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startanewdream · 4 years ago

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Mistletoe

Summary: Genderbend Jily! When Liam Evans and Jamie Potter are trapped under the mistletoe, there is only one way of getting out.

Excerpt: ‘This won't do, Potter’, Liam noted, and she turned to him, upset.

‘So what do you propose? Staying here forever?’

‘Someone is going to pass by eventually’, he told her calmly. ‘But, no, I just thought about us being smart. The purpose of this spell cannot be just to leave us standing here, it wouldn't be fun enough for Zonko's’.

There was a guarded expression on Jamie's face that Liam could not comprehend.

‘What are you thinking about, Evans?’, she asked warily.

‘It’s a mistletoe’, Liam pointed out, but Jamie did not react. ‘What do you know about mistletoe?’

Even before he got trapped in the third-floor corridor, Liam Evans was having an eventful day.

It was supposed to be a quiet day, the last one of class before the beginning of the Christmas holidays. He’d planned for wrapping up some reports before finishing the day with eggnog with his friends in the Common Room. Instead, he was faced with breaking two snowball fights inside the castle, one family fight – Christmas for the McKinnon would be tense this year - and a discussion between the prefects of Slytherin and Ravenclaw who were refusing to work together after ending their relationship, and applying one detention for that silly first-year who had exploded a dungbomb in the Great Hall – to be held after the return of the classes, Liam wasn’t so mean.

Still, he wished the Christmas spirit was higher that year.

The only good thing about that day was that Liam hadn’t need to face these problems all by himself. The Head Girl had helped him sort everything out, but then they had split in the afternoon. Liam wasn’t particularly thrilled by that, but they had agreed ever since the beginning that Jamie Potter needed a couple of days off every month, and she was usually so committed to her job as Head Girl that Liam had no reason to complain about their arrangement; he could handle things alone twice a month.

Sure, Jamie happened to ask the same nights off that Remy Lupin needed, but Liam tried not to think much about it. He had an inkling feeling about Remy’s condition, and he was sure that Jamie did not share it, but Liam wasn’t going to question if Jamie felt she needed to support her friend in any way she could. There were many things people could say about Jamie Potter, but no one could deny she really cared for her friends.

So instead of double partnering, as usual, Jamie had left him after lunch to patrol the corridors and Liam would replace her by evening. While he was solving issues and finishing the next-semester chronograms, Liam really wished Jamie was there with him; she was so high-spirited and amusing that he felt anything became better when she was around.

That was a newly arrived thought on Liam’s mind, but also one he was quite used to by now. Whatever feelings Liam may have had at the beginning about Dumbledore’s choice of Head Girl – and he had hoped so much it would be Remy -, there was no denying that Jamie had proven herself a good choice. She was a good leader, which, in hindsight, should’ve been obvious for Liam – he always saw how Jamie was the mastermind of her group of friends – and, when Jamie had a goal, she really put her heart into it. It’d been like that with all the pranks she had pulled over the years; it should be the same with being a Head Girl.

All events they had coordinated that semester had been perfect. The two visits to Hogsmeade had happened without any problem and the Halloween feast had been a success. They had even been able to organize the patrols and duties of the prefects in a way that seemed fair while keeping the less patient or nastier prefects away from younger students.

It was easy working with Jamie and, more than that, it was pleasant. When Liam had been appointed Head Boy – one of the few academic joys he could share with his parents –, he’d worried that the Head Girl was someone that would clash with him or even worse, one the Pure-blood supremacists. But Jamie Potter had surpassed any expectation he might have; she had made things amusing.

Two years ago, Liam would not think that working – or even being near – Jamie Potter would be good, but that had been during their Fifth Year and back then things were different. Sometimes he was surprised by how much Jamie had grown up – not just physically, but how she became more mature, more responsible, and less… self-centered.

Sometimes she seemed like another person altogether, but Liam knew that wasn’t a fair thought. Jamie could have changed, just as Liam had changed over the years, but her main traits were still there: she was still as brave and daring and faithful to her friends as she always had been. The only things that had changed were that she had stopped hexing people just for the fun of it and, if she was talking about Quidditch, it was not just to show herself out.

In fact, Jamie had started to teach others about flying. There were some days she could be found helping other teams or teaching better flying technics for first years. Liam had seen her even talking with the Ravenclaw prefect, who was also a chaser, both sitting together in one of the couches of the Prefect’s Room, discussing flying moves; they looked strangely friendly together, until Liam felt it was his duty to remind Jamie that they needed to start the prefect meeting. Jamie had dutifully came to his side and Liam had felt satisfied with it, until he realized it was a strange feeling; later, he told himself that it was only because the first Quidditch game of the season was coming and his competitive spirit had arisen.

