we'll get Riddle... we'll get them all.”
She sniffed, smiled. “You’re very sweet,” she told him, before exhaling heavily, straightening up. “Honestly, the only thing that could cheer me up properly would be cuddling with Benjy right now.”
He let go of her hand as if burned. “Right,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “You should go do that.” His heart contracted painfully.
She laughed, missing his despair. “He’s just about the only man in my life I can stomach right now.” Then, she added, a little more solemn, gentler, too: “Although you’re definitely not too bad either, Potter.”
They left The Three Broomsticks a couple of minutes later, parting ways at the door, he watching her go, hands in his pockets, a feeling of resignation turning his stomach. As she disappeared around the corner, he took a deep breath and headed in the opposite direction.
And we kept everything professional,
But something’s changed, it’s somethin’ I, I like.
They keep watchful eyes on us,
So, it’s best that we move fast and keep quiet.
“Did you enjoy your cuddles with Benjy, Evans?” Asked Sirius much to his chagrin. He had asked his best friend and brother not to bother, to let it all go, but Sirius would not be Sirius if he did not attempt to defend him.
“It was lovely, thanks,” she spoke, clearly unfazed, as she taped her hands before starting their sparring session. “I took a long and hot shower, too, to wash all the grime off.”
“Did Benjy join you for it, or what?”
James seriously contemplated hitting Sirius and would have, if he did not fear it might give the extent of his feelings for her away. Lily, in the meantime, frowned as she looked up at Sirius. “No, he did not. He’s not a fan of water, actually.”
As she walked off to fill up her water bottle, Sirius spoke with undisguised disdain: “Does she have a thing for guys that avoid the shower, or what? First Snape, now this Benjy guy…” When James had told him the other day that he did not stand a chance with Evans, in an attempt to stop his teasing ‘pretty boy’-comments, Sirius had convinced himself that he had never liked the female agent in the first place. “Honestly, Prongs, good riddance, I’d say.”
A couple of minutes later, he found himself on the padded floor in the middle of the gym. Evans’ jabs hitting the focus mitt in a steady rhythm, front and side kicks aimed at the kicking pads he wore. After warming up, she mixed her punches and kicks, her ponytail flicking from side to side, her cheeks flushing healthily at the exertion.
She was so breathtakingly beautiful always. Despite the fact that he knew she was happily partnered up, he could not help but notice. From the very beginning, he had only been able to admire her and this was a default setting, he found, he could not quite shut off. He had only known her for a short time, but the connection he felt, the pull… it was unlike anything he had ever known.
She’s got a boyfriend, he reminded himself over and over again. He’s just about the only man in my life I can stomach right now, she had said.
After the controlled practice kicks and hits, James let go of the mitts and kicking pads, the pair of them facing off to simulate true fight conditions. He dodged and blocked her punches, evaded her well-timed kicks. Whenever he aimed at her himself, he was careful not to go in too hard like he would do with Sirius. They paused after three minutes, the both of them breathing deeply. Evans gulped her water down, poured some of it over her face and neck, the water cooling her off and making her top stick to her body even further, his gaze heating up, his mouth going dry.
They returned to the middle of the padded floor, Evans’ eyes narrowed in concentration as she punched, kicked and hit. He evading every single one of them until his eyes were drawn to her heaving chest and the sight distracted him so that he lost his footing and focus, her own foot hitting his side, he doubling over and falling to his knees.
“Potter?” She sounded startled, disbelieving. “Potter, oh my god, are you okay?”
He grunted, face scrunched up. She had kicked him right in the kidney, pain spreading through his side. He tried to even his breathing – in through the nose and out through the mouth – but stars still blurred his vision when he opened them.
“Potter!” He could feel her hands on his cheeks now, her thumbs lightly brushing over his cheekbones.
James opened his eyes fully upon her touch, blinking as he tried to clear the stars he was seeing from his vision. He was painfully aware of her touch, of her concern. “Yeah,” he struggled to get out, sounding just a little strained. “I’m – I’m fine.” He even managed to force a smile, even if it was most likely not the most convincing one he'd ever pulled off.
Evans, however, was not fooled. Her brow furrowed further and she gently but firmly pushed him to sit back on his heels. “Don’t lie,” she told him. “You don’t have to pretend with me. That was a hard hit. Just try to breathe for a moment, okay?”
He nodded, grateful for the reprieve and her proximity, though it made it harder to focus on anything but her. Her smell engulfed him, the skin where she touched him feeling as if set on fire. When he felt a little calmer and the worst of the pain had subsided, he – in an attempt to lighten the mood – told her: "You really pack a punch, Evans.”
She didn't smile, her worry evident, her eyes still searching his. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm so sorry. I –” she swallowed, “– I got carried away, I guess and –"
“It’s not your fault,” he confessed. “Truly, it was me. I wasn’t exactly paying attention. I lost complete and all focus.”
She did not ask him why, which was a blessing for he was in no position to lie. Instead, she sighed and sat back, looking relieved but still concerned. “We should probably call it quits. I don’t want to risk hurting you again, and if you’re feeling distracted –”
“Yeah,” he nodded, scrambling up and heading for the wall where he had thrown his towel on a bench. He sat back down, face hidden in the fabric, embarrassment colouring his cheeks. He was certain that Sirius – who had been lifting some weights, while he and Evans sparred – would give him endless amounts of shit for losing against someone who was not even close to his size. He, however, did not care about that. Evans was skilled, she was trained, she was talented. What he cared about was that he kept making an utter, bitter fool out of himself, that he let his heart rule him where rationality was most wanted.
