She was too good for him. Too pretty. Too smart. He was a prick – a down right brat. He didn't deserve her. He wasn't fit to be her potions partner, let alone her husband. He was spoiled and useless, big headed and bumbling.
James Potter knew that. He knew all of it.
But he was standing there in his parents' backyard, under magically altered tents, watching Lily Evans make her way down the aisle- towards him. It wasn't a big wedding or anything, just a small intimate affair. The Marauders stood around him; members of the Order sat out in folding chairs. And Lily…she was radiant. Her dress was short, only hitting her knees, the waist tight, and the sleeves made of intricate lace. She had a single white lily twisted into her flaming locks.
And she took his breath away.
The world and the war around them were dark, but there under their tent, she was vivid and bright. They could close their eyes, enjoy the moment, and pretend to be safe.
Her eyes swept the gathering before finally resting on James. She grinned at him. She would look at him like that for the rest of their lives. The thought contorted his stomach into knots. Lily Evans chose him.
Lily Evans loved him.
And that was all he needed.