The Wedding

Drabble Request: James goes to Lily's wedding, but he isn't the groom

She seemed to glide down the aisle, rather than walk, a flame-haired goddess with ivory tipped toes. She was dressed all in white, and it was a shimmering, delicate white. She wore it with grace, and with poise. Her emerald eyes sparkled with light, for she was joyful. She was a vision of happiness, the very picture of sweetness. Her pleasure was such that it beautified everyone she came near, and the congregation sighed a collective, wistful sigh – for she really was a delight to behold.

Her attention was fixed solely upon her groom, who stood poised and proud, his chest puffed out for all to see. His pride and joy was evident in his stance – as if he implored the whole world to notice him, to see that he, and no other, had won the heart of such an effervescent angel, such a good, generous woman.

James Potter watched glumly from his pew as the love of his life breezed past him without sparing him a glance.

"Snape," he mumbled to himself, and the sight of Snape's grease-soaked hair – he had not even bothered to wash it for his own wedding – brought tears to his eyes. "Of all people, Snape."

The old lady sat next to him noticed his tears, and she had handkerchiefs, but cruelly did not offer him one. The world was an unkind place, James reflected, as the object of his affections reached her groom, and they turned to face one another with expressions of purest contentment. The woman he loved was marrying his worst enemy, and he was the fool who had come to their wedding.

"Don't get married, Evans," he whispered, as the little old man at the head of the congregation began his little speech. "Don't get married, please, don't get married. Turn around and walk away, please don't get married, I'll run away with you…."

But she never turned, never looked, never noticed his existence – the still beating heart of the one who longed so badly, who would have moved mountains for her love.

The ceremony carried on. Many things were said that he never listened to, for he was focused entirely on her slender form, and on silently, desperately willing her to turn and run, to run to him, so that he could take her in his arms, take her away, let her take him for everything he had, and all that he was.

"You may now kiss the bride…"

Those words he heard, and they brought with them an acute, sharp pain, an emotional stab wound. He was losing her now, well and truly, for every prank he'd pulled and every mean thing he'd ever done, he'd never thought it would have come to this. He would have undone it all, if he could, if it would have made a difference, if it could be him standing up there before her – not Snape, who wasn't deserving of her love – he would have done anything at all. Whatever it took, whatever she wanted….

Severus Snape leaned in to claim his prize, and James Potter truly knew misery.

"Potter?"

"I'll push him off a pier," he mumbled as he jerked awake, to find himself lying on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room with Lily Evans bent over him, wearing her school robes, and not a white dress in sight. There was a little crease between her eyebrows; a look of concern, he realised. He hurriedly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You alright, Potter?" said Evans.

"Course I am," he replied. "Many happy returns."

The crease deepened. "What?"

Half-asleep and embarrassed, James opted to pretend he was confused. "What?"

"You were whimpering in your sleep."

"Whimpering?"

"Yes," she replied, and placed a hand on his arm, which was privately where James believed her hand naturally belonged. "I was worried. Are you alright? You look a bit peaky."

James Potter was only poetic when he was dead to the world, and was otherwise an idiot, like many teenage boys. He blinked at her a few times while his mind thrashed about in a wild attempt to save face, and finally settled on an utterly dreadful conclusion.

"Ha!" he said, with a loud laugh, and pointed at her face. "Fooled you!"

Evans back away from him at once. "What?"

"Oh yeah, I got you good. Joke's on you!" he continued, with awkward, glaringly fake bravado in his tone. He got up and started to back away from her. "You should've seen the look on your face, Evans. Priceless!"

"That doesn't make any sense," said Evans.

"I make plenty," James retorted, and almost tripped over a schoolbag as he retreated. He grabbed an armchair to keep steady and continued to his backwards journey in the direction of the boys' staircase. "You're far too young to get married, by the way. Don't do it. Big mistake."

"I know," muttered Lily Evans, dryly, as James Potter disappeared from sight. "You were begging me not to while you were asleep."