They stood across from each other yelling and panting with the effort of their screams. The common room was deserted. It was the Christmas holidays and things were much emptier than usual, though now the two of them were getting in more fights than usual. They couldn't even remember how they got on their current topic.
"You probably don't even own a dress. You never wear anything remotely girlish!"
"You don't know squat about me, Potter," she spat.
"Yes, I do! You're a prissy little thing who always wears her hair up in a fair imitation of McGonagall's. Your shirts always go up to your neck and cover your arms and of course heaven forbid your midriff ever show! You never wear skirts, only pants! Baggy pants at that! Your robes are always wrinkle free and there's never a stain or smudge on them! You don't even wear makeup!"
"Does it look like I need makeup? I don't think so, but hey, why am I asking? I don't give a rat's tail what you think! Huh? You don't think I own anything stylish, or sexy, or the least bit immodest? Well, you couldn't be more wrong!" She ran up the girl's staircase. She grabbed her whole dresser drawer and brought it out of the dormitory. She was on the top stair when Potter, who had taken it into his head to follow her and see what was going on, stepped on the bottom step. She slid down the stairs and crashed into his arms, landing on top of his stomach with her legs on either side. She put the huge drawer on the ground next to them, crushing James's finger with it. She started pulling articles of clothing out of the drawer and brandishing them in under his nose. "Halter-top! Spaghetti top! Mini skirt! Tube top! Fishnets!" she continued shoving various articles of clothing under his nose and they piled up on his chest. There was halter-top, 2 spaghetti tops, 1 mini skirt, fishnet stockings, a bikini, some longer skirts, shorts, and a few shirts that obviously did not reach her bellybutton. Not that she ever wore these clothes in public or where anyone would see her. She only wore them in the summer when she was alone and it was warm outside. But never if anybody was within eyesight of her. But she didn't need to tell Potter that. She leaned in very close to his face and whispered, "Just because I don't degrade myself by wearing any of this around your prying eyes doesn't mean I don't own it and it doesn't mean I don't wear it." She was breathing heavily from her rant.
He looked up into her eyes. Her brilliant green eyes. She wasn't paying attention so he acted on impulse and kissed her hard on the mouth. He hadn't kissed her for more than a few seconds when he felt immense pain across his cheek.
She had slapped him. She slapped him hard across the face. She got off of him, careful to step very hard on his stomach.
He clutched his stomach and she gathered her clothes. One of the shirts was missing.
"Evans, any chance of you wearing this on a date with me?"
"Not on your life, Potter." She stepped on his stomach again and took all her things back upstairs, slamming the door behind her.
What did you think?