Chapter 31: Absolute Disaster

Author's Note: Bonus chapter this week! I'm traveling for Thanksgiving next week, so I'm not sure I'll be able to get a chapter up like usual. Hope everyone's holiday dinners with their families go better than this one HA! Thanks for reading and leaving likes and comments. It means the world to me!

YES! See you soon, Lily Evans.

That's what his last letter back said.

And I'd opened it up to read too many times to count, enough that the creases had lost their hold.

And now it's time. The time, the day, the place... that I get to see James again.

Well, actually, it's past the time.

I stand outside Stoneground Cucina, looking up and down the street, not sure what direction he'll be coming from. I keep checking my watch, watching the minutes tick by. He's getting dangerously close to leaving the range of acceptably-late and into the realm of so-late-it's-rude. Mum had offered to wait out with me, but I waved her and Dad inside with Petunia and Vernon to get our table. The wind lifts my hair and I shiver, pulling my wool coat a bit tighter, wondering if the stroke of vanity this afternoon that had resulted in me wearing a dress and tights was a stupid idea. I mean, it probably is. I'm freezing. And I'm starting to get annoyed James isn't here yet, and therefore annoyed that I got all dressed up for him. Anyway, I shouldn't care what he thinks about how I look. He probably won't even notice I pulled the front of my hair back with a ribbon or put on lipstick or anything. I'm wearing heels, for Merlin's sake! What was I thinking? It's just dinner, the restaurant isn't even that fancy, I just had to –

"Wow."

I start and look up and... there he is. Standing just a few paces down the sidewalk, the streetlights glinting off his glasses, hands in his pockets, hair carefully combed – all except a patch at his crown that sticks stubbornly up. James. And his expression makes the dress immediately worth it.

"You look... wow," he says again. He rubs at the back of his hair, immediately messing the rest of it up, and smiles. He's dressed in muggle clothes, and it's almost amusing to see – I'm so used to seeing him in his school robes.

Not that I'm complaining.

James might be a wizard, but the boy knows how to wear a button-down and slacks. And I'm definitely not staring at the nice way his shoulders fill out his blazer, or how the dusty purple color of his shirt makes his eyes unexpectedly pop green.

"I'm probably over-dressed," I say, because I'm stupid and tongue-tied and don't know what to do with myself now that he's actually here and looking so ridiculously charming. Do I hug him? Shake hands? Run inside before I can do anything more stupid than that? It's suddenly very clear that all those letters have done absolutely nothing to crush my feelings for him.

In fact, I think I might have a bigger problem now.

"You can over-dress anytime," James says. He comes a couple steps closer.

"Thanks," I say, looking down. For some reason, it's hard to look him in the eye. "You too," I say, still being stupid. It's just so hard to think straight when he's standing right there, looking all handsome and looking at me like... like...

Like we might be something more than friends.

"You're late. Everyone's already inside," I blurt.

His expression falls and he rubs more anxiously at his hair. "I know, and I am SO sorry. Something... something came up, but I left as soon as I could."

I wait for more of an explanation, but he doesn't say anything else.

"Um, okay," I say, pushing down a pulse of annoyance. He's here now, after all. "They're excited to see you again – well, my parents are. And me too, I suppose." I flush.

"I'm excited to see them again, too." He pauses. "And you, Lily. It's good to see you again."

I chance a glance at him. He's smiling. My annoyance melts.

"No pressing Mum for embarrassing Lily stories," I lecture. "Or sharing any of your own."

"No promises."

"Of course not," I sigh.

"And... Petunia and Vernon? Are they excited to see me?"

I sigh again. "Since you are affiliated with me... no, not really." I grimace. "Sorry."

"Does Vernon know...?"

"About magic? Yes."

"And?"

"He's about as thrilled about it as Petunia."

"Right," James says. "So I probably shouldn't bring up the new broom I got for Christmas or charm the centerpieces to tap-dance?"

"Maybe you should stick to transfiguring them to gold sculptures," I tease. "But no, probably not." I pause. "I just need tonight to go well. If it does, maybe Petunia won't resent me being at the wedding so much. Or at least more than she does already."

