A/N: I actually wasn't planning on writing another one of these. What can I say, I'm a sucker for nice reviews. Especially the ones from mooncancer, btwonbabe, Amethyst, Quack Quack 88, sundaybee, HermioneG, KV, Shree, centaur30, Cyberwolf (heehee. Your review just made me smile. Obviously they all did, but if I have to twist around people's thoughts, I'd like to be doing what you said I did. It's rather a nice feeling, I must say!), AvrilLavigneRocks, Marauder chick (heh I love your name), and Scarlett*eyes. Heehee, I feel so accomplished to be thanking my reviewers. It's exciting. Right, so, anyway - in case you hadn't noticed, I've got a bit of an obsession with James/Lily stories. (Gee, could it be that I'm in love with the lovable three-fourths of the Marauders? No, no, I don't think it's entirely that . . . ) You guys keep telling me to continue with it, so I'm warning you: keep telling me to do so, and I will, but it'll be utterly plotless and very fluffy. Then again, we all need some fluff once in a while . . . ah well. We shall see.
Lils -
I don't know what to say. Big surprise, I'm sure. I feel like there aren't enough words to say what I want to say. After a year of rolling my eyes at you when you get completely enraptured by a piece of music, I think I finally understand what it's like to not have the words to express emotions.
Of course, I can't sing anymore than I can tapdance. So that means I'm stuck with words, which I'll try not to mangle too badly. After all, we can't all be poetic - if that happened, who would read all the poetry? Not me, that's who.
Right. Anyway.
(I told you I didn't know how to write this!)
Did you know that you're the only one that still calls me James? Besides my parents, of course, but they don't count. One of my grandmothers calls me Jamesie. (Don't go getting any ideas!) Whenever she sees me she'll grab onto my shoulder and say, "How's my little Jamesie?" You always think that grandmothers never really do that and that it's only in stories that people get pinched on the cheeks, but that means you've obviously never met my grandmother. She looks like a really nice, sweet, little old lady, but she's NOT. I'm warning you. That woman is a dragon that just happens to wear a hearing aid. Anyway. The point was that you're the only important one that calls me James. The other guys all call me Prongs, or some horrible variation of it (I might add that I will never fully forgive you and Bella for suggesting "Prongsie-Poo" to Sirius. I may never hear the end of it.)
For a while there, I was getting really sick of being Prongs. I mean, Prongs is a great nickname but at the end of the day it's still a nickname. I don't know, maybe I was afraid that the Prongs side would eat the James side. (No, I'm not schizophrenic, I'm trying to be deep, so stop laughing at me! I can tell you're laughing . . . okay, Lils, stop, it's really not that funny. Really.) But, see, now I'm actually glad that everyone else calls me Prongs.
Do you remember - oh, who am I kidding, I know you remember, you just proved to me that you remember. That day when I said, "Lily," and you replied, "James." The sound of you saying my name was the most amazing thing I'd ever heard. It still is. And that's why I'm actually glad that they call me Prongs, because it makes James something special and reserved and . . . belonging solely to Lily.
(Yeah, here comes the mush. You brought it on yourself, you know, so stop giving me that grin from over there in the corner. I can see you. And if you don't stop I'm going to put down my pen this instant and come over there and . . . well. You know.)
Right.
Okay.
Anyway.
God, I'm rambling. I tend to do that, don't I? Sirius used to be so incredibly horrible about it before I admitted how in love with you I was. He'd make me play word association games and within three words I would have replied with your name. Three words was actually a lot, usually, because just about anything would make me think of you. He tried all the obvious stuff first - red, green, charms (and yes, I meant not to capitalize that. It wasn't Charms, the class, it was charms, that ability you have to bewitch me), girl, pretty, love, flower - but even I was surprised at some of the things that would make me think of you. Once he used "thunder", and that made me think of you. You know why? Because thunder occurs during a thunderstorm, there is rain during a thunderstorm, and your laugh sounds like rain. See? From thunder to Lily in under .005 seconds. Let me think, what else . . . oh, I know there was a good one, but I can't remember what it was! Something about hearts. Heart monitor! That's it, it was a heart monitor. I think he'd been studying (for once in his life) for Muggle Studies, cause I can't imagine how he could have thought of a heart monitor otherwise. (Of course, I only knew what it was cause I'd read that chapter, but that's okay.) But you want to know how I got from "heart monitor" to you? Heart monitor = heart rate = my heart rate speeds up around Lily. See?
I think I'm rambling again. It'd be cool if they made quills that would beep when you started rambling, wouldn't it? Well, I think so, anyway. Maybe it'll be something for the Marauders to look into.
