One Week 'Till the Wedding

James emerged from the men's changing rooms, securing the fluffy white robe as he went. He had only been to a spa once before, with Lily, and had found the whole experience a bit strange. You sat around in varying temperatures, sometimes in water, and…did nothing? Doing nothing wasn't really in his wheelhouse.

But Lily loved a spa day: she regularly went with Mary and Marlene, and had even been for a weekend at a fancy hotel and spa with Euphemia and Rose a few years ago. And, to be fair, she deserved an opportunity to do nothing for a while. She'd been working hard, and getting everything ready for the wedding hadn't been stress-free. If that meant he had to wander round in just his swimming shorts and a robe for two days, well, so be it.

The main spa area was a fascinating space, decorated to look like a Grecian ruin—they'd even gone to the trouble of painting a mural of old stone pillars on the walls. Between every few of the wicker loungers that sat at the poolside, there was a statue of an armless naked woman ("how relaxing," he thought, utterly baffled), and soft pan-pipe music floated through the air from hidden speakers.

He could admit that the pool looked appealing: there was even an arch in the wall that led out to a section of the water outside where you could swim overlooking the sweeping grounds. James had always liked swimming—he'd competed all the way through school and university, only giving it up when he graduated and couldn't face the early mornings anymore. Maybe Lily would let him stop relaxing for a while and swim some lengths, in between all the relaxation.

At least it was quiet; as far as he could see, there was only two other people in the spa, one in the hydrotherapy pool and the other headed for the sauna. He didn't have to worry about too many people seeing him in what was essentially the equivalent of his underwear.

"This place is fancy," a familiar voice piped up behind him, and he turned to find his fiancée, swamped adorably in her own white robe, her hair piled on to the top of her head in a messy bun. "There are four different types of steam rooms!"

"Four?" James wondered. "Surely steam is just…steam?"

"They each have different scents," she told him. "One is eucalyptus and mint, to 'clear your senses'."

Given the intensity of the past two weeks, James thought he could do with his senses being cleared. "Where do you want to start?" he asked, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of red hair behind her ear. "I'll follow your lead."

Lily smiled up at him, before glancing around. "My vote is for the jacuzzi first," she decided, already tugging on the tie of her robe; she shed her robe casually, as if she wasn't revealing the most perfect body in existence, a body that felt like it was made for him, that fit against him perfectly. She was wearing a white bikini, held up around her shoulders and hips by delicate, flimsy-looking straps. Frankly, it was the sort of ensemble—if you could call it that, given it covered barely five percent of her body—that could get someone in an awful lot of trouble.

He gulped, but nodded, taking off his robe as well; they cast them on to a pair of nearby loungers, and she took his hand, leading the way around the corner to a more secluded section of the facilities, where a large, circular pool waited, sunk into the floor. The water was deliciously warm as they descended the steps, and he forgot about his deep and intense longing for his fiancée for just a moment as he lowered himself into the water with a happy sigh. "Oh, that is pretty great…"

She shot him a beaming smile, as if his approval of the jacuzzi was all she had been waiting for. "Isn't it?" she agreed, bobbing down for a moment so the water came up to her shoulders; he mirrored her actions. "Happiness is warm water and my husband-to-be."

With a grin, he floated a bit nearer, his arm slipping through the water to loop easily around her waist. "Can you believe it? We get married in four days…"

She glided through the water, guided by his gentle pressure at her hips, until her arms had hooked around his neck and her body was up against his. "I know," she sighed. "I feel like we've been waiting forever and now it's nearly here."

James nodded. "I can't wait to be your husband," he murmured, dipping his head to dot a kiss to her temple.

"And I can't wait to be your wife." She tilted her chin to look up at him, catch his gaze; there was a soft quality to her, there in the quiet of the spa, as if all the tension and hecticness of life had been left outside, and here she could just be. It was a hundred different things, tiny shifts in expression or brushes of her hand or adjustments to the timbre of her voice, but it all coalesced into something gentle, a pleased sort of unspooling, and it warmed his heart to see it. She paused, her smile only growing as she watched him. "What are you thinking?"

He smiled fondly. "What makes you think I'm thinking something?"

