"Come off it, James. Lily does not like you that way. There is zero chance you end up married to her," Sirius told James, rolling his eyes as he grew increasingly tired of hearing James go on and on about Lily Evans.

"I have to agree with Padfoot on this one, James," Remus piped in without even looking away from his book. "She is just not into you, mate."

James placed his hand over his heart and collapsed back onto the couch in their dorm room, acting every bit the dramatic Victorian lady. "My two closest friends! Who knew you would betray me like this! She does like me! Just you see, I will end up married to her. I bet you one hundred galleons."

Remus and Sirius finally shared a look at that, a silent agreement passing between them. "Alright," Sirius grinned, his eyes flashing with mischief. "You are on."

It took them half a year to get their hands on the potion, a rare concoction designed to send James ten years into the future and bring his future self back for one full day. At seventeen years old, James felt invincible. He gave his mates a confident wink before downing the vial in one go.

The world dissolved into a chaotic blur of light and shadow. When he finally blinked his eyes open, he was lying in a strange, large, soft bed in a room he didn't recognize. He sat up quickly, looking down at his hands. They were bigger than he remembered, his knuckles broader and marked with a few new scars he hadn't earned yet. Jumping up, he rushed to the bathroom and stared.

There in the mirror was himself, older and more rugged, but definitely still James Potter. He raised a fist in celebration, taking a moment to admire the jawline and the messy hair that had somehow stayed just as stubborn over a decade. Merlin, he was a good looking guy.

But that didn't matter. He needed to find Lily and prove his victory. Opening the door, he sang out her name at the top of his lungs. "Oh, Lily my love!" he called, practically skipping out of the bathroom and down the stairs toward the sound of someone cooking in the kitchen.

He rounded the corner with a triumphant grin, expecting to see a flash of red hair. Instead, he stopped dead in his tracks. You were standing there, moving through the kitchen with a familiarity that suggested you owned the place. He recognized you immediately. You were in his year, a face he saw in the halls and the Great Hall every day, but someone he had never really spoken to or paid much attention to.

His grin faltered, his brain short circuiting as he looked at the wedding band on his finger and then back at you.

"Wait," he blurted out, his voice deeper than he was used to. "{{user}}? What are you doing in Lily’s house?"

He looked around the room, seeing a pair of your shoes by the door and a photo on the mantle of the two of you dancing. The realization hit him like a bludger to the chest.

"Wait a minute," he whispered, his eyes widening behind his glasses. "Are we married!?"