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“Oi, Evans, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
James loped into the kitchen having just finished cleaning their bathroom. No doubt he had just scourgified it. No matter how many times she reminded him that the charm left the nooks and crannies entirely uncleaned, James was too used to magical solutions to bother doing anything the muggle way. Still, that didn’t explain the nervous jitter that accompanied his usually self-assured manner.
“You know how you’re bloody near perfect?” he asked as he nuzzled into her neck, arms sliding to their home around her waist.
“Is that so?” she responded, rather confused.
“’Course you are. Nothing less than perfect for a fine bloke such as myself.”
“Certainly,” she snorted, put at ease by the return of his usual pratty behavior. “So what’s this ‘bloody near’ business, then?”
“There’s this one thing. It’s been bothering me for a while now, but I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”
“A while?” The nerves were back. “What is it?”
“It’s this business of your name.”
“My...name?” she set the pot she was scrubbing on the drying rack next to her and reached for the final dish.
“Yeah. Lily Evans . The first and last don't much match, do they?”
“Well, James, I’m not sure there’s much that can be done about that,” she pointed out pragmatically, now entirely bewildered as to what he was on about.
“Can’t help but feel as though I’d be able to come up with a better one for you myself.”
She laughed whole-heartedly at that.
“Oi, it’s not funny! C’mon. If I can come up with a name that you like better than the one you’ve got, will you change it?” He stepped back from holding on to her.
She finished up the last dish as she thought about it. What the hell, she decided, it’s probably just another one of his convoluted jokes anyway. “You know what, Potter? You’re on. If you can come up with a name I like more than the one I’ve had for the past twenty years of my life, then I will march down to the ministry tomorrow, war or no, and have it changed. But you only get five minutes to think of it.”
She turned around, ready to laugh at his suggestion, which she was beginning to suspect would be something along the lines of doe. All thoughts of laughter fled her when she saw him knelt on one knee in front of her, ring in hand.
“Easy,” he smiled lopsidedly. “Lily Potter.”
Her hands flew to her mouth, which opened and closed several times before she realized that her throat had decided to stop functioning as it ought to. Instead, she nodded, releasing her left hand from her clenched fists to allow him to slide the ring onto her finger.
“Brilliant,” he said, still on one knee. “Knew you’d say yes.” In opposition to his cocksure words, his expression was that same joyfully baffled expression he had worn when, in their seventh year, she had finally said yes to his pestering about going out with him.
“But, I’m sorry Potter. I’m afraid I have to take back what I said before,” she told him, looking down into his dark eyes. He only looked concerned for a moment before she continued. “Tomorrow won’t work. Alice and Marlene would both have my head if they weren’t invited to the ceremony, and I know for a fact that they’re busy on Order business through till next Thursday.”
"Then I suppose Friday it is."