[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Oh Gods Evans


James had brought Meg Johnson to the alcove off the Trophy Room Passageway for a private breakfast. Since Sirius had Saturday detention, he’d made plans to spend the day with Meg instead of the Marauders, and he’d gone with Peter to the kitchens to knick an impressive breakfast spread and he’d gone and set up a bit of a picnic before covering her eyes and leading her down to the alcove. Meg had been terribly shocked by the gesture and had kissed him heartily before they’d eaten their bacon, talking about quidditch and making up plays for the next game together, something James had never imagined a girl wanting to do with him, and he couldn’t believe how much fun Meg Johnson was and how proud she was to be his girlfriend. He wasn’t a dirty secret to Meg Johnson.

Now, they were on the couch together, and James was laying flat on the cushions, Meg sitting upon his abdomen, her hands on his chest, his oxford having come unbuttoned at some point, his tie on the floor, and she was kissing him deeply and urgently and he was sort of awkwardly holding her hips, unsure what to do with himself. James had never in all his life felt like this before. Sort of hot and cold at once and as though there was something squirming about inside of him and he couldn’t breathe right. He stared at her as she kissed him, knowing he should close his eyes but not daring to, afraid he’d do something stupid if he did, afraid to miss a cue from her.

Meg’s skin was warm and her mouth tasted like that cherry lip balm again.

She kissed his neck and collarbone and James stared up at the ceiling, his heart racing. Surely she could feel it knocking on his ribs, trying to break out of his chest. Surely she could feel the panic rippling through his skin…

She sat up suddenly and looked down into his eyes and James stared up into hers.

“Are you alright, James?” she asked, concerned.

He nodded, though he couldn’t really breathe - for nerves, not because she was squashing him or anything. He had his hands on her hips still, running them gently up and down. She smiled and said, “You look bewildered.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he whispered thickly.

“You’ve never done this?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Really?” Meg looked surprised.

“Really.”

She said, “Are you enjoying it?”

James nodded. Bloody hell, I’d have to be dead not to enjoy this, he thought.

Meg reached for the hem of her jumper and she bit her lip, hesitated, and then lifted her jumper off over her head, her ginger curls falling back around her shoulders as they came loose from the fabric. Beneath her jumper, she wore only her bra and James felt like he might pass out as his eyes moved over her skin, trailing along the plane of her belly and up to the curve of the plain white material the covered her breasts and the way they curved to meet in the middle, the pink of her flesh, the flush that rose up her check to her cheeks as he stared at her in a panicked awe.

“Gods alive,” he whispered, overwhelmed.

Meg leaned closer, and he closed his eyes as her chest pressed to his and he realized how bloody little amount of fabric separated them right at the moment and he gulped nervously.

My heart’s going to bloody stop. It can’t take this, I can’t take this, he thought.

But it felt so good, too.

Meg kissed his neck and James sighed, biting his lips as he felt pressure building inside of himself - pressure that made him dizzy almost, that he didn’t fully understand the meaning of… and he moaned, “Oh gods, Evans.”

Meg stopped kissing him.

And James opened his eyes, realizing what he’d said.

There was a very, very uncomfortable moment of silence.

“Evans?” Meg asked.

James’s mouth gaped like a fish.

“I… um…” but there was no excuse. Nothing he could say would make this better. He stared at her as she sat up - in her eyes, not at her breasts, even though they were still just so right there and barely covered.

If his heart hadn’t been ready to stop before, it certainly was now.

“I… um…”

Meg got up, and grabbed her jumper, tugging it on over her hair, which was all a mess now, and she went to go but realized she didn’t know where she was and she turned on him, “How do I get out of here? I need air. I need… I need to go. Get me out of here.”

James sat up, buttoning his oxford quickly. “Meg, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just --”

“Shut up. Just get me out of here James.”

He nodded and leaped up from the couch, his shirt buttoned rather crookedly, and hurried to lead her out of the passageway, his face burning with embarrassment.




Sirius hovered the motorbike just outside the window so that it hung there in the air beside the tower before he engorged it to it’s natural size. He turned and put the white helmet onto McGonagall’s head and carefully clipped the strap beneath her chin. “I’ve got you Min,” he promised, “I’ll get you there.”

