Chapter 48

Complication #48: Forever may be closer than you think.

August 2025 (two-ish years later):

As sunlight streams through the curtains, I wake up to the familiar weight of an arm thrown across my waist.

I've come to realize this is James' idea of a compromise between wanting to be close to me when he sleeps and wanting to sprawl out as much as humanly possible.

I gently lift his arm off of me and set it back down on the bed, careful not to wake him, so that I can get up. I throw on a dressing gown and slippers before heading downstairs.

The stairs themselves have turned into a giant photo gallery; when I lived in this place alone, the walls were bare, but James wanted a place to hang his whole collection of photographs. We compromised with my insistence that they all be in frames instead of Spellotaped to the wall, like they'd been in his previous flat.

I linger in front of some of my favourite shots. James and I wading into the ocean, he carrying me on his back as I lean forward and say something into his ear. The two of us squished between Dom and Freddy at the Leaky Cauldron, all four of us laughing about something I can't remember. Last year's New Years party, during which someone dared James to give me a lap dance and he took his role a little too seriously.

And then there's James' favourite: the cover of Witch Weekly from June of 2023. Admittedly, the picture is pretty good, although I don't know who took and submitted a picture of James and I at the Gryffindor Quidditch party to the gossip magazine. It's of the two of us right after he kissed me in the middle of the Common Room. The picture really only shows the back of my head – and the Potter jersey I'm wearing – but James' face is clearly visible, wearing an expression that can only be appropriately described as lovestruck. The caption underneath: The Eldest Potter – Off the Market?

The article itself was horrendous – I'm pretty sure there was even a poll where readers could vote on how long the relationship would last (and none of the options were over six months) – but the cover is still cute.

Lila, now a fully-grown cat, sees me on the staircase and immediately begins meowing insistently. I haven't looked at a clock yet this morning, but her behaviour makes it evident that I've slept later than normal. She's obviously rather displeased with the resulting delay in her breakfast.

After getting her a bowl of food, I start the process of brewing a pot of coffee, surveying the living room as I wait.

There's still a pile of boxes in one corner – James only moved in about a month ago, and between both of us working full-time and all our various social commitments, we still haven't properly finished unpacking all his stuff.

When James and I first decided that he was going to move in with me, I was secretly terrified that my perfectly decorated apartment was going to turn into a disaster. I've always had a simple, elegant decorating style, and James is… well, James.

But surprisingly, most of our stuff works well together. His Gryffindor Quidditch banner actually looks really good hung between the minimalistic white shelving units along the back wall, and his wall of pictures actually looks impressively tasteful.

Perhaps it's a bit of a metaphor for the two of us. Two people you might not expect to work well together, but somehow do.

I'm torn from my sentimental musings by a tapping on the window – I open it and take the copy of The Daily Prophet from the barn owl's outstretched limb, grabbing a few knuts from the counter as payment.

When the coffee's done, I pour myself a cup and cast a Warming Charm on what's left – James is almost certainly going to want some when he eventually wakes up. My coffee habits have definitely rubbed off on him since he moved in.

I grab the paper and my coffee mug, and sit down at the kitchen table.

The Announcements section isn't usually what I gravitate to, but something there catches my eye. I read it, and instinctively frown.

I'm so caught up in reading the blurb that I don't notice James coming into the kitchen until he's behind my chair, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and leaning in to read over my shoulder.

"What are you looking at?" he asks, scanning the paper. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Surely the new Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts hasn't done anything that bad?"

I briefly look over at the article he's joking about, before looking back at the Announcements.

"Blaise got engaged yesterday," I say, my eyes once again glued on the picture of my ex-boyfriend with his now fiancé, a pretty blonde who's positively glowing with happiness as she admires the massive diamond on her finger before flashing it at the camera.

"Oh."

I don't know why, but I can't look away. I'm definitely a million times happier in my relationship with James than I ever was with Blaise, so it's not that, but something keeps me watching the moving picture.

"Looks like a lame ass proposal to me," James scoffs, clearly reading the announcement himself.

James stops leaning on my chair, and walks into the kitchen. I hear him open up the cabinet to grab a mug.

"When I propose, it's going to be way better than that."

I almost drop my scalding-hot coffee onto my lap.

"When you… what?"

I finally tear my eyes away from the paper in favour of gaping at James, who's currently pouring himself a cup of coffee and generally acting like he didn't just say something majorly significant.

"When I propose," he repeats.

James and I have never talked about marriage. I suppose I've always known it's a possibility – we do live together, after all – but James has never even so much as hinted at any interest in that on his end.

"You're proposing?"

James laughs, clearly entertained by my confusion. "Well, not right now, I'm not. But yeah, I imagine that'll happen eventually."

