GOLDEN BOY ;

“It is not the strength of the body that counts, but the strength of the spirit. And in this -- kindness is the revolution." James Potter

[madam-noire-blog]

Volatile Times - IAMX || Arsonist’s Lullaby - Hozier || Flickers - Son Lux || Bedroom Hymns - Florence + The Machine || Late Night - Foals || Arrival Of The Birds - Cinematic Orchestra || I Can’t Help Myself - The Four Tops || Requiem On Water - Imperial Mammoth || The Middle East: Blood - Lo Fi Music || ILYSB - LANY || Holocene - Bon Iver  || Every Other Freckle - alt-J || Start A Riot - Banners || Saint Cecilia - Foo Fighters || Rebellion - Arcade Fire || Cream on Chrome - Ratatat || Believe - Mumford & Sons || Float On - Modest Mouse || The Road - Old Man Canyon

ALIVE : a mixtape for frank longbottom merry christmas, @frankielongx !!!

[madam-noire-blog]

‘She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, even, and perhaps most especially, when that person couldn’t see it in themselves.’

                                                                              LILY EVANS

merry christmas, @lilyevanssx !!

[madam-noire-blog]

“ Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts.     Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts.     Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me…        Anything can happen, child.                 Anything can be. ”

                                                MIRIAM STROUT

merry christmas, @miriamstroxt !!

[madam-noire-blog]

“when did you know you loved her?”

                                                    “immediately.”

“that can’t be – you were just kids.”

                                           “oh, i knew. i always knew.                              there are some things that are just understood.”

“just understood? how did you know, then? what made you fall in love with lily evans?”

                                     “believe it or not, i’d never been much of a romantic until i met lily evans; ‘course one handshake, one smile, one toss of hair that smelled suspiciously like strawberries, and i was absolutely done for. i loved her when i first met her – i loved her a little more every day,  a little more each time she turned me down. and how could you not love lily evans? i figure the whole world could be a little in love with her; and i figure the whole world doesn’t deserve her – myself included. i loved the way she’d chew her quills when she’d concentrate enough, the way her eyes would crinkle at the corners when she really laughed; i loved how pink her nose would grow at every quidditch match, the way her hair would stick out from beneath her hat in the stands, so bright that i could see it from atop my broom. i loved her when she’d wave to me from those very stands – and i loved her when she didn’t. i loved her when she said my name, and i loved her when she refused to. i loved her when she cried, when she laughed, when she smiled, frowned, scowled – i loved her so much i was nearly consumed by it before i took my NEWTs. i loved her on our first date, when she let me hold her hand underneath the table; i loved her when i first kissed her, and her lips tasted like cocoa. i never could find cocoa quite that rich, after that. i loved her more and more on every date, every day – i loved her when i brought her flowers in the middle of a charms test; i loved her when her face turned red – and flitwick’s did, too. i loved her for everything she was, everything she is, everything she wants to be. i love her for her dreams, her fears, her hopes, her secrets; i love her for the gift she’s given me in harry, for the ease with which she handles him. i love her for her kindness, for her gentility, for her bravery, her hope, her strength – i love her for being stronger than i am, braver than i am, better than i am. i love her for the gentle way in which she regards me; i love the way her hand feels on my back when i need her silent comfort; i love the way she seems to know – i had never felt enough until lily; i love her for giving meaning to my mess, for pulling my head from the clouds, for showing me what love is, what beauty is, what purpose is. i love her for agreeing to marry me – for being my family. i love her for her anger, for her melancholy, for everything she’s too bloody strong to admit. i love everything about her, from the way she smiles in her sleep, to the way she speaks to harry when she thinks i’m not listening, to the way she holds herself beneath the scrutiny of those unworthy to even give her a glance. i wish i could tell you all the ways i love her – but there aren’t enough words.”

