Tripping Down the Aisle

Chapter Three: The Order

***

Monday, 19 September

Ten months, five days

The day had started out badly, and it was becoming inevitable that it would continue and end that way.

Both James and Lily had awakened later than usual, and an argument ensued as to who was at fault for this amongst a flurry of clothes and shoes.

"You put an extra blanket on the bed last night," James pointed out, pulling a shirt over his head and reaching for his watch on his bedside table at the same time, a trick he had perfected as a teenager.

Lily scoffed as she rummaged around in their shared closet for the mate to the shoe she was wearing. "And what, pray tell, does that have to do with anything?"

"Well," James said, "you know I can't wake up if I'm comfortable."

"Ah," Lily muttered derisively, abandoning her efforts with that pair of shoes and selecting a different set, "I should invest in one of those self-ejecting beds for you, shouldn't I?"

"Wedding present."

"I'll look into it." Lily stood up, having successfully put on both shoes, and went to her dresser to pick out a pair of earrings.

"What do you want?"

"For what?" Lily turned around, having selected a pair of gold studs, and faced James quizzically as he unenthusiastically ran a hand through his hair--his version of combing.

"A wedding present."

She smiled inwardly. "You don't have to get me anything, you prat."

"Yes, I do. If I don't, my mother will tell me I've failed my marriage already, and you know how much I hate disappointing my mother."

"It keeps me awake at night sometimes," Lily responded dryly. She leaned against her dresser, surveying James with a small smile on her face. "James, love," she began, her tone slightly patronizing. "Love" was about the only pet name she would accept, deeming the others too sappy and patronizing for her taste.

"What?"

"I know I wear your things, but I really don't think it goes both ways."

Annoyed, James snapped, "What are you talking about?"

"You're wearing my blouse. Three Broomsticks for lunch today?"

As James pulled the offending blouse off of him, muttering something that sounded quite a bit like "clucking bell" as he did so, Lily chortled softly and went to their shared closet. She disappeared in it for a few moments before emerging with one of his shirts in either hand. "Brown or red?" she asked.

He took the red soundlessly and she tossed the brown haphazardly back into the closet, closing the door as he pulled it on. She stood by his dresser, fiddling with the handles and neatening up the surface of it a bit until he came up behind her, putting his arms around her waist and kissing her neck lightly. She smiled, and turned to face him, burying her face in his chest and noting that the shirt she'd given him was quite wrinkled. She was just about to tell him so when he said, "And the Three Broomsticks sounds good to me. When can you go?"

Lily sighed, wishing he wouldn't remind her of work now, wishing he wouldn't say anything at all. "I don't know," she replied, her voice muffled. "I'm still working on that...charm...and it's got a lot of faults still, and I...well, I might be able to get away at around...two?"

"Two it is." Even if it was awfully late for lunch for James's taste, he knew better than to challenge anything Lily said, especially if he wanted to fit in some snogging before she left. Which was, indeed, the case this morning. Which was the case almost every morning.

Lily lifted her head from his chest, put her arms around his neck, and rested her forehead against his chin. "I hate my job," she muttered.

She said this at least twice a week. "But you're wonderful at it," he reminded her.

"I suppose," she said grudgingly.

James looked over her head at the clock on the wall. "Oy," he said.

"What?"

"Time."

Lily groaned. "Can't--can't we just stay here...?"

"No. Go."

"I hate that you don't have to leave for another half hour. It's very unfair."

"I know." He removed her arms from his neck and she stepped away from him reluctantly.

"Very unfair," she repeated.

"Uh-huh."

Lily smiled, and he returned the gesture. She leaned forward and tugged on a lock of his hair, a comfortable, familiar action that he'd started quite a long time ago. "Don't get yourself killed," she said.

"I'll try." He tugged on his own hair. "Now go!"

"All right, all right." Lily picked up her wand from where it lay on his bedside table. She pointed it at him, eyes meaningful. "Leave soon."

