Not a full re-edit on this one! I mean the grammar was still awful and I had to tone down the girl-on-girl hate (no seriously, it was worse than this) and I'm still not sure whether Lily likes James in the OG chapter but anyway she said yes so I guess she did?
Some say, with absolute certainty, that all redheads have quick tempers.
You seriously don't understand how the colour tone of one's hair can determine certain personality traits, but you would passionately disagree with those people. It's a stupid stereotype, like blondes are supposed to be vapid and brunettes are supposed to be boring. Only, not many people would likely say those things out loud to a blonde or a brunette. For some reason, the same people don't have qualms about pointing out your red locks and calling you a "firecracker."
As a redhead, you think that most are no exception to every other normal person. Very much able to keep their temper in check provided that they are not subject to extenuating circumstances.
Sirius would proclaim loudly to the masses that you, Lily Evans, have a short-ish fuse. But if anyone wanted to believe Sirius on that claim you would challenge them to cohabit with him for just one day and see how mad they turn out (you love Sirius, you really do, but it wouldn't be inaccurate to say he drives everyone a little crazy).
The current state of affairs you find yourself in are very much, in your mind, extenuating circumstances. Any angry outburst is very much not your fault at this point in time. Nor should it, in your opinion, be attributed to your hair colour which you would assure anyone is simply a product of genetics. Everyone in your family aside from Petunia has red hair, after all. Petunia is a brunette, but you suspect she is also a manticore in disguise, so really it all checks out.
The circumstances you find yourself in are currently wearing very thin, which is ironic because you're also in one of the most expensive restaurants in the middle of London. Usually, you would be fretting about accidentally dropping food or drink on the pristine, white tablecloths or sneezing accidentally and receiving a disapproving sniff from two tables over. Incidentally, you are still concerned about such things, but only slightly as something else has been on your mind entirely.
It's in these circumstances that it's somewhat difficult to have a boyfriend like James Potter. Despite valiantly trying to convince yourself throughout your schooling career, it was very hard to convince yourself that he was unattractive in any way. Of course, you don't love every bit of his ridiculous self purely because he looks good hanging off your shoulder, but you'd have to be a crazy person not to admit that he's incredibly easy on the eye. Not that you'd ever tell him that, unless you wanted his head to cease being able to fit through doors.
You consider that it might be abnormal to consider your boyfriend's good looks to be a negative factor, but sometimes it just attracts too much attention. Although you'd disagree with anyone who tells you that your red hair contributes to a short temper, it would be an outright lie to deny that you have a fairly active jealous streak.
The hostess, who literally guided you into this restaurant and has therefore been present for the entire duration of your meal, has been very attentive. Not to you, of course. But definitely to your significant other. So attentive in fact, that it is becoming near impossible to restrain yourself from whipping your wand out in the presence of about fifty muggles to stupefy her to within an inch of her life.
You don't feel exceptionally bad about that thought because it appears to you that if the hostess knew about magic or was able to produce it, she would gladly extend the same courtesy. Her attitude toward your general existence suggests she would happily ignore the fact that James is seated with another person.
James is, of course, very disinclined to appear rude, and so he has been perfectly polite. On the contrary, you wish that he would just be the prattish version of himself for once. Alternatively, you wish he would just tell her to sod off and be done with it. You would gladly tell her yourself but since she doesn't recognise that you're even present, that's been a little problematic.
It's really not James' fault, and you feel a little bad for glaring at him every time she comes over to insist that she could be of more service, but since you've just finished your main courses, your frustration has been building for well over an hour. You're on the verge of either an angry explosion or ugly-crying and you're not quite sure which one it is yet.
"Lily?" he asks quietly, staring at you questioningly. You realise you completely zoned out for around ten minutes just thinking about ways in which to subtly maim your newfound enemy.
"Mm, sorry?" you mumble, chewing your lip up in frustration.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks, hazel eyes looking a bit anxious.
"Things," you reply, helpfully.
"Like what?" he presses.
"Do you think Petunia could be half manticore?"
He pretends to consider this seriously and then replies, "'I would say more of a chimera. They're more dangerous."
"Mm."
A silence falls over the table for about a minute before he feels inclined to break it again. To be honest you would rather stay silent until you can leave. You're worried that if your mouth isn't sealed tightly shut you might accidentally start yelling.
"Are you alright, Lily?" he asks.
