A/N: It's been a while, but uni was crazy busy last months.

Enjoy this one! And as always, I'd like to hear what you think.

Dear Future Lily

"Aaaa -choo!"

The dust twirls around him as James sneezes for what feels like hundredth time.

"Bless me" he mutters.

The little attic of their cosy house in Godric's Hollow is in dire need of both a broom and a bigger window. James has opened the tiny window as far as it will go, but the sweat is still tickling down his back. If it were up to him, he wouldn't have set foot in this bloody sauna in the middle of the summer. But his very pregnant wife politely requested the box with her old baby clothes this morning. He hadn't even bothered complaining, because 1) their child wasn't wreaking havoc upon his body and 2) Mad Lily had always been impressive, but Pregnant Mad Lily was…terrifying.

Standing between all of their packed things, James realises he has no idea where to look. There's boxes everywhere and only a few of them have written labels. A quick first glance tells him that if he needs 'Lily's old shoes', or 'Quidditch Gear' or even 'Diaries - DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT OPENING THIS POTTER!', the boxes are right here. James groans, knowing his wife's tendency to organise from past to present. He'll probably find the baby clothes all the way in the back, together with old pictures and a first edition of 'Hogwarts: A History'.

With a sigh of acceptance, James decides that if he's going to be stuck here for a few hours, he should at least try to make it fun. He considers calling Sirius over for a new and improved game of 'Pick Right Or Drink' (the most versatile game they ever invented). His brain saves him, providing an image of the mess that will have to be cleaned up after. No, no Sirius. He's about to be a dad and he should be able to do this efficient and neat.

He nods encouragingly to his own reflecting in the old grandfathers clock and snorts directly after that.

"Yeah right," he grumbles "efficient and neat, that's me."

He decides to start at the stack of boxes furthest away from him, hoping he'll be lucky. The moment James lifts two boxes at once, in an attempt to raise 'efficient' to a whole new level, he knows he's made a mistake. He's already standing at a weird angle to reach the stupid things, but now the weight of the combined boxes is slowly but surely making him fall over.

"No, dammit!" James tries to regain his balance but there's no stopping it now. With a muffled noise and a lot of shifting stuff, he lands flat on his back.

"Buggering fuck" he swears, trying to sit up.

Wrong move. His elbow presses against something that should not be pressed. He glances up, to see yet another box falling down. He raises his hands just in time to protect his face.

"Naaaaaaaaagh! Bloody- ! Lilyyyyyy!"

For a few seconds, James doesn't move a muscle and quietly checks if all his limbs are still working. A small voice in the back of his head is laughing at him for calling for his wife, but he firmly squashes that down.

He sits up again, very careful not to touch anything. Something heavy has landed on his knees, one of Lily's thick, swotty books.

"Of course I had to marry a nerd. A nerd whose books are trying to kill me."

Complaining doesn't do anything for his sore shins, but it makes him feels a little better. He's about to put the book away, when a yellowish envelop falls out from between the pages.

To Future Lily says the elegant handwriting. For about two seconds, James hesitates. It's really not his business to read this. Lily will probably kill him if she finds out.

"She's never going to find out."

Silently willing that to be true, James swiftly tears the envelop open and unfolds the paper.

June 14th, 1976

Dear Future Lily,

Hello. You're me. I'm you. Only older and wiser. I hope. This is weird.

Let me start again.

I hope you're reading this sitting on the porch of my – our – dream house. You know the one, with the red window sills and the vine covered walls. I hope that, while you read, your adorable and ridiculously handsome husband is cooking you dinner, just because he feels like it. I'm going to pretend that the sun is shining, that everything is well in the world and that you're happy.

The reason I'm writing this, as you hopefully remember, is because of what happened yesterday. Yesterday was without a doubt the WORST day of my life. It's a good thing that I'm writing this to you, because that means I don't have to explain everything again. You remember right, by the lake? With Severus and Potter? Yeah, not fun.

It's been more than a day now and I still haven't left my dorm room. Mary and Marlene have tried to make me come to dinner, but I've refused so far. I don't want to have to face anyone. Maybe I'm overreacting, but I'm so ashamed, Future Me. I can't believe Severus would betray me like that. Sure, he's been acting odd for months now and I'm pretty sure he was avoiding me as well. But he was my best friend! I thought I meant more to him than this. I should've seen this coming. But I didn't and it hurts.

And Potter, Merlin, don't get me started on Potter! That stupid, arrogant, son of a –

Sorry for the stain. I got so mad I broke my quill. See? I can't even write about the git. I still can't believe he had to audacity to ASK ME OUT whilst he was bullying Severus! What was he thinking? He wasn't, obviously. Way to win a girl's heart, Potter. This nonsense apparently does work on other Hogwarts' girls, which just goes to show that our generation is completely lost.

Anyway, here's my point: I don't know what happen to me in the next few years, but I know one thing. Whatever happens, don't you dare date James Potter. I'm serious. I know people change, but this cannot happen. The boy is a complete jerk and he can never make you happy. I also know we had a bit of a disturbing dream about him the other week, which made us rethink the whole 'no he's not as handsome as everyone says he is' thing, but DON'T GO THERE.

Be strong Evans.

I normally don't write letters to myself every time a bloke asks me out, but Potter is different. I know him, he won't give up just because I said no. He'll take it as a challenge. I just know it. So this is me, reminding you, to think back on that afternoon by the lake. He's no good, trust me.

Well. Glad we got that figured out.