"Yes, mum."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I love you, you stupid prat."

"I love you too, you controlling wench."

Lily paused, surveying him again. "James, can't you do something to your hair--?"

"No. And you like it better this way anyway."

"Oh, that's true."

"Now go!"

With one last sigh, Lily Apparated, leaving him alone in the bedroom. James flopped himself down onto the bed, smiling fondly. He gazed aimlessly around the room, his eyes settling on his bedside table.

"Oh, hell," he muttered, the smile fading from his face.

She'd taken his wand. Again.

***

"I'm just saying, Lily, before you leave: check your wand."

"You'd think it'd be that easy, but--"

"It is!"

Lily sighed and buried her face in her hands. "James, I'm sorry," she intoned, her voice muffled through her hands.

"I really, really am, but I'm very busy right now, so we'll just have to continue this at lunch."

"At lunch," he repeated.

"Yes." She looked up from her hands. "I've got thirty reports to look over, plus that charm, and..."

Thinking that this was not very fair, that he always listened to her when she decided to go off on one of her tirades, James mumbled, "Yeah, I know," and ran a hand through his hair.

Lily bit her lip and glanced up at the clock hanging on her office wall. "You're going to be late, by the way," she said.

"I'm already late," James told her, "mostly because I had to go two floors out of my way to get my wand back."

"Tell it to your superiors, James," Lily responded tartly, getting a little tired of this, "because, despite the laid back atmosphere of this office--" she waved her hand at her overflowing inbox, the filing cabinet that stood in complete disarray, the wilting plant on her desk, and the five Ministry Interdepartmental notices next to it-- "I am quite busy, and I have a deadline."

Never one to give up that easily, James retaliated, "I don't know what kind of excuses your superiors accept, but mine will never believe that my girlfriend took the wrong wand when she left this morning."

"What do you want me to do? Write you a note excusing you from being late and put it on your shirt like a five-year-old?"

"Should I put your name on your wand?"

"You know what you should do?"

"What's that?"

"Go away. I'll talk to you at lunch." Her voice was bordering on hysterical, which told him when her words wouldn't that it really was time to go, unless he wanted her to start crying, which he never wanted.

"Fine," he muttered derisively, picking up his wand. He held it up to her as if to say, 'See? Mine', and left the room.

***

When James entered the Main Auror office, he saw Sirius, blue eyes widened in that falsely innocent-expression he always wore when trouble loomed, talking with Alastor Moody. As James drew nearer to them, he could hear Sirius saying, "Really, sir. Swallowed a basilisk egg. He's probably at St. Mungo's right now, undergoing emergency extraction."

James stopped walking immediately, squeezed his eyes shut, and groaned inwardly, wondering if it was too late to go apologize to Lily, snog her in her office, and convince her to go home with him...

"Potter!"

Eyes open. Mad-Eye Moody was advancing on him, magical eye spinning maniacally in its socket. James, who still had not gotten used to this, barely held back a shudder. "Yes?" he said, hoping his expression was believably innocent.

"Mind telling me what time it is?"

James leaned a little to the right so that he could see the clock that hung on Sirius's cubicle wall, the one with a chicken on it that Sirius kept just to spite him. Looking at this clock involved some quick math, as the clock was twenty-six minutes (exactly) behind, and Sirius refused to change it. "It's 9:37, sir," he said.

"Funny thing, that," Moody growled, "because your shift starts at exactly 9:00."

James ruffled his hair in the back nervously. "I know, sir." Actually, he was thinking, since I'm here now, it starts at 9:37...

"Do you know what happens when you're late in this department, Potter?"

"I'm hoping it has nothing to do with the gallows," James muttered, wincing as soon as he said it for fear of being hexed.

Moody didn't hex him, but scowled. "You think this is funny, Potter?"

"It's not funny at all, sir, I'm just stupid."

"You're not stupid, Potter."

"I...I'm pretty stupid," James insisted.

