Jily one shots

when she wore the seekers sweater

disclaimer: written by clanmei

⚠️warning kinda mature content⚠️

James Potter was a mess. A. Big. Bloody. Mess. He was searching for the snitch, trying to ignore the reproaches of his team mates ("What the fuck, Potter? Are you really you? Or is it some twit who polyjuiced you" "James, in case you failed to notice in seven years of your quidditch, you are suppose to be flying behind the snitch" or the wordless, yet most effective sign by Sirius who aimed a bludger right at him). But none of them understood his misery. Screw the match against Slytherin. Screw the bloody quidditch cup. Err...Actually he'd rather take it back. Don't screw the quidditch cup. But how could anyone possibly expect James Potter to concentrate when the love of his life, the girl of his dreams, the angel who he worshiped, the lady who made his heart flutter, the girl who totally gave him unholy and wicked thoughts, the woman...erm, you get the point...

Lily Marie Evans was standing in the quidditch stands, in the front row, looking ever so beautiful wearing his old red sweater that said "Potter" at the front and back. Her red hair was tied into a half bun and lose strands blew gracefully against the wind.

She hated him. He was sure of it, now more than ever. Why else would she do the one thing that absolutely assured his distraction?

"Lily Evans is wearing my sweater. Lily is wearing my sweater with my name on it. Lily Flower is wearing my sweater with my name on it, in front of the whole bloody school. Lily Evans is dressed in a garment that has Potter written in it. Potter...Lily Evans...Sweater...My Sweater...Lily...Lily Potter... Oh fuck!"

James narrowly missed a bludger. His eyes drifted towards Sirius and the Slytherin Beater both of whom seemed to be at the verge of getting off their brooms to engage in a muggle fight mid-air.

"Potter!" his captain yelled "Get your ass back in the game. If you don't catch the snitch, I'll personally..." But James couldn't hear what his captain would do if he didn't catch the snitch (which was a very likely possibility) because at the precise moment he made the mistake of looking at Lily again.

She had her mouth in a little 'o'. Her small hands softly perched upon her chest, one on top of the other and her eyes fixed on him in...worry? Lily Evans was worried about him? Well, just kill him now and be done with it!

"Oh fuck" he swore out aloud this time, having been caught off guard by another bludger that did actually hit him. Hard. He lost control of his broom and found himself pushed to another direction...which just happened to be the Gryffindor stands. Why? Why? Why? Why? Did Lily have to take the front row today when she was wearing his sweater that had Potter written front and back...wait...front? That meant it covered her... Holy Godric! He couldn't even find a trace of a t-shirt inside so that meant...well at least she must be wearing a bra covering those soft breasts... Great! Now he could picture Lily in bra... and another image of Lily almost without it... Fuck! His old sweater was touching Lily Evans' skin...her smooth creamy, ever so soft looking...

"James!" a sweet voice broke his stupor. And sure enough the voice belonged to the girl who was an inch away from killing him or worse, making him lose the match.

"James, the match!" her sweet voice urged again.

The match! He frantically looked around to find that he had been standing in front of Lily for god knows how long, right in the middle of a quidditch match for which he was the seeker, for crying out loud ! ARGH!

He glared at Lily. Yes, James Potter glared at Lily Evans. She was torturing him. The woman was working for Voldemort. He was sure. Her mission was to bring James Potter down. Make him lose his sanity. So he glared at her, with every ounce of glare he could manage. Then next instant however his expression vanished looking at Lily's face. Her eyebrows were knit in an innocent question. She was biting her lower lip softly, looking so ....adorable that he instantly felt guilty of glaring at an innocent, soft, delicate creature like her.