He dropped the towel from his face, reached for his shoes’ laces, ready to call it a day and for Tuesday to come sooner rather than later – once Riddle, Snape and the other Death Eaters were arrested, he would be free from any missions with Evans. She would be going her way, he would be going his.
“Ice?” Evans stood in front of him now, holding an ice pack in her hands. Her tone was gentle, careful, cautious as she was in approaching him. The corners of his lips lifted in a quick smile as he held out his hand. Instead of giving it to him, however, she moved to sit beside him, gingerly pressing the pack to his side herself. Startled, he turned his head to look at her, her face was a mere inches away from his, her voice a whisper that to his ears might as well have been a shout. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, voice just a little groggy. His eyes roamed her face and he had to resist the urge to bring up his hand, to trace her jaw with his fingers, to push the baby hairs that had escaped her ponytail in the intensity of their sparring away from her face. He would have kissed her, maybe, if it weren’t for Benjy.
Her eyes – in turn – searched his. He wondered if she recognised the turmoil within him, what she might make of it. Do you know? He implored. Do you know the effect you have on me? That I would like nothing more than to kiss you, to press you up against the wall, my hands keeping your wrists over your head, hips pressed together?
Whatever she might find in his gaze, the tension between them was palpable. The silence charged, one that neither seemed willing to break.
For a moment, though, he thought she might. Her lips parted, her eyelashes fluttering, gaze jumping – even if for a fraction of a second – to his lips. Then, she scooted back, let out a small sigh and dropped the ice pack from where it had touched. He could barely feel the cold, hot all over, a fire blooming in his heart and spreading through his veins.
“Sorry,” she said softly, having dropped her gaze. He did not know what she apologised for, watching her as she clumsily got to her feet. “I should probably take a shower. We’re set to meet with Remus and Peter in twenty minutes.”
“Right,” he nodded, mouth like a desert.
They spent the next few minutes in relative silence, packing up their gear. The gym was mostly empty now, the sounds of their movements echoing off the walls. As they finished, Sirius strolled over, his usual smirk in place, a question in his eyes as he looked between them. James silenced him with a jerk of his head.
Evans was the first to slip off, heading for the women’s changing rooms, leaving the two men behind. As he and Sirius entered the changing room, Sirius started to ask him what was going on, but James merely sighed: “Nothing, Padfoot. I just took a foot to the side. It was a wake-up call if anything.”
Sirius frowned. “You realised she could do whatever she wanted to you, and you’d still fancy her, you mean.”
“Yeah,” he rubbed a hand over his face, laughed bitterly, “pretty much.”
Sirius was quiet for a moment before he patted James on the back. “Just keep your head in the game, all right? Big day tomorrow and I do not care to see you get in serious trouble over some girl you’re losing your head over.”
His best friend was right, of course, so he nodded, squaring his shoulders. He’d wash off any and all thoughts of her, focus on the mission at hand and take Riddle down once and for all. It was very nearly over, his life could go back to normal again.
You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head,
Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet.
“Whatever you do,” Evans’ voice sounded through his earpiece, “do not be reckless. We are severely outnumbered, even with the backup coming in later.” There was a moment’s pause before she added: “There’s not time for you to be stupid.”
“Hear that, pretty boy?” Asked Sirius. Evans could hear every single word, meaning that James sent him daggers in an attempt to shut his partner up. “Also, Evans,” Sirius continued, his voice having lost some of its warmth, “we’ve done this before, you know. You don’t need to mother us.”
“Last time you did this, Potter ended up nearly getting killed,” she reminded them. “I’m sorry if I care –”
“Oh, you care, do you?” Sirius’ tone was biting, mocking as he continued. “Coming from the heart, Evans, I can tell. Benjy is a lucky bloke. Did you give him a cuddle before you left?”
“What the hell is your obsession with my cat all about, Black? If you’re jealous, get your own!” She sounded exasperated, Sirius’ eyes widening as James fumbled with his gun, nearly dropping it in the process, his shock at this revelation registering. Evans cursed: “For fuck’s sake, Potter, I swear I won’t come to your rescue again. Keep it together!”
A rush of heat stained his cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and frustration eating at him, as he secured his grip on his gun. "I’ve got it under control, Evans,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure if he was convincing her or himself. A cat? Benjy was her bloody cat?
“Just to confirm,” Sirius spoke slowly, “Benjy is your cat, not your boyfriend?”
“What?” Her confusion was evident. “No! I don’t have a boyfriend –” She was very clearly flustered now. James’ knees very nearly buckled with relief, a rush of euphoria washing over him.
“All right,” Remus added dryly, “however interesting Evans’ relationship status might be to some of us, could you please at least attempt to focus? I see some movement near the gate to the docks. It looks like a convoy, the middle car is Riddle’s as far as I can see.”
James was still basking in his feeling of momentary euphoria over Evans’ clarification of Benjy's identity, but there was no time to dwell on it. More determined than ever – perhaps aided by his insatiable need to impress Evans – he adjusted his grip on his gun and forced his mind back on the mission. “Copy that, Remus,” he responded, voice steady. “Sirius, you take the left flank, I’ll cover the right.”
