James was melting.
When he looked down at himself, he was surprised to find that he still had a corporeal form, and had not in fact dissolved into a puddle, because it was hot. He spent nine months a year in Scotland, he simply wasn’t used to this kind of temperature - and to add insult to injury, it was too hot to play Quidditch. He had tried, cloudless day after cloudless day, only to return to the ground pouring with sweat, defeated by – of all things – the sun. Bastard sun, James thought. What had he ever done to it? As if it wasn’t enough that his friends had deserted him to suffer alone in the blistering heat, with even Sirius being packed off to Wiltshire to stay with his dreaded cousins. Of course, James didn’t envy him – they were both absolutely certain that Sirius’ oldest cousin Bellatrix was pure evil itself – but he craved company. His parents were very nice, but he was sixteen and easily bored, and they were elderly and perfectly content to sit in the shade all day, reading and talking about how hot it was.
In the second week of sweaty, mind-numbing boredom, James’ mother announced that she was going to Diagon Alley to shop for clothes, and such was the extent of James’ ennui – and, possibly, heatstroke – that he agreed to accompany her.
Jily Wrong Suitcase AU
Because why on Earth not. I made up the phone number, by the way, so please pretend it makes sense. heh
Tapping a staccato with his toes, James Potter waited for the luggage belt to roll around with his suitcase. Yawning, he stretched out his arm to look at his watch: 8:34 am. The first thing he would do when he got back home, he decided, was to take a nap.
His familiar, beat-up old suitcase finally rolled around, and he lifted it with one hand. He frowned. Was it always this heavy? He must be tired. Shrugging to himself, he made his way out to the arrivals gate.
Back in his flat, James sat cross-legged on the living room floor. He lightly fingered a long scratch down the side, frowning. He really couldn’t be bothered calling up the airport to file a complaint. He clicked the latches, lifted the top, and came face-to-face with a lilac bra.
“Well,” said a voice. His flatmate walked into the room with a coffee in hand. He peered into James’s suitcase, raised his brows, and sat down on the sofa.
“Well,” James agreed, a little lost for words.
“Well, I guess you have something to tell me.” Picking up the bra, Sirius Black glanced at the tag. “30C, though, I think that’s a bit far-fetched for you.”
“Fuck off.” Swatting away the lace that Sirius now held up to his chest, James laughed.
Chuckling, Sirius put the bra aside, and frowned at the suitcase. “No, but seriously, whose is it?” He dug around, revealing a few Polaroids scattered near the bottom.
James picked one up. It was of a girl, around his age. She had thick red, almost auburn hair tumbling past her shoulders, and a smile that reminded him of bright summer mornings-
Bright summer mornings? He disgusted himself.
“She’s alright looking,” Sirius commented then, plucking the photo out of James’s fingers for a closer inspection. He picked another photo of the girl up, put it up to the light, and then passed it to James.
“Yeah,” James breathed. Without thinking, his eyes flickered down to the bra, before quickly looking away. He turned away before Sirius could see the flush that started to creep up his neck.
After sorting through the suitcase for any clue as to who the girl actually was (no, it was not perving, they had a purpose, the poor girl needed her suitcase back), they found an opened letter, addressed to a Lily Evans living not twenty minutes away. Before closing the suitcase, James hesitated, grabbed a pen and paper, and hastily scribbled a note.
kids books, reimagined
summer reading corner ;)
ALLL OF THESE
"It’s always funny. You walk by, ‘Hey Scarlett - oh, weird. You’re not Scarlett at all. Sorry.’ A lot of fake Scarletts around."
— Chris Evans
Maybe the best sarcastic conversation in tv history