Disclaimer: The usual; Chiho Saito, J. K. Rowling, vols 4 & 5 blahblahblah.
A/N: So it took me longer than I thought to write this one, partly because I'm not really sure where I'm going with this (I have the bigger ideas down, but…), and partly because I was taken by this insane urge to try to make bits and pieces of this fit with canon. Which was STUPID, because this is an AU fic!! So yeah, gave THAT up. This is a bit shorter than previous chapters, I think, but…I'm tired. Anyway, will try to post again over the weekend.
Chapter 5 – The Wedding, Wedding Party, and Awkward Wedding Night
James felt as though he were in a trance.
"Now, let's offer our congratulations to the bride and groom, Mr. and Mrs. James Potter!"
There was a round of hearty applause, sparks flying in the air from people's wands and the repeated clinking of forks against glass. Sirius thumped James on the back a few times and posed, smiling, to take a picture with him and Lily.
"Ohhhhhh…" sobbed Terrence Carruthers, who was weeping profusely into a large kerchief on loan from Hagrid, who sat nearby with the Hogwarts professors. "She's so beautiful…ohhhhh, if only her parents could see her—" He went off into another series of wails.
"I can't believe that's what's leading our defense force," Hestia Jones whispered to Marlene McKinnon. Marlene snorted into her champagne. Rita Skeeter, who had just managed to sneak past the extensive guard surrounding the premises (who knew how), smiled like a Cheshire cat as she took the seat across from them and scribbled something on a piece of paper.
Lily was beautiful. The compromise between wizarding robes and muggle wedding gown that she had insisted upon had been bruited about in newspapers for weeks beforehand—"absolutely atrocious idea!" and "expect revolting results!" being the most encouraging remarks from journalists and stylists everywhere—but Lily had had her way, and the result was…well, people weren't quite sure what it was, but the mass of filmy chiffon and wisps of lace, dainty embroidery and shimmering seed pearls couldn't have been lovelier, and the way Lily's green eyes and the jewels woven into her glowing tresses caught the light and sparkled were remarked upon favorably by every one of the guests at some point in the evening.
"Kiss her!" yelled an overexcited Professor Flitwick, before toppling off his chair. Next to him, Professor McGonagall was striking her fork against her champagne glass with a vigor that was delightfully strange to see.
"Better kiss her, mate," Sirius said, his voice still amplified by the Sonorus charm. "No peace until you do."
The sounds of clinking glass grew louder and more adamant, and James turned to the bride. She was pushing her veil back from her face and fanning herself lightly with a lace handkerchief. Their eyes met and she smiled, shrugged helplessly, and pulled his head down.
The kiss was gentle and brief. The background of cat-calls and applause seemed to fade out as their lips touched, then rush back as they separated, with a ferocity that made James' head whirl. It would seem Lily was experiencing the same feelings: as she pulled back, her eyes rolled back in her head and she stumbled backwards. James, Sirius, and Dorcas Meadows, one of the bridesmaids, were able to catch her—but just barely. She woke up right away and someone passed her a glass of water.
"What's happened?" Sirius asked worriedly, evidently forgetting that his voice was still magically amplified.
"Oh, nothing," James muttered.
"What?" Sirius called over the hubbub. He cast a quick Sonorus Charm on James right before he replied.
"I expect it's because of the baby," explained James, unaware of what Sirius had just done. His voice echoed through the large banquet hall and immediately there was a painful hush.
Carruthers, too preoccupied with gushing over Lily's surpassing beauty and crying into his napkin-handkerchief, did not hear James speak and hiccoughed loudly into the silence. Even Rita Skeeter was temporarily fazed.
There was a loud clatter from the back of the room and James looked up from his place (throttling Sirius with both hands) and saw—
—Wilkes, a smooth-talking man of not yet middle age, lean, with a sprinkling of gray about the temples. A notorious gambler, whose inhibitions decreased noticeably with alcohol imbibed or the scent of gold, usually both. James recognized him as a frequent presence in several wizards' clubs around London, always insinuating his way into groups of people and leaving when they had nothing left to offer him. He cultivated friends almost everywhere he went, and was an impressive informant when the mood—and need for funds—took him.
—Travers, with a square jaw and stocky build, ashy blonde hair in uncomfortable curls. There was always a sort of grim set to his jaw that made him look like he was ready for a fight, be it proper wizards' duel or barroom brawl. Elusive and seemingly reclusive, he could sometimes be seen lurking in dark corners, nursing drinks and giving off the odor of strong liquor. James recalled him in school, emerging from the shadows to defend a fellow Slytherin—it had been Bellatrix—from McGonagall's wrath. He was ready enough with alibis whenever someone needed one. That is, someone of his own group.