It was a reasonable feeling. Whatever amount of showing off Jamie had done in the past, even when Liam thought her head should be bigger to fit her ego, he could not deny that she flew well. There was something beautiful in the way she seemed to dance in the air, deflecting bludgers and darting across the field to score a goal; her untidy black hair would wave around her as she flew and the smile she had while playing was always blazing.

Not that Liam had appreciated that smile; her blazing Quidditch smile was the same that Jamie had thrown at him all along Fifth Year, whenever she would sit by his side in the Common Room and tried to talk to him, her face flushed and her eyes shining behind her glasses. It had taken Liam some time to figure out what her endgame was, but even after Jamie lost her temper and declared out loud that she wanted to go out with him, he hadn't been interested.

The problem was that Jamie seemed to think she would grant him the greatest honour of going out with her, and even though Liam knew she was pretty - he had eyes, after all - he couldn't ignore how arrogant and immature she was - and there was the fact that Jamie couldn’t leave Severa Snape alone. So he had denied going out with her, not once but twice – the second invitation had come during that incident - and after that, Jamie had never mentioned going out with him again.

That was good, Liam supposed. His Sixth Year had been difficult enough - without Sev – for him worrying about Jamie's attempt at seduction. And for all he knew, her Sixth Year had been stressful as well: he noticed how she was soberer, how suddenly protective she was of Sirina Black for whatever happened during the summer holiday (someone said something about Black running away from home), and how even the pranks she was involved seemed to be less aggressive and just more entertaining.

And now Jamie had probably turned her seduction attempts on to someone else, Liam thought grumpily. He was in the Prefect’s Room, glancing at his watch and wondering what had happened to delay Jamie – she was usually careful on those days of Full Moon – when his gaze fell to that very couch where he had seen Jamie and the Ravenclaw monitor chatting excitedly a few days ago. Corner was also on duty patrol that afternoon; he was scheduled to patrol near the Astronomy Tower, while Jamie was supposed to be patrolling the halls on the other side of the castle, but maybe they had met in a desert corridor somewhere.

And then they had resumed their discussion about chasing strategies, or whatever metaphor Quidditch players used to snog in the corridors.

At that point, Liam had sprung to his feet, annoyed. He told himself that Jamie could do whatever she fancied, of course, but she shouldn't keep him waiting; there were reports to be filled out, and if, afterwards, she wanted to enjoy her night off with Corner, that was fine.

Only it didn't feel fine, Liam thought, while walking around the second-floor corridor that Jamie was supposed to be patrolling – it was empty, as no one wanted to be in that cold outside of their own Common Room. Liam knew it wasn’t his business, not really, but Jamie had asked for those nights off because of Lupin, and if she was using them for date nights –

‘It's just because it's not fair’, Liam murmured to himself, even though he didn't know exactly what sounded so unfair to him.

But when he found Jamie on the third-floor, she was alone. Even more, she looked angry. Liam took a moment to study her, unnoticed under the shadow of a statue, trying to figure out what was wrong. Jamie seemed to punch her fists in the air, cursing the apparent emptiness; after a few seconds, she sat on the floor, and her rich dark hair covered her face.

Liam advanced, confused, not understanding why she would be sitting on that cold floor. When he was a few steps away, Jamie suddenly raised her head and Liam found himself staring at that pair of hazel eyes that had puzzled him for a few months now, ever since they had first faced each other as Head Boy and Girl; he had never been able to decide whether they were brown with green spots, or green with brown spots.

‘Evans!’, Jamie cried, smiling hopefully and getting up. ‘I’m so glad you are here, I need...’, and then she opened her eyes wide and stretched out her hands. ‘No, no, stop now!’

But Jamie became suddenly quiet when Liam took another step closer, and an expression of utter terror appeared on her face.

‘Oh, great, really great’, she said bitterly and went back to sit on the floor, hugging her legs.

‘Potter?’, Liam asked, frowning, as he kneeled in front of her. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘No, of course it’s not. You are the first person to walk this corridor in hours and I couldn’t stop you in time and now we are both trapped in this forsaken spot’.

‘Trapped?’

She lifted her head to look at him; in the candlelight, Liam thought her eyes were more brown than green.