"I'll vouch for that," Sirius volunteered from his cubicle.

Both James and Moody ignored him.

"Potter, if you were stupid, you would never have passed the necessary tests to become an Auror."

James was silent, wishing that he hadn't said anything in the first place. No matter what Moody said, that had been stupid.

"I trust this won't happen again?" Moody continued.

James vehemently shook his head, feeling it safer in the long run to just keep his mouth shut.

Moody nodded and left the room.

Sighing, James sank into his desk chair, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. Sirius popped up over the wall separating his cubicle from his best friend's and said conversationally, "Didn't even try to use my excuse, did you?"

"It was a horrible excuse."

"Not with the right backstory. See, I was thinking that you could've told him that your girlfriend was trying to kill you. Anyone would believe it, really."

"He'd throw her in Azkaban," James pointed out. "She wouldn't be too pleased about that."

Sirius waved a hand. "Minor casualty," he declared, grinning impishly. "What'd she do this morning?"

James yawned and reclined in his chair. "Took my wand."

"That wench," Sirius said casually, examining his fingernails.

"Mmm."

"Oh," Sirius said, as though he had just remembered something. He leaned closer to James, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "Meeting. Seven."

James's face darkened. "Okay."

"Tell Lily?"

He sighed again. "Yeah."

"Or are you not speaking to her today?"

"No, I'm meeting her for lunch at two, unless I get called out. I'll tell her then."

"Started making wedding plans yet?"

"Nah. Set the date, but that's about it."

"Oh, when? I'll mark my calendar." Sirius grinned. He'd gotten the newest Veelas of the Beach calendar yesterday, and it was delicious.

"June twenty-fourth."

Sirius scrunched up his nose. "That date rings a bell somewhere."

"Day we graduated from school, for one."

Sirius considered it. "No, that's not it."

James flushed furiously and beckoned Sirius closer and whispered something in his ear.

Sirius drew away, grinning brilliantly. "That was it."

James, still blushing, mumbled something that sounded like "one track mind" under his breath as he reached inside a drawer for a file.

"So," Sirius said, his tone suddenly brisk and businesslike, "should I schedule the bachelor party for the twenty-third, then? Or will you want to actually be coherent at your wedding?"

James dropped the file, sending papers flying in every direction. "Bachelor party?" he asked faintly.

"Yes, Prongs," Sirius said dryly. "A bachelor party. Surely you remember what a bachelor is."

"Of course I remember what a bachelor is," James snapped, aiming his wand at the contents of the file and gathering them back up again. "But there is no way in hell you're giving me a bachelor party."

"Sure there is. Why else do you think I agreed to be your best man?"

"Lily would kill me," James said matter-of-factly, adjusting his glasses.

"Nah, she wouldn't. It's tradition!"

"This is Lily."

"Oh, that's true. Remember when she got mad at me just because I gave you a subscription to the Veelas of the Beach magazine?"

James snorted. "Yes, whatever was she thinking?"

***

James had been fully intending to yell at Lily as soon as he met up with her in the Three Broomsticks, but when she did finally arrive (fifteen minutes late; even more reason to be angry at her), he found that he didn't want to yell at her so much as hug her.

Lily was carrying six folders, all stuffed to the brim, and had her hair in a very messy ponytail--she had missed several strands of hair, something that would usually annoy her to no end, but now she looked too upset to even consider what her hair looked like. In truth, she looked quite close to tears.

"Okay," Lily said, setting the folders down carefully on the table in front of her and sitting down with a very big sigh, "yell at me."

"What would I want to yell at you for?"

She glanced up at him. "For making you late, Jimmy, don't be stupid."

She knew how much he hated 'Jimmy'. His mother called him that, and he'd never had the heart to tell her that it always reminded him of the fat, noisy, quite evil pig his neighbor (indeed, the one with the chicken) had owned with the same name. James closed his eyes and said, "Lil, I don't want to fight with you."

"I don't want you to call me Lil, but we all can't get what we want."