                                           “that certainly seems to be enough words, james –” 

                 “but it’s not. it’ll never be enough. it’ll never be enough becuase every single day – every day – i discover a new way to love her. the mother of my son, the bigger half of my heart, a perfect picture of what love’s meant to look like. it’s a puzzle i’ll never solve – but one i’m happy to suffer at the hands of. ask me tomorrow, and i’ll love her a thousand ways more – i’ll love her for always; so no – there aren’t enough words.”

merry christmas, @lilyevanssx !!!

[frankielongx]

MARAUDERS AU PART TWO:

In a world, where the Marauders are without magic and instead have to suffer through college. Feat…

Frank Longbottom, (Environmental) Law, Harvard University.

Bellatrix Lestrange, (Criminal) Law, Harvard University.

Alice Longbottom, (Criminal) Law, Harvard University.

@madam-noire​

[frankielongx]

MARAUDERS AU PART ONE:

In a world, where the Marauders are without magic and instead have to suffer through college. Feat…

Frank Longbottom, (Environmental) Law, Harvard University. 

Bellatrix Lestrange, (Criminal) Law, Harvard University.

@madam-noire​

[ofprvngs-blog]

macdvnald:

Mary knew very little of fashion: she liked practical clothing, a tee with jeans and some kind of jacket, and did not follow any of the trends going around her too closely ( unlike her sister ). She wished she did, sometimes, as she liked looking good and appreciating her outfits, but it was simply something that wasn’t on her radar too much and so she was rather shabby at clothing advice. Still, she was there to try and assist James, which mostly ended up with her highly amused with the whole situation.

It felt surreal, the fact that he and Lily were getting married. Sure, they’d been engaged for a long time now and she had known it was coming, but it still felt odd to be planning a wedding for friends her own age. Mary didn’t mind, though; she was immensely happy for both her friends and was going to be there every step of the ( stressful ) way to the wedding. 

At his question, she let out a laugh. She shrugged a shoulder, very much clueless as to which bowtie would be better. “Uh, hearts?,” she offered. “Fits the whole theme, y’know —– love ‘n stuff.” She got up from her seat and scanned the other options, eyebrows furrowed in thought; Mary took this very seriously, after all. “But maybe something else entirely? All of those remind me of patterns you’d find on socks, y’know, and I’m not sure if that’s the look you want to go for here.” She let her fingers glide over the fabrics for a moment before picking one with tartan print. “McGonagall would like this one … She is coming, I hope?”

He’d always appreciated Mary’s simpler sense of style; she was no-nonsense in all things, it seemed, and entertained little superfluous detail. A friend of Lily, and a friend of his, he trusted Mary’s opinion. James trusted her to tell him truthfully whether or not he looked like a complete arse, for she’d done it a number of times before; Mary was nothing if not honest. And he needed honesty -- he was moments from buying a packet of ties that changed color with his mood, but Mary’s leering practicality over his shoulder made him think better of it. 

He followed her quite helplessly as she rose from her seat, tossing his current selection (pineapples -- a definite no) into the pile of rejects. James could feel the poor shopkeep rolling her eyes at his continued failure, and at the sight of the mess she’d need to clean up later growing greater and greater, but he persisted. Wandering fingers filed through rows and rows of ties as Mary worked, pausing over a pink number with fluttering hearts; “Blimey,” he muttered, looking down at what looked to be a product of a Valentine’s Day acid trip, “that’s a statement.” 

At the mention of McGonagall, a mischievous grin spread across his tired face. “But of course,” he laughed, leaning over her shoulder to examine the tartan print, “Already told Lily she’s got to be somewhere near the front so I can wink at her after the whole thing’s over -- can’t leave Minnie out.” He reached down and lifted the tartan from the pile with a considering nod; it would, jest aside, look quite nice with the suit he’d painstakingly chosen. “’S better than the pineapples. Much better than the hearts. Only marginally better than the one with the little snitches, though; y’think I’d look normal in tartan?”