To be fair, you could ask the same of him. James has been mighty polite and friendly the entire night, but he's been a little different to his usual enthusiastic, excitable self. He's done less talking of Quidditch, broomsticks and matches than he's ever done within an hour and a half and he's also fixed his tie approximately seven hundred times.
If you didn't know him any better, you would have said he was either nervous or very distracted. If the answer is distracted, you're not sure you want to know what's going on in his mind because if it has anything to do with a certain hostess you will probably scream.
"Any chance you want to take a look at the dessert menu, sir?" she breathes sweetly, sweeping up to the table and turning decisively to face James.
"I think we'd rather just get the bill," you mutter, jaw clenched as she sighs, still facing away from you and addresses James with an exceedingly polite "certainly, Mr. Potter."
James' eyes sweep over you as soon as she leaves, and then look down at his lap. Something is definitely afoot.
"You don't like it here?" he asks dejectedly, as if it is his fault your night has been an unmitigated jealousy-fest.
You feel a bit bad. This restaurant will no doubt cost James a small fortune. No matter how many times you insist on contributing to a fraction of the cost of every bill, he eventually persuades you to let him cover it. Either that or he covertly pays with his one muggle credit card when you've dashed off to the loo. Merlin knows which bank approved him for a credit card with all of his real money stashed away at Gringotts.
James is clearly struggling with something and the tone of his voice makes you want to melt a little bit and reassure him that this time you're annoyed with someone other than him.
"It's fine. I'm just tired," you say. It has the opposite of the intended effect.
"I'm sorry if I upset you," he murmurs, eyes troubled as one hand reaches up to fix whatever is in his inside pocket.
Before you can say anything else the bill arrives, thankfully by a different employee, and after a few minutes of the obligatory argument he pays, with a generous tip, and you promptly leave.
It's very cold outside, even with a thick coat on, and you desperately want to apparate away from the restaurant as fast as possible, but James is lingering. He's still looking a little peaky, but has at least stopped fiddling with his tie as much and is trying to locate something else within his coat pocket.
When he finally finishes being preoccupied with his clothing, you take his arm and march him into the closest alleyway.
"Where are we going Lily?" he questions, as if it is not the most obvious thing in the world. That it was not clear we are heading straight back to Godric's Hollow, without having to worry about overly flirtatious hostesses or expensive restaurants.
"Home, James."
"Oh," he mutters, still chewing his bottom lip.
"Are you okay James? You're acting awfully odd," you ask, putting one finger under his chin to lift it up. His face is pale in the light of the dim streetlight, and his forehead is clammy.
"I'm okay," he murmurs, shrugging your hand off and looking down at his own. "I, um," he starts uneasily, "I, actually wanted to...well, I actually wanted to know if...I wanted to ask you something," he continues, stumbling over his words.
You do a quick mental calculation of the amount of standard drinks he has consumed tonight. A grand total of zero. Very odd.
"It'sokaythoughmaybeanothertime," he rushes, becoming completely incomprehensible.
"Are you going to ask me out again?" you tease, trying to lighten the mood, "because you know what the answer to that is."
He cracks a weak smile and shakes his head silently.
"What is it then?" you press, still not quite sure why you're having this conversation in the middle of a garbage bag filled alleyway.
"Nothing. Let's go home shall we?" he covers, taking your arm gently.
You pull back decisively. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing Lily, I'm just tired."
"You can't use my own excuse against me!" you exclaim.
"So something was wrong in the restaurant? Did I make a bad choice? You didn't like it did you? I'm really sorry Lily I thought-"
"Will you listen to yourself?" you snap, completely frustrated with his inability to act normally.
"Is it so suspicious to try and make you happy?" he frowns, brows knitting together.
"No, but you're being very strange today James."
"Do I have to apologise for that too?"
"Well do you have something to apologise for?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Did you plan to take me out to dinner in the most expensive restaurant in London to make up for something?"
"Lily I would never-"
"Well you're acting like there was some ulterior motive."
"Lily, you're being completely absurd!"
You stop only because he's looking positively murderous and you're not sure you want to take it any further.
"I hope you're not insinuating what I think you're insinuating, Lily, because I would never, ever, even consider being unfaithful to you," he continues, running his hands repeatedly through his hair.
"Well I-"
"No listen. I'm sorry that I was acting completely irrational tonight, and that maybe I picked the wrong location for you. But this is not something I'm exceptionally practised in.
"However, if you're actually being serious about me being with some other...person, then you're completely mad. Did you really think I'd take you for granted? Someone I've been desperately trying to impress since I was about twelve years old?"