Sirius was as loyal as a dog, never questioning James’ actions or instructions in the field. He nodded, the expression on his face shifting to one of deadly seriousness. They moved into position, shadows among the shadows, every step calculated and silent.
“They’re just around the corner,” Remus instructed, his calm authority grounding. “Hold until they’re in the kill zone. We need to take out as many as we can before they realise what is happening.”
The suspense was palpable, James’ heart beating steadily as the convoy drew closer. James could see Riddle’s car clearly now, a dark armoured vehicle in the middle of the line. He breathed in sharply through his nose, knowing that this was it. Everything that they’d worked towards in recent weeks had led to this very moment.
“Be smart, Potter,” Evans’ voice echoed through his mind, his pulse stuttering as it did. “No unnecessary risks or heroics.” He wondered if he imagined the slight pause, if she might have forgotten it was not just him out there, before she added: “You too, Black.”
“All right,” Remus spoke calmly, “on my mark. In three… two… one…”
Chaos erupted. Gunfire sounded through the night, shouts of alarm and pain echoing through the Gaunt Dock area. James fired with precision, each shot deliberate, many of them deadly. The element of surprise was evidently on their side, but the guards were quick to respond, bullets flying their way in return.
“Watch it, Padfoot,” James called out, ducking behind a stack of crates as a barrage of bullets splintered the wood above him.
“Always do, pretty boy,” Sirius shot back, his tone light despite the danger they were in.
Lily’s voice crackled through the comms, steady and focused despite the peak of tension. “Potter, Black, keep pushing. They are scrambling.”
Even though he was well aware that she could not see him, he nodded, getting to his feet again as he pushed ahead. His movements were fluid and practiced, the pain in his side – evidence of the strength of her high kick the other day – nothing but a distant throb now, numbed by the adrenaline. He advanced towards Riddle’s car, determined to end it for all of them, to free the man's victims, to make Evans proud, when suddenly a figure emerged from the shadows. A hulking guard with a rifle aimed directly at him, saw him duck and roll to the side just in time as a shot rang out. He came up on one knee, firing twice in quick succession, the guard dropping with a grunt.
“Too fucking close, Potter,” he heard Evans say through his earpiece. “Use your head.”
“Yeah, yeah, Evans,” he said, small smile playing on his face, the adrenaline rushing through him emboldening. “Maybe you can give me a reason to live? Go out with me, Evans? If I make it out alive, that is?”
“Time and place, Prongs,” Sirius spoke, but James did not miss the grin in his voice.
“Evans?” He asked, feeling pretty confident all of a sudden. Benjy is her fucking cat, he thought, the truth hitting him once more, feeling exhilarated. “Don’t leave me hanging. I could be a dead man soon…”
“Don’t you dare,” she snapped, but there was no true edge to her voice. “I cannot believe you’re even thinking about this when you’re facing the fury of Riddle and his cronies.”
“Is that a yes?” He asked, getting into gear, ready to make for Riddle’s vehicle. “Come on, Evans, I don’t have all day…”
“All right,” she said quickly, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “Yes, Potter, okay? Just… focus now, please.”
His smile very nearly split his face in two as he made for the convoy, which was in full disarray. Guards scrambled to protect the car that carried Riddle. James – on a high – saw an opening and sprinted towards it, his heart pounding in his ears. He caught a glimpse of Riddle, his face a mask of fury, when shots were suddenly fired at him.
“Shit!” He swore, a bullet grazing past his arm.
“James, fall back!” Remus’ voice cut through the chaos.
James hesitated for a split second, torn between following Remus' command and seizing this rare opportunity to take down Riddle. He took a deep breath, muscles tensing as he prepared to push forward, but then the reality of the situation hit him. They were outnumbered, and any unnecessary risks could jeopardize the entire mission, his planned date with Evans, too.
“Potter, now!” Lily’s voice rang with a sense of urgency.
With a frustrated growl, James ducked back behind a near stack of crates, firing a few covering shots as he moved. The guards' return fire peppered the ground around him, but he managed to make it back to relative safety, heart still pounding with adrenaline and frustration. He could see Sirius from this angle, too, his best friend gritting his teeth, nostrils flared.
“We almost had him,” James panted, leaning against the crates, his arm stung where the bullet had grazed him.
“There will be another time,” Remus said. “For now we regroup and –” the analyst’s voice was cut off suddenly, a chilling silence ringing through James’ ear.
“Remus?” He asked. “Evans?”
Crackling static met his ears. He fiddled with his earpiece, but this did not change a thing. He caught Sirius’ eye, a similar alarm reflected on his best friend's face. His heart pounded faster, fuelled by a mixture of adrenaline and fear. Something told him that something had gone horribly wrong.
“Remus? Evans?” James repeated. “Do you copy?” Then, desperately, he added: “Pete, are you there? Pete?”
Static continued to buzz through the comms, offering no reassurance. They had gone dark.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
He shared a look with Sirius and as if on cue, they moved, running through the shadows, making their way out to where they knew Remus, Peter and Lily Evans had held themselves up. They moved swiftly, navigating the maze of crates and containers that cluttered the dock. The sound of distant gunfire and shouting served as a constant reminder that danger lurked around every corner.