[ofprvngs-blog]

rcmvslvpn:

As soon as Lily had told Remus that James was out shopping for the wedding, Remus took it upon himself to go to Diagon Alley and help his mate out. Really, a lot of it came fromthe begging on Lily’s part, but Remus also wanted to help. He was overjoyed that it seemed like his best friends were finally taking initiative when it came to their wedding. They desperately needed something good in such a dark time, and their wedding was definitely it.

Lily told him he might be in Twilfitt and Tatting’s so that’s where he headed first. Remus certainly wasn’t any leading official when it came to fashion advice, but he probably knew more than James. And if  he knew anything about James he knew his nerves were getting the better of him and that he wasn’t even thinking clearly.

Remus ducked into the shop, feeling quite out of place in the high class store. He kept his head down and walked briskly down the aisles, keeping his eyes peeled for the familiar black mop of messy hair. He found him in the very back of the store among the bow ties and laughed as he saw his friend practically strangling himself with one of them. “Oi, Mate. Maybe try not to strangle yourself before your wedding day yeah?” he smirked as he bent slightly to free the tie from his friend’s neck. He put it back around his neck and then tied it for him. “I mean, unless that was your plan of course–which I’m assuming it wasn’t. In that case, you’re lucky I’m here.”

James let the bow tie fall from his fingers at Remus’s behest, loosening the noose around his neck. In a great show of theatricality, he threw his hands into the air and brought them clapping down upon his friend’s shoulders. With a groan, he let his head hang, ignoring the number of ties that scattered onto the floor behind him at the sudden flurry of movement. “Remus -- you bloody life saver,” he sighed, “Thought I was done for; if not for being strangled, then for being buried alive underneath the shame of not being able to choose a bloody thing. I’ve been here an hour and a half -- can you believe?” 

He let his arms fall from Remus’s shoulders -- only to straighten the ruffed collar of his jacket before turning back to the mirror -- and sighed once more. “Reckon Lily wouldn’t let me just go in the buff. That’d make this all loads easier,” he glanced over his shoulder at Remus with a shrug, as if it was actually an idea worth considering, “It’d keep me away from the extra helpings at dinner for a while, I’ll tell you that.” He stooped to collect a few escaped ties with a huff, tossing them back atop the pile and returning his gaze to Remus’s reflection. 

“As nice as a good strangling sounds right about now, I think Lily wants to marry someone with a pulse -- I’ll need all the help I can get, here.” He looked from the pile, to the racks, and back again, “D’you think a tie with pineapples on it would be too much?”

[ofprvngs-blog]

aalectocarrow:

Alecto’s robes had been left in tatters after the December attack, what hadn’t been torn was left caked in blood and mud. After weeks of washes and repairs she had finally been forced to concede defeat, and burn them. Any evidence that linked her to the attacks needed to be destroyed, both her and Amycus claimed to have been at home during the attacks. 

Her mother had been a traditionalist, extremely critical of anyone who bought ‘off the rack’ all robes should be made to fit. It was an expensive habit, but the Carrows could afford it. A small collection of superb robes was better than hundreds of sub-par ones. 

She stood bored as the tape measure floated around her, carefully taking her measurements, ensuring nothing at changed since her last visit. At first she did not recognise the voice behind her, could not bring herself to care about a man looking at bow ties. Eventually however she could not help but turn around, recognising the boy instantly, she had memorised the family trees of all the pure blood families as a child, even the ones her parents looked down upon as traitors. 

“Oh I don’t know potter” She said, smirking as she moved towards him, pushing the tape out of the way, the idea she might have put on weight was simply offensive, and this looked to be much more fun. “I think some of these could suit you quite well. Why not the one covered in dinosaurs?”

He wasn’t sure if this was a trap, a horrid dream, or a strange twist of fate -- none of which would surprise him greatly. James half expected Alecto to vault over the closest display to strangle him herself, but she seemed more inclined toward cordiality, even if that cordiality came with a smirk and a few strings. His fingers had frozen upon his tie, brows quirked and lips warped into a strange grimace, a look of skepticism that anyone could spot through the window as they passed; perhaps she was playing the role of pureblood chatting with another pureblood, but James was not as tactful. 