"I've got it. You can count on me, Evans, I promise." He grins. "I've already won over your parents. I'm sure I can charm your sister too."

/

"James!" Mum stands to hug James when we walk up to our table, set in the middle of a room made mostly of warm shades of wood. All the tables have white tablecloths and tapered candles flickering with firelight. Nice, Mum. You greeted my date more appropriately than I did. "We're so glad you could make it!"

"Glad to be here, Mrs. Evans," he says. "Mr. Evans, good to see you again," he says, shaking Dad's hand. I bite my lip anxiously when he turns to Petunia and Vernon. "And you two must be Petunia and Vernon. I've heard so much about you from Lily, and I'd like to offer you congratulations on your upcoming marriage," he says. "Thank you for providing a spot for me at your wedding, especially with it being so last-minute. I'm James Potter." He extends his hand.

For a second, I wonder if they'll refuse to shake it. But Petunia casts the quickest glance at Mum and reluctantly shakes James's hand. Vernon follows suit. "Thank you," Petunia says. Vernon grunts.

I sigh in relief and go to take one of the two empty seats between Dad and Vernon now that I'm sure Petunia isn't going to throw James and me out. I'm startled that before I can sit though, James pulls the chair out for me.

"Oh," I say, blinking at him. "Thank you."

"Of course," he says.

Mum catches my eye from across the table and winks as I settle into my chair and James sits too, taking the seat next to Vernon. I blush and busy myself unfolding my napkin and laying it across my lap.

Dinner goes... alright, I suppose. I mean, Petunia and Vernon could have been friendlier – like, really, any level of engaging – but James is amazing, easily drawing Mum and Dad into conversation, deferring to Petunia and Vernon, and asking more questions about the wedding than I have. Petunia answers his queries in clipped, short sentences, while Vernon mostly observes him suspiciously over bites of steak fettuccine and sips of wine.

"Oh, Lily, dear, how did your final –" Mum drops her voice to a whisper. "Transfiguration paper go?"

"Mum!" Petunia scolds, darting her eyes around at the other dinner guests, but they're all seated more than an adequate distance away to ignore our conversation. "Can't you leave that kind of conversation for in private? Lily's grades aren't so important we need to talk about them over dinner where anyone can hear."

James watches Petunia with narrowed eyes, then turns to my mum. "Lily got an O," he says, like Petunia didn't say anything.

"An O?" Mum says, delighted.

"What the bloody hell is an O?" Vernon grumbles. "That doesn't sound particularly impressive."

"For your information," James says, giving him a tight smile, "it's the highest mark, and Lily's the only one who got one on this particular assignment."

Under the table, I lay a warning hand on the arm he has resting in his lap. He looks at me and I raise my eyebrows pleadingly.

He turns back to Vernon. "But totally understandable you didn't know that." And then he moves the conversation smoothly along, asking Dad about his Christmas cake. I relax back in my chair.

I really shouldn't be surprised by any of it. James is such a people person and clearly knows how to interact with anyone. He also uses all the silly forks lined up by his plate properly and waited to start eating until after Mum and I had taken bites of our dinner.

It makes me think how he comes from money, and has probably attended numerous social events and knows just how to conduct himself in public. It's easy to forget things like that at school. He certainly doesn't act like it, like he's rich and better than anyone for being so. Even in his earliest, absolutely most prat-ish years, his family's wealth wasn't ever something he threw around. I mean, just look at his friends. I don't think Remus or Peter come from very wealthy families, and while Sirius does, he'd been disowned and living with the Potters since sometime last year. And then there's me. We're fine, but we're not cloth napkins and multiple forks kind of people. I use the same fork from salad to dessert.

The rockiest moment comes at the end of dinner when it's time to pay. James pulls out his coin pouch. It's something I haven't ever thought twice about in the Wizarding world – everyone carries their money in bags – but I'm acutely aware of how strange it looks, with both Dad and Vernon holding their wallets in comparison. James opens it up but, when looking in, curses under his breath just loud enough for me to hear. "I don't suppose they take Galleons or Sickles here, do they?"

