(Note from the author: These are not my characters, my world, or my situations. They all belong to J. K. Rowling, and are protected by copyrights.)

The next morning, Moody was very reluctant to let the two of them go. He had already given them four hours the previous night, and they had missed out on one of his lessons. To go eat brunch with the Evans family would take all morning, and cross into the afternoon.
But Moody was the least of their problems.
James had been up all night, rehearsing the speech that he would give to Mr. Evans. He had never met him, and didn't know if he should be expecting a nice, warm man, or Mr. Black. (Not that he had ever met Mr. Black, but he had a good idea from Sirius's stories what his personality was like.)
Lily had told him not to worry about her father, that it would be her mother that they would need to pursuade.
"She's very overprotective of me," she said, "She almost didn't let me leave for King's Cross in June. I told her that I had found a flat, and it was all perfectly safe, and she still wouldn't let me go."
James had the mental image of his own house as they stepped outside of Moody's house, dressed in their most formal Muggle clothing, and walked down the sidewalk, holding hands. Lily was wearing her large ring on her finger, and it glistened in the sunlight.
A Ministry car had been ordered for them, thanks to Moody, and James took the driver's seat as Lily crawled in next to him.
"All right," she said, "It's a ways off. In Little Whinging, Surrey. I'll tell you the directions once we get into town."
"Sounds fair," James said, clearing his throat, and starting the car. They drove off, and they knew that all of their friends had their faces pressed against the window, taking bets on if James would return or not.
"So how should we do this?" he asked, as they pulled onto the main street.
"Well, I told them that we were coming over to tell them something important," Lily explained, "Didn't exactly tell them what, though. But I did say that you were coming with me. So they may be suspicious already."
"Yeah, probably," James said, mussing his hair, "So . . . we eat first? Then you take your sister and mother out of the room. You tell them, while I ask for your hand in marriage from your dad. Okay?"
"Sure, sounds good," Lily let out a rattling breath. She was also nervous, "What exactly are you going to say?"
"Well, I thought something like: I love your daughter. I want to marry her."
"Not going to work."
James blinked, "Why?"
"My father doesn't believe in the word love," she said, "He married for love. And it didn't turn out so well."
"Ah," James nodded, "All right."
"Bring up that I'm gifted and talented," she said, "And that you respect that. And you'll protect me. And that you think I'm very smart."

"Well, you aren't arrogant at all," he laughed.
"I'm serious," Lily smiled brightly, "Make me sound like a Queen, and he'll love you."

It wasn't before long that the two of them were pulling up into a driveway that belonged to a very Muggle-looking house. James's thoughts of seeing Sprite at the door diminished in a matter of seconds as he examined the outside.
It was plain, and very normal. Unlike Lily at all. It seemed as if no magic lived here at all. A blue house with dark blue shutters, and a white door awaited them as they got out of the car.
"Well," James said, "It's different than Moody's."
Lily laughed, "Yeah, no cursed trash bins here, sadly enough."
The white door opened as they made their way onto the porch. James looked into the faces of an older couple. The woman was alight with graying red hair, and her eyes sparkled green with the same fire that Lily had. The father was chewing on the end of his pipe, his blondish hair decreasing and making the top of his head bald. His eyes were hazy, and seemed to not be totally focused on the couple walking towards them.
"Ah, how are you, dears," Mrs. Evans said, in a faded Irish accent. It seemed as if maybe her mother had used a worn accent, and she picked up the slightest trace of it from her as a child.
"We're fine," Lily said, "Good to see you again, Mum."
The two women hugged, and then Lily embraced her father.
"Hello, Dad," she addressed him.
"Nice to have you home, honey," he said, kissing the top of her forehead. She then turned to James, and ushered him forward.
"This is James Potter," she said, "My boyfriend. The one that I was telling you about."

Mrs. Evans eyed him suspiciously as he extended his hand to her, "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Evans," James said.
Mrs. Evans shook hands with him, and then he turned to Mr. Evans. They also shook hands, and then the four of them entered the living room inside.
"Petunia's taking time out of her summer to come visit us," Mrs. Evans informed Lily, "She agreed to come and eat brunch with James and the family."

"Reluctantly, mind you," Mr. Evans grumbled.
"Oh, hush, Henry," Lily's mother tutted, and showed them to the dining room, "Your sister is upstairs, getting her hair ready or some other girlish thing such as that. You can go see her, Lily. She'd probably be very excited to see you. Tell her that the food's ready, and she can come down if she wants."