With a roll of his shoulders and a pointed sniff, he looked back to the mirror and tugged his current choice from around his neck, discarding it in the pile to his left. Her reflection seemed human enough -- James was almost prepared for her to turn into a giant bird and consume him then and there. He’d always been wary of the Carrows; Alecto, at least, had the potential to be decent. “We’ve got a strict no-dinosaurs rule where this wedding is concerned,” he cleared his throat, an attempt at humor masking his skeptical glare, “Tried to convince the missus to make the whole thing a dinosaur-themed affair; now she’s nixed the whole thing.” He stooped to dig the tie in question from the castaways, eyes  never leaving her reflection. 

“If you squint hard enough they look like chickens,” he observed. And if I squint hard enough, you look like a decent human being. He traded it, then, for a tie covered in miniature hula dancers, a personal favorite of his. “How do we feel about this one?” he mused, “Tres tropical, yeah?”

[ofprvngs-blog]

He’d never thought that wedding planning would be so much work; perhaps it was his determination to do the minimum in order to get the most out of every instance that had left him grossly under-prepared. James quickly realized, upon launching into preparations -- for Lily had quite the agenda, and so he could only hope to match it -- that he was, in fact, unprepared, no matter how thoroughly he was convinced that he could marry her in a paper bag in their backyard. They needed suits, dresses, cake, decorations, a guest list, which would have to be whittled down and trimmed of much extended family; James hardly knew where to start -- but he had to start somewhere. 

And, it seemed that the first hurdle would be to pick a proper bow tie. He’d always thought that he looked quite dapper in a bow tie; he could look dapper, he supposed, and the rest would come from there. Twilfitt and Tatting’s, however, was rather overwhelming in their selection, and he’d spent the better part of the afternoon strangling himself with tie after tie, one of a more ridiculous pattern than the one before. 

“Come on -- give me something, here,” he sighed, discarding what felt to be the hundredth bow tie he’d gone through that afternoon, hands lax and malcontent at his sides, “Polka dots? Hearts? The one with the little pineapples?” James looked to his commandeered partner in crime and gave a dramatic flop onto the adjacent chaise lounge. “Who knew bow ties could be so bloody complicated?”

[matthewdaddario-daily]

[ofprvngs-blog]

gwencg-jones:

“Ah,” she chuckled, running a hand through her hair.  “Evans likes the dark and mysterious type then?  You really ought to be thanking me again– and if you ever need a bit of a boost in that department you give me a call.  I could always use a bit of shooting practice– you never know, I may just have to step in for Chaser one day.”

“That’s true,” she admitted, a smirk still present on her face. “that time I knocked you into the stands was quite brilliant as well.  The confused look on that Hufflepuff first year’s face is burned into my memory for all eternity.  “You damn well better thank me in your autobiography.  And to Gwenog Jones, without whom I’d have likely married my best mate, who has almost as pretty a face as Lily’s, and lived in a run down flat in London with three cats.  Listen I am perfectly willing to pop in for a bit of comedic relief,” she laughed.  “I’m good for that always.”

“Right well, I suppose I do rather alright for myself.  But as if you couldn’t be right there if that were the path you’d have chosen.  Although, I’m sure it’d have gotten tiring, falling out of the sky.”

“Hey, I’d marry Sirius or Remus any day,” he snorted, taking a sip of his drink, “What about you, Jones? Need me to knock you off your broom in order to impress someone? I’d be glad to help; I don’t have a bloody job -- I’ve got nothing but time.” He couldn’t help the edge of cynicism in his voice; he’d opted to remain unemployed for the time being in order to focus on the cause, but of late he’d been feeling rather useless. The expectations of his parents, of his family at large, had been largely unfulfilled -- it had taken him until just recently to decide that he wanted not to be stagnant for the entirety of his existence. 

