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"The Broom Closet of Passion"

"Prongs? Does this make my nose look big?"

James, who had not really been studying to begin with, easily pulled his eyes away from an Arithmancy book to accommodate the needs of Sirius Black. "What was that?"

Sirius frowned. "My nose. I think that when I part my hair to the left, it looks a little…I don't know, bulbous. But what do you think?"

James stared. Ever since the beginning of Seventh Year, when he'd been promoted to higher living quarters as Head Boy, Sirius had taken every possible opportunity to invade aforementioned living quarters with his questions, snarky sarcasm, budding plots, and general charisma. Now he was flopped into an exceptionally comfy armchair, picking over his appearance in a silver hand mirror. His hair was dramatically draped over one side of his skull. Distracted though he was, James couldn't help but snicker. Sirius' head flicked over in his direction.

"What?"

"You are quite possibly the most steadfast narcissist I have ever come across."

"Excluding yourself?" Sirius dodged the throw pillow that was promptly hurtled in his direction and grinned at his best friend, who propped his feet up on the cushy little coffee table, simultaneously giving him a full-bodied eye roll.

"You're hopeless," James said good-naturedly.

"I see," Sirius nodded. "It does make my nose look big." Another pillow went careening in his general direction.

"Loser," James murmured, wearily shifting his glasses off his face and rubbing at his hazel eyes. Sirius was intrigued.

"What's on your mind, Prongs?"

"Nothing."

"Come on." Propelled by curiosity, Sirius migrated from the squashy armchair to the couch where James was reclining. "Talk to me."

James lowered his eyes, glaring slightly. "You're sitting on my Arithmancy homework."

"Am not," Sirius chided, unceremoniously shoving the pile of papers from under his ass. "Now tell me what's wrong. Do you want me to make you a cup of tea while we chat?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're distracted."

"I am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Prove it."

"Well." Sirius located his wand and began writing out bullet points in midair with shiny purple script. "Evidence A: you're quiet. You're never quiet. Evidence B: You haven't bothered messing up your hair in the past twenty minutes like you usually do. Evidence C: You haven't bitched about my being in your private quarters without invitation. Evidence D: You have yet to mention Lily's breasts." The air was becoming quite cluttered with all those negative lilac letters. The scribbling continued furiously. "Evidence E: You've made no 'Sirius/Serious' puns. Evidence F: It's after class, and you've failed to dismantle the configurations of your pants, your shirt, and your undergarments." James seemed disgruntled. Sirius plodded on. "Evidence G: You didn't reach out to squeeze my left buttock when I entered the room—"

"I've never reached out to squeeze your left buttock when you've entered the room!" James protested. Sirius quirked an eyebrow.

"And you've never thought of it?" There was a short silence. "I rest my case. Now," Sirius waved his arm through the swarm of purple accusations, "I've laid out my argument, you lay out yours."

James suddenly seemed to find a small spot on the ceiling very interesting. Toothpaste, he thought. It looked exactly like a little green glob of toothpaste. But how on earth could that have gotten onto a twenty-four foot high ceiling? He puzzled.

"I got bored and jumped on the tube of Crest when you were out the other morning," Sirius answered, glancing up at his friend's focal point. "It'll come off eventually. Now what's up?"

"Ah." James nervously twiddled his thumbs as he felt his body bake under Sirius' stare. "Padfoot, what would you do if—this is hypothetical, you understand—if you and….your significant other were, oh, say, in a broom closet—the sixth to the right in the west dungeon—and you were about to…get it on…when—once again, this is completely hypothetical—McGonagall walked in?" To his great dismay, his companion's mouth dropped open. "Remember, hypothetical!" he said quickly, unsuccessfully trying to ward of Sirius' repulsion and shock.

After a moment, Sirius began to sputter. "You—Lily—closet—McGonagall—"

"I know, I know," James said regretfully. "But—"

"That is too funny." Without further ado, Sirius proceeded to collapse into shrieks of laughter shrill enough to rival Wormtail on helium. James was peeved.

"Look, I've endowed you with my trust in the hopes that you'd be understanding and helpful, but clearly—"

"You haven't known me long enough," Sirius chortled, batting tears off his cheeks with long and slender fingers. "God, that's funny."

James grumbled.

"Oh, come on, James! McGonagall caught you up against a whole bunch of brooms and mops and disinfectant trying to get passionate with Lily! Surely you can see some humor in that?"

"No," James grumped. Sirius sobered up a little.

