a/n: hello. this was written as a response to the challenge BCDaily posted. it is based off of Taylor Swift's "Speak Now" but i kinda ran with it and made it, well, not Swift-like. if that makes sense. i don't even know what i'm saying. it's an AU with most everything the same but with an unforseen wedding. and timing, perhaps.

I am not JK Rowling. This has been your daily Disclaimer.


"Don't say yes, run away now.
I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door
Don't wait or say a single vow
You need to hear me out
And they said, 'Speak now'."

-Speak Now (Taylor Swift


James sat at the front of the church, twiddling his thumbs. It was less of a nervous habit and more of a distraction. He was getting married.

My, my, my. No one expected him to have a steady girlfriend, let alone a wife by the age of nineteen—or two weeks shy of it.

James winced and reached up to run his fingers through his hair. He stopped an inch before, remembering the copious amounts of hairspray and gel layered into his tousled mop to make it, well, less tousled. She liked it that way, always complaining about it being messy and unseemly. He just did it to annoy Remus, at first, and then to be cool and then just because.

Sirius sat by his side, legs jiggling up and down. He clasped and unclasped his hands, but James knew this was a nervous habit.

'You okay, mate?' He whispered. Sirius sent him a wry smile and went back to his jiggling.

'Shouldn't I be asking you that question?'

'Well,' James began feebly, remembering that most grooms were jittery on this day, or excessively happy or something. He wasn't. Just… tired. Bone dead.

'I'm fine. But what's got you all jumpy?'

'I don't like this suit. It's itchy.' He answered, pulling at the collar.

'Use a spell; I'm sure there's one to stop, erm, itchy clothes.'

Sirius sighed. 'Your mother confiscated my wand. She seemed to think that I would cause trouble or something of the sort. Not that she'd be wrong, but I resent the implication.'

'You cause trouble? Never, my dear Sirius.'

'Shut up.' He cast a dark glare round the room. 'Why am I your best man? Moony and Wormtail get to walk down with pretty girls and here I am, wandless and bored out of my mind.'

'You could always turn into a dog. That would cause some excitement.' Offered James.

'Yeah, and send me straight to Azkaban.' Sirius grumbled.

'Probably. But you won't be bored any longer,' James said with a smile. 'The ceremonies are about to start.'

'I don't like this.' Sirius repeated. 'I don't like it at all.'

'What, me getting married?'

'Yes.' Sirius growled. 'Not like this. It's not the right time.'

'Shut up.' He said, trying to keep the sudden anger out of his voice. Anger at him or anger at Sirius, he wasn't quite sure. 'It's still happening whether you like it or not. So just be supportive, would you?'

'Sorry, mate.'

James turned to survey the gathering crowd that was milling about behind him. His heart leaped into his throat as he spotted a flash of red. But it was just a swath of someone's dress. He had hoped, just for a second, that it was—no. He was not to think of red today. Or green. Or freckles or lavender or a teasing smile. Not today. 'Why am I doing this?'

'Because you love her?' When James didn't say anything, Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'Or, because you were too prideful to actually go after the girl of your dreams when she started liking you?'

'I was not.'

'James, you ran the other bloody way when she kissed you and refused to even look at her until graduation. Either she was a bad snogger—which I doubt, because I've heard others talk—or you were prideful. All because she called you a couple of names once and turned you down most of the time.' Sirius said hotly. He paused for a moment, visibly holding his breath and added a final blow in a low tone. 'I do think she wouldn't have said no if you had asked her one more time. I guess it's too late for that now.'

The sound of music playing stopped any further conversation and the boys rose to take their places. The bridesmaids filtered down the aisle, two escorted by Remus and Peter, and others with various mutual friends, one with a cousin. An adorable flower girl daintily stepped with her arm hooked in the ring bearer's. James didn't particularly care who was coming. He was watching for one person.

The music changed and the room filled with the ruffling of skirts. Sirius peeked over his shoulder and smiled at James.

'She's coming.' He muttered. 'I have my motorcycle keys. There's still time to get out of here.'

But James hesitated and she was there. She stood by her father in a dress that looked like the wedding cake and clutching a bouquet of wilting lilies, his choice in flowers and she had willingly obliged. He swallowed hard and soon, she was holding his hand. Her palms were sweaty and her lipstick was smudged when she smiled at him. The minister droned on and on about marriage. His marriage. His marriage to her.

He had met her in the Library, the day after—but he wasn't to think of that day—and she had been kind. Sweet. Dainty. Meek. Safe. She never grew angry with him, never fought. Never demanded much, never gave him any cause to pull out his hair or throw something or push her against a bookcase and kiss her until they couldn't breathe, anger and hate and love all mixed in one. She never flew with him, but grounded him when he got too high, grounded him so much that she felt like an anchor. Isn't that what he needed, though? An anchor?

'Speak now or forever hold your peace.' The minister said, cutting through his thoughts. He was hit with a sudden wish that Sirius or Remus or somebody would say something and end this charade.