‘Try to get out’, Jamie suggested tiredly, and for a moment, lost in the mysteries of the colours of her eyes, Liam had forgotten what they were talking about. Then he shook his head and got up, trying to take a step back. To his surprise, there seemed to be a wall behind him, but when he turned around, there was nothing. ‘It’s charmed’, she explained, pointing up, and Liam saw that there was a clump of white berries hanging from the ceiling directly above them. ‘You just needed to take it off and then I was free’.

He sat on the floor beside her.

‘Couldn’t we - I don't know - burn it? Maybe repel the charm?’

‘I've been trying here for hours, Evans, but please be my guest’, she replied with a grimace, running a hand through her dark hair and leaning against the invisible wall to watch him.

Liam felt self-conscious, but he took out his wand and started casting spells towards the berries on the ceiling. Nothing seemed to hit it, as if there was an invisible barrier protecting it.

‘I told you’, Jamie said dryly. When he turned to her, Liam saw that she had taken off her glasses, and was pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘We are stuck here until someone removes this stupid mistletoe’.

‘Who put it here?’

‘I don't know’. When she noticed Liam's questioning look, Jamie held up her hands in defence. ‘It wasn't any of us! We never would – I mean, someone must have had too much fun in their Christmas shopping at Zonko's and forgot to remove the mistletoe’. Jamie took a deep breath and looked at Liam intently. ‘If it were one of us, do you think I would be stupid enough to go under the mistletoe without having a way to remove it?’

No one could accuse Jamie Potter and her group of Marauders of being stupid, so Liam nodded. Jamie closed her eyes again; there was such a desperate expression on Jamie's face that Liam felt compelled to comfort her. He imagined that for someone who felt so comfortable flying in the sky, Jamie must really hate confined spaces.

‘Won't your friends come looking for you? You are always together’, he reminded her gently. She frowned.

‘They have no way of knowing where we are. Remy must be in the infirmary by now’. Jamie suddenly hesitated. ‘Ah – she – she is not feeling well, something she ate, I think’, she added, looking away, and Liam didn't want to confess he knew she was lying. ‘Petra was late in presenting that extra Transfiguration essay, she must still be in the library, and Sirina is in detention, isn't she?’

And now Jamie gave Liam a critical look, but he didn't back off, just crossing his arms.

‘You know Sirina deserved that detention’.

‘For hexing those Slytherins?’, Jamie asked, inflamed, and Liam thought it was much better to see her like that than in despair. The passion with which Jamie defended her friends was endearing; it had always been one of her best traits. ‘You know they were annoying those Second Years, calling them names, and if she hadn't hex them –’

‘I didn’t have an issue with what she did’, Liam replied calmly, making Jamie raise her eyebrows in surprise. ‘She didn't get a detention for hexing them, but for being caught’. He grinned. ‘It was a good charm, those birds were pecking them, they went screaming down the hall’.

‘It was great, wasn't it?’, Jamie said, with a look of pride on her face as if she had done the charm herself. ‘Sirina has always been good at transfiguration of animals’.

And now there was an enigmatic smile on her lips, and Liam found himself staring at it, trying to understand what secret she was hiding beneath that smile. She had beautiful lips, he thought, pink and shining; sometimes, when she was thoughtful, Liam saw her biting her lips, and there was something strangely alluring in the way her teeth pressed gently her lips and he wondered if they were soft as they looked like –

Liam shook his head and looked away from that smile. He told himself that the two of them were friends now, and if Jamie had her secrets, he shouldn't try to decipher them.

‘I thought you girls had your way of communication’, he noted, thinking it was a safe topic. The Marauders always mentioned this, pride of themselves.

‘We do, but –‘, Jamie sighed unhappily. ‘I don’t have my stuff here and we lost our map last month, so -‘

‘Map?’

She gave him one of her most mischievous smiles, the one that always made something flutter in Liam's chest, wanting to share it; there had always been something pleasant and inviting about Jamie Potter's smiles.

‘We had an exceptionally good map that showed where people were, but the new caretaker, Filch, confiscated it last month’.

Liam raised his eyebrows.

‘As if that would stop you from getting it back’.

‘You know, Evans, you stun me like that’, Jamie replied teasingly. ‘Shouldn't the Head Boy be against invading the caretaker’s office?’

As usually happened in her presence, Liam felt a smile appear on his face that he could not control.

‘I already told you, my problem usually is not with what you are up to, I am only against you being caught’.

She laughed and that sound also made something flutter in Liam's chest. It was so easy to be in Jamie's company.