"You have this look in your eyes," she said, something like wonder in her voice. "Like the whole world is there."

She knew him. It wasn't a surprise, after all this time, and he knew her just as well; it was just something else, incredible to acknowledge, this bond they shared. "I was thinking about how relaxed you seem already," he said, pressing a kiss to her cheekbone, now. "All soft and sweet and beautiful."

Her fingers brushed idly through his hair. "Am I not always soft and sweet and beautiful?"

"Of course," he allowed; now, dotting a kiss to her neck, "just, even more so, currently."

A smile, again, the kind he associated with lazy warm mornings, waking up next to her. "Well, thank you," she replied. "I am relaxed."

"What time is our couple's massage?" He was not particularly looking forward to that: he wasn't sure what the appeal was on lying face down for an hour while a stranger prodded him.

"Not till four," she said. "Plenty of time for floating around in warm waters…"

"And I've thought up some topics of conversation," he told her, "in case we get bored of the peace."

Lily laughed, the sound echoing melodiously off the tiled walls. "How thoughtful of you."

"I thought so," he agreed. "But that's me, isn't it? Thoughtful to a fault."

"Of course." She smiled, one hand slipping to his chest, idly tracing the contours of his abdominals: all that running really did pay off. "You should be shirtless more often."

He smirked, trailing his finger lightly across her collarbone. "I think my boss might have some complaints."

"Quit working," she suggested, leaning in to press a delicate kiss, just at the curve of his jaw. With that movement, her body was fully pressed against him, and his eyes fluttered shut automatically at the feeling of her, only a scrap of material between his skin and her breasts. He was only vaguely aware that her legs had slotted, under the water, either side of one of his. His hands fell to rest at her waist, one drifting to her thigh. "You could be my full-time house husband."

He tried to focus on what she was saying, to not get distracted, but it was a challenge, especially when she shifted her hips a little, unconsciously seeking friction against his leg. Her lips remained blissfully glued to his jaw. "And just…wait around for you, shirtless?" he asked, one hand giving her arse a hearty squeeze.

She made a soft little noise against his skin, like a whimper, her hips moving again. "I think I'd like that…"

She was going to kill him. She was going to kill him, and he didn't even think she was trying, this time. She'd been caught up, as he had, in the closeness, that intimacy; the warmth of the water, and the sensation of their bodies slickly against each other. And he knew all too well—had listened to a lot of complaining, over the past two weeks—that she was pent up, angry with want for him. No wonder one false shift of her pelvis was sending her over an edge she wouldn't normally contemplate: pressing herself against him, against the growing hardness in his shorts; grinding against the muscles of his leg; all in a public place. Yes, a mostly empty public place, but someone could walk around the corner into the area at any moment.

Oh, Christ, why did that make it even hotter?

He was going to be thrown out of this spa before they'd even been there an hour. Surely it wasn't the done thing to get an erection in the jacuzzi.

She seemed to catch herself mere moments later, her eyes flying open as if surprised to find herself there: she peeled his hands from her waist (and arse) and pushed herself away from him, floating backwards until there was at least a few feet between them. "What are you doing to me?" she asked, pointing an accusing finger.

It took him a moment to gain back reasonable thought. He stared back in surprise. "Me? I was just bobbing around in the water!"

Lily glared at him. "You and your stupid abs, and your stupid face, and your stupid ideals about making our wedding night meaningful…"

James raised his eyebrows in return. "Save something for the vows, babe."

"Don't talk to me," she decided, moving to the opposite side of the jacuzzi. "I'm going to try to relax over here."

It was going to be a very long two days.

WhatsApp private message

Wednesday 31st March 2021, 9:21am

James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin

Pads: Is it today you're back from the spa Prongs?

Pads: Are we still jogging in the morning?