“Where the fuck are they?” Sirius semi-shouted from where he was two paces behind him. James did not know, feeling as if his stomach was filled with rocks. When he rounded a final corner, he spotted a figure slumped against a stack of crates. James’ heart lurched as he recognised the familiar form as Remus. They rushed to his side, James falling to his knees as he assessed the situation. Remus groaned as James fingered the gash on his forehead.
“Remus, mate,” Sirius said, shaking him, “wake up.”
The analyst opened his eyes ever so slowly. “Sirius… James… what happened?”
“We lost contact,” James said, ripping part of his sleeve of his shirt, pressing the fabric against Remus’ headwound. “Where’s Evans? Where’s Peter?”
“Evans…” Remus spoke drowsily, struggling to keep his eyes open. “I think she… she went to cover our rear when comms went down. Peter followed her out.”
“Damn it,” James swore, turning to look at Sirius. “You’ve got to stay here with him, he’s in and out. I’ll find Evans and Peter.” James’ hand was interchanged for Sirius’ in an attempt to still their friend’s bleeding. James stood and moved quickly, his mind racing with worst case scenarios. He forced himself to stay positive, however, Evans was skilled, she could take him out, after all.
He ran through the labyrinth that was the Gaunt Dock, ears strained for any sound that might lead him to his partners, to the woman he planned on taking out to dinner first, whatever else she was willing to give him second. “Evans! Peter!” he called out, his voice strained but desperate, echoing slightly off the walls of the dock.
With every second that passed, his heart beat louder and louder, his steps quickening, fixated as he was on finding them before it was too late.
He rounded one more corner and stopped abruptly as a figure stumbled out from behind a stack of crates. Relief flooded him as he clocked the face of his other friend. “Peter!” He panted. “Fuck,” he said, hands on his knees, “I’m glad to see you, mate. Where’s Evans -?”
Peter stopped right in front of him. “I’m sorry, James,” he spoke apologetically.
“What?” James asked, fear gripping at his heart – had something happened to Evans? – before he looked up, just in time to see Peter lift a flat piece of wood. Pain exploded in his skull, darkness quickly closing in on him as he was knocked out clean.
I can see you in your suit and your necktie,
Passed me a note sayin’, “Meet me tonight.”
Then we kiss and you know I won’t ever tell, yeah…
He woke with a splitting headache, bile rising up his throat as he rolled over, grabbing the bucket that had been conveniently placed next to the army bed he had been placed on. He emptied his guts, stars splitting his vision. “Fuck,” he croaked.
Ever so slowly, he hoisted himself up, surveyed his surrounding, eyes falling on an army cot opposite his own. His heart stopped for a moment, then he scrambled off the bed, grasped Evans’ wrist in his, checked for a pulse.
Relief washed over him as he detected one, her heartbeat steady despite the fact that she looked like a fairytale princess, cursed to sleep for a hundred years.
James took a moment to steady himself, the room spinning slightly as he pushed through the lingering nausea, before he placed a gentle hand against her cheek, his thumb caressing her cheekbone.
“Evans,” he muttered. “Evans, wake up.” She did not so much as stir.
“She’ll be out a bit longer.”
The sound of Snape’s voice startled him, the man emerging from the shadows, wearing an ugly grin. James stood too quickly, stumbling slightly as he moved to stand between her and the Death Eater, his instinct to protect her from harm – especially in the vulnerable state she was in – truly overwhelming.
“I admit,” Snape started, disdain filling his voice, “she had me fooled. I genuinely took her to be enlightened.” His twisted smile turned into more of a snarl. “When Peter told me she’d infiltrated Riddle’s organisation, I doubted his word for a minute. But then I remembered the guy in The Three Broomsticks, watching us from the booth in the back…”
“Peter?” He felt stumped for a moment, but then he remembered – Peter lifting a flat piece of wood, striking him, taking him by surprise.
“You thought MI6 was smart enough to plant a rat and we weren’t?” Snape shook his head. “Riddle is an intelligent man, a true match for Dumbledore.”
James’s heart pounded, anger and confusion mingling as he processed Snape’s words. “This was a bloody trap, wasn’t it? You knew all along we’d be here, used Peter as your puppet, attacked us from within...”
“Now, now,” tutted Snape, “don’t be too sour. We suffered some losses, too. You underestimate the hassle of finding decent guards these days.” The man’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, hardly lamenting the loss of a good few man, it seemed. “Thanks to Peter’s intel, though, all is well that ends well.”
James turned his head to look at Evans, his heart aching due to the betrayal of a man he had believed to be his friend, but more so afraid for her. “What did you do to her?” He asked.
“Peter said the best way to lure you out was through her,” Snape spoke. “Don’t worry too much. It’s nothing permanent...” James’ fists clenched, “... for now, that is.”
Snape left the room, his dark cloak billowing behind him like something out of a Marvel movie or a Disney villain’s wardrobe. The comparison might have been amusing if the situation weren’t so dire.
Turning back to Lily, James’s heart ached at the sight of her pale, sleeping form. He couldn’t leave without her; the very thought was impossible – she had not left him behind in his hour of need and he would do the same, now. Resigned to wait, he sat down next to her, taking her hand in his and lacing their fingers together.
He sat like that for hours, watched her breathe in and out, his own eyes growing heavy with the passage of time. He found himself slipping into a daydream, imagined them holding hands as they strolled through one of London’s many parks, the sun filtering through the leaves. In another scenario, they were at dinner with friends, sharing secret touches under the table. Finally, he pictured them in the intimacy of a shared bed, their hands clasped together in a moment of passion before they drifted off to sleep.
