A Secret Note

January, 1979

Dear Lily,

By the time you find this letter, I will be dead.

I've written it ten times over and that's still the best way to say it. Gotta' laugh though, right? Or at least one of your charming half-smirks? The one you pull when you trying to be mad at me but you just can't.

Anyway, this isn't a pre-determination of my death, but the way things are out there right now with the war and my being gone all the time, I need you to know how important you are.

This morning I looked at you at breakfast, curling your hair behind your adorable little ear. The tips of them were pink as you angrily read your sister's letter. That walking pussball husband of hers was driving the wedge further between you two and I felt how much it hurt you, but I didn't know what to say, how to say it. I knew that I'd never be able to tell you all of my feelings unless I wrote them down. You know what a waffling fool I am.  You are the most beautiful creature I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, Lily Potter. There is no other fit (or willing) to be my wife.

Even if you still want to argue that I didn't, I meant every ridiculas, elaborate scheme to get you to go out with me.  I meant every word I've said to you since you finally gave in accepted me, and every vow I made when I married you.

If the worst has happened and I've died, somewhere in.. I don't know, Africa, know that my last thought was of you and those twinkling green orbs that completely charmed me to your will.

I love you, Lily.

~ Always, your James.

P.s: Look after Sirius!