"I didn't know that was something you were even thinking about," I admit.

"I didn't think it was a thing we needed to actually talk about. I figured we were on the same page," he says, coming to sit down across from me at the small table. "I mean, you would want to get married, wouldn't you?"

"Well, yes," I reply. "But I figured you were kilometers off from that. I definitely didn't think you were at the point of just casually throwing out the idea over breakfast!"

"Definitely not kilometers off," James confirms. "Just waiting for the right moment, is all."

I only blink in response.

Even to this day, James still manages to completely throw me for a loop sometimes.

He cocks his head at me, suddenly looking just as confused by my reaction as I feel about his. "Abby, I watched my little brother get married a few months ago. And my grandmum has told me on multiple occasions that she fully expects me to be next. If I was still completely unfamiliar with the prospect of us getting married, I'd honestly be a bit concerned for my self-awareness."

I set my mug down on the table. "Right, because you've got such a stellar track record for self-awareness."

James cracks a grin again. "I'd like to think I've gotten at least a little better since seventh year."

And he's probably right about that. We've come a long way since then, since avoiding our feelings until they'd almost literally smacked us in the face.

"I guess you have," I reply.

We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until James nudges my calf with his foot. When I look up at him, he's giving me an incredibly cheeky smirk.

"You're gonna be stuck with me for the rest of your life," he says.

I roll my eyes at him, but somehow, I don't think I mind that concept all that much.

"Dammit Abby, we're going to be late," James whines, sitting at the foot of the bed and watching me apply my makeup in the mirror.

"Oh please," I answer, still putting on my eyeliner, "like anyone in your family is actually on time for family functions anyways."

"They're more on time than you," he retorts.

I respond by childishly sticking my tongue out at him.

He laughs at that. "But seriously, I want to see what random bloke Dom brings along this time."

Dom has, for better or for worse, been going through guys like flavours of the week since Alec left for Greece after graduation. Some of them – particularly the ones she's brought to weddings – have been some very strange blokes.

"I don't think she'll bring a date to this one – I feel like a baby shower has a distinctly different vibe than a wedding."

James clicks his tongue. "So I take it that also means we're not carrying our wedding tradition over to baby showers?"

I know exactly what he means by that. Between Teddy and Victoire's and Al and Cecile's weddings, I think we've accidentally created a regular habit.

I pause to glare at him. "No," I say sternly. "Sneaking off to have sex in the middle of a baby shower has a very different connotation than doing that at a wedding. And I've only just learned that you're thinking about getting engaged– please don't tell me you're also ready to have kids."

James shudders. "Fuck no."

"Well then. There's your answer."

He stands up and walks over to where I'm standing, wrapping his arms around my waist and generally throwing off my ability to apply my liquid lipstick evenly. "We could just… right now," he says.

"Weren't you just complaining two minutes ago about how we were going to be late? Because that would definitely make us late," I explain, screwing the lid back onto the tube of bright red lipstick.

He lets his arms fall back to his sides. "Ugh, I guess you're right."

"I usually am," I say as I spin around to look at him.

This time, it's his turn to roll his eyes at me.

But I am right about this, so we're Flooing to the Burrow just a few minutes later. I go first, and James follows a few moments later, holding a box with a massive pink bow against his hip.

"Mum! Abby and James are here!" Lily calls out, as soon as we find ourselves in the Burrow's living room.

Ginny comes hurrying into the room, immediately engulfing me a hug.

"Damn, I'm only your firstborn child," James jokes.

"Oh, don't give me that," Ginny replies, before pulling him into a hug as well. "How are things going? I haven't seen you two since… well, since we helped move all of James' stuff into your place, Abby."

James grins conspiratorially at me, and I'm almost positive he's thinking about something he shouldn't be thinking about when talking to his mother. "Things are going great," he says.

I attempt to redirect the conversation before James' mum has enough time to catch on to her son's implied meaning. "We still haven't finished unpacking, but I imagine we'll get there eventually."

Ginny laughs. "I can't say I blame you," she responds. "From what I've heard from Harry and Albus, the Auror department is an awfully busy place these days."

I start to reply, but before I can, we're interrupted by another voice entering the room.

"James! Abby! You guys made it!"

Teddy's hair is bright pink for the occasion, almost perfectly matching the neon-coloured sash Victoire's wearing over her white dress. Even at eight months pregnant in the middle of summer, she still manages to look completely flawless.

"Of course we did," James replies, grinning and hugging the two of them in turn.

"Abby's here!?"

Almost immediately, a flash of silvery blonde hair streaks across the room and I'm practically tackled in a hug.

"I've missed you so much," Dom cries dramatically. "My practice schedule has been fucking insane – I haven't left bloody Wimbourne in weeks."