‘Fair enough. I supposed we might not get caught, although that cat of his makes it very difficult. I swear she can see through – through everything’, she added hastily, and again Jamie looked away; Liam thought it was funny how she couldn't seem to face him when she wasn't telling the truth. ‘But Sirina is not in the mood. She said it would be unfair of me to use it now that I became a Head Girl’.

Jamie shook her head absently, making her hair dance around her; for a moment Liam lost himself in the way her hair curled and how that movement reflected the candlelight in the hall. It was almost hypnotic.

‘She'll never forgive me, you know’.

‘What?’

‘For being Head Girl. She thinks Dumbledore must have lost his mind’. Jamie sighed heavily, leaning against the invisible barrier, and closed her eyes. ‘Well, she is probably right’.

‘I don't think Dumbledore has lost anything’, Liam replied slowly, ignoring the fact that he had thought the same thing in the beginning, when he saw Jamie Potter appearing in the prefect’s carriage. ‘You are an excellent Head Girl’.

A blush appeared on her face and Jamie turned, hiding her face with her hair. Liam remembered how there had been a time, between Fourth and Fifth Year, when Jamie Potter always seemed to be flustered in his presence, which made her friends laugh at her and tease her with japes that were not meant to be heard by anyone out of their group.

Afterwards he had a good idea of what was behind that teasing, but at the time Liam didn't really care except to complain about something that she and her friends were involved with.

She couldn’t be blushing for the same reason now, Liam considered. Since the end of their Fifth Year, Jamie had shown no particular interest in him. She was just probably confused that he had praised her as Head Girl – and now that he stopped to think about it, Liam realized that he had never mentioned it to Jamie before.

‘I'm serious, Potter’, he said softly. ‘You are a good leader, tenacious, even responsible’.

She let out a sparkling laugh, one that was so full of joy that it seemed to make the day brighter.

‘That’s how I know you're joking, Evans’, she replied, and when she raised her head to look at him again, her face was no longer flushed. It was a pity, Liam thought suddenly; there was something charming in the way she blushed.

‘I'm not. There is really no one else that could be a better Head Girl than you’.

There was a gleam in her eyes that Liam couldn't identify; if he had to describe it, he would say it was a warm glow as if her eyes – which now seemed more green than brown – could radiate a heat stronger than any fire.

‘Watch it, Evans’, she said lightly, though she didn't seem to be jesting. ‘Keep like that and I will think you don't hate me’.

Liam frowned.

‘But I don’t hate you’, he replied, perplexed. When she raised her eyebrows in disbelief, he felt compelled to explain. ‘I didn’t like the things you did or how you behaved, but –‘

‘I’m feeling so unhated, Evans –‘

‘I never hated you’, Liam insisted. ‘I just thought that you – that you could be better. That maybe you should spend your talents on more useful things, without – you know – without bullying others’.

And now Liam looked away, feeling uncomfortable as it always happened when he thought of Severa Snape.

‘I –‘, Jamie hesitated, sounding uncomfortable too. ‘I never said anything, but I'm really sorry about it. Hexing other people, I mean’.

Liam turned to her, trying to understand all the trouble that was on her face. It wasn't as if Jamie and her friends had stopped hexing people altogether, but the reports he had heard at least hinted that they had been provoked – or, as had happened with Sirina the day before, they were defending someone.

He could still hear the derision in the voice of those Slytherins, as they called those poor girls Mudblood, and if Liam was almost immune to that slur after seven years, it still made his blood boil; Sirina Black had meddled before Liam could do anything, and honestly, if it weren't for the mess it had caused, attracting attention from the professors, Liam wasn't sure he would have even reprimanded her for it. As it was, he made sure to give her a light detention – copying lines, of all things –, but Sirina did not seem to appreciate his effort.

‘Sometimes people deserve it’, Liam heard himself saying.

‘And sometimes they don’t’, Jamie added quietly. ‘For these times I am really sorry’.

There was something apprehensive in Jamie's face now, and Liam wondered if she too was thinking about that incident at the end of their Fifth Year – the one that had caused Liam and Severa Snape to stop being friends.

‘We just wanted to make people laugh’, Jamie continued. ‘But we got carried away and…', she bit her lip nervously and Liam felt a sudden urge to touch her mouth, so she wouldn't hurt herself. ‘I'm sorry for you and Snape’.

That drove Liam's gaze away from Jamie's lips and he looked back into her eyes – brown with tones of green, he thought. She looked sincere.

‘You never liked Severa’.