See you in a few years.

Love,

1976 Lily

p.s. Make Mary and Marlene re-swear their silence about The Dream.
p.p.s. Please tell me we didn't inherit mom's early-grey genes.
p.p.p.s. Writing letters to myself is surprisingly therapeutic.
p.p.p.p.s. I really hope there is a husband.

She can never see this. Ever.

This is the first thing that runs through James' mind, while he is staring at the letter in shock. Merlin, what if she reads this and realises she's made a huge mistake? Because let's be honest here, he wasn't exactly husband material when he was fifteen. He remembers that afternoon as well, and isn't proud of himself. But he's changed, hasn't he?

Yes, that right. He nods again at his reflection, a reflection that looks a lot more jumbled than it did a few minutes ago. Running a hand through his hair, he wills himself to calm down. No need to panic, it's just a stupid letter from a fifteen year old girl.

A fifteen year old girl who wasn't so easily won over. It cost you more than a year to get back in her good graces.

"Shut up, brain." James growls quietly, but the panic grips him again.

Best not to take chances and hide this somewhere she'll never find it. Or, even better, he should burn it.

"She can never see this." He mutters, like a mantra.

"I can never see what?"

The question jumpstarts James out of his thoughts and he whips around so fast he almost falls over again.

Standing before him, looking heart-stopping lovely as ever, is Lily. She is looking at him at with a small smile on her face, one eyebrow raised questioningly and her hands on her impressive belly.

"Lily! You're here! In the attic. Same as me." says James, trying to look casual but desperately hiding the letter behind his back as well. "I'm just looking through boxes. Trying to find the stuff you asked for. Your baby letters – clothes! Baby clothes. That's it." He's rattling on and on, but he can't stop himself.

"I'm here, yes. I heard so much noise from here, I figured you'd managed to get yourself in some sort of mess. Looks like I was right about that one." Her eyes quickly scan the chaos around him, but she's still smiling. "You okay?"

"I'm great." James answers. "Bit dusty, but great. By the way, I love you. Have I told you that today? Really love you. And you look pretty, even if our child is making you waddle. Yes, always pretty. And did I –"

"James."

The sound of his own name makes him stop talking. Lily is coming closer to him, her belly now bumping into his.

"James, you're rambling. You only do that when you're hiding something from me." She narrows his eyes at him. "What is it?"

"Nothing" His answer sounds shrill, even in his own ears. "I'm not hiding anything, why would I? It's not like I would keep something from you on pur…pose." His sentence stammers, then fades away. Lily's calmly looking him in the eye and the lie dies on his lips. His shoulders sag and with a sinking feeling, he shows her the letter.

"I found the letter you wrote to yourself a few years ago. You should have it."

Her eyes lit up in surprise when she takes it from him, and her eyes eagerly dart over the paper. James watches her read, hoping to find out what she's thinking but he can't tell. After a few agonising minutes, she looks up.

"I almost forgot I wrote this" She says softly. "I was so mad and confused that day. Can't believe you found it. What did you thi –" Some of James' worry must've shown on his face, because her face clears in comprehension.

For one moment they're just staring at each other, but then she's laughing. Really loudly.

"Oh my God, James" she manages between hiccups "you didn't really think I would listen to my fifteen year old self, would you?" She's now holding on to his arm to keep herself upright.

"Glad you find my agony so amusing" He mutters, but chuckles a bit as well. Her giggles are contagious, if anything. The relief flooding through his system helps as well.

When she's finally done laughing, she lightly smacks his arm. "Potter, you idiot. I can't believe you were actually worried. This was ages ago!"

"Yeah, well, in the letter you said no matter what happens" James defends himself, "Besides, I actually was a git when I was fifteen. Maybe you would realise I haven't changed as much as you thought I did."

"Honey, I wasn't exactly perfect when I was fifteen either" Lily tells him, smiling. "I was hurt that day, and a bit prone to exaggeration. This letter is silly, but it helped me back then. Besides, you read the other side, right? All's well that ends well."

"The other side?"

"You didn't read it? Well, you should." Her smile is now positively mischievous. "I'll be downstairs if you need me." And with that, she disappears down the stairs.

Fumbling with the paper, James turns it over and sure enough: more words.

May 5th, 1978

Dear Future Lily,

So, quick word of advice again.

Remember how I said you should never date James Potter?

Yeah, changed my mind.

I know, I know! I should've been strong and all that, but really, he's turned out to be quite wonderful. We've been Heads together (WE GOT HEAD GIRL, GO US) and dating for most of the year.

No one's more surprised than me, but he does make me happy. A lot.

He goes out of his way to make me smile, comforts me when I'm said, he's nice to my friends and makes me feel safe. Also: easy on the eyes. Even fifteen year old us
– grudgingly – acknowledged that.

You most definitely should date James, I can highly recommend it. I'll do you one better: you should probably marry the bloke. Not everyone is willing to deal with that temper of yours (no, that does not get better).

Just so you know.

Love,

1978 Lily

p.s. No need to swear Mary and Marlene into silence again. Told James about The Dream and let me tell you: oh Merlin.
p.p.s. So far so good. Tuney's getting grey though. It's not funny (yes it is).
p.p.p.s. No husband yet, but ask me again in a few years.

James doesn't realise he's grinning until he's done reading. He shares one last content look with his reflection and decides to try for the baby clothes again tomorrow.

First, he's going to make his wonderful wife some dinner, because suddenly he really feels like it.