"Dom!" Victoire says, sounding scandalised. "At least wait until the baby is born before you start corrupting it with your foul language!"

"Please," Dom responds. "That baby has Teddy for a father – she's going to have a foul mouth from birth."

"Fuck you, Dom," Teddy says jovially. Dom raises her eyebrows at her sister, her point now proven.

Victoire's hands go to her temples. "This poor child. She's going to grow up with the mouth of a sailor."

Teddy throws an arm around his wife. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Her retort is muffled by the sound of the fireplace roaring to life again, and Freddy comes tumbling out of the green flames.

Out of habit, I watch the fireplace, expecting Caroline to come through afterwards. It's ridiculous that I still catch myself thinking that – Caroline's on a totally different continent, and she's been there for almost a year, so I really don't know why I still expect her and Freddy to be together.

Other than the fact that they were perfect for each other, that is.

But Caroline's job in the Department of International Magical Cooperation had transferred her to the States, and so she chose to follow her career. She and Freddy had tried long-distance, but it apparently turned out to be much harder than either of them anticipated – and they called it off after a few months.

Freddy, the poor bloke, hasn't really been the same since. He hasn't so much as looked at another girl since they broke up – and that, given his track record with women before they got together, is just proof that he's still not over her.

I'm just hoping, for both their sakes, that Caroline gets transferred back to the UK eventually.

"Don't worry, dear family, I've arrived, so the party can officially start now," Fred grins, taking a bow. He hands a poorly wrapped gift to Teddy, who eyes it warily.

That's probably smart thinking on Teddy's part – I get the feeling Freddy probably decided to give his expecting cousin one of his new Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes inventions.

A bunch of Teddy and Victoire's Hogwarts friends arrive next, and soon enough, the Burrow is positively bustling with activity as everyone plays the baby-themed games that Ginny came up with.

"I still maintain that you should find a way to name the baby after me," James protests, from his spot on the floor, leaning against my legs. Given the sheer number of people in the Potter-Weasley family, a significant portion of them have been relegated to sitting on the floor – James included.

"You're already the godfather," Victoire replies. "That's more than enough influence than you should be allowed to have over one child."

"See, this is why you should name it Frederica."

Victoire drops her head into her hands. "We are not naming our daughter Frederica, Freddy."

I honestly don't know why the two of them expected literally any other outcome to this game.

"Well, someone in this family ought to name a kid after me," Fred argues, taking a sip of champagne.

I also don't know what convinced Victoire that allowing alcohol to be served at this thing was a good idea.

"I could be persuaded," James replies, "for a price, that is."

Freddy looks intrigued by this proposition. "And that price is?"

I put a hand over James' mouth before he has a chance to answer. "You are not auctioning off the naming rights to your future children. Especially not if you're planning on having them with me."

Freddy's face lights up. "You two are having kids?"

"Not anytime soon, that's for sure," I reply immediately, and, almost as if to prove my point, James chooses that moment to lick the hand covering his mouth.

"Eugh," I say, wiping his saliva off on his shirt, "you're disgusting."

"You love me," James taunts.

"I have to go with Victoire on this one," I say. "Being anyone's godfather is the most influence James should be allowed to have on a child at this point in his life."

I look back up at Teddy and Victoire. "Oh, and for the record, my vote is on Margeaux Nymphadora."

"Margeaux eez such a pretty name," Victoire's mum confirms.

"Yeah, we like that one too," Teddy responds, grinning.

That seems to be the end of that game – once the parents announce the name they like, there's not much of a point continuing with suggestions anyways.

"So," Dom says, a few minutes later, nudging me in the side, "kids?"

"We've got quite a while to wait on that one," I reply. "I'd like to think we'll at least be married first."

"And as we learned this morning," James chimes in, "Abby goes mildly catatonic when proposals are brought up."

"That is not what happened, you prat," I say, flicking him on the top of his head.

Dom laughs at that. "If I had to pick which one of you was going to freak out about the concept of a proposal, my Galleons would be on James."

I nudge James with my knee. "See?"

He cranes his head back to look at me. "In that case, looks like I'm going to be planning the most dramatic proposal ever to prove all of you skeptical fuckers wrong."

Four months later, he makes good on that promise.

Three guesses on what this means for where the sequel starts off.

JK, it'll take exactly one guess, so here's a sneak peek of Complex chapter 1:

"Abby, show us that rock!"

"Witch Weekly readers are positively dying to know proposal details!"

"Is it true that James only proposed because he knocked you up?"

I swear to Merlin, if I had a Galleon for every time a reporter accused me of being pregnant, I'd never have to lay a finger on my trust fund.