James stretched his legs toward the crackling fire and kissed the top of Lily's head. She was sprawled across his lap, reading Remus's battered copy of The Hobbit. Her hair tickled James's arm, and his leg was starting to go to sleep from the awkward position, but moving wasn't an option. He pressed his lips to the top of Lily's head, finding her hair warm from the fire, and sighed.
"There are other chairs, you know," Sirius said. "You don't have to sit on top of each other."
"It's comfortable," James lied. "Mind your own business and hand me the Bertie Bott's."
James poured a handful of beans into his palm, picking out two grass-flavored ones and handing them to Lily. She smiled up at him, popping them into her mouth and leaning in to kiss him.
"You think I'm mad for liking the grass ones, don't you?"
He grinned. The grass beans tasted like sweet dirt; he could still taste the unpleasant flavor lingering on his lips. "Nah. You're the only person I've ever met who likes them, but I love that about you." He tilted her face up and kissed her again, savoring the warm pressure of her lips, even if they did taste like dirt.
He made sure everyone saved their grass-flavored beans for Lily. When Peter pulled one from the box and grimaced, then started to toss it into the fire, James nearly tackled him. Another time, Sirius threw one down Mary's shirt, and James told him off until Sirius helpfully offered to fish it out. Eventually it became habit – they would all drop the beans into Lily's hand without looking up from their books or breaking the conversation.
"Why can't you just Summon all the grass ones in the box?" Remus asked one day when they were all gathered around a library table, snacking on Bertie Bott's when Madam Pince wasn't looking.
"They're resistant to the Summoning Charm," Sirius said, nibbling the end of a black bean. "It's part of the Bertie Bott's formula – otherwise it would take the fun out of them, because you could just Summon all the disgusting ones."
Lily looked up from her notes, giggling. "Why do you know that?"
Sirius shrugged. "No bloody idea. I also read somewhere that Bertie Bott gets hundreds of letters from people requesting new flavors – some of the suggestions are quite disturbing, like–"
"That's enough of that conversation," Mary announced, pressing a hand to Sirius's mouth.
At breakfast a few days later, James was munching a piece of toast when the mail arrived. He set aside the new issue of Quidditch Monthly and opened an envelope addressed in curling purple letters.
"What's that?" Lily peered over his shoulder at the letter.
"Nothing." He tried to tuck the letter under the Quidditch magazine, but she was already snatching it out of his hands.
"Dear Mr. Potter, Thank you for your inquiry regarding a box of entirely grass-flavored beans. Unfortunately, at this time we are unable to fulfill your request…" She looked up from the letter, beaming. "James, I can't believe you did this."
He cast a withering glance at the letter. "I didn't do anything – that tosser denied my request."
"Still." The letter fluttered from her fingers and landed on his forgotten toast as she touched his arm. "It was a nice thought. You didn't have to do that."
Tiny crinkles formed around her eyes when her lips curved up into that dazzling smile. James basked in it, drinking in the happiness that radiated from her and wondering how everyone could carry on eating porridge and reading the Prophet and discussing Charms homework when Lily was smiling like that.
"I know, but I wanted to."
The gentle lap of waves mingled with the burst of fireworks overhead. James rolled over on the damp towel and took Lily's hand, brushing a few grains of sand from the diamond sparkling on her finger. He admired it for a moment; it looked even more beautiful against her skin than it had nestled in the little velvet box. His foot knocked against something, and he sat up to retrieve it, grinning.
"I almost forgot. I got you a special engagement snack."
Her eyes widened when she opened the box of Bertie Bott's. "All grass? Did old Bertie finally decide to go along with your request?"
"Nah, I bought a hundred boxes and picked all the grass ones out."
She stopped chewing and gazed at him in wonder. "James…"
"It didn't take that long. Padfoot helped… reluctantly."
She set down the box on the edge of the towel, then slid her arms around him. "You didn't have to do that."
Her nose was slightly sunburned, and a streak of sand clung to her cheek, and her eyes were bright from the champagne and the overwhelming, consuming happiness of the day. Her emphatic, tear-choked Yes rang in his head until he thought his chest would burst from joy. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her. Her lips carried the sweet, earthy taste of the Bertie Bott's, but combined with the flavor of champagne and the tang of salt water, he didn't mind quite as much as usual.
"I know, but I wanted to."