The drinks arrived as James and Lily stared stonily at each other, both refusing to break the other's gaze. Madame Rosmerta, their server, had always liked both of them, and always stopped to talk, but, noting the harsh mood that hung over them, walked very hastily away.

Lily looked away first for once, opened the folder on top of the stack, and began to work. James, noticing what she was doing, took the quill away from her.

"No," he said.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy, but you are not my father, and cannot tell me what to do. Give me the quill."

"You're overworked."

"I know. Give me the quill."

"You need a break."

"I'm taking a break for our honeymoon, is that not enough for you? Give. Me. The. Quill." There was a dangerously steely note in her voice now, but James ignored it.

"I'm not talking a vacation--though you could do with one of those, as well. I'm just talking about having a nice, pleasant lunch with me, possibly with some snogging..."

"You just ruined all chances of snogging, for today and the rest of the week. James Thomas Potter, give me the quill."

"Ooh, middle name and everything," James said in a slightly mocking voice, enjoying this newfound power he held over her. He twirled the quill in between his fingers. "What's it worth to you?"

Lily wasn't listening, but had pulled out her wand. Within seconds, she had Summoned it and was now imitating his twirling. Fluttering her eyelashes, she said, "So, James, what's your life worth? Because right now, I'm about to decapitate you with my wand."

"The actual wand or a spell?"

She smiled sweetly. "Whichever hurts more."

"Are you quite done?"

Lily sighed and set her wand down. "I suppose. Let's talk about something else."

And that was the thing about their arguments. They could be furious at each other one minute, then the next, chattering over ice cream.

James scanned his mind for a topic that would not make Lily mad. "Um...Sirius asked me about wedding stuff today."

"Yeah? Did you tell him that he's not allowed to bring you near alcohol for at least 72 hours before the wedding? And that that rule applies to him as well?"

James chuckled a little and ruffled his hair. "Funny thing," he said. "Sirius decided that he wants to throw me a bachelor party..."

Lily raised her eyebrows over the rim of her glass. "And you told him..."

"Nothing, really. I kinda told him that I didn't think you'd like that very much, but you know Sirius. Doesn't listen to anyone."

"He listens to you," Lily pointed out.

"Most of the time," James amended. "But not all of the time."

***

The Order meeting was subdued, as it usually was. The small room was full to the brim, most people sitting in assigned seats around a long, rectangular wooden table, but some were leaning against walls or half-sitting on windowsills.

Dumbledore stood at the head of the table, looking as serene and omnipotent as he always did. He never had to yell, but commanded attention merely by...being.

Moody rose from his seat now, looking grave and slightly more (what? frazzled? crazed? lazy-eyed?) than usual. "Three families in Kent," he sighed. "Broad daylight..."

"Any leads? Survivors?"

Moody shook his head. "None," he said sullenly. "None at all."

"And where were your Aurors, if it was broad daylight? Our Order members?"

There was a slight ripple in the room as said members shifted uncomfortably. "They were Muggles, all of them," Moody said flatly. "And they were the only people around for miles. We couldn't've known."

"So how did you find out?"

"A sister of one of the families was coming for tea. She's a witch, saw the Mark, alerted us immediately."

Dumbledore straightened, looking slightly alarmed. "Did she see...?"

"No," Moody replied abruptly. "No, she had enough sense to stay away."

"We'll need to talk to her," Dumbledore declared firmly, scanning the room. His eyes landed on Sirius Black, who was looking at his hands. "Sirius!"

Sirius looked up from his lap and said, "Y-yes?"

"I'll need you to talk to the woman. Ask her exactly what she saw. Moody will give you her information. I'll need the results of that interview by Saturday."

Sirius nodded.

"Is there anything else?" Dumbledore asked, looking as though he sincerely hoped not.

No one spoke up, so Dumbledore declared the meeting adjourned.

