The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Vow

{{hopefully this is everything you guys hoped it would be. It certainly feels right to me. Enjoy, and if anyone asks it's just your allergies ;) }}

James was right.

This was the best day of his life.

When the curtain parts and he finally sees her, his heart stops. She's otherworldly, a vision in the shiny white that clings to her so perfectly it should be sin. She looks like she's bathed in pearl, from her lustrous hair to hem of her dress that pools like water at her feet. He feels the same, like he could melt into a damned puddle at the sight of her.

He swallows past the lump in his throat, eyes glued to her as she walks up the aisle. As she walks to him. He doesn't see anyone, doesn't hear anything. He can only feel Phoebe Griffin, commanding the energy in the room. James could fall to his knees when he sees her silver eyes lined with soft grey, when he spots the pretty necklace balancing delicately around her throat. Tears threaten his eyes when he sees familiar earrings. His first gift to her.

James has to steel himself, keep himself from running up the aisle and apparating away with her, wedding be damned. Because he'd never seen someone look so whole, so perfect. And so happy. She was happy. He could see it in her glimmering eyes, in the way her dimple appears in her cheek. His stomach erupts in butterflies, his cheeks warming.

He grins, flushing further at her knowing smile. She smells like lavender when she's finally gets close enough that he can touch her. It makes him want to cry. He swallows again, heart swelling when Sirius pecks her on the cheek before guiding her up into James waiting arms. He shakes Sirius' hand, his face hurting because his smile is so wide. His friend just winks before joining Remus and Peter behind him.

James holds onto Phoebe's arms, taking a moment to breathe her in and whisper, "You did it, Griffin."

Phoebe smirks and squeezes his arm, murmuring, "Of course. Wouldn't dream of missing this, Potter."

How he remains standing, he's not sure. This woman could bring him to his knees, make him cry, make him beg, take everything from him and he'd still be grateful just to have had a glimpse of her.

They finally face forward and his mouth runs dry when his hand rests on her back for a brief moment. Skin, warm and smooth and familiar. He nearly swears out loud, glancing sideways to see her open dress teasing him and his heart doing a funny dance in his chest. He wonders briefly if she picked this dress on purpose. An evil minx, baiting him at his own wedding. She knew how much he liked—

"Mr. Potter."

James quickly whips his head up to look at an unimpressed McGonagall, a sheepish look on his face as gentle laughs ring out behind them.

"Sorry, Minnie," He mumbles, flushing as he scratches the back of his neck. Phoebe smiles beside him, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. James clasps his hands in front of him, smiling when Phoebe does the same, the two of them waiting expectantly while Minerva McGonagall takes a moment to smile at them. Then she begins,

"Let's get this over with before Mr. Potter passes out."

The Marauders bite back snorts at the wit of their old professor, Phoebe smiling as she continues,

"We are gathered here today to witness the union of Phoebe Léonie Griffin and James Fleamont Potter. Their relationship was nothing short of a surprise for myself and the Hogwarts staff. I'd seen Miss. Griffin and Mr. Potter bickering for years, constantly arguing and earning themselves detentions. But what I've come to realize, like many of you, is that there is a thin line between love and hate. Evidently a line made of sugar quills, as Mr. Potter was often caught staring at Miss Griffin while she snuck them in class."