Chapter 3

On the day of Petunia's wedding, James found himself in the Evanses' old plum-colored saloon car, racing down a country road at top speed with Mr. Evans behind the wheel, smoking a pipe out of the side of his mouth. Feeling just a little uncomfortable in his Muggle suit, James tried not to close his eyes and squeeze the door handle as the automobile barreled towards the church.

He had arrived as planned and Lily met him in her room, whipping out her wand and quickly Transfiguring his cotton into silk. James had caught only a glimpse of the chaos in the house as women in varying levels of dress rushed past Lily's door clutching pastel turquoise shawls or spare hairbrushes or a missing earring. Mrs. Evans had apprehended him and ushered him into the car with Mr. Evans. The men, she had said sternly, were to be at the church before the ladies arrived.

James had to admit that sitting next to Lily's father inside a church was weird. His collar itched while he sat on the hard wood and difficult thoughts swamped his brain. Mr. Evans didn't speak much, but when he did, he spoke in bursts. Usually, when people came up to him to congratulate him.

"That's Dirk and Dotty," muttered Mr. Evans after an old couple waved in his direction. "From Ilfracombe. Helped me get my first job. They've known Petunia since she was a little girl."

"Stubbs is over there with the wife and kids. He was Petunia's favorite professor at her academy. They used to bring over new flowers from their greenhouse."

A man resembling a gargoyle smiled with a mouth of shiny white teeth.

"There's Prentice. He found us the house Petunia and Vernon are moving to. Damn nice guy."

"Your relatives don't seem to be here yet," commented James. Mr. Evans turned in his pew and twitched his lip. James suspected he'd be more comfortable if his pipe was there.

"Don't you know? We haven't got any relatives. Donna's an only daughter, and both of our parents are dead. My brothers and sisters passed too, and my sister's kids haven't talked to us in years."

"Oh."

James fell silent. He had known about Lily's grandparents, but he had never known that she had no other relatives besides her sister and parents. As a child without brothers or sisters, James had sometimes craved a sibling. An automatic playmate and friend. But James had been blessed with the extensive family befitting a Pureblood, and he couldn't decide which he would have preferred if given the choice. The minimal size of the Evans family must have soured Petunia's distaste for Lily further; it wasn't easy to replace the sisterly bond.

It was odd that Mr. Evans was sitting here with him instead of doing father-type things with the guests. He was silent, sitting in a Muggle suit that was just as nice as James'. Mr. Evans faced only ahead, breaking into life occasionally to shake hands and smile, or to tell James something. James settled more thoroughly into his seat. The church was small, and Vernon's large family (members) made quick work of filling the pews.

Out of the blue, Mr. Evans turned to James.

"Petunia is my daughter, whatever else. I didn't figure you'd come to the wedding, James, but at least Lily can be happier now. Vernon makes Petunia happy, too. It's not anything we understand."

James swallowed at this cryptic message, understanding that Mr. Evans probably had a way with words to rival his own. Which was to say, inadequate in the area of emotions. He put it from his mind when Mrs. Evans hurried over and jabbed them both on the shoulders.

"She's here!" Mrs. Evans exclaimed. "Sam, we have to be in the back of the church! I don't know what you were thinking sitting with James all the way up here—!"

Appearing highly pained, Mr. Evans stood up slowly and allowed Mrs. Evans to hustle him away. James realized his was alone in his row, but it did not last long as the music started up quickly.

Mrs. Evans and Mrs. Dursley (both moist-eyed) walked to the front to lead the procession. Mrs. Dursley joined her husband in the row opposite James. Mr. Dursley's rheumy eyes smiled at his son, who was wrapped into his suit like a present with too little packaging paper.

