Love Letters Aren't For Marauders
Dear Lily,
I've loved you ever since the day I gazed into your stunning emerald orbs. I felt myself lost in their never ending enchantment, I could feel myself slowly being hypnotized into their infinite splendor. I love everything about you—from the slight flush in your cheeks to the splash of freckles on the bridge of your nose. Why can't you see past my (admittedly) arrogant exterior? Why can't you take my proclamations of love seriously? Why must you always reserve that special hatred for me? Have I done anything wrong, besides the occasional prank? No. I have not done anything—except to love you. Except to cherish your very footsteps, except to worship you in my mind. Lily, my love, I am not inhuman. I possess the quality to love, and it pains me greatly that I love and am not loved in return. Will you ever see me anything other than as a nemesis? I dream of the day I hold your hand, embrace you, place a lingering kiss in your soft cherry lips. I dream of the day when I say "I love you, Lily Evans," and you reply with "I love you, James Potter."
At night I lie restless in bed, tossing and turning vehemently, thinking of your face. Never is it gone from my mind, instead, it is omnipresent. I have not even told my friends of my intense love for you—they will think it is a joke. As you do. No one shall understand, no one can truly ever pen the love I have for you. It extends far across the crystal clear oceans, it extends far above the rocky brown mountains. One may take away my possessions, my life, my soul, but no one can ever touch my love that burns with passion in my heart.
My only wish is to be loved in return. You can give me all the riches and splendor in the world, but my heart will never be full unless you take the empty corner and fill it with your own love.
I love you, Lily Anne Evans. I love you and I always will.
James H. Potter.
James paused slightly, staring at his parchment in bewilderment. Was it really him who had written that? Setting his quill down gently, James picked up his wand and murmured a quick drying spell on the ink. Satisfied, he picked the letter up, reaching for an envelope. Folding the letter neatly, he placed it into the envelope and sealed it shut with a wave of his wand.
Picking up his quill again, James quickly dipped it in ink, writing Addressed to Miss Lily Evans squarely in the center of the faded yellow envelope. Setting the quill down once more with great pomp, James let out a relieved sigh and stared at the envelope in apprehension. He had just poured his feelings out onto a piece of paper, and was going to send it off to Lily before he lost the nerve.
Looking around the cluttered dorm room, James leapt across the messy beds of Sirius, Peter, and his own and clambered onto Remus's neat bed, mussing it up. Reaching over to the owl cage that lay between Remus's bed and his own, James deftly opened the latch. A brown owl perched there, fast asleep. James poked his owl in annoyance.
"Horace! Horace! Wake up!" Horace woke with a start, glaring at James with big brown eyes. Nipping James on the finger none too lightly, he proceeded to grab the letter from James' hands.
"Wait," James said feverishly, grabbing the letter back with his uninjured hand. Rubbing his finger, he grunted and held onto the letter tightly. "Um, I don't know anymore actually…"
Shaking his head, he rid his head of such thoughts. "No, no. Horace, deliver this letter to Lily Evans, you know, the spitfire girl with the red hair?" Horace cocked his head to one side, as if to say, Are you mad? She'll take your eyes for this. James shrugged nonchalantly. "She may, but I'd rather tell her than just keep all this in."
Horace made an expression similar to an eye roll and pecked the letter out of James' hands before he could protest. Sighing, James was about to tell Horace to go when suddenly someone barged in.
"OY! MATE! I've been looking all over for you. Snivellus is down at the lake, let's go---" Sirius stopped mid sentence, wide eyed as he looked at James, who was sitting in Remus's peculiarly mussed bed with an exasperated and fearful look on his face, and Horace who was perched on the owl cage, looking ruffled with a letter in his beak. James widened his eyes, and quickly grabbed the letter from Horace's beak and stashed it behind his back.
"Uh, hey Padfoot!" he said in a pitch higher than normal. "Um, yeah, sure, uh, you go on, be there in a sec…"
Sirius frowned and walked over to James. "What is that?" he inquired, sitting next to James and sneakily trying to grab the letter from behind his back. Using his quick reflexes, James transferred it to his lap. Frustrated, Sirius sat straight. "Let me see that, Prongs…"
"No!" James said a little too fast. Sirius paused at him, raising an eyebrow.