Lily nodded, gave James's hand one last squeeze for good luck, and then ran up the stairs in the living room to retrieve her sister.
The house was cozy. The walls were filled with pictures of Lily as a little girl and another blonde girl (who he guessed was Petunia) sitting on ponies at the local fair, getting confirmed, their Muggle school pictures. Lily looked so young, in her jumper and white shirt. That was before she knew what she was. That was before she had become a witch. She had once lived like a Muggle.
James couldn't picture her as a member of this family, though. They were just so normal, and Lily . . . well . . . Lily was of magic blood.
"So, James," Mrs. Evans said, "You wouldn't mind helping me set the food out on the table, now would you?"
"No," James said, rushing to help her in the kitchen, "Not at all."
"I made all the sorts of food you may like," Mrs. Evans said, "I hope you enjoy it all. Lily never really did tell us exactly what you liked to eat. We asked her last night, but she seemed as if she was in a hurry. Wanting to get back to your little party, no doubt. I've heard so much about you and those other boys. Quite the troublemakers, weren't you?"
James just stared at her. Did she always talk so much?
"Yeah," he said weakly.
"Run, boy," Mr. Evans said, puffing on the end of his pipe, "She never shuts up."
"What did you say, Henry?"
"Nothing, Gertrude," he said, disappearing into the bathroom.
James gulped. Was this what Lily and him were going to be like? Maybe marriage wasn't a good idea after all . . .
"Here you go, James," she said, handing him a bowl of something that he couldn't quite recognize, "Just place that on the table next to the cornucopia like a good boy. I know, it's too early for cornucopias, but Henry believes they make a wonderful centerpiece. I must agree with him. It does add sort of a flare."
How had Lily turned out so normal?
James set the bowl in the middle of the table, as Mrs. Evans brought out a plate of food, "And so . . . if you don't mind me asking . . . are you a wizard?"
"Yes," James said.
"Full wizard? Or like Lily?"
"Full," he said quietly. He really didn't want to tell her about his parents. But with her mouth, she would probably ask him.
And she didn't disappoint him.
"How come your parents aren't here, darling?" she asked, stepping into the kitchen again, "Busy with work, maybe? Scared of us . . . oh, what do you call us . . . Muggles?"
"They're dead," James said, trying to make his voice sound calm. Now would come the question "How did they die?" and what would he say? "They were killed by an evil Dark Lord that is slowly killing off all Muggle borns in the world and . . . oh, yeah . . . by the way . . . your daughter pissed him off a few weeks ago."
But someone must have been smiling down on him right then, because Lily and an older girl with blonde hair came running down the stairs, Lily trying to bring up a conversation with her.
The girl looked well into her twenties, with shorter hair and the tiniest waistline that he had ever seen. She looked like she had just sucked a lemon, and this expression became more visible when she saw James standing in her dining room. She was wearing Muggle clothes . . . a flowery skirt and nice top that buttoned in the front. The only thing that her and Lily had in common was their stature. And even then, Lily wasn't as skinny as her sister.
In second thought, they looked nothing alike.
"James," Lily said, taking his hand, "This is Petunia, my sister. Petunia, this is James."
"Nice to meet you," she said, even if she didn't sound like it was nice at all.
"Yeah, you too," he said, lost for words. What was her problem with him?
The brunch was very nerve wrecking. All James wanted to do was run out of the room, and go hurl in the bathroom off of the dining room. It was odd to have a bathroom off of a dining room . . .
"So, James," Mrs. Evans said, "What exactly do you do for a living?"
"Right now, I'm sort of working as an Auror," James said, "With Lily."
"What exactly is an Auror?" Mrs. Evans inquired.
"Sort of like a Bobbie, Mum," Lily said.
"Ah," she said, "You're an Auror, Lily?"
"Yes," she said, and then bit into her food.
"So have either of you seen Voldemort?" she interrogated them, "We receive the . . . oh, what is it called . . . the Daily Prophet for Lily's sake, to catch up on her kind . . . I mean, your kind of course. We've always tried to make Lily feel connected with the wizard world during her holidays. We were so proud of her when she received her letter."
Lily blushed.
"We couldn't believe it at first," she plowed on, "We thought it was a joke. But then we decided to see what it was all about, got to the Leaky Cauldron, and there it was! Diagon Alley. Amazing, your world is. Hiding all sorts of things in the least expecting places."
"Yeah," James said.
"But about this Voldemort," Mrs. Evans continued, "He's been all over the news, and Lily's told us a little about him. Is he a threat, James?"
James blinked. She was asking him if Voldemort was a threat? What made him so special?
"Er . . . well . . . yes," he said, "He is."
Petunia gave James a look as she reached for the milk pitcher.
This conversation was going from bad to worse in a matter of minutes. And he didn't appreciate being stared down by her sister . . .
"Well, Mum," Lily said, changing the subject, "I wanted to talk to you and Petunia once we get finished eating. And James wanted to talk to Dad. Right, James?"
"Yeah," James said weakly, feeling his stomach churn.
"Well, what is it, dear?" Mrs. Evans asked.
"I'll tell you once we're done eating," she said quietly, and then squeezed James's hand under the table.

