December 15, 1978
"Okay, radical idea, just bear with me," James said, vaulting into the empty seat beside her.
"You're not supposed to be in here," the maid of honor hissed in James direction, which Lily and James both pointedly ignored.
Not that the fussy woman didn't have a point. The antechamber was intended for the bridesmaids to prepare for the wedding, which was slated to start in a measly eighty-nine minutes, and had all the trappings of a dressing room – a stocking strewn over a coat rack, air made thick from the constant powdering of noses, and the bride having a miniature meltdown in the corner over the shape of her bouquet while every bridesmaid rushed to reassure her that catastrophe would be averted. Well, almost every bridesmaid.
Lily sat, straight-backed and hair in curlers, far from her hysterical sister. Four hours ago, Petunia had melted down over the hem of her dress and when Lily had gone to comfort her, Petunia had called her a 'tasteless and dizzy cow.' Lily had vowed to leave Petunia to her own consolation after that.
"I'm in need of a radical idea right now," Lily murmured, not quite under-her-breath but more out of the side of her mouth, like she feared a lip-reader might be lurking nearby.
"Okay, let's you and I…elope," James announced.
Lily nodded, "Right and this accomplishes what exactly?"
"Well, your sister can't be cross if you can't be in her wedding because you were busy attending your own. Pure coincidence that you happened to schedule the event for the same day," James said.
An hour ago, Lily had thought she would never smile once during the whole, horrid affair of Petunia's wedding. Her nerves were stretched as thin as Petunia's own. James had reduced Vernon to a puce mess of sweat only the night before when discussing the value of gold, Petunia had made her cry twice in the week she'd been home for the wedding, and her dress was red and clashed horrifically with her hair. Any good humor felt impossibly far from her current state, and yet there she sat, smiling in spite of herself at James' suggestion.
"I dare you to go suggest that to her right now," Lily said.
"Why, I've always found your sister to be an incredibly reasonable and even-tempered woman. I'm sure she'll understand," James said with that wicked smirk that always promised trouble.
"I take back my dare," Lily said quickly, knowing James was very bored and therefore very much capable of causing trouble for trouble's sake. "I like having a living boyfriend, and when Petunia's done with you after a jest like that, I'll be forced to settle for the inferi version of you."
"Is it sick that I'm touched you would bring me back as a rotting inferi instead of just getting a new bloke?" James asked.
"No to the elopement," Lily said, ignoring him.
They were sitting faced in front of a mirror vaulted onto the wall, both making eye contact through the reflection. James looked delicious, the kind of man that made a girl want to run away and get married. He was dressed in a tuxedo, but it was marginally too loose, which gave him a look of unfussy and effortless elegance, and he was burnt copper from all the time he'd spent in the sun that summer. She, on the other hand, looked like a middle-aged mum with her curlers stacked high atop her head and the hearty heaping of rouge that Petunia's friend, Stacey, had forced upon her. Worse, her weariness from days spent with Petunia was clear on her pinched brow and the white line of her lips.
"I'm not married to the marriage idea," James joked, "I am, however, worried what's going to happen to you if I leave you in here much longer. Your mouth's disappearing."
"I'm fine," Lily said.
James took her hand, nails manicured and polished a baby-blue that reminded her of a squalling infant. "Okay. But if you need an out, just do the secret sign during the ceremony, and I'll announce our wedding, and we're out of there."
"And what's the secret sign?"
James hummed. "Do you think jumping jacks are suitably subtle?"