‘I am not sorry for her’, Jamie said. ‘But for you. I know you were – you were friends’.

The way Jamie sounded when she mentioned the word “friends” was as if she didn't believe in that definition – or as if she wanted to imply something else, but Liam knew that would be rubbish. There had never been anything between him and Severa, they had only been friends since childhood. And whatever Jamie had done that day, it wasn't because of her that Liam had cut his relationship with Snape.

‘It wasn't your fault’, he said in a low voice, making her raise her eyebrows. ‘I mean, what happened to me and Severa – it wasn’t – you didn't force her to call me anything, did you?’

‘I don't know’. Jamie looked awkward. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t hexed –‘

‘No’, Liam interrupted, firmly. ‘She said what she said because it is what she believes in, in all those supremacists, in You-Know-Who’s ideals. She always believed that muggles and wizards like me are inferior, I just never wanted to see it before’.

Jamie frowned as if she wasn’t quite sure about what Liam was saying, but she didn't say anything. Liam thought that reaction was funny because it almost looked like Jamie Potter was defending Severa Snape as if they hadn't hated each other since the first moment they met years ago.

Sometimes Liam presumed that the reason for the animosity was because Jamie had always been everything Severa wanted to be: she was popular, she was good at Quidditch, she attracted everyone's attention since... since always, if Liam thought about it.

At first, it was because of the noise; Jamie Potter was deafening, unable to stay or remain in silence, and she had found a perfect company in Sirina Black and then Remy Lupin and Petra Pettigrew. Before the end of the First Year, everyone seemed to know them at Hogwarts, that group of Gryffindor girls who were always together, always involved in some turmoil, who called themselves Marauders.

Then it was because of Quidditch when Jamie had joined the Gryffindor team in her Second Year. She was the youngest girl on the team, but her talent became evident when, despite the size disadvantage, she had dribbled all opponents to become the top scorer that year.

And then, between Fourth and Fifth Year, it was because of her looks. Jamie would never be as intimidating as Sirina Black in beauty, but the fact that Sirina really didn't seem to care about dates had made her less appealing.

Liam might not have cared much for Jamie Potter at the time, but he couldn't deny that she was pretty, with that athletic body and a face that looked carefully drawn: a small upturned nose, pink lips that were made to smile, bright hazel eyes that shone behind her glasses, and an untamed dark hair, framing it all.

But it was strange for Liam to think of Jamie Potter's beauty because it was not something he had allowed himself to seriously consider before; her beauty had always seemed just a detail, one that did not matter when he was busy being annoyed with her. And if he would think about it now, when Jamie didn't annoy him anymore, when he felt he really enjoyed her company –

Now it would be very different, and Liam didn't know how to deal with it.

‘Do you know what time it is?’, Jamie asked, sounding tired again.

‘Almost nine, I think, it was past eight when I started patrolling’.

‘Nine?’, Jamie cried, seeming more nervous than before. ‘We need to get out of here soon, otherwise...’, she stopped and looked through the window at the starred night. ‘The moon will rise soon’.

Liam frowned. He understood why Remy Lupin would be concerned about this, but he didn’t think Jamie had the same issues.

‘I really need to go’, Jamie murmured to herself, and she raised suddenly, full of determination. Liam had a brief look at her bare legs before deciding it was best to get up too.

Jamie pointed to the ceiling, casting spell after spell, but nothing seemed to hit the mistletoe – as far as Liam could understand, it was as if nothing crossed that cylinder of magic they were in because another spell was dismissed in thin air when she tried to destroy one of the statues in the hallway to call attention.

Liam looked again at the ceiling, then sighed.

‘This won't do, Potter’, he noted, and she turned to him, upset.

‘So what do you propose? Staying here forever?’

There was a guarded expression on Jamie's face that Liam could not comprehend.

‘What are you thinking about, Evans?’, she asked warily.

‘It’s a mistletoe’, Liam pointed out, but Jamie did not react. ‘What do you know about mistletoe?’

‘First year of Herbology. The mistletoe is a kind of a parasitic plant, commonly used in love potions and fertility potions’, she said, blushing slightly.

‘Exactly’, he agreed, ignoring the fact that his neck also seemed suddenly warm. ‘Well, in Norse mythology, the berries of the mistletoe came from the tears of the goddess Frigg when she wept for her son, who was killed by an arrow made of the mistletoe. Since then it is associated with love, which is why there is the tradition of people kissing under the mistletoe at Christmas’.