"What a disappointment you've turned out to be," he laughed. "How did that even happen?"

"Lack of luck," James began. "You see—"

-------------------------six hours earlier---------------------------

"I must say, James, if dank, moldy dungeons strike you as being a turn-on, maybe we need to spend more time together," Lily said skeptically as her boyfriend led her by the hand through a particularly scummy Potions classroom.

"Ye of little faith," James scoffed, thinking not about the basement smell that would permeate his shoes and stink up his bedroom for days, not about how bruised the mood had become when they'd walked in on Gwenog and Gilderoy in the Room of Requirement, not about the spider threatening to descend on Lily's head, but about how good her hand felt inside his. He'd always known that she would have soft skin when he finally got to touch it. And she did. Touching Lily was like stroking a well-kempt alpaca.

"Wait a second," Sirius interrupted, munching a handful of popcorn. "You think of Lily as an alpaca?"

"Have you ever felt her skin?" James said, annoyed at having to pause his descriptions.

"No. But all the same…an alpaca?"

"Listen," James blushed, "do you want to hear what happened or not?"

"All right. No need to get so touchy, Jamesie. Tell me more about the alpaca."

James delicately stepped over a loose floor stone, carefully guiding Lily around it as well, and glanced into a pool of water, triple-checking his hair. So far, so good.

"AGH!" Lily screeched.

"Lily?" James whipped around just in time to see her frantically snapping a black, squabbling creature out of her hair. Oh, right. Bloody spider. "Are you all right, darling?"

"Fine," she breathed, clipping her heels to catch up with James and escape the many legged intruder and that weird green slime that was steadily oozing out of one of the creepy basement bathrooms. She snaked James' arm around her impeccably slender waist. "Might I once again congratulate you on finding the least romantic sex location ever?"

"It's a skill. This should be it." James cautiously reached out and rapped his knuckles against a grimy wooden door. Lily threw him an extremely odd look. "I just don't want to disturb anyone," he said mildly.

"….Whatever."

The couple heard no protests, so they creaked open the door to reveal a mess of mops, sponges, cleaning solution, and kitty litter. A grin cracked across James' face.

"It's perfect!" he declared.

"It's revolting," Lily countered.

"But it's ours." James gave the door a silky kick, enclosing them in privacy.

"True," Lily admitted. She shuffled off her shoes. "All the same. If we get locked in here, it's all your fault."

"Agreed." James leaned against the grimy stone wall, allowing Lily to dot her wand down his chest, undoing a button with each tap. She was still in her school robes, and he tugged them off her freckled shoulders, anxious to see what she was wearing underneath them.

As it turned out, she wasn't wearing anything underneath them.

"Surprise?" she smiled. James couldn't suppress his shock. "Look," Lily sighed, flicking at his pants, which dropped to the floor, "it always takes long enough for you to get undressed, so I thought I might speed up the process."

"It takes me about six seconds!"

Lily raised a slender red eyebrow. "Remember the melding charm on your boxers?"

That had been a mistake. James wanted to say this and win the argument, but he found that he was already fully engaged in kissing Lily's pert pink lips, feeling her satin hands sweep over his smooth naked skin and her bangs tickling his eyelids. Brooms and all, he decided, this had been an excellent place to go for an afternoon shag. Until he stepped on a rather squishy hairy thing.

"Mrmph!" he exclaimed into Lily's mouth, hopping in the air a bit. His hair just grazed the ceiling. He wrenched himself away from the very lovely kiss. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" Lily was miffed, but compliantly scanned the floor until she saw an oversized set of yellow eyes. "It's just Mrs. Norris. Are you okay?"

"Stupid cat!"

"Yeah," Lily said soothingly, rubbing her boyfriend's hair out of his eyes. "But it's just a cat. Don't worry about her." She reached up to pluck his glasses off, but he gently stopped her, holding her wrist between two fingers.

"I know…but I don't think I can do this with her watching."

"Oh, for God's sake." Lily irritably bent down, making quite sure to show James how great her ass looked that day, bare naked and in low light, tossed a plethora of old toothbrushes out of the nearest bucket, and overturned that bucket over Mrs. Norris. The bucket meowed. Lily stood up with satisfaction. "There. Does that make you feel better?" James nodded fervently. "Good. Then let's continue."