A soft moan from Lily pulled him from his reverie. He leaned closer, whispering her name, his thumb flicking over the back of her hand. “Evans? Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered open, a soft groan escaping her lips as she slowly returned to consciousness. “Potter?” she murmured, her voice weak.
“Yeah,” he said, sitting up properly now, watching her as she looked around the room. “I don’t know how much you remember,” he started. “We got ambushed, Peter –” he swallowed, looked away. She squeezed his hand.
“I know,” she told him. “I remember.” He wanted to ask what else she could recall, needed to know exactly which role Peter had played in all of this, but now was not the time. He helped her sit up, his eyes checking her for any visible injuries, feeling relieved when there appeared to be none.
“I don’t think this was your idea of a date, was it?” She asked him then. The question surprised him so that she managed to elicit laughter out of him. “I reckon you’re actually surprisingly romantic.”
“For you, yes,” he confessed, fingers pushing some of her hair out of her face, hand lingering there. “Have I told you yet that I think you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen?”
A soft blush coloured her cheeks. “You have not,” she told him, “but if you’d like to make up for it, feel free to tell me again.”
He grinned, leaning in slightly. “You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, Lily Evans.”
She reached for him then, grasping him by the collar of his shirt, her lips pressing against his. The kiss was soft and sweet, and his hands fell to her hips. As she pulled him closer, he lost his balance, toppling over her and joining her on the army bed, his knees on either side of her.
For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. James’s hands roamed gently, exploring the curve of her waist, the small of her back. Her hands moved up to tangle in his hair, deepening the kiss, a shared breath, a shared heartbeat. Their urgency melted into a rhythm, slow and intoxicating.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, they gazed into each other’s eyes, one of Lily’s hands coming up to run through his mess of curls. “You’re very beautiful, too,” she told him.
“I’m your pretty boy, am I not?”
She laughed and he stole one more kiss from her, his tongue finding hers, his trousers tightening as the kiss deepened further, her hands disappearing under his shirt, his groan swallowed by her mouth on his.
When he pulled back, her green eyes darkened with a desire he was sure was mirrored in his own, he had to collect himself for a moment, closing his eyes to the temptation of her, breathe in sharply before he said: “We really ought to try and get out of here.”
Lily nodded. “You’re right.”
They shared one last, lingering kiss before they both moved to action, the urgency of their situation settling back over them. James helped Lily to her feet, noticing only then that he had been stripped off his weapons.
“Shit,” he cursed. Evans raised her eyebrows in question. “They’ve taken everything. My dad’s old pocket knife included.” She placed a hand on his arm in sympathy before stepping back and lifting her shirt over her head. James stood as if frozen, watching as Lily bared her upper half to him. “What are you -?”
“They never check a girl’s bra,” she gave as an answer. “I think it’s because they’re all closeted virgins, or perhaps they just severely underestimate us women.” She wore a bra that was slightly longer at the midriff, fished out two thin razorblades she had hidden there.
James blinked. “Fucking hell, you’re hot.”
Lily smirked, her gaze lowering to his groin. “I can tell you think that, yeah,” she told him before tossing him one of the blades. He caught it easily and she – pulling her shirt back over her head – gave him a quick, confident nod. “Let’s get to work, pretty boy.”
“Lead the way, Evans,” he told her.
With a shared look of determination, Lily took the lead, guiding them towards the locked door. James followed, his mind focused on the task at hand. As they reached the door, he started working on the hinges with the razorblade, carefully removing the screws. The process was quick and efficient, the door soon swinging open and revealing a narrow hallway bathed in low light.
Clutching their blades, both James and Lily ran through the corridor, turning corner after corner. They moved with practiced urgency, their breaths quick and their hearts pounding. The maze of hallways seemed endless, but they kept their pace steady, driven by the need to escape.
As they rounded another corner, Evans signalled for a pause. She peered around the bend, checking for any signs of their captors or security measures in place. James followed suit, his gaze scanning the area for anything that might obstruct their path.
“All clear,” Evans said.
They resumed their sprint, turning corners with increasing confidence. The corridor’s low light began to brighten as they neared what seemed to be a larger, more open and windowed area. As they approached the windows, they looked down, gazing upon a roof below. It was a significant drop, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Not to mention that the roof looking perfectly flat and sturdy, offering a clear path to escape.
James glanced at Evans, a hint of a grin on his face. “That looks like our exit.” Lily nodded, already opening up the window, and climbing on the windowsill. She did not hesitate, letting herself drop down, landing on her feet.
As James moved to follow her, footsteps sprinted nearer, angry shouts reaching his ears. He jumped down, too, landing safely and grabbing Lily’s arm. “Come on,” he told her, “they’re on our heels –”
Evans did not need any further encouragement, following him. The deafening sound of gunfire echoed behind them as they sprinted across the roof. The hot, acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air and as James glanced over his shoulder, he saw flashes of light that only just missed them. He quickened his pace, pulling Lily along with him.
They reached a rooftop access door and burst through, descending a narrow, dark stairwell at breakneck speed. Their footsteps reverberated off the walls, mixing with the distant shouts of the pursuing Death Eaters. James could hear the pounding of boots and the occasional shout growing louder.