Moony: He's prob too busy getting oiled up by a masseuse to reply

Wednesday 31st March 2021, 12:46pm

James: We're back this evening

James: Thank fuck

James: But can't jog tomorrow – full day of florists/suits/caterers etc etc

Pads: Fair enough

Pads: Not enjoying yourself at the spa mate?! 😏

James: Lily is angry with me for being attractive to her

Moony: …of course

James: It's been hell lads

James: She's been walking round in these bikinis looking like sex on legs

James: and her LEGS

Pads: Alright we get the gist

James: I fear she may murder me before we have the chance to get married and shag again

James: Just, straight up kill me in my sleep

Moony: What a way to go that would be

Moony: Killed in your sleep by a randy redhead

Pads: Sounds like the makings of a porn film to me

Moony: That's because you are a disturbed fellow

James: how is this helping me?

Pads: You made your own bed mate

Pads: and now you can't have sex in it

James: ….

Pads: 😂😂😂

Moony: don't know about you Prongs but I can hear him laughing at his own joke from here

James: Useless

James: I have to go, we've got a couple's mud bath thing now

Pads: don't let her drown you in it

Moony: Good luck mate!

Unsurprisingly, it was easier to resist temptation once they were back home: neither of them tended to walk around their home in swimwear, as a rule, and besides, there were so many last minute tasks to complete for the wedding that there wasn't much time left over for interaction.

Friday dawned sunny and cool, and James kissed his fiancée goodbye before he headed off to help make the last few decorative touches to their wedding venue. Lily was spending the day doing mysterious bride tasks with Marlene and Mary, before they all met up for a wedding party dinner at his parents' house that evening. James didn't begrudge her a quieter day; they had both worked hard preparing for the wedding, but Lily was the natural-born organiser, it was inevitable that the scales had tipped a little more in her direction when it came down to responsibilities. "I have a vision," she had said airily, back when they were newly engaged; he remembered watching her, the way she had tilted her chin up just so, the way it had made him feel all the more in love with her than he'd thought was even possible. "And I will stop at nothing to achieve it."

And, although she had been exaggerating slightly, sure enough that vision was going to be realised tomorrow. Their wedding was going to be incredible, and not just because he'd finally convinced her to hire a chocolate fountain: because it was the culmination of their efforts, a celebration of their love for one another, the start of what he knew would be a lifetime together.

(He jotted these ideas down into the Notes app on his phone, to add to his vows later. One should never ignore creative inspiration when it hits.)

His jobs for the day were ticked off easily enough, Sirius and Remus along for the ride if not actually being particularly helpful. Remus, for his part, was at least willing to attempt to be useful; Sirius was just in it for the opportunity to be irritating.

By the time they reached his parents' house, the sky was a dusky blue and there was already a gentle hubbub of noise as they went inside. In the kitchen, the Potters were holding court with the Evanses, providing what looked to be a significant amount of entertainment to Mary, who watched on in delight. Lily's sister Petunia offered James her cheek in greeting—about as warm as the woman could manage, in James' experience—and her husband Vernon gave him his version of a friendly nod, which looked more like someone in a great deal of musculature discomfort.

And then, of course, there was Lily.

She stood by the windows, holding a glass of champagne and listening to whatever Marlene and Dorcas were telling her; he paused, making the most of a quiet opportunity to just take her in. She was wearing a pale lilac dress, one he remembered she'd been wearing the night he had proposed: he recalled the way the fabric darkened when her happy tears had slipped from her cheek onto the dress, how it had felt under his fingers as he had drawn her closer for a kiss. Now, she looked as happy, as content, as she had that night, and he wondered, as he often did, how it was he got so lucky to find this woman, to have her fall in love with him, to find his whole world in the sparkle of her green eyes.

"Prongs," Sirius gave him a nudge. "You're staring."

James looked round with a grin, reluctant to tear his gaze away from his future wife. "I'm only human."

"You're a soppy bastard," Sirius smirked. "Good thing she's as soppy as you, eh?"

"Good thing," James agreed, looking back towards Lily; she had spotted him now, and sent him a soft, sweet smile. "We're as bad as each other."

They'd left his parents' house around ten—early, by the Potters' standards, but everyone was well aware of the need to get a good night's sleep in preparation for tomorrow. James and Lily had never been much ones for tradition (ironic, given the abstinence pact they were currently battling through) and so hadn't bothered with arranging to sleep separately the night before the wedding. "Besides," Lily had sighed, when they'd discussed it in passing a month ago, "I never sleep as well if you're not there."