I guess I never really got to the mush.
I'm going to do it now, in one big dose.
Lily, I love you. I know you know that as well as I do, but it just seems like something more to put it down on paper. Hmm. I like it. I think I'll do it again. LILY, I LOVE YOU. It'd be nice if I could just keep writing that over and over again. I really don't think I could ever say it enough, and that's straight truth, Lily. I feel as though I should elaborate on that, otherwise this would be a pretty boring love letter, wouldn't it? I love you. The fact that you exist and that I have the honor of loving you makes me sure that, if we ever did find the Mirror of Erised (which I still say doesn't exist. Honestly, Lils, it's probably just a legend that got retold so many times that it became generally accepted as fact, like the Chamber of Secrets or something) I would look into it and see nothing but you and me together, forever and always. You are the first thing that I see in the mornings and the last thing that I see before I fall asleep and all I ever want to see for the rest of my life. Lily, you know that you're gorgeous and that I can never stop staring at you, but what infatuates me the most is your voice, because, as I said before, your laughter sounds like rain. I don't think people ever really know how they sound to other people, but I can guarantee you that if I was completely blind I would still have fallen desperately in love with you. Anyone would. I'm utterly serious, too. Your voice sounds like honey and raindrops and bells all mixed together with cinnamon, and I realize that cinnamon and honey have no real sound but when you think about it, they do. Now that I reread that the logical part of my mind (which is slowly slipping away) is telling me that what I've just written makes no sense but I have a feeling that you will understand perfectly, because, truly, Lily, I think you're my soulmate. Actually, no, that's not true.
I know you're my soulmate. Not only do I love you, but you're my best friend, too. You know me better than anyone ever has before and you're the only one I'll ever want to know me in such a way. Lily, you make my heart race and the sound of your laughter is a lullaby in itself and I'm not even going to get into your hair because I know that if I do I'll never be able to stop writing this and do what I truly want to do at the moment, which is go over there to your corner and knock away those pillows that you've barracaded yourself with and just hold you. I could do that from now until eternity, Lily.
You call me James, and that in itself is enough. And I'm going to let you in on a little secret: everytime I say "Lily" or "Lils", what I'm really saying is "Lily, I adore you. Everytime you smile I tell myself that you're smiling for me and because of me, and I would say that when you laugh but by that point my brain is usually mush merely because of how much I adore you." See, it takes too long to say all of that, so the most I can ever really get out is "Lily" because after those two syllables I lose most of my coherent thought ability.
There. Mine was longer. (Well, it took up more parchment) That means you're forced to write back. I've never really written serious letters before, and I must say, you're considerably less distracting when you're on the other side of the room. Not too much less distracting though, because by now I just have to stop and go over there, and so until you respond, dear Lily, this is it.
All my love,
James
Lils -
I don't know what to say. Big surprise, I'm sure. I feel like there aren't enough words to say what I want to say. After a year of rolling my eyes at you when you get completely enraptured by a piece of music, I think I finally understand what it's like to not have the words to express emotions.
Of course, I can't sing anymore than I can tapdance. So that means I'm stuck with words, which I'll try not to mangle too badly. After all, we can't all be poetic - if that happened, who would read all the poetry? Not me, that's who.
Right. Anyway.
(I told you I didn't know how to write this!)
Did you know that you're the only one that still calls me James? Besides my parents, of course, but they don't count. One of my grandmothers calls me Jamesie. (Don't go getting any ideas!) Whenever she sees me she'll grab onto my shoulder and say, "How's my little Jamesie?" You always think that grandmothers never really do that and that it's only in stories that people get pinched on the cheeks, but that means you've obviously never met my grandmother. She looks like a really nice, sweet, little old lady, but she's NOT. I'm warning you. That woman is a dragon that just happens to wear a hearing aid. Anyway. The point was that you're the only important one that calls me James. The other guys all call me Prongs, or some horrible variation of it (I might add that I will never fully forgive you and Bella for suggesting "Prongsie-Poo" to Sirius. I may never hear the end of it.)
For a while there, I was getting really sick of being Prongs. I mean, Prongs is a great nickname but at the end of the day it's still a nickname. I don't know, maybe I was afraid that the Prongs side would eat the James side. (No, I'm not schizophrenic, I'm trying to be deep, so stop laughing at me! I can tell you're laughing . . . okay, Lils, stop, it's really not that funny. Really.) But, see, now I'm actually glad that everyone else calls me Prongs.