The brunch had gone very slow. James had watched the clock, hoping that it went so overtime that Moody would come barging in through the fireplace and drag them back before he could sit down and talk to Mr. Evans.
No such luck.
Soon the family was ready to disperse, and after the dishes were cleaned up and everything was put away, the women retreated upstairs, and James was left alone in the living room with Mr. Evans, who was still smoking his pipe.
"Sit down, James," he said, patting an armchair opposite the chair that he was occupying. James coughed, and took a seat.
"Lily said that you wanted to tell me something important," he said, still chewing on his pipe. The smoke billowed above his head, in ringlets.
"Yes, well . . ." James cleared his throat, and folded his hands in his lap, "I . . . well, I respect Lily very much. And I think that she is a very intelligent, very sweet, very talented and gifted girl . . ."
Mr. Evans nodded in agreement, the first sign of a smile coming onto his face.
"And I love her," he added hopefully. The smile disappeared.
"You what?" he said.
"I mean," James tried to recover, "I mean, that I cherish her. And I . . ." he stopped, and then looked him square in the eye, "I want to marry your daughter, Mr. Evans."
Mr. Evans looked somewhat annoyed. He sighed, and another ringlet came out of his pipe.
"How old are you, boy?"
"Eighteen, sir."
"Eighteen," he huffed, "And how do you expect to support Lily? Give her a good home?"
"My parents left me money, sir," he said truthfully, "A good deal of it, too. They died a few months ago."
"Both of them?"
"Yes," James said sadly, "And my uncle. They all died."
He didn't know why he was telling Mr. Evans this. Mr. Evans didn't seem to care.
"And are you going to be . . . an Auror . . . your entire life?"
"Hopefully not," James said, "After the war, I want to go into Quidditch."
"That game on broomsticks?"
"Yes, sir," James said, "I played it at school, and I was pretty good at it."
Mr. Evans nodded, "So you'll go from being a soldier to being an athlete?"
"That's the plan, sir," he said.
Mr. Evans studied him for a moment, and then leaned in forward to him, as if wanting to tell him a secret.
"Let me tell you something about marriage, James," he said, "And excuse my French, but it's a pain in the ass. I see myself in you, very much so. I see the love I had for that woman that fixes me my dinner every night, and tucked my two lovely daughters into bed, in your eyes. And after about a year of living with that same woman, having to listen to her every day, having to be there for her every minute that she needs you . . . it can wear you down. And slowly that love dies. Slowly, you wake up and find yourself in a hell that you've created. A nine to five job, crying and screaming children . . . don't get me wrong, I love my Lily and Petunia . . . and of course your wife nagging at you. Now do you really want to start that life at age eighteen?"

James looked at him in surprise. Had he just said all of that? He had hardly talked all through brunch, and now he was patronizing him in long sentences?
"I'm sure, Mr. Evans," he said, his brow furrowed, "I've loved your daughter ever since I saw her. When I was eleven, I was head over heels for her. And now I would give anything for her. I would die for her, Mr. Evans. That's how much I care about her. Call it love, or . . . or call it whatever you want . . . but I made a promise to her that I wouldn't hurt her. That I wouldn't leave her. And I usually tend to keep my promises."
Mr. Evans's smoke rings grew bigger.
"And I'm asking you for your good wishes, and . . . and her hand in marriage," James said, "Because that's all that I want, Mr. Evans. If our money runs out, then so be it. If I fail at my goals, then fine. But at least we'll be together. At least I'll have Lily, and she'll have me."
"She's still a little girl," Mr. Evans argued.
"Mr. Evans, I probably shouldn't be telling you this," James said, also leaning in closer, "But since you're out of the wizarding ring, I think that it's worth it. Your daughter saved my life. She fought as well as any other Auror that was there, and she defied Voldemort."

Mr. Evans's eyes grew big at the name of Voldemort, and he lowered his pipe, "She did all that?"
"Yes, sir," James said, "And that's why I love her. She has a spirit, sir. A spirit that can't be broken."
"Yes, I know that," the man said, and studied James again, "Well, I guess there's only one question left."
James swallowed, "And what is that, sir?"

"Is it going to be a Muggle wedding, or a wizard wedding?" he asked, his eyes twinkling and coming into focus for the first time.
James smiled, and shook Mr. Evans's hand, "Thank you, sir. Thank you."

They had left, all faces bright with excitement, except for Petunia. James really didn't like her all that much, but he tried to be polite to her. She reminded him of Snape looking at Lily. Or Remus.
The two of them got back into their car, and drove off, back onto the road that would take them back to London. Now that it was official, they had planning to look forward to.
"Our best man's definitely Sirius, then?" Lily asked.
James nodded, "And Remus, Peter, and Davey as our men of honor. Or at least Remus and Peter. If Davey can make it, then bully for him."
"And I want Elise Warren to be my maid of honor," Lily laughed, "Oh, won't Sirius love seeing her again?"
"I think he will," he said, "And what about the bridesmaids?"
"Well, I was thinking my friends from school," she said, "Maybe Marlene and Emmeliene, and Petunia for sure . . . Bea and Sandra. That would make five bridesmaids. Three men of honors."
"We can come up with an extra two men of honors," James said, "Probably Sturgis and one of the other Order members would be fine."
"I can't believe he said yes," Lily grinned, taking his hand again as he tried to steer with one hand, "I was sure that it was going to be a fiasco."
"Oh, well, thanks," James said, "I think I handled your family pretty well, if I do say so myself."