And so, with Mary, Marlene, Petunia and the mothers all set to arrive first thing on Saturday morning to whisk Lily away, and Sirius, Remus and Fleamont planning to arrive for breakfast ("we'll bring supplies," Sirius had said, "is eight thirty too early for tequila?"), James and Lily staggered up the stairs, enjoying the peace and quiet while they could.

"This time tomorrow," James sighed happily, tossing his shirt and trousers into the washing basket nearby, "we'll be married."

"Mr and Mrs Potter," Lily agreed, standing close to the mirror as she removed her makeup. "And we'll be dancing, and drinking, and we'll have eaten at least some of that amazing cake."

"The cake!" James shot her a grin, sidling up behind her; his arms slipped round her waist, drawing her close, and she matched his smile in the mirror. "Is it bad if I say the cake is the bit I'm most looking forward to?"

"Most looking forward to? Yes," she told him, leaning back against him. "But I will allow it to be in your top five."

"My generous fiancée," he leaned his head down to press a kiss to the curve of her neck. "Don't worry, you're always my number one."

"Good," she chuckled softly, her eyelids fluttering shut at his ministrations. "You're mine, too."

Maybe it was the glass or two (or three) of wine he'd had with dinner; maybe it was the dim mood lighting; maybe it was the smell of her hair or the smooth silk of her skin. Maybe it was all of those reasons, combined with the fact that he was touch-starved for the woman of his dreams and apparently couldn't hold himself back any longer. Whatever the reason, his mind didn't think twice about letting his hand drift down, below the waistband of her pyjama shorts. "And you always will be…"

Her breath caught in that intoxicating way, the sort of soft gasp that always did it for him, and she tilted her head just a little more, giving him even more access to the delicious porcelain skin of her neck. "James…" she breathed; her hand found its way into his hair. "Oh…"

He watched her for a moment in the mirror, at the way her muscles tensed at the gentle exploration of his fingers. "You are so beautiful..."

Her face flickered with something like a frown, already drawn to an edge by his touch. "James," she mumbled again.

"Lil," he murmured, pausing to sink his teeth delicately at the curve of her neck, his fingers below finding their natural rhythm, their easy adoration of the woman in his arms. "God, I love you…and tomorrow…" Her hips canted forwards at a particular stroke of his thumb, a sound akin to a whimper falling from her lips. "…tomorrow, I get to prove…that I will love you—" A gasp, this time, and her hand took an iron grip in his hair. "—for the rest of our lives…"

It didn't take long after that, and he didn't fool himself that it was only about his words: they definitely helped, she'd always liked him murmuring sweet or dirty nothings into her ear, but it had been nearly three weeks since he'd touched her like that, and so it was short work indeed before she was practically melting in his arms. He watched her reflection in the mirror, the beatific glow to her face, the sense of almost fluidity to her limbs as she came down from that high, and he knew that he would do anything, go anywhere, to make her look and feel that way, every day, forever.

"James," she murmured at last, her eyes still closed, breathing slowly steadying. "What about…you almost made it…?"

She was right—they were so close. Barely a day away, in fact. Three weeks ago, he had thought that to have failed would be a disaster, some kind of comment on the start of the married life together. Now… "Our wedding night will be meaningful, no matter what," he said, gently turning her in his arms; her eyes opened, and she smiled up at him, arms slipping round his neck. "Because it's us. We could fuck in the toilets at the church before the ceremony and it wouldn't make the start of our marriage any less meaningful."

She laughed, standing on tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. "Oh, babe," she sighed. "I wish you'd come to this conclusion, oh…two and a half weeks ago."

"Me too," he admitted, reaching down to give her bum an apologetic squeeze. "Still, you know what this means?"

"Sex?"

"Sex," he echoed, pausing only a moment before he scooped her up into his arms, heading for the bed. "Oh, but…do you think…"

Lily raised an eyebrow, pausing before apparently reading his mind. One of her many talents. "I won't tell anyone," she promised.

"Oh, thank god," he sighed happily. "Your dad and Sirius would never let me live it down."

Lily had told almost the entire wedding party within the first hour of the reception.

James didn't have it in him to mind all that much.