He’d thought of following the same path that she’d taken; James had never questioned that he’d be successful doing it. But the cause -- the cause, and his family, had come first. “I’d have been conveniently sick every time we played you lot,” he tipped his drink toward hers, forcing the cynical edge from his voice, “-- only to swoop down from above to knock you off yours. The the whole bloody team’d abandon the game and take to knocking you all into the dust. I think they call that comeuppance in most social circles.”

“Never too late for that, I reckon; a few rounds of practice, courtesy of Knock Em’ Jones, and I may just have to commit to that career path,” James shrugged, “But only for you of course. Can’t have you getting bored without me around.”

[ofprvngs-blog]

lilyevanssx:

His hands touched her shoulders again and her mouth snapped shut. His voice was like a switch, turning off any negative feelings that had buried their way into her stomach. She could feel the anxiety still burning in what she was sure was the very pit of her stomach; an annoying itch that she was trying so hard not to scratch. It was strange to Lily that he was the one who was making more sense. That wasn’t how their relationship usually worked, and they were famous (or infamous, if you wanted to look at it that way) for Lily’s ability to calm him down. Not the other way around. She almost felt guilty for making him switch roles. But, in a way, it was nice to know he could do it, if necessary.

James was right, of course. Lily had always wanted a wedding. The gathering didn’t have to be large. In fact, they could fit everyone she wanted at the wedding in their backyard. However, that didn’t change the fact that she wanted one. She wanted to walk down the aisle with her father by her side. She wanted James waiting for her, and smiling so wide that his cheeks formed those dimples she loved so much. She wanted to see Harry stumbling down the way with Alice holding his hand, bringing them their rings. Rings they didn’t even have; dresses she didn’t even own.

Instead of answering his question, her voice slipped out of her lips, escaping into the air like the beginnings of a whisper. “I called myself Lily Potter,” she said, finally. “Not on purpose, just… naturally. The Evans wasn’t anywhere in sight. He asked, and I used your last name. Not mine. Didn’t even notice until Alice looked at me like I had just murdered a puppy.” She laughed at the thought, realizing only then that she was shaking. Her hands shook as they tried to keep themselves locked around his back, her legs shook even though they were sitting down on a fountain’s edge. Everything felt like it was going to fall apart, and James was the only thing holding her together.

“You know he doesn’t have a nose,” she continued. “He doesn’t. It’s just, flat. Like a pancake. His face looks like the pancakes we make on Sundays. Except pastier. You wouldn’t want to eat it.” Lily shook her head. “I know it sounds crazy. I fought the darkest wizard of our time, and all I can fixate on is that he doesn’t have a nose. Quite comical actually. Am I going mad?”

The look on her face was sincere, although she knew that anyone in her position would not know exactly how to handle what had just been set in front of them. There was no proper way to deal with the the fight she had just had; to wrestle with the thought of surviving an attack that would have killed almost anyone else. Somehow, she and Alice were strong enough together to take on Voldemort. Somehow, a muggleborn had defeated someone who hated her.

Not that, she ever doubted she could. It was still nice to prove it to herself.

“I’m not… saying that I want to do this because I told You-Know-Who that I am a Potter,” she said, quietly. “I’m saying it because I am a Potter. I have been for a while now.” A soft smile couldn’t help but interrupt her words, and she instantly took his hands. “Let’s do it this week. The wedding, I mean. We can do it in our backyard, and at least have a little wedding, rather than a completely shotgun one. Let’s do it.”

He was hardly ashamed to admit how often he’d pictured the wedding; laying awake, in the strange mist between wakefulness and sleep, he’d thought quite often of the day itself, of Lily walking down the aisle, of the irrational terror he’d harbored for months at the idea that he’d miss her finger and drop the ring down into an unreachable crevasse below them. James often thought of Harry dangling from Remus’s arm, babbling away, intercutting James’s vows with meaninful blubbering and halfhearted wails in response to each and every heartfelt sentiment; in his fantasies, Harry was always wholly disillusioned with his attempts at sentiment, it seemed. And of course Harry would be right at Remus’s side, and by proxy at his own side; little Harry loved Remus as much as his own father, and even imagination could not change that simple fact. 