She was too upset to protest the idea, too desperate to get to Faere Dhu to worry about muggles spotting a flying motorbike. Besides, honestly, it was mostly forest between Hogsmeade and Faere Dhu - mostly wild animals - and it was snowing and the clouds would give them cover and maybe, just maybe, Minnie was making excuses to make it okay that she sort of wanted to give it a go.

Sirius stared into her eyes as he tightened the strap across her chin, the excess of it hanging from the corner of the helmet.

It occurred to him suddenly as he took care of ensuring she would be safe on the bike, that he had been a boy without a mother for a time… and somehow fate had deemed him lucky enough to end up with two surrogates - Mrs. Potter and Professor McGonagall. The best two mothers a boy could ever ask for. And he was thankful for them.

But right now, he needed to save Minnie.

Sirius led her to the window. “I’ll get on the bike and bring it a bit closer,” he said, “And I’ll help you out, alright?” She nodded, and watched him as he climbed onto the window sill and jumped onto the bike. He felt the hover charm falter slightly with his weight and he hurried to turn it on so that the magic he’d bestowed upon it was what was keeping them up, and he smiled as he felt the engine come to life, the body of it vibrating against his thighs, and he revved it and tilted it closer to the stone of the castle until he could touch the stone with his palm it was so close. Sirius held out his hand to Minnie. “Come along, darling Minnie,” he said, and he drew his wand with his other hand, having it at the ready should he need to arresto momentum her if she slipped, his heart racing as he helped her keep her balance.

Anyone that might’ve seen them at that moment would’ve thought that Minerva McGonagall had lost her mind. Sure Sirius Black did insane things like this all of the time, but not Minerva McGonagall! Not in a long, long time at least. It felt freeing, really, she realized, as the wind caught her long braid and sent it flying behind her. She clutched it and pulled it over her shoulder as Sirius reached back to be sure she was securely on the motorbike’s seat. He could feel the weight of her pressed into his back.

“Hang onto me, Min!” he yelled.

She did.

And he revved the engine and kicked her office window shut and he gripped the handlebars and they flew up -- into the sky, the snow whipping diagonally before them, and Sirius bit his lips in determination as Minerva McGonagall’s helmet hit his as she held on tight as she could, looking back at the castle below getting smaller and smaller and smaller as they flew up, up, up into the grey snow clouds.




Remus looked up when the dormitory door slammed shut. He was sitting on the bed, reading, but the moment he saw James he dropped the book. “What in the hell has happened to you?” he demanded, looking at his mate.

James’s oxford was buttoned all sloppy and it was wrinkled and his tie was gone and his hair was a mess and his face was flush and there were great marks - hickeys - on his neck.

“Do I even want to know?”

James stared at Remus. “I’m a fucking toadstool.”

“What?”

“I’m a toerag.”

Remus blinked. “What happened?”

James said, “I was - I was kissing Meg - and - and things were - they were getting rather involved and --” he was paling as he spoke and Remus saw his knees start to give out and he magicked a chair up behind James - and only just in time, too, as James stumbled backward onto it heavily. He looked ready to throw up.

Remus rolled off the bed stiffly, his muscles tight, the full moon that night, his bag already packed - just waiting for Sirius to return from detention before going out to the Shack… and he winced as he walked over to James and put his hands on his shoulders. “James?”

“I called her Evans.”

“You… you called her Evans?”

“Yes.” James looked up at Remus. “She had her jumper off and she was pressing her breasts on me and… and snogging me and it was… it was so amazing, Remus… and then she was kissing my neck and I - I said.. I said oh gods Evans.”

Remus stared at James.

James said, “I… I’m an idiot. Gods. I’m such an idiot. Don’t you think it makes me an idiot?”

Remus patted his shoulder. “Well.”

“What else would it make me if not an idiot?” James choked.

Remus hesitated.

There was a myriad things it made him. None of them were good. None of them were things Remus wanted to call him.

So Remus simply said, “I dunno… Single, I expect.”