A/N: Oh, look. It seems motivation may have stumbled upon me.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling, I am not. Therefore, these beloved characters are not mine.
"Marry me."
It wasn't a question. There was no "please." It wasn't even planned.
There they were, standing amongst the rubble of another battle in which both friends and foes were lost. And he decided right then and there that whatever time he had left, he needed to be forever and eternally bound to her.
He didn't even have a ring.
She stared at him wildly, her pupils dilated from the rush of the fight. There were bodies on the ground between them and dust in her hair. Her robes were torn, she could feel blood slowly dripping down her face, and she was sure she had never looked worse. The look in his eyes suggested the world began and ended with her. And for him it did.
Her tense shoulders relaxed as she lowered her wand, and the corners of her lips began to twitch as she fought back a smile. Proposing in a battlefield with the dead surrounding them. It was completely inappropriate and oh so very James.
She could feel the eyes of the other Order members on them as she maneuvered around the fallen to stand in front of him. He was smirking at her, that bloody crooked grin.
Words weren't necessary. They often weren't between the two of them. She reached for his hand and he gripped her with such force that it nearly hurt. He bent down and pressed his lips to hers, grateful that she was no longer holding back her smile. The other members of the Order cheered, and although they were bruised and bloodied and broken, love gave them something to hope for again.