The thought of marrying Lily today took all of his daydreams and irrational worries and turned them immediately and forcibly on their head; he’d not proofread his vows, which he’d been working on for quite some time on the sly. He’d surely be flayed alive by his mother should he be married without her there; Euphemia was just as obsessed with everything that need be perfect with the wedding as he -- only he was determined, in a rage of self-awareness -- to simply let it happen, for vows, ties, flowers, cake, none of it mattered when it was Lily who would be meeting him at the end of the aisle. 

Lily. His Lily. 

It was probably ridiculous of him to be so suddenly worried about the wedding, to let it consume his mind for a hectic moment; it was ridiculous to let his mind be drawn away from the fact that his Lily had narrowly dodged death just moments before. And he still could hardly keep his hands from her; on her face, at the small of her back to hold her steady, searching her head, her neck, for bumps and bruises that he would surely and swiftly avenge. At her admission, in a small voice, as if telling a secret, he paused, hands pausing over her shoulders and eyes searching every inch of her face for a punchline, for a further explanation; he was nearly knocked breathless at the thought, chest clenched and heart bursting. James was sure he couldn’t love her any more than he already did -- and yet here he was. 

“Lily Potter,” he repeated, voice quavering, “sounds about right.” He tightened his grip about her waist, edging out the utter terror clawing up his throat at the idea that she’d been close enough to him, to them to make the distinction in the first place. “Far as I’m concerned, you’ve been Lily Potter for a while now; better break it to Alice.” She’d been Lily Potter in the shameful recesses of his mind since they both were in school; being in love with her for that long had made him near possessed. Perhaps it was strange -- but his love for her, unwavering and constant, was what would guide him through the fallout of this disaster. 

He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or scream at her nonchalance; perhaps she was in shock, or perhaps Lily was simply so undeniably made of steel that the Dark Lord’s lack of a nose was the only thing to trouble her. With a strangled laugh, James took her face in his hands -- it was a heavy burden to keep them steady -- and shook his head, brow pressed to hers. “You’re mad, but you’re bloody magic,” his voice was strangled; James felt as if he were swallowing down a scream, “No more pancakes -- from now on, we’re a waffle family. Don’t want you to think we’re eating the Dark Asshole’s face every Sunday. I’m so bloody proud of you, Lily --” he kissed her cheek, then the other, “You came out of this alive; and I dunno what I’d do if you hadn’t. Go mad, probably -- certainly couldn’t be able to stomach pancakes ever again.”

He kept his forehead pressed to hers; she still smelled of her shampoo, of the candle they’d burned in the kitchen while Harry ate his toast. The thought that it could have been the last time nearly made him sick. “Alright,” he nodded, the tip of his nose brushing hers, “This week. We’ll be married by this time next week; Lily Potter. D’you want to get out of this crowd to talk it over? Can barely hear myself think. If I’m gonna marry you this week, I’m gonna bloody do it right -- anything you want; anything and everything. In our backyard, with all our closest friends; and a cake -- can’t forget the cake. Wouldn’t be a Potter gathering without a cake, would it?” He took her hand, giving it a squeeze. James wanted, more than anything, to hold her close, to pepper her with kisses, to do things he’d be frowned upon for doing in public. Relief made him bold; the thought of marrying her so soon made him giddy. 

“Shall we go ask our son for his opinion?”

[ofprvngs-blog]

              MOST WANTED: RODOLPHUS AND RABASTAN LESTRANGE 

“Yet even in the loneliness of the canyon I knew there were others like me who had brothers they did not understand but wanted to help. We are probably those referred to as "our brother's keepers," possessed of one of the oldest and possible one of the most futile and certainly one of the most haunting instincts. It will not let us go.”                