The church stood and turned as Petunia made her way haltingly down the aisle. Lily's sister glowed primly with pride, clutching a full bouquet from Mrs. Evans' garden. The number of ruffles on her gown suited her and softened her angular face, no matter the effect of the matching ruffles on the bridesmaids that followed her. A stick-like girl with severely styled brown hair followed Petunia to the altar ("That's her friend Yvonne, dear," whispered Mrs. Evans to James, snapping pictures and shedding tears. "Petunia picked her to be the maid of honor." And passed over Lily, thought James.). Vernon puffed up like a bullfrog at his blushing bride. The bridal party culminated in Lily's appearance with a large woman that greatly resembled Vernon.

"Marjorie Dursley, Vernon's sister," mumbled Mrs. Evans.

"She's right odd, being quiet and polite until you walk in on her muttering to herself outside the loo."

"Be quiet, Sam!"

James repressed an urge to snicker. Mr. Evans' low regard for the Dursleys and their ilk seemingly extended to Petunia's wedding day. Mr. Evans, like James, was also a rather impious man. It might have been his creaky knee, but Mr. Evans was slow to rise and slower to kneel during the readings. Mrs. Evans was prodding him from the other side. Common politeness and ingrained manners prevented James from acting as such, or on any of the arguments he usually tried on his mother when she entreated him to go to services. James was restless and when the bride and groom finally exchanged the sealing kiss, he clapped as loudly as anybody. His reasons were not so pure. He wanted the thing to be finished so he could talk to Lily again; and she was gorgeous even in that gaudy dress.

When he finally caught up with her at the reception—held at an affordable yet showy type of hall—Lily pushed her way from out of a knot of well-wishers. She smiled at him and took his hand, holding the fresh-scented bouquet in her other hand. Lily led him into the tiny garden area behind the quaint building. A gurgling, moss-clogged fountain barred direct view of their bench from the wedding party.

"The ceremony was nice—" James began, but Lily tossed her bouquet onto the bench and pressed her lips against his. She folded into his arms and they sank into sitting positions on the bench.

"No, it wasn't," murmured Lily. "And I'm sure you hated it. But thank you for coming anyway."

"Well, I knew there would be pay-off in the garden," reasoned James. Instead of hitting him or ignoring it, Lily smiled slowly. It was an expression copied directly from James' face, even if neither of them knew it exactly.

"I wouldn't miss an event like this anyway," he continued. "A chance for me to get in good with the Evans family."

Lily groaned.

"You're already in good with the Evans family. My mum likes feeding you and my dad likes…well, I'm not quite sure what he likes about you. You're lucky he does, though."

"I know," answered James, relieved.

Lily's whimsical smile slid into a frown.

"There aren't very many members of the Evans family after that…Petunia, for one, and she doesn't matter. Me, for another…and that's it…I realize I never told you—"

She didn't like talking about her recently decimated family. James couldn't blame her.

"All that's left for me to do is to get you to like me," James said. Lily's smile returned. "And," continued James lightly, "I'm at a loss. Seven years hasn't taught me anything much."

"Oh, it's not so hard," flirted Lily, pressing her fingers along a barely visible scar line that she knew ran from his elbow to her searching fingers on his palm. His hand closed around hers. "I only ask that you distract me from this miserable reception."

"I'm beginning to think you only want me around to show off at the party."

"No, I'm keeping you to myself out here."

"Lily," said James, gently disentangling her from himself, "as much as I enjoy taking advantage of these moments, this garden is about as large at the girls' loo in Hogwarts, and your very formidable father is only a sliding door away."

Lily was about to object, but she sighed instead. The garden (weedy now, with only unwanted plants overgrowing the path) had seemed much more romantic and much more spacious when she had last been here two years ago for Petunia's graduation party.

"You're right, as usual," admitted Lily. She harrumphed. "Dad will be extra bored too because he's expected to talk to Mr. Dursley, and that makes him restless and…er, stroppy."

"I'd imagine," said James mildly. He squinted at her. "That dress…"

"Don't talk to me about it."

"There's enough fabric there for all of Hogwarts to get top-of-the-range turquoise robes."

"I know," Lily said dismally. She and James left the muggy garden in which the surfaces of the plants shimmered incandescently with damp.

"James, why don't—"

"I only slow dance," he interrupted.