And, miraculously, there was movement. He whipped his head around and saw her. She was stunning in a pale yellow dress and her red hair tumbling down her shoulders. She stood and stared at him, tuning out the stares and murmurs of horror. Her eyes were alight with a feverish kind of glow, an unreadable sequence emotion playing across her face. Only one he could name: desperation

'James, please don't do this. Don't marry the wrong girl and don't say 'I do'. Please. I can't bear it if you do and you know you can't either. Don't, James. ' She said and clapped a hand over her mouth. Without another word, she rushed out the church, red blooming in her cheeks.

James turned to look at the expectant bride in front of him. She was bravely keeping her chin up and smiling. The murmurs turned to full blown words of outrage, echoing up the beautifully decorated ceilings.

'Go on.' She whispered to the minister but James was already letting go of her hand. Her face began to fall and tears collected in her eyes. She clutched at his jacket feebly, wordlessly begging him not to do what she could see he was beginning to do.

'I'm sorry.' He told her, planting a chaste kiss on the cheek and pulling her hand away. 'But I can't say it. I can't do it. I'm sorry.' And he was gone, sprinting out the church after the redhead, leaving mayhem in his wake.

'Give me my wand, woman!' he heard Sirius bellow. James stopped right outside of the church, glancing this way and that. She was gone.

'She would have gone to her flat,' called Alice Longbottom, running out beside him. Remus was right behind her.

'It's in Manchester. 23b Hemlock Street.' He said with a small smile. James whipped his head around.

'How do you know that?'

'You're not my only friend, James.' He told him. James rolled his eyes.

'Thank you.' He said and Disapparated away. Lily's street was small, quaint. Brick houses lined the road like sentinels solemnly guarding the street. He couldn't help but think that it suited her in some way.

He found her flat and knocked. No answer. With a hurried whisper, he was inside the door.

It was small, but she didn't need big. Lace curtains decorated the windows and the living room was blue and white. A cat slept on the windowsill, poking its head up when he came in and falling back to sleep when he was shown not to be a threat. He sat on the couch and waited, waited, waited. His stomach churned.

Time passed. He wasn't sure how long, but the sun's rays slanted through the window, bathing the room in light. He tapped his hands impatiently on his knees. Where was she?

A scrabbling on the door announced someone entering. He bolted up and watched her come in. Her hair had been pulled up in a bun and there was dirt on her hem. Her heels dangled from one hand and she dropped them gently to the floor. Closing the door carefully behind her, she refused to look at him.

Finally, she spoke. 'Why are you here?'

'Where else would I be?'

'At the wedding reception? Sitting next to your wife?' Her shoulders heaved, and her voice trembled slightly. Someone else might not have noticed it, but he did. He noticed everything about her. What a brave facade she was putting up, like she always had. The façade that said that nothing bothered her and she cared about nothing.

'Lily,' he said, clasping his hands behind his back, 'I'm not married.'

Her breath caught in her throat and she peered up at him through her fringe. 'You're not?'

'No.' He told her and her mask slipped away with a slow breath.

'James, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do it; I didn't even mean to come but I just had to. And you were standing there and it's my fault now.' Her fingers were nervously twirling a piece of hair that had fallen in front of her face. 'I just couldn't, I couldn't see that without saying anything.' And with that, the tears slipped down her face.

It took two steps to get to her, but it seemed like a thousand to him. His arms wrapped around her shaking shoulders and they stood for heavens knew how long. She stopped crying and just sniffed, mumbling something into his shirt.

'What was that?' He asked, pulling away slightly. She kept her head down, but not low enough that he couldn't see the blush on her cheeks.

'I've ruined your shirt.'

'To hell with this shirt.' He said, laughing. 'I never liked it and it's itchy anyways.' She let out a half-strangled giggle and stepped back, wiping her eyes as she went.

'Oh!' She said after a moment, 'I've been such a bad hostess. Do you need anything to drink? I've got tea or juice, or—'

'Lily.' He interrupted. 'Are you honestly asking if I want a drink after you've practically dehydrated yourself?'

'Yes.'

He caught her hand and led her to the couch. She stiffened as he sat and pulled her down beside him, but he just put his arm around her. Eventually, she laid her head on his shoulder and sighed.

'I need some Firewhiskey right now.' She said.

'I could call Sirius. He'd be here at a moment's notice if you want alcohol.' He told her. She shook her head.

'That's okay. I'm really fine.' They sat for a moment more, enjoying the filtering afternoon sun. 'James,' she murmured, 'why did you do it?'

'I realized that I was marrying the wrong girl. It was you, it was always supposed to be you.' She would fly with him, fly so high that they would burn in the sun but he didn't care. He needed her, needed her like the air or the water. He hated her sometimes, her and her opinions and laughter and eagerness to fight but he loved her too much. They would fight and he crackled during that time, but he burned with an everlasting fire when he was with her. How could he have chosen the anchor when she was his wings? He loved her and she loved him and that is all that mattered. 'That is,' he said, a smile playing on his lips, 'if you'll have me.'

She was quiet for a moment, her face tilted up and searching his. 'Are you asking me to marry you?' She asked, her eyes brimming with laughter.

He pressed a kiss to her lips and watched the blush that spread from her lips to her cheeks. 'Not just yet.' He told her, ruffling a hand through his hair. 'But maybe someday soon.'


well, that turned into a monster. but a very cute monster. and an angsty one. i do love you, brooding James.

i'm crap at writing authors notes, by the way. love you guys though.

thanks for reading xx