The Truth About Self-Sacrifice

"Are you nervous?"

"Of course he is, Wormtail. He’s finally marrying Evans."

Sirius smiles and turns his eyes back onto his friend. "So, how does it feel to be a married man?"

"I’ll let you know when I am one," James says jokingly, straightening his bow tie.

Remus smiles, trying to ignore the strange feeling in his chest.

The door opens and Andromeda Black ducks her head in.

"James, you’re up," she says with a smile. "And good luck."

--

There is quiet chatter through the room as James stands at the end of the isle. He has his hands clasped in front of him. And is whispering nervously with Sirius. No one is in the least surprised that Sirius is the best man. It seemed obvious.

Remus takes his seat between Peter and James’ mother, both of whom are practically bouncing with excitement. And he understands why. It’s not everyday that your son, or, in Peter’s case, your hero, gets married.

But Remus doesn’t feel excited. No, he feels sick.

That feeling is only magnified when the Bridal March begins to play.

--

He presses his lips against hers, smiling into her mouth as he does. She tastes like chocolate and butterbeer and all the other wonderful things of this world.

She tastes like happiness.

When he opens his eyes, he is staring into sparkling emerald green ones. She is smiling as big as he is.

And then, as if this is a movie and it was written into the script, snow begins to fall. Tiny white flakes drop onto her fire-red hair and the front of her black sweater. They make her look like a snow angel.

He kisses her again and whispers, "Happy Christmas."

--

And there she is. Lily Evans.

She looks absolutely stunning in her wedding gown. It is pure white, almost the same color as her skin. The sleeves are off the shoulder, revealing her creamy white shoulders, with freckles dusted across them. It is form-fitted until the waist, where it turns into something resembling a cloud.

As she walks, white rose petals mark her steps. It is an enchantment, he knows. One that he came up with, and that James worked hard to perfect. It is only because of him that James knew white roses were her favorite flower.

But as she gets closer, he sees something that makes his heart break all over again.

On her neck hangs a delicate silver chain with a small, crystal crescent moon.

The necklace he had given her for Christmas two years ago.

--

"He asked me out again."

"Who?" he asks, though he knows the answer.

"James."

"What did you say?"

"I didn’t say anything."

"Oh."

There is silence. He looks down at their hands, laced together.

"Do you want to go?"

"No," she says quickly. Too quickly. He looks at her suspiciously.

"Remus, it’s JAMES! You know I can’t stand him."

Again, there is silence. During which thoughts flash through his head like a movie put on fast forward. He thinks about how many times he has heard James stressing over asking her out. How many times she has said no.

He wonders why she didn’t just say no this time.

"I think you should go."

She looks at him in surprise. "What?"

"I think you should go," he repeats.

"Why? Wait, the why doesn’t matter. I’m not going. I won’t."

"Why not?"

"Because I don’t want to be with him! I want to be with you!"

"And I want to be with you. But there are things you don’t understand, Lily, things you don’t know. And, in the long run, he is better for you."

"You don’t mean that."

"Yes, I do."

--

"Do you, James Thomas Potter, take Lily Ann Evans to be your lawful, wedded wife?"

"I do."

--

It has been a year since he told her to go. A year since he gave her up. And now, here they are, in their old meeting spot, one last time.

"He asked me to marry him."

He says nothing, but looks at the ground, where his feet, in worn out sneakers, are kicking up dirt.

"I said yes."

He looks up at her, knowing full well that the pain in his eyes is apparent.

But he finds the same pain in hers. "I’m happy for you," he says, unable to keep the sadness out of his voice.

"Thank you," she says, her voice small.

There is silence.

"Remus?"

He hears the tremble in her voice and looks up at her again. Her eyes are flooded with tears and her lower lip is trembling.

"Can I kiss you one last time?"

--

"And do you, Lily Ann Evans, take him, James Thomas Potter, to be your lawful, wedded husband?"

--

He nods his head numbly.

She presses his lips against his in a hungry, desperate kiss. He tastes salt and realizes she is crying.

She still tastes like happiness, he thinks to himself.

And then it is over. She has pulled back, and he sees that her cheeks are flushes and stained with tears and mascara.

And she walks away, leaving him touching his lips, trying to hold on to the feeling of that kiss.

--

"I do."