Lily resignedly smiled, letting go of her intended question.

"I'll hold you to it."

They went to the beverage table and James handed Lily a champagne flute. Mr. Evans joined them a few sips later, reaching straight for the gin bottle.

"Daddy!" exclaimed Lily. Mr. Evans gave her a look and refilled his small glass.

"Just in case, Lily."

As an extra measure, he upended the bottle over James' flute too.

"You'll need it, son."

He winked grimly and took a swig of his glass. Then he returned to his wife's side, where she was animatedly chatting with Vernon's mother.

Lily was open-mouthed and thunderstruck. James started laughing.

"He didn't leave me any," she explained, none-so-pleased.

They danced for the slower dances and James proved to be an excellent partner. Lily called him on it. "Pureblood thing," he muttered, not being very careful to leave room between them for watchful parents. "My mum and dad were adamant…I can do like five waltzes too…"

"Always bragging, then, aren't you?"

"Mostly."

They survived the wedding. James even helped Mr. and Mrs. Evans and Lily load the family car with all of the gifts. Lily seemed happy. Petunia was finally gone.

"Oh, thank you, James."

"No problem, Mrs. Evans."

By then, James was tired and his mind was blurry with sleep and repeated doses of Mr. Evans' pick-up drink mixture. He remembered the ride home, Lily asleep in the crook of his shoulder. An armful of packages. A moment's fumbling with the keys at the door. A guest bedroom, already fixed with new linens. A quiet kiss goodnight.

James' face hit the pillow and he slept with soothing dreams straight through the night.

When he finally did awaken, it was when the morning light flashed straight on his face and the room moved unsteadily around him. He cracked open a second eye and felt around for his glasses. The Transfiguration spell for his Muggle suit had faded, and now he was left in another rumpled Muggle T-shirt and more denim jeans. If was going to be visiting Lily so often, she'd need to get him some more Muggle stuff.

James got up and stumbled towards the bathroom. Things had cleared up after he washed his face and brushed his teeth, and a minor string of a headache had replaced the utter grogginess of first awakening.

The house seemed to be deserted, a wasteland in the wake of a great tornado of pearls and ribbons. He didn't call out; he merely wandered, bare-footed and padding down the steps and into the hall. He found no one at all.

Laughter from outside. Lily. James pushed open the front door and found his girlfriend and her mother digging around on their hands and knees under a large oak tree.

The picture that he could have taken at that moment…! They had turned in unison, and vestiges of the exact same smile flitted over both of their faces. Mrs. Evans had her hair under a kerchief and Lily's red curls were spiraling out of her hair tie in profusion. They were lovely and secretive and perfect and James wanted more than anything to know what Lily had been talking about and he hoped more than anything else that it had been him.

"Hello, James," smiled Mrs. Evans. "Nice of you to wake."

James realized the time. Early afternoon at least. He quirked his lips.

"Oops. How late is it?"

"Late enough for lunchtime to be breakfast time for the two of you," said Mrs. Evans, rising to her feet and peeling off her soil-soaked garden gloves. "My daughter has been awake for barely two hours. I guess it's time I feed the both of you."

"You don't have to—" began James.

"Absurd. You'll both be well-fed before that odd meeting you have tonight."

The Order of the Phoenix! James had basically forgotten. He looked at Lily kneeling under the shade of the tree, and her bemused expression led to a shrug.

"Right, then," said Mrs. Evans briskly. "Lunch is waffles and your father is not coming home for lunch today."

James and Lily were left alone. The sunshine seemed dull, but it glinted yellow on Lily's hair.

"'Lo," said James, dropping down beside Lily. Her cutoffs, her bright Muggle clothing, and the scent of fresh earth were registered dreamily by his still-tired brain.

"Pleasant dreams?" she asked cheekily, kissing him with only the softest touch of her lips.

"None," he admitted. "I slept like the dead."

"Or the Inferi…"murmured Lily, jabbing at an errant weed with her spade.

"What?"