At the bottom of the stairs, they emerged into a dimly lit hallway. Evans – out of breath and unable to speak – pointed to a door at the end of the corridor. Sprinting down the hall, they burst through the exit door, finding themselves in a grimy alleyway, the street sign reading Knockturn Alley. They raced through, did not stop to look back once, finding themselves on a much busier shopping street minutes later.
James and Lily, panting heavily, took advantage of the crowd to blend in, their eyes darting around for any sign of Riddle’s cronies. When their eyes found none, they blended in with the shoppers, Lily pulling him into the nearest clothes shop she could find. “We need to get changed,” she told him, grabbing the first shirt and pair of jeans she could find. She tossed them at James and then started rifling through another rack for her own changes. “Quickly,” she urged, “we don’t have much time.”
James agreed with her, finding himself in a fitting room a mere seconds later, changing as fast as he could. The shirt was a tie-dye one and said ‘I’m Kenough’, but it would need to do for now. He stepped out looking far more colourful than he had before and Evans, too, looked a different person almost in her jeans and a shirt of her own that read ‘Barbie’.
“We match,” he grinned, pointing at his own outfit. Lily laughed and then – surprising him – closed the space between them, arms wrapped around his waist, face buried against his chest.
James was momentarily taken aback by Lily’s sudden embrace, his breath catching in his throat. The touch of her warm body against his, combined with the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, made him pause. Then he hugged her back, wrapped her up in his arms, placed a kiss to the crown of her head. Nothing, he thought, brought people closer than a near death situation.
They held on to each other for a moment longer, but then they both stepped back, her eyes meeting his. “Sorry,” she told him, “I didn’t think we’d make it.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“I know,” he said, holding out his hand for her to take. “Come on,” he said, “let’s see if we can use their phone to let the others know where they are, what we’ve found out about Peter, too.”
And I could see you being my addiction,
You can see me as a secret mission,
Hide away and I will start behaving myself.
“The rat!” Sirius said, pacing the length of the MI6 conference room they once again found themselves in. “I cannot fucking believe… after all those years…” The handsome intelligent officer ran a hand through his hair. “I should have sniffed him out straight away.”
“You’re not a dog, Sirius,” Remus said. His head had been bandaged and he suffered from a mild concussion, but was otherwise – thankfully – well. “We all fell for his act. None of us knew what he was capable of.”
Evans was awfully quiet, her chin resting her hand. James – who was seated next to her – placed a hand on the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing up and down her exposed neck. She turned to look at him, smiled wistfully, the tips of her ponytail brushing against his arm.
“At least one good thing came out of that trainwreck of a show,” Sirius spoke once more, nodding in his and Lily’s direction. “The two of you seem to have found each other.” His gaze locked with Evans’, an understanding between them as she leaned into his touch a little more. “What do we bloody well do now?”
“Sleep,” muttered Remus then. “We sleep on it and get back here tomorrow. There’s nothing we can do now, we’re of no use. All of us are freaking exhausted, James and I got hit over the head, and Evans was put in a coma of sorts by that Snape guy.”
Remus had a point, of course, meaning that they made their way to the communal dormitory that was used by MI6 officers on night shifts. Remus collapsed face first on the nearest bed he could find, Sirius taking the top bunk of the same bed. Both his friends were fast asleep by the time Evans returned from the bathroom, which she had entered to freshen up. Her cheeks coloured when she noted he – sitting on the edge of his own bed – wasn’t wearing a shirt.
She halted, hesitated, but then he tilted his chin quickly, patted the empty spot beside him. She padded over ever so quietly, sitting down next to him. He turned his head, pressed a soft, tender kiss to the side of her head, his lips brushing lightly against her hair. “Want to sleep with me?” His voice was low enough not to disturb his sleeping friends, his heart fluttering as he awaited her answer.
“Yes,” she whispered back, turning her head so as to capture his lips with her own. Kissing, they dropped to the bed, his hand finding its way underneath the ‘Barbie’ shirt she was still wearing. It started out exploratory, but then their kisses became slow and languid, his fingers tracing gentle patterns into the skin of her stomach.
After a while, their kisses became softer and slowed, Evans settling into a more relaxed position, leaning against him, his own arm wrapped around her waist. His chin rested on top of her head, she safely cocooned by his body.
“All right?” He asked.
“Perfect,” she answered, snuggling against him some more. “Who would have thought…?”
“Who would have thought what?” He asked, voice deep.
“That I’d find myself sharing a bed with an MI6 super spy named James,” she laughed softly. “Am I now officially a Potter girl?”
“You’re the Potter girl,” he rectified. “The one and only.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, turning in his arms, “I’m sure that’s what the other James told his girls, too.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, pulling her closer, one of her feet now tucked between his own, “I reckon audiences would have lost interest in the other one fairly quickly if he married the first Bond girl, and went home for a regular family dinner every night after saving the world from every possible villain imaginable.”
Her eyebrows rose, her eyes glittering ever so slightly despite the obvious fatigue he observed in them. “Talking about marriage already,” she said playfully.
“Yeah, well,” his cheeks were a little hot, but he could only be honest with her after everything they had been through in the past twenty-four hours, “full disclosure: I intend for our date to be the final ‘first date’ for the both of us.” She gasped ever so slightly, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. “I fancy you something awful, Evans.”