So they did. James' glasses went clattering to the floor and his fingers went climbing down Lily's body. Her breath was hot against his smooth, built chest, and her hair reflected like fire even in the dim light that just barely leaked in from the air vent. She was a goddess with shining skin, and he had her up against a wall with her slim legs wrapping around his tanned back. Her eyelashes felt so good against his stubbled cheeks. And even though he'd seemed to have developed a slight allergy to her strawberry lip gloss, James had started to look forward to the itching and swelling on his bow-shaped mouth. He now associated the mild pain with sex, and, more importantly, sex with Lily.

James could feel Lily's graceful neck swooping down to kiss his collarbone and he happily began plotting his ideas for hiding the mark when they were through. Usually, he mussed his tie a bit, which worked perfectly well, but if he put an actual bandage on it, he could think up some great story about getting bitten by a snake or surviving a killing curse or something. Or maybe Lily could just apply some fresh, red lipstick and kiss it again, cementing everyone's suspicions. Or he could have her leave marks all over his body and say that he was dying of a dreadful disease, only to recover in a most macho manner a week later. Yes. The disease. That would work out beautifully.

He tipped her pretty head up towards his and kissed her ginger hot mouth with passionate care, like he would a princess. Which, of course, she was. (That was another game they liked to play when they weren't off looking for new and exciting places to shag.) It was all very nice until Lily's eyes snapped open like frightened emeralds.

"Oh, dear," she murmured.

"What? What is it?" James, desperately trying not to throw out his neck—he had a Quidditch match the next day—whirled around, Lily still wrapped around his waist, to find the disturbance. The door was open. And even without his glasses, James could make out an unmistakable glare.

-----------------------Back in real time-------------------------

"Wow." Sirius scratched at the bottom of his popcorn bowl. "Then what did you do?"

"Put on my clothes as fast as I bloody could and hoped that she hadn't seen anything too important," James said miserably. Sirius chortled.

"And what did she do?"

"She asked me to see her in her office at half past eight."

"Lily too?"

"Nope." James sighed. "Just me."

"I marvel at your bad luck," Sirius said with a grin. He shoved the empty popcorn bowl back onto the table and gave James' right foot a comforting pat.

"So do I." James sighed again.

"What's beyond me," Sirius mused, "is why you don't just do it in here. I mean, you both live here, and they're perfectly nice quarters. You'd have a pretty fantastic time, I'd think."

"Yeah," James agreed overenthusiastically. "Yeah, only you're always here."

"Oh, yeah. That's right, isn't it?" Sirius realized lazily. James plodded on in his outrage.

"And if you aren't here, then someone else is. Everyone in this bloody castle must know the password by now!"

"Now, Prongs, that's not true. It's just the four of us, and Lily, and any girlfriend that any of us has ever had, and all of their friends, and…" Sirius paused. "Huh. I guess you're right."

At that very moment, a rather irritated voice from the other side of the door (which was covered by a peculiar carving of a rose and a banana) said, "Sex kitten," and the door swung open. Remus, sopping wet and clutching a large box, dripped into the room.

"Hello, gentlemen," he said to their amazed expressions. "Mind if I join you?"

James spoke first. "Moony, what the hell happened to you—"

"And why don't I have a camera?" Sirius finished. He and James looked at each other a minute before collapsing in peals of laughter. Remus rolled his eyes and set the box on the floor.

"Whenever you're done, just let me know," he mumbled, though he was having a hard time concealing his own smile.

"Really, though," Sirius finally said, drowning his last guffaws. "You look like you played tag with the Giant Squid."

"I wish," Remus grimaced. "I got caught in the middle of a wet t-shirt contest." Two blank stares met his eyes.

"A what?"

Remus wrung out his shirt. "A particular Muggle perversion that I wasn't even aware existed in the wizarding world. Essentially, a whole bunch of idiotic teenagers get together with a water hose and douse each other so that they can see who's wearing what under their—you get the idea."

"Wow." Sirius had the look of a child who has just discovered that he can mail order candy and put the bill on his parent's credit card. "Is it still going on?"

"No, it's not," Remus laughed, striding across the room to steal one of James' towels from the bathroom. "It took ten threats and innumerable points deducted from all four houses, but I finally got them to stop."

Sirius pouted. "Spoilsport."

"I suppose," Remus said resignedly, vigorously rumpling his hair with the purloined towel. "Anything else?" Sirius thought for a moment.

"Nice nipples."

James wisely decided to change the subject. "What's the box for?"

"Oh. That's for Lily. It came when I was looking for Peter's retainer in the Owlry." Remus carefully spread out the towel over the red shag carpeting and sat down on the floor. "Is she around?"