It was much easier for Liam to focus on what he knew about the origins of the myth than to think about the implications of what he was saying, especially because all Jamie seemed to do in response was to open her eyes more and more – the same ones Liam had spent so much time in the last months studying, trying to understand its colours.

After a minute of silence, Jamie asked quietly: ‘How do you know so much about Norse mythology?’

This was not what Liam expected to hear. He blinked.

‘I like to understand the mythology behind the ingredients in potions’, he replied, disconcerted. When Jamie just nodded, as if that answer was all she wanted to know about the topic, he said, ‘Aren't you going to say anything?’

‘About what?’

‘Ah – about what I just told you? The history of the mistletoe?’

‘It's just a myth. And it doesn’t even make sense, the Nordics didn't celebrate Christmas’.

‘No, but Christians are known to adapting different aspects of other religions. Yes, I like to study mythology’, he added, when Jamie opened her mouth.

‘You are so dork, Evans’.

‘I am curious’, he corrected, grinning, and for a moment Jamie smiled back, as if unable to resist his smile; then she looked away. ‘But you still haven't said anything’.

‘There's nothing to say, Evans’, Jamie murmured, looking extremely interested in the view outside the window, even though it was too dark to see anything. ‘It seems you are suggesting we kiss under the mistletoe to end the spell and that does not make any sense’.

‘Of course it does’, Liam disagreed as reasonably as he could, although his heart had raced when he heard her talking casually about them kissing. ‘It's a mistletoe, isn't it? It would be the kind of joke they’d sell at Zonko's, to make sure that people beneath it have to kiss to get out’.

‘It's a terrible joke’, she noted, still whispering.

‘You understand better than me the humour in Zonko’s. But still, that seems to be the answer’.

She looked back at him, her eyes drifting between shock and unhappiness.

‘I'm not going to kiss you, Evans’, she said finally.

‘Look, I'm just as happy as you are to be stuck here under a mistletoe’, Liam replied, crossing his arms. ‘But you have an appointment, right? And we can stay here waiting for who knows how long or we can try to break this spell’.

Liam could easily read the conflict in Jamie's eyes; she was probably tired, bored, and hungry after being there for hours, and whatever she had to do, it seemed important to her. But at the same time, there was a strange hesitation, which gave him the feeling that the last thing Jamie wanted to do was kiss him.

He thought of all the times she had smiled at him during the Fifth Year when she would find any excuse to touch him almost as if she wasn’t noticing it, or when she would wink at him, and even when she finally asked him out. None of that had happened in the last couple years and for the first time, Liam considered what it meant: the crush that Jamie Potter had had for him was gone, which explained why she seemed so against kissing him.

Liam felt suddenly disappointed with that realization and he struggled for a moment to understand. Then he thought of a perfectly reasonable explanation: it was natural that he felt disappointed because if she wanted to kiss him, they might have already solved their current situation.

‘I didn't do it’, Jamie said suddenly and forcefully. ‘I didn't put that mistletoe there’.

‘I know’, Liam replied, baffled, because he had believed her when she had denied having anything to do with the mistletoe. He didn’t think Jamie would lie to him about something like that. Then he grinned, looking at her petite figure. ‘I don’t think you could reach the ceiling’.

‘Moron’, she complained, but she seemed to relax a little after his joke. ‘Do you really think it will work?’

There was a warm feeling spreading in Liam’s chest now that he noticed she didn’t seem to reject the idea so much. He accounted for the satisfaction of knowing they were close to lifting that charm.

‘I think so and it's worth the try, isn't it? What do we have to lose?’

From the expression on Jamie's face, it looked like there were several things that could be lost, but she just nodded.

‘Okay. I –‘, Jamie took a deep breath, as if to calm herself, but Liam didn't think it helped much. Her lips were trembling. ‘I think just one touch will be enough, nobody would force two people to really – you know –‘

‘It makes sense’, he agreed, smiling at her practicality. For some reason, his smile seemed to fluster her. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Sure’, she replied, although she didn't look remotely alright. ‘Super excited. All I wanted to do was spend the holiday’s eve snogging a guy who doesn't even find me attractive’.

‘Oh’, he blinked, feeling as flustered as she looked. ‘Who said I don't find you attractive?’

‘You?’ Jamie bit her lips uneasily. ‘You know, when –‘, she blushed and refused to look at him. ‘When I was - well, during Fifth Year’.

‘Oh’, he repeated, feeling that he was blushing too. ‘It had nothing to do with that, I mean, that was never the problem’.