"No," I tell him. "They definitely do not." I see the gleam of gold, silver, and bronze coins, hear them clink against each other as he pulls the drawstrings closed again. Vernon eyes the pouch with narrowed eyes.

"James, dear, don't worry. Ian and I are paying for all of you tonight. You too, Vernon, put that away," Mum says, nodding to his wallet.

"That's too kind, Mrs. Evans," James says. "You don't need to do that."

"And what would you do instead?" I mutter to him.

"Just transfigure some Galleons to muggle money, obviously," he says. "Then Obliviate anyone who noticed."

I roll my eyes. "Just let my parents pay, James."

He starts when I say his name. When he looks at me, it's with eyebrows raised and an incredulous, hopeful smile lighting his whole face. "James?" he says.

I roll my eyes and shake my head, but I also smile. And I don't take it back.

"Fine," he says, and his eyes gleam. "But next time, I'll be better prepared." Next time. He slips the bag back into his pocket. Like most coin pouches, it shrinks magically to fit. On James's other side, Vernon continues to eye James's pocket suspiciously as he puts his own wallet away.

"Well, it's getting late for us old folk," Dad says after the check has been taken care of. "Mum and I are going to head home, but don't let us end you kids' party. Stay as long as you want." He helps Mum up. I stand too, James right behind me, to tell them good-bye.

"I'm sure we will follow you out," I say, hugging Mum, but I'm surprised when Vernon speaks up.

"No, stay," he says. He's still sitting in his seat, still watching James. "I'll buy you a drink."

This is so unexpected I don't say anything. Vernon, wanting to spend more time with me? He's barely said anything to anyone all night, and I don't like the way he's been watching James, either.

But James either doesn't notice my reservations or doesn't care. "Yeah, okay," he says. He turns to my parents. "Thanks so much for dinner, Mr. And Mrs. Evans."

"Oh, psh," Mum says. "I'm glad you are all staying. You kids have fun."

When they leave, I take my seat much more cautiously than I had at the beginning of the meal. I still don't know what to make of this uncharacteristically friendly offer from Vernon. Vernon flags a waiter. "Could we get some drinks? Petunia, dear? Lily?" I shake my head. I feel like I need all my wits about me right now to survive whatever Vernon's got brewing.

"Just a glass of rosé," Petunia says.

Vernon shifts his gaze – reluctantly – to James. "Whatever you're having," James says.

Vernon turns back to the waiter. "A rosé and two glasses of Scotch – top shelf. Make it snappy."

The waiter bows and hurries off.

No one says anything once he's gone. And by the time he's returned with all our drinks – including a thoughtful glass of water for me – still no one speaks.

"So..." James says, once the silence has stretched uncomfortably thin and we've all taken sips of our beverages. "We suddenly feeling chatty after dinner?" His tone is light, but immediately, I feel Petunia shift to the defensive. I shoot James a warning look. Vernon, however, looks amused as he sets down his glass.

"Just figured we could talk a bit more openly, now that the Evans have left."

"About...?" I say.

Vernon ignores me. Like usual.

"What bank did you have to rob to get ahold of all that gold?" he asks James. I get the distinct impression he's trying to be intimidating, but it backfires horribly when James laughs.

"That's what you're thinking? That I'm a criminal? Interesting theory." He tips his head back for a drink, his shoulders staying relaxed, unintimidated.

Vernon's heavy cheeks turn red, though from anger or his beverage, already mostly drained from his glass, it's hard to say. "Well, then, explain. Can't help notice you're neglecting to answer the question. What else am I supposed to think when someone throws bags of money around like that? Very fishy, I think."

James opens his mouth to speak, but glances my way first. I widen my eyes at him. Keep it civil, I plead silently. You promised. Please.

He meets my eyes. Swallows. Then looks back to Vernon, forced politeness in his voice. "That's just Wizarding money, Vernon. We all pay with coins like that."