Do you remember - oh, who am I kidding, I know you remember, you just proved to me that you remember. That day when I said, "Lily," and you replied, "James." The sound of you saying my name was the most amazing thing I'd ever heard. It still is. And that's why I'm actually glad that they call me Prongs, because it makes James something special and reserved and . . . belonging solely to Lily.
(Yeah, here comes the mush. You brought it on yourself, you know, so stop giving me that grin from over there in the corner. I can see you. And if you don't stop I'm going to put down my pen this instant and come over there and . . . well. You know.)
Right.
Okay.
Anyway.
God, I'm rambling. I tend to do that, don't I? Sirius used to be so incredibly horrible about it before I admitted how in love with you I was. He'd make me play word association games and within three words I would have replied with your name. Three words was actually a lot, usually, because just about anything would make me think of you. He tried all the obvious stuff first - red, green, charms (and yes, I meant not to capitalize that. It wasn't Charms, the class, it was charms, that ability you have to bewitch me), girl, pretty, love, flower - but even I was surprised at some of the things that would make me think of you. Once he used "thunder", and that made me think of you. You know why? Because thunder occurs during a thunderstorm, there is rain during a thunderstorm, and your laugh sounds like rain. See? From thunder to Lily in under .005 seconds. Let me think, what else . . . oh, I know there was a good one, but I can't remember what it was! Something about hearts. Heart monitor! That's it, it was a heart monitor. I think he'd been studying (for once in his life) for Muggle Studies, cause I can't imagine how he could have thought of a heart monitor otherwise. (Of course, I only knew what it was cause I'd read that chapter, but that's okay.) But you want to know how I got from "heart monitor" to you? Heart monitor = heart rate = my heart rate speeds up around Lily. See?
I think I'm rambling again. It'd be cool if they made quills that would beep when you started rambling, wouldn't it? Well, I think so, anyway. Maybe it'll be something for the Marauders to look into.
I guess I never really got to the mush.
I'm going to do it now, in one big dose.
Lily, I love you. I know you know that as well as I do, but it just seems like something more to put it down on paper. Hmm. I like it. I think I'll do it again. LILY, I LOVE YOU. It'd be nice if I could just keep writing that over and over again. I really don't think I could ever say it enough, and that's straight truth, Lily. I feel as though I should elaborate on that, otherwise this would be a pretty boring love letter, wouldn't it? I love you. The fact that you exist and that I have the honor of loving you makes me sure that, if we ever did find the Mirror of Erised (which I still say doesn't exist. Honestly, Lils, it's probably just a legend that got retold so many times that it became generally accepted as fact, like the Chamber of Secrets or something) I would look into it and see nothing but you and me together, forever and always. You are the first thing that I see in the mornings and the last thing that I see before I fall asleep and all I ever want to see for the rest of my life. Lily, you know that you're gorgeous and that I can never stop staring at you, but what infatuates me the most is your voice, because, as I said before, your laughter sounds like rain. I don't think people ever really know how they sound to other people, but I can guarantee you that if I was completely blind I would still have fallen desperately in love with you. Anyone would. I'm utterly serious, too. Your voice sounds like honey and raindrops and bells all mixed together with cinnamon, and I realize that cinnamon and honey have no real sound but when you think about it, they do. Now that I reread that the logical part of my mind (which is slowly slipping away) is telling me that what I've just written makes no sense but I have a feeling that you will understand perfectly, because, truly, Lily, I think you're my soulmate. Actually, no, that's not true.
I know you're my soulmate. Not only do I love you, but you're my best friend, too. You know me better than anyone ever has before and you're the only one I'll ever want to know me in such a way. Lily, you make my heart race and the sound of your laughter is a lullaby in itself and I'm not even going to get into your hair because I know that if I do I'll never be able to stop writing this and do what I truly want to do at the moment, which is go over there to your corner and knock away those pillows that you've barracaded yourself with and just hold you. I could do that from now until eternity, Lily.
You call me James, and that in itself is enough. And I'm going to let you in on a little secret: everytime I say "Lily" or "Lils", what I'm really saying is "Lily, I adore you. Everytime you smile I tell myself that you're smiling for me and because of me, and I would say that when you laugh but by that point my brain is usually mush merely because of how much I adore you." See, it takes too long to say all of that, so the most I can ever really get out is "Lily" because after those two syllables I lose most of my coherent thought ability.
There. Mine was longer. (Well, it took up more parchment) That means you're forced to write back. I've never really written serious letters before, and I must say, you're considerably less distracting when you're on the other side of the room. Not too much less distracting though, because by now I just have to stop and go over there, and so until you respond, dear Lily, this is it.
All my love,
James