Chapter Text
Lily had never daydreamed about her wedding before; had, in truth, started to think she may never marry at all. But as she walked down the aisle toward James, waiting for her with watery eyes and a beaming smile, she thought that this day, her wedding day, surpassed anything she could have ever imagined for herself.
The ceremony seemed to pass in slow motion and yet was over in a blink; the reception, back at Evans House, was much the same: one moment she was eating roast, sampling cake, and laughing with Dorcas, Regulus, and Sirius, and the next she was saying farewell to her mother and Petunia at the foot of a horse-drawn carriage.
“Well,” her mother said quietly as they hugged, “I dare say I need not explain what you have to look forward to tonight?”
Lily smirked as she murmured into Violet’s ear, “No, Mama. I’m ready.”
Her mother squeezed her arms as they pulled apart, and her voice was teary as she said, more for herself than Lily, “This isn’t goodbye yet.”
“No,” Lily assured her. “It’s see you tomorrow, for brunch at Peverell House.”
With a watery chuckle, Violet let go to dab at her eyes, and Lily shared a hug with Petunia.
“Thank you, Tuney,” she whispered. “Truly.”
Petunia sniffed, giving Lily a rare smile. “You are my sister, Lily.”
Which, coming from Petunia, was the strongest declaration of I love you that Lily could have expected.
With final waves and smiles and blown kisses, Lily let James hand her into his carriage, and as soon as her family was out of sight, she turned immediately to him, took his face in her hands, and kissed him the whole rest of the way.
They only broke apart, James’s hands withdrawing reluctantly from their massaging squeezes, as they pulled up the front drive of Peverell House.
“Welcome home,” James murmured, and Lily’s heart skipped as she pulled her eyes away from his face only to take in the looming stone walls awaiting them, path lit with a trail of beckoning torches.
Home. “I don’t know that I’ll ever be used to this,” she whispered back.
James only chuckled. “That makes two of us. C’mon.”
With her hand tucked snugly inside his, Lily followed him down the lit path and through the magnificent double-doors, past the line of curtsying and bowing staff, up the grand, garlanded staircase, along a maze of carpeted halls, and finally into a room, lit softly with candles that surrounded a majestic four-poster bed fluffed luxuriously with pillows and layers of linens.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh.”
James shut the door quietly behind them, and then said, “I got you something. On my desk, by the window.”
Lily threw him a curious smile over her shoulder, then strode toward the desk positioned in front of the tall window, tracing a finger along the rich mahogany before she picked up the sole piece of paper laying there.
“Paris,” she read quietly. “Geneva, Milan, Florence, Rome, Naples, Athens…James, what is this?”
His body pressed into her back, arms wrapping around her middle as his mouth brushed over her ear. “I’m taking you on a Grand Tour of your own.”
Shock bolted her to the floor, leaving her breathless. “What?”
He kissed her cheek softly, his voice a low, velvety purr. “This is my working itinerary,” he told her. “I’ve already written to my contacts abroad. We depart in the spring, after the first thaw.”
Lily closed her eyes, inhaled his scent—spicy and warm and just James—and voiced the only thought that had been ricocheting in her brain the whole day: “Am I dreaming?”
James only chuckled—“No”—before his lips trailed along her neck, breath hot as he whispered, “What do you say…Duchess?”
Something about that word—Duchess—in his voice made everything more real than it had felt all day. She’d been floating on a cloud, shuffled amongst well-wishers, with not a moment alone with James, nor a free second to spare to allow reality to sink in: She was married. James was her husband. She was his Duchess. And their whole life—together—stretched ahead of them.
She turned around in his arms, finding his mouth with her own, and answered against his lips, “I’ll go anywhere with you, James.”
A smile broke over his cheeks, hands coming up to hold her face. “I love you, Lily.”
The words came instantly, more true than anything else she’d ever said: “I love you, too.”
He kissed her, something tender and slow, before asking quietly, “Can I take you to bed?”
Lily only nodded, nuzzling her nose against his, before answering, “I’ve been waiting all day.”
Tender and slow transfigured into eager and quick, everything from his tongue darting into her mouth to his fingers deftly plucking at her laces spinning her into a trembling bundle of anticipation.
So absorbed was she in keeping up with his mouth, in twisting her body to help him along in her undressing, in running hands over the warm expanse of his newly revealed shoulders, that it came as somewhat of a surprise when eager and quick returned to tender and slow as he swept her up into his arms and deposited her in the cloud of linens and pillows on his bed.
Before she had enough time to study him, admire him, he was nestled beside her, one hand delicately cupping her breast as his mouth returned to hers, tongue slick where it glided over her lip. He rolled her slowly onto her back, shifting to hover over her, and Lily took in his heated eyes, his ruddy cheeks.
A smirk teased the corner of his mouth as he asked, “Are you ready to give this unseemly ritual a go?”
Lily snorted and swatted playfully at his arm. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”
“No,” he confirmed, shaking his head as his shoulders shook above her. “Never.”
She reached up to his neck, twining her fingers in the back of his hair, as their laughter calmed down. “I am,” she told him. “Ready.”
He kissed her softly, skimming along her body with one hand until he reached the heat between her legs, and then pulled back to gaze into her eyes as he slipped a finger inside her.