—Rosier, the youngest and best-looking of the three, with dark hair and striking blue eyes. He was the only son of a long line of pureblooded wizards and witches. Dressed impeccably and with faultless features, he was considered quite a catch among the pureblood elite, who could ignore his extravagant spending and rumored promiscuous tastes because of an ancestry that could be traced back at least n generations. His family had offered generous donations to Ministry organizations and Defense in the past.
All three standing, mouths agape. Wilkes had dropped his champagne glass, which had fortunately remained intact but spilled champagne all over an irate Amelia Peasgood, who was sitting next to him. Travers had bitten off a large chunk of his pungent cigar, which he had been smoking blatantly much to the disgust of those in the vicinity. The ashes peppered his brilliant white jacket with ugly brown-black specks. Rosier's champagne glass had shattered in his grip, and now his fingers were dripping blood on the white tablecloth.
The three men looked thunderstruck and as the surprised murmurs rose about them, each slowly came to his senses and returned to his seat. Travers spat the rest of his cigar into a napkin and cleaned his jacket with a wave of his wand; Wilkes shrugged an apology to Amelia Peasgood and did a cleaning charm on her—a bit too strongly, it seemed, as her dress bleached white in certain spots; and Rosier belatedly noticed the blood on his hand and the table and took his time nonchalantly wiping it away and removing glass from his fingers. Their three sets of eyes narrowed at Lily, who was still sitting to the side and sipping from her glass of water.
James, still with a gentle smile on his face, kept an eye on them for the rest of the evening.
"Sorry about that," was the first thing Lily said when she and James finally arrived home and were safely ensconced in a dressing room. She was sitting in a chair, her shoes kicked off, her wedding gown billowing about her like a great white cloud. She had already taken the jewels out of her hair and removed most of her makeup. Her face looked pale and tired, her eyes large and childlike.
"About what?" James asked, undoing the top buttons of his shirt.
"My almost fainting like that," Lily said, absently pulling the pins from her hair. "I've been a bit out of sorts lately…tired, being pregnant and all that…"
"Yes, I know," James responded, sighing as he kicked off his own shoes, threw his jacket over a chair, and plopped into a sofa lined against one wall. "Don't worry about it."
They were both silent for a little while, as James rubbed his eyes under his glasses and Lily finished releasing her hair from pins.
"I'm also sorry…because…you've been working so hard lately, and I know Terrence hasn't been helping, and…what with my staying home so much…" Lily burst out, as she struggled with the tiny hooks on the back of her dress.
"Never mind," said James automatically, still rubbing his eyes. "I'd always wanted the promotion anyway. I can handle it."
"I know, but…" she sighed again, then got up and went to stand in front of the sofa with her back toward James. "Could you unhook me, please?"
James blinked a few times and finally noticed that Lily was standing in front of him, and that she was pointing to the row of miniscule hooks marching down her back in between rows of lace. He got up obediently and began unhooking methodically. Instead of holding the gown up as he thought she would, however, Lily simply let it slip down as James undid the clasps, and as he finished the last one the cloth whispered to the ground in a pile of white. She stepped out of it and bent to pick it up.
James was tired, but he couldn't help smirking at the sight of Lily clad only in a piece of thin silk and her underwear, bending over to retrieve her wedding garments from the floor.
She seemed oblivious to his scrutiny and yawned hugely as she hung her dress up in a closet and reached for a chaste white nightgown. It was something of a monstrosity, having frilly lace cuffs at the end of its long sleeves and a high, stiff lace collar. The gown trailed to the floor and even had several more inches of gaudy lace gracing its hem. Terrence had ordered it for her and she hadn't had the heart to tell him it looked to her like a torture device.
"I'm going to have a bath…you can use the bathroom through the door over there." She pointed vaguely at a door to James' left and exited through another door on his right.
James shook his head once or twice to clear it, then headed out.
Terrence had insisted on bringing Lily a "midnight snack" in bed while James took his time in the bathroom.
James came to the bedroom to find Lily propped up in bed, shrouded in stiff white cotton and lace, and being spoon-fed an ice cream sundae by her doting adoptive father.