Thank you.

At the mention of magic, Vernon reacts in the extreme, casting a wild eye around like he expects someone to be hovering over our table with hands cupped to their ears. He still looks ready to fight, but I hurriedly turn to Petunia, hoping to change topics and salvage the evening before the boys can really cause a scene. "So, Tuney, any last things to wrap up before Friday?"

"Like you actually care," Petunia says, taking a prim sip from her flute. Great. Now she wants to be the one causing the scene.

"Of course I care," I say, stung. "Why else would I be here if I didn't? Why would I have run around all last week doing final follow-ups with the florist and bakery and scheduled your hair appointment?"

"You call what you did helpful? You scheduled my appointment with the wrong salon and gave the bakery the wrong cake order." Petunia sniffs. "All you did was create more work for me."

"What are you talking about? I did exactly what you wrote down."

"Some people just can't take criticism," Vernon says, draining the last of his scotch. "Think they can do no wrong. Pity they're usually the ones with most fault."

I ignore him, just as he always ignores me. "Petunia, I swear I did exactly what you told me to. I double and triple checked everything."

"Whatever, Lily. Doesn't matter now. I got it sorted out myself. I don't need your help."

"I'm still not sure why you're letting her come, in any case," Vernon says to Petunia, ignoring me. Still. "Can we really trust her not to blow up the wedding with some... some..." at the last moment, he can't bring himself to say 'magic'. "...tricks?"

"For Merlin's sake!" James explodes. "I can't believe Lily's going either, because she's going to have to put up with you lot all night!"

"James," I say sharply, but now Vernon's not the only one ignoring me. James doesn't even look at me.

"And you!" Vernon says, pointing an accusing sausage finger at James. "Not sure how you wrangled your way into attendance. We don't even know you. Still don't buy that story about..." Again, he can't say it. It's like he's worried any actual mention of magic might infect him. "...your people's money. Probably just a cover for whatever unemployment benefits you and your parents are living off of. People like you, sucking money out of the respectable, hard-working ones... All I know for sure is I don't want my wedding sullied by any riff-raff, low-life company."

"What are you talking about?" James says. "My parents make plenty of money! They worked for it."

"Well, I'll have you know I earn plenty of money too! You know what car I drove here tonight? Parked right outside is a 1975 Mercedes-Benz S Class I bought myself."

"And I've got the newest Cleansweep Six! Who cares?!"

Vernon stares at him incredulously. "A what now? Clean sweep... are you... are you talking about a broom? Is that supposed to impress me? Now I know you're living on benefits. Who are your parents? Janitors?" He laughs, and the sound is mean. Petunia laughs too, her chuckle shrill and disdainful. I can only stare in horror as James tosses his coin pouch down on the table. Several gold Galleons spill out across the table with heavy thunks.

"Take that amount. Multiply it by a hundred. Then a hundred again. Fill a bank vault with it, and then some. Now you've got something of a picture of what my parents – very respectable potioneers, entrepreneurs, business people – EARN. And I stand to inherit."

Vernon stares at the gold coins, his piggy eyes bugging.

"Not that I care about any of that. Wealth doesn't make you worth a damn thing. But if it did, you wouldn't deserve a single Knut, you despicable, self-important –"

"James!" I say again, pleadingly, but he doesn't take his eyes off Vernon.

"- greedy pig. You wouldn't know quality in any case, because you're marrying her." He nods at Petunia, whose pinched lips tighten. "A snobby, selfish brat who treats her own sister like rubbish."

But it's like Vernon didn't register a thing. He picks up one of the Galleons, turning it over in his fingers like he can't believe it's real. "You're having me on," he says, not taking his eyes off the gold gleaming in the candlelight. "There's no way..."

"That's what you took from this?" Potter says. "Did you not hear anything I said?"

"A liar and a criminal, that's what you are," Vernon says. "No other explanation." Finally, he acknowledges me. "I cannot allow you to bring such company to my wedding."

"It's Petunia's wedding too!" I cry. "Tuney!" I look to her. Tears pool in my eyes. I can't believe this night has gone so poorly.