Their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss, Evans’s arms wrapping around James’s neck, pulling him closer. His hands explored her body, sliding from her cheek to her shoulder, finally resting on her thigh. He lifted her leg so that her inner thigh rested against his hip, eliciting a soft, pleased noise from her as she felt the effect she had on him.
As they reluctantly parted, Evans pressed herself more firmly against him, a playful pout on her lips. “I wish we were alone,” she spoke, voice tinged with longing. “Bond always seems to end up in luxury rooms in luxury hotels.”
“Didn’t you hear that MI6 had to downgrade since his retirement? Ever wonder why we need to pay for our own drinks, now? Shaken and not stirred?”
She snorted, fingers softly threading through his curls. “You are ridiculous.”
James grinned. “But you like me, yeah?”
Evans looked up at him, her gaze soft. “Yeah,” she agreed, “I really, really do.”
And what would you do? Baby, if you only knew…
That I could see you throw your jacket on the floor?
I could see you, make me want you even more?
What would you do? Baby, if you only knew,
That I can see you?
“Ready, Evans?” James asked, holding his gun steady. They stood side by side, backs pressed against the cold, rough wall of the formerly abandoned warehouse, which they knew now housed Riddle and his most trusted Death Eaters. The tension in the air was palpable, the anticipation of what was to come heightening his senses.
“Always,” Evans replied resolutely. She clutched her own weapon, her eyes sharp and focused. His heart fluttered at the sight of her, wearing all black, her lips painted a deadly scarlet. Like him, she was ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. They were just waiting for McGonagall’s confirmation.
After the initial shock of Peter’s betrayal had worn off, they had realised that his ratty ways offered them a major advantage. They tracked his phone, which lead them to this warehouse. After staking outside for two days, they were now ready to roll all of them up.
On the other side of the building, Sirius and Remus were in position. Backup was ready as well, with members of Dumbledore’s elite group of ex-military, the Order of the Phoenix, standing by, prepared to assist when required.
James glanced over at Evans, remembered how she had looked when he had woken up with her in his arms the other morning. The softness of her now replaced with a steely determination. He loved both sides to her, wanted to get to know every single facet of her personality. “Remember the plan,” he said, his voice low. “We go in, surprise them, call for backup and get out. No unnecessary risks.”
“You’re telling me not to risk anything?” She cocked an eyebrow.
He grinned, a mix of affection and exasperation in his eyes. “You know what I mean, Evans. Just stick to the plan. We’re in this together.”
She smirked, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “I know, Potter. Don’t worry,” she risked leaning over to him, pecking his cheek, “I’ve got your back.”
A soft crackle in their earpieces brought their attention back to the mission. “All units standby,” said McGonagall. “Move in on my mark. Three, two, one… Go.”
James nodded to Lily, and they moved as one, slipping through the door and into the dimly lit warehouse. The air inside was thick with the scent of dust and oil, the faint hum of machinery echoing in the background. They advanced quickly and quietly, navigating through the maze of crates and abandoned equipment.
They reached a large central room, its high ceiling casting long shadows. James signalled for Evans to take position behind a stack of crates while he moved to the opposite side, both of them keeping their weapons trained on the room’s entrance. The tension was almost unbearable as they waited for Riddle and his men to make their move. The locked eyes, an unspoken conversation passing between them.
The door creaked open, startling them both and the sound of footsteps echoed through the room. Lily nodded in his direction and as the figures stepped into the room, James felt his pulse quicken.
“Now!” he mouthed, and they sprang into action.
They emerged from their hiding spots, guns drawn, catching Riddle and his Death Eaters off guard. “Drop your weapons!” James shouted, voice firm. Both he and Lily had aimed their guns at the men in front of them, Snape and Malfoy were amongst them, Peter cowering in the back, hands up in the air in an instant.
“Drop them!” Evans commanded. The weapons of the two guards – he recognised them as Crabbe and Goyle – flanking Riddle and his men clattered to the floor, their hands up in the air. “On your knees!” She added, pointing her gun at Snape, Riddle, Malfoy and Peter, too. The latter dropped to the floor, barely suppressing a sob.
“You got us,” Riddle droned, sounding bored almost. The man dropped to his knees ever so slowly. “Snape, Malfoy...” it sounded as if he were politely asking them to lower to their knees as well, but James saw Snape’s hand reach down. He did not hesitate, shot at the man’s foot.
Snape let out a strangled cry of pain, collapsing to the ground, clutching his foot. His cloak opened, revealing the weapon he had attempted to grab. James’ eyes flitted to Malfoy. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned the other man. “Everyone stays where they are, or the next shot won’t be a warning one.” Malfoy, pale and shaken, dropped to his knees beside a agonizing Snape, his hands trembling. Riddle remained eerily calm, his gaze fixed on James with a mix of curiosity and contempt.
Lily, in the meantime, spoke into her earpiece. “We’ve got them. Send in the Order, please. Black, Lupin, we’re all good here.”
Peter in the meantime crawled forward, head down, tears rolling down his cheeks. “James, please, I made a mistake. I never meant to betray any of you, I –” He did not get to finish, Sirius jumping him from behind, his face furious as he held a gun to his temple.
“Fucking traitor!” Sirius spat, his grip on his gun unwavering. Peter whimpered, his eyes squeezed shut, his neck and face blotchy.