"What's the matter?" he asked innocently. "Got something you want to hide?"
"No!" James repeated. "I, uh, um, it's just, uh, er, it's, uh, it's a letter to McGonagall about Transfiguration tutoring!" he ended quickly, saying the first thing that popped into his head.
"Oh," Sirius replied, drawing back. He was silent for a moment. "Then why does it say Addressed to Miss Lily Evans on the front? You didn't write, a, a love letter, did you?" he expressed, placing disgusted emphasis on the words love letter.
"Uh. Uh, no, of course I didn't!" James said, letting out a nervous laugh. "Love letters, that's only for romantic wierdos. You know us, the Marauders don't fall in love!" he said, nodding his head vigorously.
"Right," Sirius agreed, still looking suspicious. "But why does it say Lily—"
"I'm tutoring her!" James blurted out. "She's horrible at Transfiguration you know, and McGonagall is making me tutor her since I'm the best in the class"-- James paused, letting his proud words sink in— "and I have no other option. Er, yeah. I can't believe I have to tutor her!" he said forcefully, trying to look furious. "I'm going to be stuck with her for an hour each day! Mate, it's torture!" he finished, satisfied with his lie.
Sirius nodded, believing every word James said. "I sympathize with you, Prongsie. She's a regular little spitfire. I'm glad you weren't writing a love letter to her, though."
"Why not?" James asked, his curiosity peeping out.
Sirius sighed heavily. "And you call yourself a Marauder. It's just…wrong. It's not what we Marauders do. Writing a love letter—the thought of it makes me sick! And especially to Lily-since you hate her and all. Writing love letters wouldn't make us Marauders, Prongsie boy! Now, take this lesson for future use," Sirius said, patting James on the head. "I'll be down at the lake, meet me there!" With that, he bounded down the stairs.
James sat silently at his bed. Horace clicked his beak in impatience. "No," James sighed, "go back to bed Horace." Raising his wings as if to shrug his shoulders, Horace went back into his cage and closed his eyes.
Staring at the letter, James thought of what Sirius said.
Writing love letters wouldn't make us Marauders
Shaking his head, James looked at the letter once more, and then without a further thought, he slowly tore the envelope in half. Feeling the guilt overwhelm him, James continue to tear at the letter to try and rid his guilt. Breathlessly, James stared at the tiny pieces of paper on his hand. Halfheartedly, he threw some of them in the wastebasket, not noting some of the pieces that clung to his sweater. Walking out of the dorm room, James trudged down the stairs and into the common room. He looked around, glancing at the crackling fireplace. Making his way to the portrait hole, he stopped, and turned to the girls' dorm. Staring at it for a couple seconds, he blearily turned his attention back to the portrait hole and climbed out of it silently, his guilt and confusion overwhelming him.
"Oy! Lily! Look at this!" a girl shouted, looking at a couple tiny pieces of paper that had fallen onto the floor. Picking the largest one up, she handed it over to Lily.
The red haired beauty stared intently at the tiny pieces. "Look! It says my name on it!" she exclaimed suddenly. Her friend bounded over to her.
"Where?" she exclaimed. Silently, Lily pointed out the I love you, Lily Anne Evans which stood out clearly among the raggedy edges of the paper.
"Oooh, Lily, you have an admirer!" her friend giggled. "As if you didn't have enough already!"
"Shut up," Lily grinned. "Oh well, we'll probably never find out who wrote this. Let's go down to the lake, I heard Sirius telling James to go down there and help him pick on Snape. Bloody gits!" she said, exasperated.
Her friend nodded in agreement. "They'll never learn."
Walking to the Portrait hole, Lily climbed through, letting the piece of paper flutter softly to the ground, not noticing it.
It lay there, crumpled now, with many creases and folds. As the day wore on it was stomped on wand walked on by people who didn't see it, but now the piece of paper lay imprinted on the carpet, forgotten and alone.
I love you, Lily Anne Evans.