People were socializing now, most talking in low voices about the happenings in Kent. Lily, James noted, was talking to Gideon Prewett....blonde haired, freckled, green-eyed, pretty boy Prewett...he had her hand on her shoulder--what was his hand doing on her shoulder?--and was talking in a low voice to her. As James got closer to them (for he was definitely going to break up this little love-fest), he saw that Lily had her hands over her face--was she crying? He quickened his pace.

"--it happens to everyone," Pretty-Boy was saying to Lily in a low voice.

"I know," Lily responded, her voice muffled and thick. "I know, but it's just... so much and I..."

James got to them, flashed Prewett a warning look and pulled Lily to him. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked her.

"Nothing," she said thickly. "Nothing's wrong. It's just...work...and I'm..."

"Overworked," he told her flatly. "I've told you about this."

She looked up from his shirt, reddened eyes flashing. She had opened her mouth to say something when Pretty-Boy Prewett interrupted.

"He's right, Lily," he said. "You are overworked. You need a vacation."

James wanted to hit him. How could he know what was best for Lily? "I keep telling her that."

"Lily is right here," Lily said, all traces of tears gone now, replaced by a set jaw and narrowed eyes.

"Well, Lily, if you ever need a place to vacation," Prewett said, in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, "my family's got a little place in France. You're welcome to use it, if you like."

While James wanted to throttle him, Lily merely looked surprised. "Oh...well, see...that's not necessary, because--"

"Because my family's got a place in Venice," James spoke up.

Lily shot him a briefly quizzical look, knowing full well that he owned no such thing. However, Lily was extremely loyal, and usually knew when to agree with what he said and when to start arguments. "Right," she said slowly. "A place in Venice."

"It's beautiful in the summer," James added. "Warm. We've got flowers in the back that you can smell in the master bedroom as soon as you wake up...isn't that right, love?" He carefully--though perhaps not so subtly--emphasized the name.

"Right," Lily repeated dully. "Honeysuckle, isn't it?"

"I think so," James agreed airily, nodding.

Prewett, who looked mildly amused by this exchange, said, "Ah, well, if you ever need a change of scenery, Lily, you're welcome to it."

Lily smiled wanly. "Thank you, Gideon, but James's place in Italy is just so wonderful that I cannot ever bear to leave it," she responded dryly. James noted the sarcasm, but plastered on a smile all the same.

Prewett nodded. "Oh, and congratulations on the engagement. You're a lucky man, Potter."

James tightened his grip on Lily's waist. "I think so."

Prewett nodded several more times, then looked down at his watch. "Well, look at the time. I really must be going...I'll see you all later." He smiled, waved, and Disapparated.

Lily turned to him, arms folded. "When will I be seeing this lovely place in Venice?" she queried, eyebrows raised.

"I had to think fast!" Of something better than stupid, stuffy France.

***

Hours after Lily had dropped off to sleep that night, James lay awake, replaying the conversation with Pretty-Boy Prewett in his head...trying to find subliminal messages, more like.

You're a lucky man, Potter.

'Because, you know, if it weren't for the fact that Lily hasn't ever loved anyone but you in her whole life, and therefore, doesn't know that she deserves a million times better, you'd die alone'.

Smug prick.

Ah, well, if you ever need a change of scenery, Lily, you're welcome to it.

'If you ever get tired of this prat, come to me. I'm open twenty-four hours a day, and I never say no'.

Condescending bastard.

...my family's got a little place in France. You're welcome to use it, if you like.

'But only if you bring the whipped cream and ditch your boyfriend. I'll meet you there.'

That conniving son of a bitch.

***

A/N: Okay, massive schnoogles to everyone who reviewed and/or waited this long. I'm so, so, so sorry that it took forever, but I had a lot of editing to do for this one. Hopefully the next ones will come quicker (I have up to seven written, and they're about the same length as this--five is my favorite, look out for that one). I promised myself that I would finish by my birthday, and if I didn't, I wouldn't be allowed to watch Friends for a week. Today is my birthday, and here it is. :)