[patroqlus]

[ofprvngs-blog]

@rcmvslvpn

[ofprvngs-blog]

gwencg-jones:

She laughed, turning in the stool to face him.  She had felt the same rivalry between the two of them, but it was to a different level.  As a Beater she never really felt pressure to secure the win.  She was to make it as difficult as possible for the other team to win, but if her team didn’t score points that wasn’t her fault; being a Beater was, by far, the best position in Quidditch.  “Evans does have a very nice face.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but laugh.  It was your best angle, Potter, on the ground after I knocked you out of the sky.  And let’s all be honest with ourselves for just a moment, because I always made sure you were close enough to the ground as to not mar that pretty face,” she reached out and pinched his cheek before he could swat her hand away.  “Really, I feel like you owe everything to my generosity.  Would Evan’s have liked you if you were ugly, because it can’t have been that winning personality that finally snagged her.”  She was laughing now– actually, honest laughter.  She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this freely.  God, she missed this dumbarse.  It was nice having such an intense rivalry with someone you could also sit and have a friendly drink with afterward.

“You graduated, old man.  Would have likely been closer to fifty if you stayed– you left right in the midst of my prime.”

“Hell, yeah she does,” he snorted, matching her noted swivel with good-natured competition bubbling within his tone, “Reckon I should thank you -- all those bruises made me seem a bit more rough around the edges. Bit manlier. Not that I needed any help to begin with.” The very marked victory that accompanied the feeling of Lily Evans kissing the bruises atop his head was one that had made each spill worth it -- but had not dampened the blow to his ego in the slightest. 

He was slow in batting away her hand, no matter how halfhearted the protest was. “I’ve got plenty other good angles, Jones,” he laughed, usual arrogant insistence muted by the humor of the conversation, as well as the sudden appearance of a pair of drinks at his side. He slid one across the bar toward her, scratching at the pink spot on his cheek with chagrin. “Well, it’s a bloody good thing I’m not ugly then, innit?” he laughed, rubbing at his cheek with the heel of his hand before taking a theatrical sip of his drink, “Would’ve won her over with my winning personality anyway -- but I suppose I can thank you in my autobiography. Credit you as the sole reason for my appeal. Should I have you give a speech at the wedding, too? You could fly in through the window on a Clean Sweep covered in tinsel.”

Another sip of his drink, and he laughed freely again, “Are you implying you’re not still in your prime? I’d beg to differ.”

[ofprvngs-blog]

lilyevanssx:

The tears clouded her eyes, and Lily was unable to see even when she tried to open her eyelids. The water hung from her eyelashes, threatening to blur her vision even more if she blinked, so, her eyes remained squeezed shut as her head kept itself pressed tightly against his chest. She could feel the water splashing into the pool of the fountain hitting her arms, could taste the saltiness of her fresh tears, but all she could hear was his pounding heart. Thump. The sound was like a lighthouse. Thump. Reeling her into reality, his heartbeat was all she needed to find her way home. Thump.

For a second, Lily felt as though they were standing on the edge of the ocean. A faint sea breeze would sweep her hair away as she heard Harry playing in the waves in front of them. She would laugh as their son splashed his father, and James would let go to chase him around the sand, finally getting Lily in on the fun as they teamed up on her in a water battle. The false memory was just that, fake, but it was nice, freeing, almost, to live in that fantasy. To live in a world where life was beaches and giggles and soggy shorts. 

When she opened her eyes, the fantasy didn’t disappear. The tears were finally slow enough that she could see him, her James, staring at her with eyes full of the deepest concern that she had most likely ever seen on anyone’s face. Her heart skipped a beat at that thought, her lips that were previously pressed into a thin line widening into a tight smile as her fiancé spoke. Was she alright? Lily didn’t know. But she would be. Listening to him was all the proof she needed. 

“Yea,” she said, breathlessly, choking a little on a sob. “Yea, I’m alright. Just… Oh, James, you’re never going to believe what happened.” She sniffled a bit, closing her eyes once more when his forehead reached hers. The simplicity of his touch soothed her aching bones. It created life where previously there had been nothing but fear. Opening her eyes, Lily said nothing, but instead just pulled him in closer, kissing him almost like she had the first time; gently, timidly, lovingly.