"We've been together for a while now, surely you don't feel you have to impress me anymore," you mutter, although the heat in your voice has gone and you feel a bit idiotic for jumping to some lofty conclusions.
"Of course I do. I have to keep you don't I?" he smiles weakly.
"Don't be a prat," you say quickly. "It just seems odd."
"Who cares how this seems, Lily!" he exclaims, exasperation rising in him again. "I was simply trying to enjoy a night with my girlfriend!"
The guilt is well and truly setting in. You turn away from him sharply.
"For heaven's sake Lily!" he says, frustration clear in his tone as he steps towards you purposefully and pulling your arm to make you turn back around. "I wasn't trying to apologise to you. I was planning on proposing."
Silence ensues as you stand there, dumbstruck. It's a very attractive position you're sure. He doesn't seem to notice as he drops a small, velvet box into your hand from his inside pocket.
"So sorry if I was being odd," he continues, "but I've never really done this before and I know there's a high chance of you saying no.
"Before you say it, I know we're so young and only just out of school, and don't even have a real job yet, aside from the Order. But it's too dangerous even living these days to consider putting anything off for any longer.
"We have to live, Lily. Life is probably going to be too short for you and I to waste it and forget about important things like this. I know it's not traditional or conventional, but when it comes down to it, I know I love you Lily and no one else is ever going to make me tick like you do. I don't want anyone else to wake up next to me in the morning or remind me that there are vegetables other than potatoes or save me from Sirius' flaming missile toasters. I've never been so hopelessly and pathetically obsessed with someone in my life.
"I wasn't sure how you were going to take this because we've never really talked about it before, and judging by your expression you've never really thought about it before, either. I might have shocked you a bit, and you don't have to answer now or any time soon if you don't want to, and I'll understand if you feel rushed. I don't want to pressure you –"
It is sweet, it really is and you are a bit shocked, so you let the aimless (however very lovely) rambling go on for a few more minutes before you decide to put him out of his misery. Because yes, you do love James however inconvenient it may be when he attracts the attention of annoying hostesses. It is slightly irresponsible to agree to marry someone when you're barely eighteen, but you don't think you could ever give up on James. He is just a little too addictive and a little too loveable.
"This is lovely," you murmur, turning the ring over in your hand.
"Erm, I know," he fidgets, obviously caught off guard at your seemingly random comment in the middle of his monologue. "I wasn't sure if you liked the oval, but I really thought it would look nice on you."
"I was referring to the proposal, silly," you smile, genuinely. "The ring is beautiful, but if I was going to marry you, I would hope you would consider it to be about more than just a few diamonds."
"Oh," he says.
"Of course, an alleyway probably isn't the most conventional place to ask someone to spend the rest of their life with you," you smirk, reaching out to touch his face.
The poor boy looks utterly confused.
"Lily I-"
"Please James, you've never really been all that conventional, and neither have I. In fact I'd probably rather you ask me out here than back in there with that hostess that looked like she wanted to eat your face off."
"She did?"
You shove him lightly. "Idiot."
He breathes out deeply, probably expelling all the nervousness and smirks right back at you.
"I'll marry you, James," you say, "on a couple of conditions."
He doesn't even wait to hear the conditions as he returns your smile with a dazzling grin that reaches all the way to the very corners of his lips. He picks you up in his arms, twirls you around and pulls you in for a breathless kiss.
"Just one moment," he says, grins mischievously and then yells into the night, "LILY EVANS AGREED TO MARRY ME!"
You can't help but laugh. A stranger from the bar across the street replies, "ONYA MATE," and another says, "DON'T DO IT TO YOURSELF!"
"What are the conditions?" he asks, face flushed when you break apart.
"One. No marauding at the wedding,"' you say, quirking an eyebrow as you imagine his grandiose plans which probably involve his friends doing something outrageous.
He nods slowly, although alarmingly looks as if he is thinking of loopholes.
"Two," you say, carrying on before he can scheme up a plan, "I want at least one pet after we're married and move in together, without Sirius."
You have to stress that last bit to make sure he gets the point.
"Can it be a dog?" he asks innocently, linking his arm into yours as you prepare to side-along.
"I was thinking more of a manticore," you tease, prodding him in the side with your unlinked hand.
"I can't agree to that, Lily," he says, with false sincerity.
"Fine. A chimera?"
"No chimeras. And before you even ask, no Petunias either," he smiles as you twist on the spot and evaporate into the cold, night air.