"No. I'm not sure where she is, actually. Probably in the library or something." James shrugged. Sirius experimentally prodded the box with his toe.

"Any idea what's in it?"

"I think it's silverware," Remus answered. "Her mum wants her to have a nice dining set before she graduates."

"That's incredibly weird," Sirius commented. Remus lifted his shoulders.

"I thought it was kind of a nice gesture. But then, not everyone gets pleasure out of a high quality fork….anyway. What were you two up to before I got here?"

James shot Sirius a warning look, which Sirius promptly ignored. "McGonagall caught James and Lily going at it in a broom closet in the dungeon, and we were talking about what he should do." James twiddled his glasses, looking down. Remus frowned.

"Are you drunk?"

"Inebriated is the preferred term," Sirius said loftily. "But no. This actually happened."

Remus shook his head. "You have terrible luck," he told James.

"I know," James griped through gritted teeth. "And now McGonagall wants to talk to me about it. In fact, what time is it?"

"Dunno. My bloody watch clouded up from the wet t-shirt ordeal."

"You know, the more I think about it, the better that idea sounds…"

"That's because you're a superficial and oversexed person of the male persuasion."

"Watch it, wolf boy."

"Oh. Did I say that aloud? I'm sorry. I meant it affectionately…"

"Bullshit."

"It's quarter after eight, James," a voice said softly from the top of the stairwell. The three boys looked up. Lily, dressed only in one of her boyfriend's button-down white shirts, was propped in the doorway to her bedroom, a book in her hand and a smirk on her lips. James gaped. "Hi, darling."

"How long have you been up there?" he demanded.

"Long enough," she smiled, descending the stairs. "And I must say, you do convey flattering images of me without my clothes on. But why didn't you just tell me that you were allergic to my lip gloss? I can easily use another kind." She perched on an arm of the velvet sofa and kissed James on the top of his perfectly mussed head. "Hello, boys," she said, addressing Sirius and Remus.

"Hi, Lily," they chorused.

"Remus, thanks so much for getting the forks. I've been waiting for weeks."

"Really?" James wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Why haven't I heard anything about them, then?"

"Because you haven't been paying attention." Lily playfully cuffed the back of his head. "James, you'd better get going if you want to be on time for McGonagall."

"Mmm. Right." He tilted himself onto his feet, starting towards the door. "I'll be back in a half hour or so."

"Just remember," Lily called after him, "she's already seen your ass, but that was accidental; if she asks you to unzip your pants, that's harassment."

"Bye, Lily…." James shut the door behind him, intensely jealous of his friends laughing it up with his girlfriend, probably putting together a pot of tea and whiskey, all of which they would have drunk by the time he got back. He sighed and lugged his feet in the general direction of McGonagall's office.

"Potter," McGonagall began once they'd gone through the formal niceties. (Potter, won't you sit down? Potter, won't you have a cookie? Potter, won't you get yourself revved up to tell me why you were shagging in a broom closet?) "How are you?"

"Fine," James lied. "Listen, Professor, I just want to apologize for—"

"You are not here to apologize to me for anything," McGonagall said sharply. "I want to discuss what happened when I opened that door."

Oh no, thought James. She does want to molest me!

McGonagall continued. "I've never seen anyone move so quickly in my life."

What? James fumbled with his words. "Well, you know…adrenaline and all…"

"Exactly!" McGonagall rose and began to circle her desk. "A rush of adrenaline. Brilliant."

"Er. Professor McGonagall—not to be rude, but what are you getting at?"

"There's a Quidditch match tomorrow, Potter," McGonagall stated. "You'll be playing against Slytherin. And I want you to win." She stopped beside his chair and gave him a steely look through her spectacles. "Potter. If you and Miss Evans continued your antics from today in…say, the locker room and someone walked in on you, would you have the same reaction?"

James swallowed. This was weird beyond recognition. "Probably…"

The glare intensified. "And would your reaction be more pronounced if a person of further authority such as, say, Professor Slughorn, walked in?"

"Probably…"

"Good!" Seemingly satisfied, McGonagall gave James a hearty clap on the shoulder. "I'll make the arrangements. I expect you and your better half to be in the locker room no later than half past nine. And Potter—" she paused for emphasis. "I expect you to win."

"Yes, Professor."

"Very good. You are dismissed. Sleep well, Potter."

"…Good night, Professor McGonagall."

The boys were gone when James got back, and Lily had saved him a cup of tea after all. The next morning, he scored seventeen goals before their Seeker caught the snitch.

The end!

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