Author's Notes – Let me see, I'm writing drabbles because I have nothing better to do than write about Westboro church for my Philosophy & Ethics coursework. Enjoy! C:
III
James x Lily
III
A blustery, windy day greets Lily and James Potter as they step out of their beautiful cottage. Godric's Hollow remains utterly blissful even in the long, chilled days of winter; the evergreen forests making it seem as if the tiny village might just be void of seasonal change in terms of foliage anyway.
"Only a few more months to go," Sighs James Potter, clasping his wife's hand tight in the freezing conditions.
"A few months?" Lily scoffs, playfully smacking her husband, to which he flinches ever so slightly, "I'd like to see you carry round a bloody baby for nine months. Men," She adds as a mutter at the end.
"Well, in the end we'll have a beautiful boy, won't we? Harry James Potter," He smiles into the winter sun, allowing his head to rest down on Lily's fiery hair.
Lily shakes her head slightly, dislodging James, "I can't believe I let you name him; you're as egotistical as ever Potter."
James hits back with, "Oh I love it when you talk dirty to me Evans," For which he earns himself a well earned stamp on his leather clad toes. Lily can really channel her irritation into a good bout of violence when she wants to.
"Fuck off Potter," She snarls, though descends into very un-Lily like giggles, "Why did I marry you?"
"Because I am a handsome, chivalrous and above all a most incredible Quidditch player, mon petit amis." James glances down at Lily, who's shaking her head, but smiling beautifully all the same, "And because you know you wanted me since the first time we met."
"What, when you set Davies' hat on fire?" She shakes her head, laughing lightly, "God, I'm going to pop out another Potter. Oh the shame."
James tuts, and swings her hand up in the air. Godric's Hollow's main square is empty but them, the last of Autumn's leaves. James clasps Lily's hand tighter, swirling her round in a flurry of leaves, her grey coat billowing. She protests at first, but gives into her husbands laughter, and lets herself be twirled and twisted around the square, their laughter the only noise splitting the silence.
James finally lets her go, curling Lily in wards and placing one slightly awkward hand on his wife's growing stomach, "I'm pretty sure he'll have my hair, but I hope he has your face," He grins bashfully like the teenager he used to be, to which Lily replies with a chaste kiss on his chapped, wintry lips.
"It would make up for his name at least."
III