Jily one shots

pretty kind of dirty face

disclaimer: written by a_lrightevans

James Potter closes his eyes, counts to ten, and tries his best not to panic.

(The pretty girl with hair the colour of blood holding a gun to his temple is making it pretty fucking difficult.)

And it isn't that he's scared. James doesn't do scared. It's just that it's a Tuesday afternoon, and nothing interesting ever happens on Tuesday afternoons, so he's just a little thrown off, is all. Plus, he's only twenty-two, and if he dies at twenty-two it will be a real disappointment, especially if its over a murder he didn't even commit.

The gun twists against his head, he shifts, tries to keep the tremor out of his hands.

'Well bugger.'

**

'Those are terrible last words.' says Lily, and pushes the gun more firmly against his skull. 'Do you want to go again?'
She watches his face. His eyes are moving back and fourth behind his glasses and he's chewing his bottom lip and she can almost see his mind racing at a mile-a-minute beneath his ridiculous hair.
When he finally speaks, his hands are shaking slightly, but he sounds impressively blasé for someone who is about to have his brains blown out.

'You know it couldn't have been me.'

Lily grins.

'Exciting,' she says, 'I love a plot twist. And how do I know that?'

'There were size nine footprints at the scene.' He lifts up a foot for her to inspect. 'Size ten.'

Lily glances at his shoe and considers this.

'Doesn't really prove anything.'

'Maybe not.' He licks his lips. 'But you don't strike me as somebody who kills on an off chance.'

**
The thing is, it isn't like Lily had intended to become a hitwoman. She'd never killed anyone before, never thought about killing anyone- not more than what she thought was probably perfectly normal, anyway.

But when the short girl with dark spiky hair she met in the pub when she was eighteen began whispering about corrupt governments and justice systems, rebellion and taking the law into their own hands... Lily hadn't been able to resist the invitation to the meeting that'd been slipped into her pocket. Within the month she'd been initiated into The Order. She learned how to shoot, how to fight, how not to leave any evidence. Then, when she was twenty-one, there'd been a name and address pressed into the palm of her hand. She set fire to the note, then shot Amycus Carrow in the head and burned the body. He had murdered fourteen innocent people. She didn't feel as guilty as she thought she would.

**

'What kind of person do I strike you as, then?'

James Potter was supposed to be her eleventh kill. Her eleventh kill currently had a shit-eating grin on his face.

'The type of person who would've already pulled the trigger if you were really going to kill me?' he tries, and slowly, she lowers the gun from his head, puts the safety on.

'I need you to tell me everything.'
**
James follows the girl that just tried to kill him back to her car as if that's a perfectly reasonable thing to do, and she blindfolds him then drives them back to her house. They sit in her bright yellow-painted kitchen and he tells her everything he knows about the murder of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, and then a whole lot more. She writes it all down in purple gel pen whilst humming cheerfully under her breath.

Once they've finished, she says 'Snacks?' and James shrugs, so she takes a carton of cherries out of the fridge and they spend the next forty-five minutes trying to toss them into each other's mouths from across the kitchen table. They come up with a complex scoring system and James wins, so Lily gives him half a Terry's chocolate orange as a prize, and a kiss on the cheek, which he reckons isn't a bad day's work considering the very same girl had been holding a gun to his head four hours ago.