A/N: I got the idea for this oneshot when I was reading through some of my old cards and letters from family members and friends. It's very short, in my opinion, but I think it's still pretty good. Kind of bittersweet, but I like it that way. Set post-war in DH but before he marries Ginny. Enjoy! R&R please! Thanks!

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to the insanely talented JKR, and the rest to me.

18-year old Harry Potter was busy rummaging through some of the boxes in the attic of number 12 Grimmauld Place. He tried desperately not to think of who had been the last person to touch the items from his godfather's past. Sirius was dead. Remus was dead. Mad-eye, Tonks, Dumbledore, Fred—all of them were gone.

Harry let out a strangled cry and kicked the cardboard box he had been sorting through. He fell to the floor and buried his face in his hands. He could hear Ron and Hermione's incessant bickering floating up the stairs from the living room on the first floor, proof that they were both live and well, but for once, that thought didn't comfort Harry. Now, it just irritated; how could they fight at a time when everything was lost?

Harry lifted his head to remind them of this, but as he looked up, a small piece of parchment at his feet caught his eye. He picked it up, fully intending to put it back in it's box—he wouldn't want to pry—when a name at the top of the page captured his attention.

It was his name.

Harry looked more closely at the parchment now. It appeared to be a letter—addressed to him. He unfolded the letter eagerly, carefully though, as he didn't want to rip anything.

It was written in a neat, elegant script that could only belong to a woman. Harry began to read it, savoring every last word.

Harry—

If you're reading this, it probably means we're dead, and Peter betrayed us. James, your father, refuses to admit the possibility of that happening, but I know that he's just as worried about it as I am. But we want you to know that, no matter what happens, we love you more than anything in the world, and nothing will ever be able to take that away.

I wish…I wish it didn't have to be this way. I wish we didn't have to die. I wish we could be there to help you through the barrier on your first day at Hogwarts, and be there for you to write to when you're there, that we could be the ones to comfort you when you're frightened. It kills me that we won't be there to see you get married or have children of your own. I'm so sorry, Harry.

Just know that what ever you do, your father and I could never be anything but proud of you. You're destined for great things, Harry, and never let anyone tell you differently.

Don't be sad for us. We lived a happy, rewarding life filled with friendship and love. I can only hope you follow in our footsteps. Not so much your father's, though. You don't want to go giving poor Minerva McGonnagal a heart attack at her age. Use your dad's Cloak well, Harry, and don't go sneaking into Hogsmeade after curfew.

We love you. And remember: the ones who love us, never truly leave us.

With all my heart,

Lily Potter

Harry traced his fingers over the parchment, feeling the dents where his mother had gripped the quill a little too tightly in her hands, and the shriveled up, dry spots where her tears had probably spilled onto the page, just as his were doing now. He could practically smell her flowery, comforting scent.

He glanced around, looking for anything else his parent might have left him. By his feet, where he had found the letter, lay a picture. It was of his mum and dad. They were waving and blowing kisses at the camera. Behind them was large banner that said "Happy 1st Birthday, Harry!"

James leaved over and kissed his wife enthusiastically before turning back to grin at the camera, which must have been held by Sirius or another of the Marauders.

Harry smiled sadly, and whispered, "I miss you" to the picture of his parents. His voice cracked and he bowed his head as he clutched the picture to his chest. After a while, he folded the letter back up and slipped the picture inside of it, and tucked them into the pocket of his jeans. He went back to sorting through the dusty old boxes with a full, but aching heart, and renewed hope.

R.I.P Lily and James Potter

A/N: Alright, there you have it. I hope you enjoyed this. Sorry if you didn't. Please review. I would really appreciate that. Constructive criticism is welcomed, but if you've got nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all. Cool? Cool. Thanks again! Enjoy your Sunday afternoon. Well, if it's not Sunday where you live, enjoy your afternoon!

~Livelier~