Lily Bay - No Roses

    “James, there’s…no roses,” breathed Lily.

    She was standing in rather small room James had brought her to. Hidden behind a tapestry, the niche should have been dark, but wasn’t. The walls, ceiling, and floor were stone; Lily could feel their coolness beneath her bare feet. The most unique feature was the window on the opposite wall. There was no barred glass, no nothing, merely a wide stone ledge that overlooked beautiful darkness.

    They were halfway up the South side of the North tower, and the drop over the edge would be precisely 32 seconds in hell if you fell. But it was amazing.

    The first thing she had seen when James pushed the tapestry aside were the flowers. Lilies, to be precise, spilling out of their clay pots and pooling on the floor, magnificent blooms of every color imaginable. The empty spots were filled with irises, rich royal purples, and orchids, barely-there, fresh greens. And the entire room was lit with candles, the squat white candles that Lily had a certain affinity for.

    It smelled like a thousand perfumes intermixing into heaven, crisply florid in it’s saccharine scent.

    “I know, Lily,” said James calmly, putting one arm around her. “I know.”

    “How did you-”

    “Know?” asked James, trademark smirk playing across his face. “Your friend - what’s-her-face…the blonde one.”

    “Ingrid?”

    “Yeah,” said James in realization. “Yeah, that’s the one. I asked her, and she said your favorite flowers were lilies, but you hated roses.”

    “I do,” said Lily, laughing slightly through her shock.

    “Way to be original,” murmured James into her shoulder. “Lily likes lilies…fancy that.”

    “Aw, shut up, Potter.”

    He smiled to himself, head resting on her own, her vibrant hair a feathery cushion.

    “James, why did you-”

    “Do this?”

    “Stop-”

    “Finishing your sentences?” He smirked again, that same trademark smirk, and she smacked him playfully on the arm.

     “That’s right,“ she continued. “And yes, why did you do this?”

    “Well,” he said, stepping away from her. She stared at him, the candlelight gilding his hair, his hazel eyes shining, caught up in the thrill of the moment. The chilly floor burned at her bare toes; she ran her left foot along the inside of her right calf.

    He went down on one knee. She went into shock. There he was, surrounded by flowers, her flowers, the stars winking in happiness for her, and a tear stung at her eye.

    “Lily,” he said, taking her by the hands and meeting her green gaze. “I spent my whole life waiting for something like this. I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s true. You can ask Peter - when we were little, I wanted to play wedding.” He grinned sheepishly but didn’t blush, and Lily giggled slightly. “Yes, just like the little girls in our neighborhood did.” He smirked again, eviler this time. “I always made Peter be the bride.” He stood, still holding her hands, and whispered, “But you are so much better than that.”

    “Yes,” exhaled Lily. She hadn’t known she’d been holding her breath. “Yes, James Potter, I will marry you.”

    “I haven’t even gotten to that yet!” exclaimed James indignantly.

    “Sorry,” she murmured, blushing pink.

    He grinned, slightly nervous, she could tell. He looked up into her eyes, her eyes shining in the moonlight, and took a breath.

    “It has only been six months for us,” he said. “And now the seven years of heaven must end. But not for us.” He sighed peacefully. “Only six months, but I feel I have known you for forever.” He grinned. “I know you do not feel the same about me, but…”

    He gulped nervously up at her, and she grinned, almost encouragingly. “Lily Evans, will you marry me?” The diamond he was holding out glittered vituperatively in the candlelight.

    She got down on her knees in front of him, eye-level with a bundle of tiger lilies that were spilling out of their pot. “Yes, of course, of course I will,” she breathed, and slipped the silver band onto her finger. In his haste, he jammed her finger, and as the ring slid on, it scraped the knuckle of her finger.

    “Are you okay?”

    “Of course I am,” she whispered into his neck with a laugh, holding him in a hug.

    He leaned back from her, met her gaze, and kissed her. Finally they stood, grinning in the moon and candlelight, and left. Hand in hand, laughing like schoolgirls, they left quietly, but the flowers bloomed on.