Petunia's eyes glitter like ice at me. "You're only coming because Mum wants you there. Potter gets the same courtesy. Only for Mum and Dad's sakes." The way she says 'Potter' is horribly reminiscent of the way Severus does, and I think wildly that, given the chance, she and Severus might bond over their mutual hatred of him.

"Like I even want to go," Potter mutters.

Right now, I'm so furious with him, I could scream. Given the chance, I might be able to bond with Petunia and Severus too.

"Don't push your luck, magician," Vernon says, making the word sound just as derisive as Petunia's 'Potter'. "She's already being generous beyond what you deserve."

"She's a right cow is what she is," Potter retorts.

Petunia stands. "And Lily's right. You're an absolute tosser." Without another word, she storms away.

Vernon stands too, glaring. "If you're so rolling in money, it should be no problem for you to pick up the tab. I sincerely hope I never have to see you again." And he stomps away after Petunia.

A shocked silence is the only thing left in their wake. I look around, not even surprised to see all the other dinner guests at their tables staring at us. Thankfully, no one's sitting so close that they could have heard all the actual words of our conversation, but even so, no one could miss the cloud of anger with which Vernon and Petunia had left.

"Lily..." Potter says. Nothing else. Just my name.

"Get. Out." I say. I can't even look at him.

He stands. Hesitates. "I still don't have any muggle money," he says.

"Potter." He flinches. "Out."

He leaves without another word.

Once he's gone, I squeeze my eyes shut, and tears finally trickle out. But I know everyone is still watching, so I don't give into the sobs I can feel building up in my throat. Instead, I finally stand as well, gather up Potter's coin pouch and scattered Galleons, and throw several muggle bills down on the table. And then I too march out of the restaurant.

/

"You - ABSOLUTE – prat!" I shout as soon as I'm outside. Because of course he hasn't left. That would've been too easy. "What were you thinking?" The tears finally pour from my eyes. I'm too angry to care.

Potter is caught somewhere between indignation, the emotions from the argument inside lingering, and shame. "Sorry," he mutters.

"Sorry!" I screech, and laugh. It comes out garbled and a bit crazed through the tears. "You're sorry. I'm so glad you came to your senses NOW!"

"Oh, come on, Lily!" Potter says loudly. Snow started falling while we were inside, and the snowflakes settle on his hair. "He was vile! They both were! I could hardly just sit there and–"

"But you could! You could just sit there! That was your job! You promised."

"I didn't promise to sit there and let your sister and Vernon walk all over you and insult you! I didn't promise I'd be okay when your sister treats you the way she does!"

"Well now you've made it worse! This was my one chance to make nice with Petunia for the wedding and you completely sabotaged it! I don't know if Petunia will ever talk to me again or, Merlin help us, let me into the wedding! All thanks to YOU! Because you couldn't keep your huge mouth shut, just this once –!"

"I'm not going to apologize for defending you!"

I scream. The street, busy with cars when we'd first arrived, has fallen mostly quiet, and there's no foot traffic at all, thanks to the heavily falling snow.

"But what about breaking a promise? What about betraying my trust? All I needed you to do was sit quiet tonight and you couldn't even do that!" I draw in a deep breath. "That's all I needed. That's what I trusted you to do, and you couldn't. Even. Do. One. Dinner! I can't trust you with anything!"

"Lily," Potter says, stepping closer to me, but I turn my back on him.

"Just go," I say. "For real. Just leave. I don't even want to look at you right now."

There's a long silence from behind me. A car drives slowly past, the tires sloshing in the newly fallen snow.

"What about Friday?" Potter asks. "The wedding?"

I close my eyes and don't turn around. "I don't know. I just... I don't even know."

Silence. I know he's still standing there. I can see him in my mind's eye, a hand clenched in his hair, debating whether or not he should walk around to face me, try to reason.

Potter. Just go," I say again.

At long last, I hear his footsteps crunch down the street, and when I listen hard enough, the faint, distinct crack of him disapparating away.