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If her boyfriend were capable of thinking more than five minutes into the future, later she would’ve suspected him of ulterior motives.
As it is, James has just spent 10p trying to get a bouncy ball out of a toy vending machine, the kind with tiny plastic pods of goodies within.
“What’d you get?” Lily asks.
He stands up, frowning and tucking the pod into his pocket. “Bit of rubbish. Lemme know when you see a bin.”
But then they get caught up talking shit about the last Harpies match—Lily is firmly on the side of Jenkins fouled, while James is adamant that she didn’t—and they forget, probably pass dozens of bins on the way to the restaurant.
“Just as egregious as that time you fouled Patil in sixth year,” Lily says once they’ve got their drinks.
“I didn’t foul him!”
“I don’t know why you can’t just admit it—I know he insulted Algernon, I’m on your side about fouling him—”
“You think I would besmirch my honor—my reputation—”
Lily just looks at him.
“I mean, yes, if anything, it would be Algernon, but I could’ve got Patil back just as easily off the pitch, without ruining my whole team’s reputation—”
“Yes,” Lily says smugly. “You could’ve.”
James makes a face, and swirls his straw around in his water, the ice clinking. He looks over his shoulder and brightens up, the sort of cheering he has when he thinks he’s backed himself out of a corner.
“D’you know what,” he says, hunching over the table to lean closer to her.
“Do tell,” she drawls.
“The last time I was here, with my mum, some couple got engaged.”
“Your attempt to change the topic is noted. I’m not giving up this point.”
“No, but like—they got a free dessert after they got engaged.”
“And?”
“And—we could get free dessert, you know. If we pretended to get engaged.”
“James, you don’t need free dessert. You’ve spent the amount a dessert would cost on bouncy balls in the last month.”
“Well, I keep losing them, don’t I? They don’t come back like a snitch, and since you said I couldn’t have those in Muggle London—”
“The Ministry said, not me.”
“Whatever.” James waves a hand. “The point is, it’d be funny, wouldn’t it? If we did it for dessert.”
“They’d know it was a joke.”
“How? We’re young. And handsome, yes, but also young people do stupid things all the time.”
“Like pretend to get engaged?”
“Or get real engaged, how would they know?”
“Because I wouldn’t be able to do it without laughing, for one. And for another, you haven’t got a ring.”
James gives her a shit-eating grin. “I have got one, though. In my pocket, from the toy machine.”
“You do know how to splurge on a girl, don’t you?”
“And how about this—if you can get through it without laughing…I will admit that I fouled Patil on purpose.”
Lily runs her finger around the tip of her ice glass, eyeing James. “Why do you want to do this so much?”
“Why don’t you? Afraid you’ll be too overcome with emotion? Will you start crying if I fake propose?”
Curse her insatiable need to win.
She swats his hand. “Fine, Potter. You’re on.”
Admittedly, there is a nice, tiny thrill from this. From bickering over old sore points, and watching James’s eyes light up at the thought of a laugh, and trying to match him point for point.
He slides a hand into his pocket, but he doesn’t propose straight away. Obviously. If it were a real proposal, it wouldn’t happen before the bread basket.
They talk about other things, then, because if the waiter overhears them planning their fake engagement, the gig is up. But it’s under everything—James keeps sending her pleased looks, and her heartbeat skitters along, waiting for him to pull out the ring.
When they get their food? Maybe that’s too soon. During the meal seems most sensible.
He’s got to be preparing a speech. It’s going to be ridiculous, she knows it. Although he also doesn’t want to make her laugh, then it’s obvious he’s faking…although maybe he wants her to laugh so he doesn’t have to admit to the foul.
He’s so unpredictable.
It’s terrific.
And she must. not. laugh. Absolutely not.
His pasta and her fish both arrive.
“You going to do it, then?” she asks.
“Don’t rush me,” he says. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Been reading up on proposals in your spare time?”
“Gotta do something on stakeouts, haven’t I?”
“Besides stake things out?”
He gives her that you got me there smile of his, the one that is simultaneously annoyed that she’s bested him, and fond because if he had to pick anyone to beat him, it’s her.
They dig into their food.
The thing is, they have actually been dating for two years. Which for some people is plenty long enough.
But he’s not actually proposing. Obviously. It’s just chance he’s got a ring.
The meal goes on. They keep eating.
She makes sure to keep giving him looks, and raised eyebrows, and other indicators to say, well?
Maybe he’s not going to do it at all. Maybe it’s not worth it.
But every look she gives, he matches her right back.
