They were lost. Four hours, twenty unnecessary items in their shopping cart, and two bowls of spaghetti and meatballs after they'd walked into the IKEA, Lily finally had to admit defeat: she had no idea how to get out. She and her not-quite-fiancé-but-hopefully-would-be-soon would die here, and their skeletons would probably be picked over by some other opportunistic shoppers.

James didn't seem too bothered by this revelation. If Lily hadn't known better, she might have thought that he was glad to be trapped in this hell of furniture and household appliances.

"What do you think of this chair?" James asked, pointing at a blue and orange monstrosity. Lily pulled the cart over so she could better examine the... the chair. It appeared to be sentient, and malevolently so, if the stitching was anything to go by.

Lily shook her head. "I am not bringing that— that thing into my house."

"How about this one, then?" This armchair was even bigger than the last, made of leather, and bright red with orange spots.

Lily spared a glance at the nineteen year old man who apparently could not distinguish between Things That Should Exist and Things That Should Not.

"You know," she said, smiling, "it's lucky that Hogwarts had a uniform. I'm still not entirely sure how you manage to dress yourself in the morning."

James grinned at her. "You just have no taste at all. I bet Sirius would..." he trailed off, digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out a wallet, his wand, a chicken drumstick, and finally a slightly oily-with-chicken-grease mirror.

"Sirius Black," he said. A moment later, Sirius's face appeared on the other side, and Lily had to suppress a groan. She loved James's friends, she really did, but her boyfriend had apparently never heard of the concept of couple time.

"Can you believe that Lily doesn't like this armchair?" James was saying, pointing at the Red and Orange Horror.

Sirius gasped, and when Lily looked over he had put a hand over his mouth. "She doesn't like it? That armchair is the highlight of my life, the single ray of sunshine in my cold and dreary existence. If you don't buy it," he added as an afterthought, "I will."

James turned to Lily as though this proved everything. "See, Sirius likes it."

"The same Sirius who once walked around in one of those ugly Christmas candy cane patterned suits for a week straight because he thought it was funny?"

"How many Sirius Blacks do you know?"

They'd drawn a bit of a crowd by now, what with the magic mirror and the not-quite-yelling. Lily lowered her voice.

"I'm sorry to tell you, James, but his taste is just as terrible as yours."

James looked, if anything, indignant. "Well, he's the one who picked out your ring, so I hope his taste isn't that—"

He cut himself off and rubbed the back of his neck. "Er, I don't suppose you can forget I said that bit about the ring?"

Lily grinned and shook her head.

"Well."

Lily wasn't sure what she was expecting, but in retrospect it shouldn't have surprised her when James shrugged and reached into his other (similarity magically enhanced) pocket, took out a small box, and kneeled in front of her.

"Lily Evans," James said, "will you marry me?"

"I can't tell whether you two are super romantic or super dumb," Marlene Mckinnon said a day later, pouring herself more wine.

Lily laughed. "That basically describes my life. You should frame it and put it on our wall,"

"What, next to that ugly armchair you two bought yesterday?"

Lily shrugged. "It's not that bad," she said, "and at least it goes with that carpet."