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December 1977
Rosalie Evans stared at her daughter as she introduced the messy haired boy standing at the door. He glanced nervously at her daughter, a soft smile appearing on Lily's face as she tightened her grip on him. She knew from the moment she met him that he wasn't going anywhere. Even if she hadn't liked the eccentric boy, Lily would have gone out of her way to see him. Her face had lighten up all throughout dinner, bragging about his accomplishments like a proud parent as the boy's cheeks reddened.
"Humbleness doesn't suit you," she heard Lily whisper teasingly.
She saw his hand holding hers from under the table, his thumb caressing her palm. "Since when do you want to inflate my ego, Cariad?"
Lily's eyes moved over to Richard Evans who was examining the boy quietly. She watched as her daughter brought their joined hands to rest on her thigh, her eyes daring her father to say anything rude before her eyes refocused on James. "SInce you've decided to be an adorable mess."
"Do you need any help with that, Mrs Evans?" James asked once he caught sight of her, beginning to stand up.
"No thank you, James." She smiled down at him, "And call me Rosalie."
A happy grin formed on his face before facing his daughter again, looking like an overjoyed puppy.
Sitting down next to her husband, she watched her daughter for a reaction, witnessing when she seemed to melt at the sight. Green eyes burned with love.
March 1978
Richard Evans watched as his youngest daughter danced with the bespectacled boy. Laughter escaping her as the boy whispered something in her ear before dipping her down carefully. Richard noticed his other daughter glaring at her sister as the other unknowingly caught the eyes of some of the guest. He had always known his daughter attracted attention, but it was never on purpose. He watched as his Lily playfully hit the boy's shoulder, kissing the boy's cheek as a pout appeared. Seeming content, he moved away from her. It was her turn to pout, resulting in a kiss being pressed onto his daughter's lips. Richard turned at the sound of his wife's voice.
"They're like magic, aren't they?" His wife asked.
"They are magic," he reminded her.
But he could feel it in his entire being, there was something different about them. It wasn't simply that they were part of a different world. They seemed to radiate love and affection with every smile, every touch, every kiss, every supportive gesture. They weren't just two lovestruck kids, he realised, they were in love. So when James approached him later that evening asking for his daughter's hand in marriage, he gave his blessing.
April 1978
Petunia saw them. The shameless boy had snuck into her sister's room, and Petunia had decided to peek through the slightly ajared door. As the oldest daughter, it was her job, she rationalised, to make sure there was no indecent acts taking place in the Evanses' home. What would the neighbours say if they heard?
She had known he was a hooligan despite her mother and father's taking to the boy. But, of course, perfect little Lily and her boyfriend could do no wrong.
She watched resentfully as he kissed her sister's temple tenderly, pushing away a few stray strands of her hair. Whispering words of comfort as Lily shifted to curl against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Petunia watched as he talked with his hand animatedly, she expected her sister to tell him off–because who could be happy when their father had just died, and Lily had always had a temper, even if it usually remained dormant around others. Instead, her sister had giggled, if somewhat pathetically before rolling her eyes at him.
The Potter boy grinned down at her, delighted in his own achievement. Just making her sister giggle had delighted the boy (even if it had been received with faux annoyance). Petunia felt an odd emptiness as she thought of her husband who had left her alone in Cokeworth after the funeral, stating that he had to work in the morning, and he wouldn't be getting that promotion he's been longing after if he began being negligent at work. Her mother had insisted in both her daughters' presences, but, of course, Petunia had to go through it alone as her sister found solace in the troublemaker.
She could of been normal, could have been her sister. But Lily was always choosing someone else.
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