She’s just encouraging him now, she realizes.
They’ve nearly finished their meals when he gives her A Look.
“Evans,” he says loudly.
“I take it back,” she says. “Don’t—“
“Love of my life.” He reaches out and grabs her hand. “Ever since we met on that horseback riding trip in the Lake District—“
“Oh dear god—“
“I’ve known it was you. When we were caught out in the rain, and then your horse got injured by that random hawk, and you had to share my horse and ride in front of me—I knew.”
Lily’s tongue is about to bleed, she’s biting on it so hard.
She tightens her grip on James’s hand. She hopes it hurts.
He just gets more earnest.
“I know you were thinking about leaving me for Squid—he has the most unfortunate nickname, it’s true—but we got through those times. We got through our differences about sport, and exams, and which Doctor is the best. I know you like One—”
He’s such a bloody liar! He knows she’s firmly in love with Tom Baker.
“—but I’m willing to overlook that. Life’s short, yeah? And my cat loves you, so I think…”
He slides smoothly out of his seat and onto one knee, still holding onto her with one hand while the other fetches a plastic gold band out of his pocket.
She is about to cry, but it’s from suppressing even the slightest giggle. Her lips ache from pressing them together.
“Lily Elvendork Evans—”
She snorts but turns it into a muted cough, wiping at one eye to try to play it like she’s getting choked up for non-laughter reasons.
He holds up the ring, dull in the dim light of the restaurant. “Will you marry me?”
The coroner should know to put asphyxiation by pent-up laughter on her death certificate.
Eye on the prize. Eye on the prize! James admitting he’s wrong!
“I bloody hate you,” spills out of her mouth when she opens it. “But yes.”
He beams as bright as a bloody lighthouse, eyes alight with amusement. He’s such a weirdo.
“Knew it,” he says, and half stands up to kiss her.
“Wanker,” she breathes, and then returns the kiss.
The restaurant bursts out into applause around them. Someone whoops.
“I’m going to murder you,” she whispers as he backs off and returns to his seat.
“After dessert,” he says. “D’you fancy the ice cream sundae or the chocolate cake?”
It turns out they don’t get to pick—the waiter just brings them a white platter with a couple small treats on it, and the word congratulations written out in chocolate sauce.
It is a very good dessert.
“Worth it,” James says around a bite of cake. “Free tastes better.”
“Paid for with your dignity. And mine, for that matter.”
He lifts his fork in a toast at her. “Worth it.”
An elderly couple stops by to congratulate them on their way out of the restaurant. Lily puts on her best smile for them, sliding her hand under the table to hide the ring that looks very much like he paid 10p for it.
James is so bloody well pleased with himself the rest of the meal that she can’t actually hate him. He feels like he’s won, and she feels like she’s won, and that means everything since they’re currently losing a war.
“Still wish I’d got a bouncy ball,” he comments as they walk out of the restaurant, his hand entwined with hers.
“As your fiancée, I’m putting a moratorium on vending toy purchases from here on out.”
“Cruel, vicious woman.”
She lets her hip bump into his while they stroll down the street. “You gonna admit you fouled him, then?”
“Do we count your snort as a laugh?”
“Give it up, James.”
“Fine. Yes. I concede. It was intentional.”
She grins at him. “I bloody knew it.”
“Yeah, well, not all my plans turn out as well as tonight.”
“None. None of your plans turn out.”
“Hey, I got dessert, didn’t I?”
“Which you could’ve paid for—never mind.”
The sun’s turning the sky a lovely shade of violet above them. Lily smiles.
“Want your toy back?” she says.
She takes her hand away from his to start sliding the plastic ring off, and laughs at just the sight of it. Like she’s going to get engaged at nineteen.
Mischief’s back in his eyes.
“How about this,” he says. “You take it off when it stops making you laugh.”
All that laughter from earlier springs out now, unbridled. And he looks well pleased with himself for bringing it out in her. As always.
“All right,” she says. “Deal.”
And because she’s a woman of her word, she endures telling the excited Order members that it’s not real. That it’s for a laugh.
Everyone sort of forgets about it after a week or so. Lily gets used to seeing it on her hand. It does still make her laugh.
It makes James laugh, too, when he remembers that it’s there. Then he usually kisses her, so it’s all good.
And eventually, several months later, a café cashier asks when the wedding is. Lily’s always told the strangers who ask that they haven’t set a date.
But now Lily looks at James, who’s been moping ever since Sirius got injured on his mission last week.
Her own mischievous grin is now on display.
“June,” she says.
And James smiles.