author's note: this is for Ana, and I don't own it. The title is from that Wannadies song from the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack.

"James," his mum said, very seriously, "are you going to marry Lily?"

James, spoonful of ice cream half way to his mouth, blinked twice. Hera Potter raised one eyebrow, and lay back on her pillows.

"I dunno," her son cleared his throat, "Blimey, um – yeah? Yeah I suppose I will, I want to. I can't imagine – when did you know you wanted to marry Dad?"

She thought for a moment, before leaning over (James held his breath – the Healer had said that any overexertion would be dangerous, and she couldn't go just yet, he needed her) to the chest of drawers beside her bed. From the top drawer, she withdrew a small, black velvet box.

"I didn't," she said, and James, distracted by the box and what it meant, was confused.

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't know for sure I wanted to marry your dad. I loved him, when he asked, I loved him, because he was brave and funny and romantic, but there was always my mother's voice, Merlin rest her soul, in the back of my mind going," at this point she adopted a voice that James assumed was supposed to be an impression of her mother's (he didn't know for sure – all four of his grandparents had died long before he was born), "Hera, Hera, my love it's just infatuation. I ignored it, though – I had to try. So I did. And she was wrong."

James ran a hand through his hair. His mother had not given him the box yet, and his palms were clammy.

"Do you think we're infatuation? Me and Lily"

Hera stretched out a hand, indicating she wanted the ice cream bowl. "Lily and I, James, and no," she said as James handed it to her, "I think we're lucky that we found them so early."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do," Hera said, "And to prove it – here," she threw the little black box across the room with the deftness of a former Chaser, and James caught it with similar grace, "Just – just don't wait too long, darling."

Her words were loaded, and he understood her meaning.

"And whilst I don't want to get morbid on you," she continued, with an air of coolness that James knew she was struggling to maintain, "You will look after your father, won't you? And Sirius?"

"Of course I will, Mum," James nodded, and stuffed the box in the pocket of his jeans.

"I'm going to ask her to marry me," he told the Marauders one evening, about a month after his mum died, "Lily, I mean."

Sirius began coughing loudly, choking on his beer, which continued for several moments until Peter slapped him on the back.

"Marry you?" Sirius said, clearing his throat, "Like – husband and wife, bonded for life marry you?"

"Yeah!" James leant back in his chair, "I mean – we might not…we're in a war, aren't we? It's now or never. And I love her."

"And we're eighteen," Remus said steadily.

"Yeah, and we might be dead tomorrow!"

Peter shivered. "Don't be morbid, James."

"That's my point – we're staring death in the face every day! Why shouldn't I get married?"

"Because we're eighteen! And you've been together, what – a year?"

"In Prongs' defence…" Sirius said slowly, "it is a great excuse for a party. But Moony's right, mate – there's time for all that afterwards, y'know?"

"What if there is no afterwards?" James slammed his fist on the table, and made Peter jump, "Carpe Diem! Seize the day! You only live once! Unless you're a Buddhist!"

"What makes you think Lily wants to marry you anyway?" Peter asked, and James shrugged.

"She'd be mad to say no – I'm great."

"Seriously?"

"Why does everyone add an ly to the end of my name?"

"Enough!" James leant in to the table conspiratorially, "I'm going to ask her, and there's nothing you tossers can say or do to stop me. So here's what I'm thinking-"

The Marauders groaned.

He wanted to do it properly, possibly in public (Remus had vetoed that one), with flowers and an orchestra playing that Supremes song she liked, the one about a symphony, but a nagging sensation in his stomach told him it wasn't right, it wasn't them. He kept the ring in his pocket for weeks, all the same, just in case she did something so supremely beautiful he couldn't help but ask. Peter said this was Scout mentality – be prepared. James wasn't sure what Scouts actually were, but he liked the sound of it. Be prepared.

She was chewing on her toast slowly, and reading the paper. She was bathed in the sunlight that streamed through the grimy window, and he thought that this was it, this is what they wrote songs about.

"Listen," he put the box on the table, between the margarine and the pumpkin juice, because if he didn't do it now, he never would, "D'you want to get married?"

She didn't look up from the paper. "Let me finish my toast first."

"What?"

"I said," she put the paper down, and he realised with the skip of his heart that she was beaming, "let me finish my toast first."

"Wait – so, you do? You want to get married?"

"James," she picked up the box, "this is the ring, yeah? James, I love you. I've always loved you. Even when I hated you-"

"Which you were right to do, because I was a tit."

"Yeah, even then. Even if….Jesus, even if I was…I dunno, a daisy, and you were a blade of grass, I would love you. You know?"

He nodded, because he knew.

"Can I put this on, then?" Lily opened the box, and the smile on her face widened.

"Yeah, yeah – d'you want me to put it on…that's what they do in the, um, Muggle films, isn't it?"

She laughed. "Yeah, yeah, if you want."

Lily handed him the box, and as she withdrew her hand, she caught his thin fingers in her own.

"Hey," she whispered, "hey, I love you."

James started to laugh, and squeezed her hand. "Right back at you, Evans."

"You mean Potter," she said gleefully, "I'm going to be Lily Potter!"

Both of them giggling like children, he slid the ring onto her finger, their hands hovering above the margarine.