"Stop it!" she was trying to shriek, as Terrence made strange zooming sounds and stuffed another mouthful of ice cream into her mouth. "Mmf mmmfnsspppfff!" She swallowed and shook her head at Terrence. "That's ENOUGH! I don't want to eat ice cream now!"
"But Lily," Terrence cried, still brandishing the spoon like a weapon. "It's your favorite! You've got to eat enough for you AND the baby!"
"I haven't got to eat ANYTHING if I'm not hungry!!" Lily cried, very exasperated.
"Funny, that's what my wife was always saying when she was pregnant with Alyssa," said Terrence fondly. His eyes brimmed suddenly with tears.
James snorted with laughter before he could stop himself and had to rapidly disguise it in a coughing fit.
"Well, James," said Terrence briskly, noticing his new son-in-law finally. He surreptitiously swiped at his eyes, then shoved the sundae and spoon into James' hands and smiled brightly. "Why don't YOU feed this to Lily! I bet she'd like that!" He grinned and winked, then kissed Lily on the cheek. "I'll be off to bed now. Good night, you two lovebirds!"
Lily made a strange choking sound as Terrence left.
James was staring, bemused, at the sundae and spoon in his hands. He quirked an eyebrow at Lily. "Are you sure you don't want any more?"
Lily grimaced. "That whipped cream makes me want to throw up."
He nodded. "I noticed you didn't eat any of the stuff on the wedding cake."
Lily looked up at him in surprise as he summoned the house-elf and bade it take the ice cream away.
"What?" asked James, as the house-elf disappeared.
"Nothing," she said, staring at the golden bedspread.
"All right," he said uncertainly. He cleared his throat. "Well. Er. Is there perhaps a guest bedroom I could sleep in, or—"
"Don't you think that would look suspicious?" asked Lily, smiling a little. "I mean, if Terrence should pop over in the morning, or even the house-elf, and find that I'm the only one here—"
"Hm. Yes, I see what you mean. So…"
"Okay, well—" Lily began, pushing the blankets away. "—I can sleep on the sofa, over there, and you can take the bed—" She made to go toward the huge sofa across from the bed, upholstered in a dull gold.
"Oh, no, you don't," James interrupted. "What kind of person do you think I am? I'm not going to let any woman, much less a pregnant woman, kip on the sofa while I have a huge bed to myself. I'll take the sofa, and you take the bed."
"No, no, that wouldn't be right—" Lily protested, conjuring a blanket and rushing toward the sofa. "I'll take the sofa—"
"Impedimenta!" James cried, drawing his wand. He picked Lily up and unceremoniously dumped her on the bed. Fortunately, it was extremely soft. "And this is where you'll be staying, young lady. I'll be quite comfortable on the sofa…it's bigger than the bed I've got at my flat, anyway…just lend me a pillow…" He reached over Lily's shoulder to grab one of the pillows. She sighed, defeated (and too tired to fight), and shifted a bit so he could reach. She sat up too far, though, and as she settled back into the bed a bit of the lace ruffles around her neck got caught on James' glasses. As she fell back onto her pillow, James was pulled down as well, with his head resting against her chest.
He could hear her quiet breathing and her heartbeat, which seemed to be speeding up. She was soft and warm and smelled like soap and lilacs and ice cream. Unconsciously he rested his head against her and could feel his body relaxing, splayed out on the bed, on top of Lily. He could feel the contours of her body through that monstrous nightgown she was wearing. Warm fingers crept into his hair, and—
"Lily, I forgot to tell you that—OH!" Terrence had rushed into the room and stopped short, his round, bewhiskered face turning a bright tomato red. "Er, sorry for interrupting, I'll, uh, just be leaving you two—"
James had jumped up—leaving his glasses still hanging on Lily's nightgown—and was hugging a pillow defensively as he sputtered. "No! Terrence! It's not what you think! I mean, I was just getting a pil—"
Lily abruptly sat up and pulled James back down on top of her. "Good night, Terrence," she said sweetly.
"Good night," Terrence gasped as he quickly retreated and closed the door.
James, his face still buried in Lily's…ruffles, sighed warmly. "You smell so good—"
Lily shoved him away, blushing furiously, and untangled his glasses from her nightgown and handed them to him with averted eyes. James seemed to come to his senses and hurriedly went to the sofa, folding his glasses onto the table at one end. He plumped up the pillow and pulled the blankets snug around himself.
Lily extinguished the lights. She snuggled down into the warm covers and shut her eyes.
Neither of them slept very much or very well that night.