"good summer, so far?" asks james.
"it's okay, considering," lily answers honestly. "you?"
"'s'alright. considering what?"
"the state of things in general. more attacks, the protests, purists on the wizengamot..."
he slams a jar back on the shelf, startling her. "oh — sorry... yeah, that's — yeah. it really sucks. it's been infuriating. and i bet it's even — i can't even begin to imagine what it's like for you. i'm sorry."
"ah, i'm alright, more or less. personally faring okay. just, you know, reading the papers has been... terrible."
"god. anything i can do at all?"
"that's sad as fuck, evans."
she chuckles. "yeah, no. i didn't really mean that."
"i mean, i can make you a potter, but a pureblood, no."
"you can make me a potter?"
"i — " there's a brief moment where he just looks at her and presumably debates on whether or not to backtrack. because of course lily knows what it meant. of course she knows the implication; she just can't believe he'd be so upfront with it. she remembers christmas — i want to be your friend, if that's okay, his dreamy smile in the firelight — and expects him to wave the whole potter thing off as a joke now, turn it into some clever wordplay, but — "well, yeah," he just plows on, decidedly matter-of-fact. "if we get married, you can become one."
she was going to fluster him. but he beat her to it and now she doesn't quite know what to say. she settles for okay, noted, a breathy rush of words, scratchy thing lodged in her throat. she looks away, pretends to check the price tag of the nearest jar. hundreds of frog eyes stare back at her.
james is quiet. when she steals a glance at him, he's biting his bottom lip, clearly trying to supress a smile.
"shut up," she says, breaking into a chuckle herself.
he laughs. "you turned so red," he says. "i'm so sorry."
"because who says that," she retorts. "who the fuck asks someone to marry them in an apothecary. at their place of work. like that."
"evans, i didn't ask you to marry me — "
"well good because that was such a lousyass proposal — "
"i'm insulted that you'd even think that's how i would propose — "
"how would you propose then?"
this seems to stump him, and lily thinks, hey, here's her moment of victory, this pause, a natural turn of the conversation wherein she finally has the upper hand. her turn to make him blush now. except she feels suddenly just as floundered. also — how the hell did they get so close? she takes a step back, having more room behind her, the flecks of light in his glasses still branded in her vision. he sags in an exhale, grip tight on the jars in his hands.
"not like that," he says, still smiling (thank god). when she looks up at him again, safe distance away, his gaze is intent, a serious, earnest way about him. "i wouldn't propose to you like that."
— bad day wall pt. 2 (read on ao3)