Liam hesitated, knowing that what had made him uninterested in dating Jamie Potter had never been a lack of physical attraction. He wished he could explain it, but for some reason, staring at her, the words became tangled in his mouth. ‘You are kind of attractive, Potter’.

She blinked and looked at him again.

‘“Kind of attractive”?’, she repeated. ‘Wow, you know how to make a girl feel special, Evans’.

Liam swallowed hard; Jamie had crossed her arms, looking like any kind of physical contact was out of limits, and this time, Liam couldn't blame her.

‘No, that came out wrong, that's not what I meant’, he said, and when she continued to look bothered, he took a step closer to her. She quivered and raised her head, looking at him with a challenging expression.

Liam allowed himself to look at Jamie Potter, to really lost himself in every detail of her pretty face, leaving those hazel eyes for last (brown with sparkles of green in the center, he was sure now). ‘You are beautiful, Jamie’.

There was a sharp, shocked intake of breath, and suddenly the challenge disappeared from her eyes, replaced by that warmth that made him want to get closer to her, like an insect unable to resist the attraction of the light. Jamie smiled, but before he could interpret that smile, she blinked and looked away.

‘Okay, okay, Evans’, she said lightly. ‘You get points for trying. So, how do you want to do it?’

She sounded objective, which didn’t surprise Liam. He knew that Jamie Potter was drawn to solving challenges.

‘We kiss?’

‘Okay, but –‘, she paused and took a deep breath one last time. ‘Okay, close your eyes’.

‘What?’

‘I will not kiss you with our eyes open, it would be awkward. Well, more awkward’, she said. When Liam just kept looking at her, Jamie rolled her eyes. ‘We would look like two fishes out of the water, we don't need to make this weirder than it already is’.

‘Okay’, he agreed, smiling with the exasperation in her voice. ‘And why do I have to close my eyes?’

‘Oh, no’, she said forcefully, shaking her head and making her dark curls swing around her. ‘I will not be the girl who waits patiently for a kiss, I refuse to play that role’.

‘And I can be the guy who waits?’

‘It was your idea, Evans’, Jamie replied, grinning mischievously, looking more like herself.

‘Okay, Potter, whatever makes you happy’.

Liam sighed and closed his eyes.

‘Just lower your head a little, Evans’, Jamie asked him in a whisper. ‘You are too tall’.

He laughed at the tone of complaint in her voice and lowered his head, although it occurred to him that if she would just wrap her hands around his neck, they would be closer enough that the height wouldn’t matter much. He could imagine how, despite having rough hands - always with callus because of Quidditch - Jamie would be delicate, how he would feel the tip of her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck and how that touch would make him shiver –

Liam did shiver, but he supposed it was because of the cold that came in through the window; then it occurred to him that he shouldn't feel cold, not when Jamie should be close enough to kiss him.

‘Potter?’, he called uncertainly, and for a moment he thought she had left until he realized there was no way of leaving.

‘Sorry, I – I…’, Jamie sounded nervous again. ‘I was just gathering courage’.

He laughed softly.

‘You're a Gryffindor, Potter’, he reminded her. ‘If there is someone who has more than enough courage, it is –‘

But he never finished his sentence, because Jamie had finally taken a step towards him and had touched his lips with hers. They were really as soft and smooth as Liam had wondered in those hours of reflection in the Prefect’s Room.

She was mindful of what they had agreed on - had they agreed on something? Liam wasn’t sure anymore - and although her body was close to his – he could feel how warm she was –, Jamie was not touching him more than strictly necessary; her hands were not around his neck, her body was not embracing him and that kiss was not really a kiss - it was barely a brush.

If Liam was able to think logically, really think, he would know that what they were supposed to do now was to break apart and see if that kiss had broken the spell; he didn’t even need to think because Jamie was dutifully getting away from him. But as she stepped back, not even an inch away, her lips parted naturally and, in that fraction of a second, Liam could feel her breath. It was refreshing, like cherry berries, and then all thoughts were gone from his head, replaced by a single need: to actually kiss Jamie Potter.

His hands came to life and while one hand wrapped around her waist, the other buried itself in her hair, approaching them, while his head tilted, touching her lips again and asking silently for better access. If Jamie was confused by this sudden change, she didn't show: her lips parted more, allowing their tongues to touch, and Liam suddenly wished they had done that before, many times before. It was good to kiss her, it was good to find out what the best angle was, it was good to feel the touch of her hands when she finally raised her arms to put them around his neck - and the feeling of her hands, the way she played with his hair and seemed to put him on fire, was even better than he had imagined.