“I could never get rid of you,” she said, laughing lightly but hiccuping as she did it. “No matter how hard I tried you just came back. Like a boomerang. O-or a… Something more romantic I can’t really think of anything right now.” She pulled away, stepping back and shrugging her shoulders. “Let’s find someone,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I mean to marry us. Right now. Let’s find someone and get married in this fountain if we have to. I-I mean it. I’ll go find Alice and Mary and Remus. And you go find Sirius and Peter. Let’s get married. I’ll have to see if there are any bridal shops open because I don’t really have a dress but I’m sure I could find one by the end of the day…”

She was rambling on now, talking about her wedding, their wedding, with more and more ferocity as if she were talking about something that was life or death rather than something that would only give her life. At this moment, though, Lily only wanted one thing and that was to erase her last name and replace it with his. Surely, he’d never call her Potter instead of Evans, but it was enough for her to know it was there. Tacked on the end of her first name, as a reminder. As a promise. He would always be there; she couldn’t get rid of him that easily.

He seemed entirely unable to take his hands from her -- not that he’d ever want to release her, for any rhyme or reason. Barely-trembling fingers brushed her hair from her brow, from over her slender shoulders; he touched her face as if bruises might appear before his very eyes, as if a cut here or there would reveal itself and bleed without warning. James could only imagine what she had endured, what had lodged the frantic glow behind her eyes and the lump in her throat, which was frighteningly audible. He’d always loved Lily for her strength; to shake Lily was to move a mountain. 

“I’m your bloody boomerang,” he laughed, a strangled sound, for his body did not want to laugh in the face of such strife, “No one’s -- nothing’s gonna keep me from coming back.” As she stepped back, his arms stretched and fell, awkward and limp at his sides, for quite suddenly he was unsure what to do with them. He’d have very much liked to step forward to match her retreat, if only to grab hold of her again. Lily’s words, however, made him pause -- he would like nothing more than to simply be married to her; the planning stage of the wedding was daunting, for he hadn’t the slightest idea what to do. To simply drag someone from the safety of their officiating offices to marry her in the fountain, here and now, would be wild, an utter storybook moment -- and it certainly would simplify things. 

His mother would have a cow; his father would receive the brunt of her fury, however, which was lucky for James. 

It would be a dream -- an easy, wild, convenient dream, but his Lily deserved so much more. He’d promised to give her the world; but perhaps they could compromise. Neither of them could wait much longer, but he couldn’t, in good conscience, let Lily throw away the wedding she’d dreamed of in the name of a fountain full of rusted Knuts. “Lily --” finally, pushing from the fountain to cup her face in his hands once more, “-- you’ve got to slow down, love.” For James to tell her to slow down was an anomaly -- commonplace within the climate of the day, perhaps. “You know good and well I’d go to the end of the bloody earth to marry you. If you told me you really wanted to get married in this fountain, I’d marry you in this bloody fountain. But you --” he shook his head, leaning down to plant a hasty kiss on her forehead as he searched for the appropriate words. Being a voice of reason was a new sensation for him, but he persisted nevertheless, “If there’s anything this chaos has taught me, it’s that we need to... to enjoy things.”

Was it horribly clear that he was struggling to sound reasonable?

“You’ve wanted a wedding --” he continued, wiping at a bit of residual wetness beneath her eyes, “-- and so a wedding you should have; we can’t let this take away what we’ve been working so hard for. You deserve it; you deserve a wedding with a cake, and a dress, and all our friends.” He glanced over his shoulder to the elevator down which they’d need descend in order to find anyone to marry them then and there. 

“If you want to get married today, we’ll do it,” he sighed, nodding firmly, “But if you want to say... fuck it to everyone who’s tried to derail this bloody thing, we’ll wait -- but we’ll do it soon. I’m not sure I can wait much longer to marry you either.” James gave her another kiss, fingers brushing a strand of hair from her brow once more, “So waddaya say, Evans? Shotgun wedding?”