"The Inferi…the Prophet came today. Two of them were found in Cornwall village after an underage magic report. A twelve-year-old had used her father's wand to protect her and her younger sister…she set a fire—"

Lily choked. James swiftly snaked his arms around her and pulled her close. She struggled slightly.

"I don't need to—"

"Yes, you do."

"I swear I'm not crying—"

"Then humor me and stay there," he retorted, kissing the top her hair. Her sun-warmed body shook once and then quieted. She pulled back and this time, James didn't stop her.

"It was just that the story made me think of Petunia…I don't know why. She has no place in that world, but I can't help but out her in there sometimes. She'd kill me if I even brought up a single magical thing."

"I thought—since she's a Muggle and all—she'd be pleased by magical things," said James slowly.

Lily shook her head dubiously.

"Er, no. It's not always like that with Muggles, and especially not like that with her."

James didn't quite understand this but the smell of waffles suddenly overtook the garden. They smelled the food at the same time and rose to go in.

"Then," said James, "it's a good thing I reconsidered her wedding gift."

Lily stopped, as horrified as if James had revealed his true identity as an acromantula. She clutched his shirt.

"You didn't…"

"I did."

"What on earth did you get for Petunia and Vernon?"

"Naughty underpants," smiled James wickedly. Lily's pink lips made a perfect "O".

"Tell me the truth!" she demanded.

James sighed wistfully.

"All right, so it wasn't naughty underpants. It was boring, actually, so I figured your sister would like it. It was a Muggle thing."

"Muggle thing?" echoed Lily, not comforted in the slightest. "James, a gun is a Muggle thing! Itching powder is a Muggle thing! Neither of those—nor naughty underpants—is a thing that Petunia appreciates."

"Itching powder?" asked James interestedly, but Lily cut him off. Literally. She blocked the front door to the house and folded her arms.

"James, what the hell did you get her?"

"A lamp. That's all. A vintage sort of lamp. My mum likes some Muggle art work, so she bought an old lamp. Antique, I think. It reminds me of a grandmother, and Sirius didn't want it in the flat."

"A lamp?" Lily exhaled with relief. "Oh…thank goodness. I had thought—"

"Well, the pull chain was reputedly made by a hag," mentioned James casually, "so there might be some small spells of acne—"

"Is that all?" Lily bit her lip. "It could be worse. They deserve it, I guess."

"You're not mad?"

"I'm fretful. She can't blame me for acne, though."

"I'm not sure if it will happen. I wouldn't have given it to her for a wedding gift if I had known it would."

"Is it blasphemous to defame a wedding whereas every other time and place is open to your idiot pranks?" asked Lily drolly.

James only smiled.

"Sometime like that. The Marauders have laid an embargo on weddings, funerals…unless it's the best sort of wedding."

"Oh?"

"The sort where you can get away with anything."

Lily was about to say, "Your wedding will be like that." But she didn't. She didn't know the right words. She was still thinking about it while they ate lunch.

"Your wedding"?

"Our wedding"?

"I hope my wedding will be like that and if you so happen to be involved it will be"?

"I know your wedding will be like that and I hope I so happen to be involved"?

Nothing more happened until they finished tea. Then Lily went to make a quick change and James returned to studying Lily's family pictures. When they left the house, a light dash of rain began to fall. Lily and James climbed onto the Muggle train to London and whooshed along the rails, clutching both their phoenix feathers and wands.

Okay. Sorry sorry sorry, first of all. I realize this story is taking a long time to update, but I'm having some trouble getting out of sticky bogs of writer's block. I don't think there will be a "hiatus" though.

Chapter Explanations: So, I had to come up with Evans parents names. Sorry, I didn't mean to, but I'm not using them often so if you hate them you can ignore them. Secondly, I intended originally for this chapter to contain both Petunia's party and the Order meeting, but as this story reached the ten-page mark I realized that I can't push so many non sequiturs into one chapter. So the meeting is next chapter, and I'm writing off this one as character development. Smile, smile.

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO READS AND REVIEWS