Lily gasped at the sensation, a new sort of pressure than before, and tightened her hold on his neck.
“Alright?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” she breathed.
His nose nuzzled against hers. “I need you close,” he murmured. “I want your first time to be good for you.”
“Of course it will be,” she told him. “It’s with you.”
He smiled, something hazy and adoring, and Lily wondered if it was possible to be any more in love than she already was.
A sudden increase in that stretching pressure jolted her attention away from his face, making her hiss.
“Alright?” he asked again.
She nodded but started to ask, “What—”
He kissed her cheek and explained, “Another finger.”
“Oh.”
His eyes stayed fixed on hers, like he was studying her face, her reactions, and as his fingers moved, curling and twisting and circling, an entirely different kind of oh started spilling from her mouth.
She let her head drop back into the pillow, let her hips lift, her hands slackening where she held him. He ducked his head, kissing a wet trail from her ear down her jaw, to her breasts, and then back again, until he whispered, voice husky, “How close are you?”
Her hips chased his thumb as she choked, “Just a little more,” but James did the opposite and withdrew his fingers.
Protest died in her throat as he settled his body more completely over hers, his hard length pressing into her thigh, and new anticipation filled her as she understood what was about to happen.
“I’ll go slow,” he told her, “but this still might hurt.”
She nodded and stroked his face. “I trust you.”
The next several moments delivered such a flurry of sensations that Lily simultaneously thought it was a miracle she was even coherent and scolded herself for not realizing that she wanted to marry James sooner. Because this—this—that smoothness she’d caressed in her hand sliding over her, dipping just inside her—was a pleasure entirely unto itself.
He was still watching her with that intent gaze, like he was testing her, reading her, but the very depths of her body were aching for him, reaching for him, and the next time she felt that shallow dip inside her, she tightened her legs at his hips and whispered, “More.”
He gave it—slowly, incrementally, easing her adjustment to him with open-mouthed kisses over her neck, her shoulder, her breasts, her lips. She fell into a daze of pleasure, hands deep in his hair, legs wrapped loosely at his hips, and let the sensation of his fullness wash over her again, and again, and again, until he stilled, pulling her attention with his nose dusting hers.
Her eyes fluttered open, finding his half-closed above her.
“You make…the most incredible noises,” he murmured.
She giggled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Why are you stopping?”
James smiled against her mouth as he told her, “Just need a minute. You’re too—”
But he cut off, shaking his head as his eyes closed and his jaw clenched, and a hint of panic flickered in her stomach.
“Is this…”—she paused, swallowed—“…good for you?”
His eyes immediately snapped open. “The best.”
She dropped her eyes nervously to his chest. “You can be honest—”
“I am. Hey.” He prompted her head up with his thumb on her chin. “I have lain with other women, yes, but the only one I have ever, and will ever, make love to is you, Lily.”
Sincerity rang in his voice, conviction shone in his eyes, and it made her heart squeeze and expand beyond limits she’d ever thought it capable of.
Her voice sounded thick as she tried to explain, “I just thought—you were about to say I was…too something—”
James laughed softly and shook his head. “You’re too beautiful, Lily. Too stunning, too…perfect. I’m just trying to last for you.”
She smiled, suddenly bashful, and he pressed a tender kiss to her lips before saying, “Tell me what you need, okay?”
Confused, Lily answered, “I—okay,” but he was shifting over her, framing her head with his forearms and ducking his face into her neck. His hips rocked against hers, resuming his gentle rhythm, only this time, there was no incremental, only long, even strokes; this time, she felt herself already stretched for all of him; this time, his body put new weight on some magical spot that only his fingers had touched before.
Without thinking, Lily’s hands tightened in his hair, on his back, as she cried, “Oh, there!”
A sound she could only describe as a growl emanated from somewhere near her throat, but he didn’t stop, didn’t slow down even as she felt sweat beading off his skin, and soon that same pressure he’d made her feel before, the one that made her legs tremble and her core feel on fire, was near its peak.
“James,” she said urgently, and his head lifted immediately from her neck, eyes wild as they scanned her face. “I’m going to—”
“I know.” He reached a hand up to cup her face, mirroring her own hold on his. “I can feel you.”
Turning his head, he kissed the inside of her palm, then murmured. “I’m close too, Lil.”
Lil. Pleasure crested like a crashing wave, but he didn’t stop, only moved faster, and through half-open eyes from the blinding explosion happening in her body, Lily watched his face change before he suddenly jerked back, pulling out of her, and spilled hotly over her stomach.
He collapsed atop her, heavy and warm, and through his ragged breaths, she heard him say, “I thought—we shouldn’t risk—you being with child—while we’re—traveling the world.”
Laughter bubbled up and out as she cradled his head and massaged his hairline. “What a considerate husband you are.”
He smiled against the skin of her neck. “For my wife? Always.”
Lily sighed contentedly, still petting him, and murmured, “Can we do this every day?”
“Yes,” he grunted immediately. “As many times a day as you want.”
She hummed her satisfaction. “Remind me why I was so opposed to marrying, again?”
He chuckled as he lifted his face to hers, eyes flashing something mischievous. “Because you hadn’t met me.”
And that was, she thought, quite the heart of it all.