Stupid Albeit Pretty Words by ficexchange

Merry Christmas, Sam (ThundersShadow)!

.

Stupid Albeit Pretty Words

.

You know, when I suggested that we write our own vows, I didn't expect to have any trouble writing them. I thought James may have struggled a bit, been tempted to let Sirius write them for him, but I wasn't supposed to struggle! I can write. Half the letters James wrote to his mother – I wrote them! And Remus' 'please come home, your mother/father/aunt/third cousin/pet salamander is in St Mungo's' letters weren't written by a concerned family member either.

But these vows! It shouldn't be that hard, so why can't I just write some stupid, albeit pretty words?

The self-doubt has been and gone – I've already established that I still love the guy so that's not a problem. I've talked myself crazy; the portrait of James' family left their frame a few hours ago and the mirror is pretending to be asleep. I asked for her help but she just swung over so her wooden back was showing.

Guess what's going to the rubbish tip as soon as we're married.

I'm thinking I'll just tell James not to worry about the special vows. I mean, nothing's really wrong with the old tried and true vows, is there? I thought it would've been romantic, a nice little touch to add to the ceremony. It'd hardly be romantic if I got up there and said, 'Hi James, love you lots, I promise not to make you eat steak and kidney pie if you really don't want to. Let's get married and have lots of kids and live on a double-decker bus.'

Sirius would think it hilarious. Peter would probably have a getaway broom waiting for me. Remus would be left to haul Mrs Potter off the floor.

James would think Invasion of the Body Snatchers was real after all and I'd been taking the mickey.

The problem is I don't want to go over the top. All that tripe about hearts entwining and forever in each other's eyes ... not even I'm that soft. I have a bit of dignity. I can't say that in front of Sirius and live it down.

I suppose I should thank Sirius, in a way. If it weren't for him, I don't think I'd have warmed to James. Maybe I would've, but Sirius is determined to take credit for James and I – it would break his heart if I quashed that.

See, Sirius was being his usual boisterous self, making himself heard at the dinner table, when James made some off hand comment that I can't remember anymore. But I thought it was hilarious, and when James asked me to pass the peas, I couldn't help but grin at him. So it started with a passing comment and continued with a passing glance accompanied with a passing grin. A paused moment in the corridor followed by a secret trip to Hogsmeade and that was it. He won me over in the Three Broomsticks and I knew I'd misjudged him when we both wanted peppermint swirl on strawberry shortcake. I didn't think anyone else in the world could stomach that – I feel sorry for our future children, or at least their stomachs.

From there, I don't know, things just got better and better. James found it a bit hard at the beginning, sharing his time between his friends and me, but it worked out ok, I'd say. The Marauders were there before I was, so I guess it wasn't a huge shock that one of them was always hanging around. My mother always said that when she met my father, it was a 'love me, love my dog.' With James, it was a 'love me, love my insane, privacy invading, nothing is sacred brothers, one of whom really is a dog.'

I wish I could erase the memory of James' first meeting with my parents, though. Maybe once we're married I'll see the funny side of it too, but I doubt Dad will ever let me live it down. You'd think, after five years of Muggle Studies, James would accept that Muggles have their own way of doing things. They don't need broomsticks that can fly, or charmed garden gnomes that act as security guards around the house, or dishes that wash themselves in the twin tub (honestly, he's a fool if he thinks that a 'dishwasher' will ever catch on – luckily, he's my fool so I've half forgiven him for that one). It wasn't a true disaster until Petunia came home and found James throwing a Fanged Frisbee for Petunia's dog. Vernon Dursley, lump of a man, was with her and decided to defend Petunia's honour by challenging James to a fistfight of all things. 'A man's sport, reveals true character,' Vernon said. James found this highly amusing, which only served to infuriate Vernon more. Lord knows what would have happened if I hadn't fired that Trip Jinx at Vernon when I did. He started to charge at James like some raging bull! What was I supposed to have done? I couldn't have James get in a punch up in front of my parents, not on the first meeting anyway.

At least he believes me now when I say that my sister is the world's loudest screecher. James walked away from my parents' house thinking that we were the craziest family in the world. 'Brilliant,' he said. 'I'm not worried about you meeting my folks now!'

One thing's for sure: there's never been a dull moment with James. Even on rainy days where all we do is stay on the couch – not dull. Mind you, the Marauders are usually hanging about somewhere and making a nuisance of themselves, but it doesn't really matter. They're James' family, so I guess they're my family now too; our family.

Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Our family. Reminds you of home and sunshine, freshly cut lawns and laughter, flowers and baked goodies.

There probably won't be too much of that in our house, come to think of it. I don't know how wizards mow the lawn, but James would certainly never be able to use a Muggle mower without demolishing the flowers, and unless we have a super friendly neighbour with a baking obsession, there won't be many goodies sitting on the windowsill. We could work on it, though. Do the whole grow old together with our kids and make it happen. I could learn to bake, and James probably knows a Trimming Charm that would mow the lawn nicely. Imagine that – James and Lily Potter with their brood, going about the family home with Uncles Peter, Sirius and Remus in tow.

I like that picture, although it's oddly reminiscent of a picnic about to be rained on. I'll try not to think of that tomorrow. There's not going to be a single cloud in the sky when we get married, and with my new not-overly-sentimental-but-warm-and-fuzzy-enough vows, which you have just inspired me to write, it's going to be the best day of our lives.

Well, maybe that part is a little corny ... Scratch that last ...