Disclaimer: Once again, not JKR. sigh
A/N: Haha, my pretties, the next part has arrived! Part three will be up in the next few days. Enjoy, and as always please review!
Dearest Lily,
You're just too good to be true; can't take my eyes off of you! You're just like heaven to touch; I want to hold you so much. At long last, love has arrived, and I thank Merlin I'm alive – because you're just too good to be true, and I can't take my eyes off of you.
"It's a song."
James looked up at Sirius Black, who was smirking proudly at what he had just pointed out. The two were sitting in James living room, along with Remus, and Sirius was clutching his head pitifully after a long night of one-too-many firewhiskeys, looking agitatedly at James. Remus and Sirius had been forcibly sat down by James and made to listen to his shabby attempts at writing love letters.
"What do you mean, it's a song?" James asked thickly. Remus rolled his eyes.
"It's a Muggle song. Just like the last thirteen drafts of this letter that you've read out," Remus told him.
"A song, though?"
"You know, it's got music to it. And a melody. Point is, someone else wrote that."
James sighed, "I really don't see what your problem is with me borrowing some lyrics."
"It's not borrowing, Prongs, for the last time. It's theft! Stealing! All very bad things!" Sirius snapped. "This is the third time you've read out the same bloody lyrics, and all you've managed to change so that it's slightly less like plagiarism is the word 'God' to the word 'Merlin'."
"Hey!" James said, turning angrily to Sirius. "That's a significant change. And like you could do any better, Padfoot."
"Actually," Sirius said, puffing out his chest importantly, "I could."
"Alright then. Let's hear what you've got," James said smugly, and Remus sat up a little straighter.
Sirius cleared his throat. "Ahem. Ahem-ah-ah-ah-ahem. Dearest Lily, roses are red, violets are blue, you're stuck in my head, and I really love you."
"No, Padfoot. No, no-no-no."
"Well how about some poetry, eh Jamsie-poo?" Sirius said, and James looked back at him with amazement.
"You know, Padfoot, that's not a bad idea."
Remus rolled his eyes again.
"Do I have to be the one to point out that all your attempts at writing Lily a love letter have been poetic? All of them!" He said, glaring at Sirius and James.
"What?" James said disbelievingly. "No they haven't."
"They all rhyme, they all have a metre. Sodding poetry!"
"Shut up, Moony."
Remus coughed, half trying to hide a badly disguised, "Moron."
"Okay, so how do I start this?" James said, thinking aloud. "Dearest Lily, you're not really silly, when you're not here I'm chilly, next to you I look like a hillbilly."
A pause, and Sirius and Remus exchanged glances before Sirius spoke up.
"It's going to be a long night."
---
Dearest Lily,
Some hearts are old, are shattered, are greyed,
Some cats and dogs are neutered and spayed,
But, thankfully, I'm none of the above
Because of this heart that beats for your love
Dearest Lily, gorgeous Lily, I'd climb mountains for you,
I'll do anything you need, anything you want me to,
If you'd give me your heart, I'd jump for joy,
You'd be my girl, and I'd be your boy.
You'll find no one else who loves you more than I,
Even if you look far and wide with your little eye,
I've loved you since the day we first met,
I would be Romeo if you're Juliet.
Lily, Lily, I'd say that word all day,
If it did mean that I'd hear you say:
'I love you lots James, I love you lots dear,'
I'd be King Arthur, and rescue you, Guinevere.
Your hair is like fire, your eyes are like peas,
Your skin is like ivory; your nose has no grease.
I just can't stop loving you, try as I might,
So let me be your prince, my gorgeous Snow White.
"So what do you think?" James asked nervously. His father stood up straight against the kitchen door, examining the parchment closely.
"It's… mellifluous."
"See? That's what I've been trying to tell everyone!"
"You might want to consider changing a couple of things, though," At this, James' face fell.
"Like what?" He asked his father suspiciously.
"Well," Mr Potter began. "The cats and dogs bit, for instance. In the first stanza."
"You don't like the dogs bit?"
"I hate the dogs bit."
"Oh."
James' father sighed. "A girl wants to feel like you've put in a lot of effort for her. Not like you've written down the first thing that came to mind. Writing good love letters is a way to show that you're willing to put effort in for her."
"But I did put a lot of effort in!" James protested. "I've been effort-ful! Effort-ful!"
"Effort-ful isn't a word."
"That's beside the point. And that's not the point. The point of the point is, I think she's going to like it," James argued, stamping emphatically to prove his point. He realised that he sounded like he was having a temper-tantrum, but didn't really care.
"The point of the point? Which point?"
"The second point."
"About the dogs bit?"
"No, the other point."
"The other point?"
"The point that the effort-ful point wasn't the point."
"Well," Mr Potter said after a prolonged pause in which both men were trying desperately to work out where the conversation had taken them, "she is your girlfriend. But still, I know women, and if she's even remotely female she'll respond well to something that doesn't refer to domestic animal sterilisation."
"Well how do you know she's even remotely female?" James asked, and it took a moment for him to realise what he'd just said. His father just stared at him. "Let's just forget I said that last bit, okay?" James offered. Mr Potter nodded, handing the piece of parchment back to his son.
"Happily."
---
Dearest Lily,
Some hearts are old, are shattered, are greyed,
Some foolish people sometimes lose their way,
But I'm never lost, always know where to go
Because your love guides me to and fro
"Better?" James asked nervously. Mrs Potter nodded in agreement – he had angrily interrupted her while she was in the kitchen, handing her the slip of parchment and demanding her opinion.
"It's pretty good. Your father never wrote me anything like this. I'm sure that Lily will be glad to have received it."
"Yeah?" James liked the idea that he was more romantic than his father. Mind you, this wasn't particularly hard to achieve. Despite what Mr Potter had claimed to his son earlier, it was likely that a skunk-attack was more romantic than his father.
"Absolutely."
"So it's good?" James asked again. Merlin, he was getting paranoid about this bloody letter. Stupid Lily.
"It's good."
"… Mellifluous?"
"Very. Incredibly. Wonderfully. A myriad of other adjectives ending in the letter 'Y'. Now will you let me finish making dinner?"
James stared at his mother with incredulity, and then remembered that she was holding a very heavy pot in her right hand and a carving knife in her left.
"Yes, mum."