James Potter stood in the immaculately clean kitchen, the familiar flowered wallpaper covered with ornate decorations—white streamers and a beautiful banner written in a delicate script: Congratulations James and Lily. He couldn't help but smile whenever he saw it. James and Lily. Lily and James. It just sounded right—felt right. He pulled on the bottom of his black tuxedo jacket to make it lay flat. He had refused to wear dress robes for the occasion, claiming that he couldn't be expected to seduce his future bride when he was covered up with frills and lace and all of that "poncey rubbish."
He thought back on that day, remembering how Lily had blushed when he mentioned seducing her. He chuckled a bit, re-creating the image in his mind of her blush. The way the pink would begin to tint the tips of her ears first, and then the apples of her cheeks. Sometimes she would even turn a faint rose-color at her hairline, when James said something particularly suggestive or vulgar. He did it just for her reaction—just to see the flush creep into her face, just to know that he had a physical effect on her.
He shifted against the granite countertop, tapping his leg against the hardwood floor. He checked the large, golden clock on the wall, willing it to move faster. He knew that blokes were supposed to be nervous, just moments before their wedding, but he could only think of how it was her—how he was the luckiest bastard in the world to be marrying bloody Lily Evans. He could only think of her…their first kiss by the Black Lake, the way her green eyes lit up when he told her that he told her he loved her for the first time, the way he swore his heart stopped beating when she told him, giggling, that she loved him back. The first time they made love…
James closed his eyes, trying to suppress a groan. He couldn't imagine that now, not when he was already as wound up as he was. He couldn't imagine her red lips melding with his, her body crushed against him, her voice moaning his name…
He looked at the clock again, a little more frantically. Had someone bewitched this clock to move especially slow? He still had five minutes left—five excruciatingly long minutes before he would see her walking down the aisle, her long red hair glowing brilliantly against the bright white dress, her perfect smile gracing her lips.
"You all right there, Prongs?"
James' head snapped towards the door, where he saw his best man standing in the archway to the kitchen, his shaggy hair combed and gelled, a huge grin on his face.
"You aren't having second thoughts, are you, mate?"
"Are you joking?" James blurted out, looking at Sirius with incredulity. "What's taking so bloody long?"
Sirius let out a bark-like laugh, leaning against the frame of the door. "Calm down, Prongsie. I was just sent to come and get you. It's showtime."
James' stomach did somersaults, and he looked at Sirius, who simply laughed harder at him. He couldn't believe it. After years of pining, years of convincing himself that Lily Evans would never talk to a prat like him, years of hoping that he could make her smile or laugh—he was about to be married. To Lily Evans.
"Alright, follow me—you lovesick wanker," Sirius said with a teasing lilt in his voice, pulling at James' jacket sleeve and yanking him through the French doors that led outside, towards the garden.
What seemed like hundreds of white cushiony chairs were set up outside, with a long aisle in the middle, leading up to a huge white arc that was ornamented with white roses and lilies. At the end of the aisle stood Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Frank Longbottom, all also clad in black tuxedos, all beaming at James. A light, airy sort of music began to play, and the groomsmen processed down the aisle, followed by Sirius.
James had to practically restrain himself from running down the aisle. It was so annoyingly long and everyone was watching him, and he knew he must have looked like a total git because his smile was so big it hurt his ears. He managed to find his place up front, though, next to Sirius, and he barely paid attention as Lily's bridesmaids processed after him, each wearing light green dresses.
And then he saw her.
Cascades of white fabric floated around her like her entire body was some sort of halo, the center of it being her brilliant red curls which twisted down her back, nearly falling to her waist. She smiled at him, and he swore he could have died right then, the happiest man alive.
He cursed the aisle again for being so bloody long. He didn't think he could stand it any longer, watching her hips sway gently down the aisle, her brilliant green eyes interlocked with his, stunning him to the spot. Thankfully, after what seemed like an eternity, she was next to him.
"Hi," she breathed nervously, searching his face. He opened his mouth to respond, but found that his throat was completely dry, so he could only let out a small whimper. Next to him, Sirius snickered, but James couldn't remember how to move his head, let alone glare. He just stood next to Lily, him grinning stupidly as she giggled.
A balding man in purple cloaks stood in front of them, with a genuine smile on his face. James heard him welcome his family and friends, but it barely registered. Lily's beauty was always breathtaking, but knowing that as soon as this ceremony was over that they would be bound together for the rest of their lives, he could hardly be asked to pay attention to this balding bloke.
"James?" Reluctantly, James pulled his eyes away from Lily to focus on the source of the deep voice that had interrupted his thoughts. "Are you ready to make your vows?"
James couldn't speak, so he simply nodded enthusiastically.
"Do you, James Potter, take Lily Evans to be your wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health; to love and to cherish, 'till death do you part?"
"Yes—yes—bloody yes! I do."
The purple cloaked minister frowned at his swearing, but James didn't care. He just looked back at Lily, waiting nervously for her to say…
"I do," Her lips curled up into that smile he loved, and before the minister could tell him to, he grabbed her by the waist and crushed his lips against hers, and (thinking that this was no time to be prudish) bit down gently on her bottom lip, the way he knew she liked, eliciting a small moan from his wife.
Wife. He smiled as she pulled away from him, and he noticed that a small blush began to tint her cheeks. Merlin. It was all he could do not to take her now, in front of half of the people who were in their year at Hogwarts, and his entire extended family. He considered it a great testament to his absurdly strong willpower that he didn't.
The reception started immediately, and James couldn't help but stare at Lily as she was congratulated by her friends. He noticed Sirius and Remus clapping him on the back, and Frank and Peter congratulating him wholeheartedly, but all he could focus on was Lily. He wondered if, perhaps, this is what a love potion felt like. Like his entire being revolved around her—the way she laughed, the way she smiled, the graceful way she walked from person to person.
She looked away from Alice and Remus for a moment, and caught his eye. He felt his stomach turn, in a very pleasant way, and held her gaze, smiling weakly at her.
"What are you staring at, Potter?" She called over to him, teasing him, raising one eyebrow.
He smiled at her. "My utterly shaggable wife…Potter," he retorted, his grin widening. He heard Alice and Remus laughing, but barely noticed it, as Lily's eyes widened and the tops of her cheeks turned a faint hue of pink. She quickly regained her composure, and grinned back at him.
"Keep that up, and you'll have to get used to looking…" She taunted, soliciting more laughs from Remus and Alice.
"Believe me, Lily," He said, his own cheeks beginning to turn pink. "I could look at you forever."