Lily stopped in her steps, her sight now firmly on the altar ahead.
"Alright, Evans?" His voice was amplified in the small venue.
"Surprised to see you here, Potter," She joked, lamely.
He chuckled, nonetheless, “Where else would I be, beautiful?”
Their eyes flickered towards one another for just one second, mirthful and mischievous and so totally in love, alike.
"Ready to be my wife?" No matter how jovial and light-hearted he seemed, she knew just how serious he was and she knew because she was just the same.
"Only if you are ready to be my husband?"
"Oh, I am more than ready," He sniggered in such a way that once upon a time she would’ve wanted to hit him, hard.
Now she wondered if it was frowned upon to pounce on and snog the lively daylights out of the groom before they said ‘I do’. She settled on lacing her hand with his and holding it in a vice grip, never wanting nor intending to let go.
"Bring it on, sweetheart." (x)