He needed to be even closer. He pulled her towards him, and Jamie accepted easily that he led her on as they moved down the corridor, without breaking the kiss until he felt the stonewall behind him. Then he turned them around, to press her against the wall, feeling her body against his and kissing her more urgently than before; a cry escaped her throat, and Liam felt that sound reverberate in every part of his body. He had thought her laughter was his favourite Jamie Potter sound - it was always so lively, so mischievous – but that was before that moan. He definitely wanted to reproduce that.

It was only this sudden urge that made him break their kiss; the sound that came out of Jamie now was of mutiny, but Liam kissed her lightly on the lips, as a promise that he would return - there was no way he would not return -, before lowering his head to kiss her neck, planting soft kisses there that made her tremble; but she remained quiet until his lips found a particular spot just below her earlobe - and then she moaned again and, satisfied, he sought her lips, wanting to feel her taste again, determined to kiss her forever.

To his surprise, however, Jamie turned her face away from him and his lips just brushed her cheek. Her face was hot, but then everything seemed as warm as a summer day.

‘Evans’, Jamie called, in a voice that was strangely unsteady. ‘It worked’.

‘Huh?’, Liam asked, confused, opening his eyes.

Jamie wasn’t looking at him; she was breathing heavily and there was uncertainty written all over her face. Her glasses were crooked, and her lips were swollen; that combination was strangely one of the most attractive things Liam had ever contemplated in his life.

‘The mistletoe. Our – the kiss worked. We can stop now’.

For a second, Liam remained confused, as if he had been awakened violently from a dream in the middle of the night and was not sure what was going on. Then he remembered the mistletoe and their plan and realized where he was: six feet away from the place where those white berries hung innocently from the ceiling, with his body pressing Jamie Potter against the wall in such a way that he could feel every curve of her body, its heat and the intoxicating perfume she wore. And if he felt her like this, then she would also feel exactly how he was reacting to that proximity –

He took a step back, feeling the heat in his body now concentrating on his neck, which had always been a sign of anxiety.

‘Yeah, well, it was a – a good idea, you were right after all’, Jamie mumbled, walking around him. ‘Now, can - can you take it out? Carefully?’

Liam nodded quietly; he didn't feel he could elaborate a full sentence, not with the way his lips still tingled from that kiss.

He raised his feet as much as he could and tore the mistletoe off the ceiling.

‘Here’, Jamie asked, still not looking at him, extending her hand. He gave her the mistletoe, almost throwing it, not trusting himself to touch her again; he could still feel the way her hands had buried themselves in his hair and caressed the back of his neck, while their lips moved together, and every part of him suddenly screamed to restart that kiss. ‘Thanks, now –‘.

She burned the mistletoe with her wand. For a moment they just stared in silence ato the flames consuming the plant.

‘Nobody else is going to get trapped now’, Jamie said, at least.

Liam nodded in silence, still dizzy.

‘I have to go’, she murmured. He cleared his throat, forcing his voice out.

‘I will continue my patrol’, he replied, also in a whisper; his voice was coarse.

‘Sure, good patrol, Evans’. Jamie breathed heavily before smiling, although it didn't look like her usual easy smile. ‘Watch out there, you don't want to be stuck under another mistletoe’.

The only thought that occurred to Liam was that if he were to be stuck with Jamie, it wouldn't be so bad. In fact, it seemed even a good idea, because then he could fulfil his promise to kiss her again and he really wanted to do it again.

‘See you, Evans’. Jamie added and Liam blinked, surprised. She had walked away from him without him noticing.

Liam took a deep breath, trying to put a little sense into his thoughts.

‘See you, Potter. Happy... Happy Holidays’.

She turned to him and now, finally, she let her gaze met his. There was a vulnerable expression on her face that Liam had never seen before and it occurred to him that he would like to hold her, to ask what was going on behind those hazel eyes that had puzzled him since the beginning of the semester, and mostly he wanted to snog her again until she looked at him with nothing but warmth and confidence.

He took a step closer to her and, for a moment, Liam thought she would also walk back to him, and they would continue where they left off and he swore he could already feel the taste of her lips; but Jamie just gave him a brave smile.

‘Happy holidays, Evans’, she said quietly, and then she disappeared down the corridor.

#jily #Genderbend #Genderbend Jily #James Potter #Lily Evans #CHristmas fic #Fluffy without plot #t: fanfiction

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