“Easy, Sirius,” Remus told him. “Let the Order deal with him.”
Sirius’ jaw tightened, but he nodded, reluctantly lowering his gun. He shoved Peter forward, who collapsed into a sobbing heap on the floor. James could not find it in him to pity the Operation Officer he had once called a friend.
At that moment, backup arrived, the Order – led by Kingsley Shacklebolt – streaming into the room, swiftly securing the prisoners. James dropped his weapon, put it back into its holster. Sirius clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, muttering something about needing a drink. Remus followed him out.
James waited for Evans, watched as she, too, put her gun away. She looked up at him, her smile wide as he held out his hand for her to take. Their fingers intertwined, they left the room.
“Want to go on that date now?” He asked, smirking. “We could go for a drink at The Three Broomsticks.”
“If that’s your idea of a date, Potter,” she clucked her tongue, “I have to admit I find it slightly underwhelming.”
He used the grip he had on her hand already to pull her up against him, turning the both of them just so she stood with her back against the wall, both his hands flanking her face. “You’ve clearly never had drinks with me before,” he spoke, lowering his head so that his lips ghosted over hers. “I’ll take one only – shaken, not stirred – and then I’ll take you home, eat my fill.” Her breath hitched. “You okay with that?”
Her only answer was a searing kiss.
Oh, I see you, I see you, baby.
James walked into Evans’ bathroom, buck naked, rubbing sleep from his eyes and stretching his arms high over his head. He switched the lights on, walked over to the toilet, peeing sleepily. It was his third time sleeping over at Lily’s and he was starting to feel more at home every single time. He contemplated making her a cup of tea, wondered if she’d be up for a lazy morning shag once she’d woken up.
He flushed the toilet, turned to wash his hands, only for him to get a damn near heart attack, a yelp escaping his throat. Benjy – Lily’s cat and the one other male vying for her love and affection – studied him with his large yellow eyes, tail flicking from side to side like he was some sort of evil mastermind planning James’ demise.
(He would not be surprised if, in fact, he was. Lily had told him how she’d adopted Benjy from the animal shelter, how he had been thrown into the river as a kitten, an attempt to drown him and his three brothers and sisters. If ever there were a successful villain origin story, James reckoned this was the most tragic one.)
“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, washing his hands at the sink, heart beating a mile a minute. “Are you out to get me, Benjy?”
“James?” Her feet padded against her apartment floor and a second later, she stood in the opening of the bathroom’s door, sheets wrapped haphazardly around her, hair mushed from sleep and the sex they’d had last night. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Drying off his hands, he turned to her with an apologetic look on his face. “Your cat sneaked up on me,” he told her. “He spooked me, is all.”
She looked down, Benjy had made his way over to her feet, mewling needily, his tiny head rubbing against her ankle, marking her as his. “Oh, Benjy,” she spoke fondly. The cat looked up at her, his large eyes widened in adoration. James sometimes wondered if it was normal to feel like a cat was your main adversary.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he told her, making his way over to her, pressing a kiss to her temple, careful not to crowd her cat for fear that the ball of fur might scratch him for it. “It’s early still. You’ve got plenty of sleep to catch up on still after last night.”
“Mmmhmm –” she agreed, her arm sneaking around his waist, “– plenty of time, too, before we’ve got to go to work still, though.” Her palm slid down to rest against his bum, fingers drumming against the curve of him there. “You deserve a good morning after Benjy gave you such a fright, don’t you think?”
“Yeah?” He asked, tip of his nose in her hair now, inhaling her scent. Hear that, Benjy? He thought pettily, resisting the urge to flash the cat the finger.
“If you’re up for it,” she turned around, facing him properly now, arms snaking around his neck, sheets pooling to the ground at her feet.
“Oh,” he grinned slyly, stepping forward, so she could feel him, “I’m definitely up for it.”
Afterwards, when they lay on her bed again, the both of them catching their breath, Lily lying half on top of him, his arm around her waist, her fingers splayed over his heart, he felt as if he were on top of the world. In all honesty, no completed mission had ever given him the high that Lily Evans made him experience whenever she so much as glanced in his direction.
“Has your morning improved?” She asked him, finger drawing a heart where his beat against her palm.
“Considerably,” he told her, his hand gripping her hip. “Did I ever tell you what one of my first thoughts was upon seeing you?”
“Humour me,” she replied, turning her head so that she could place a kiss to his jaw, her tongue darting out teasingly, her hand trailing from his chest to his lower abdomen. She knew exactly what she was doing, he thought.
“I thought your legs were to die for.”
She laughed loudly. “I did think your eyes lingered a little, Potter. James Potter.” She got up then, reached for his dress shirt, pushed her arms through his sleeves. “Want some eggs for breakfast?”
He watched as her fingers buttoned up his shirt, lamenting the loss of her naked skin, but grinning wide for his shirt looked incredibly good on her. She cocked an eyebrow, having noted his distraction.
“Potter?” She asked.
He leaned up on his elbows, grin shit-eating as he said: “I’ll take them shaken, not stirred.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Evans said, turning on her heel and giving him the finger.
“You love me, though,” he reminded her, reaching for his boxershorts.
“Heaven knows why,” she responded.
The elastic band of his boxers snapped against his skin, as he rushed to catch up to her, catching her around her waist, lifting her off the ground and making her squeal.
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