Leap-Frog
by : epiphanies
She read the words over half-moon glasses that reminded her of her old Headmaster, her mentor, who became her friend. The letter, written hastily on scorched parchment, read:
--
Leap-Frog,
I miss you. How's Harry? James? I put a charm on this parchment that makes it for your eyes only, literally. You probably know it's name, I don't have time. I've discovered that I'm a sucker for women with dimples, and positively every woman in France has dimples. I'm at a loss for words. I shouldn't be writing this frankly to you, but I need you to pass along a message to James for me as well. Tell him that Snuffles is taking his pills with food now, all right? He'll understand. I'm planning on owl-ordering something for Harry's birthday, it will arrive in a week or so. He'll adore it. Leapy, I've not forgotten anything about you but I must ask, and don't tell James I asked - do you have dimples? I have a feeling that you do and I feel badly about it. I probably shouldn't be saying this, but Paris wine is just so wonderful that I feel I can say anything. Remus hasn't stopped me, either. Why the chap hasn't taken advantage of this city's women is a complete mystery to me. Ah well. Cheers, Leap-Frog. Say hello to all.
-Snuffles
--
She slipped the piece of parchment into a drawer and sighed. Sirius had always given her that look. The look that associated her with "irresistible dimpled women." Since they'd met, actually. She loved Sirius, loved him to death, he'd been their Best Man and Harry's Godfather, but it had annoyed her to no end when he used to give her that look. He only gave it every once in a bit, nowadays. Made her all hot and bothered - which wasn't her fault. Sirius was the ultimate bachelor, and one had to wonder which was more prominent in some situations - talent or practise?
She felt like a silly little girl still, sometimes. She didn't like it at all, and she knew that James was oblivious to it. For that she felt grateful.
She glanced down at the floor beside her, where Harry had fallen asleep on a mountain of blankets and cushions. He liked sitting beside her on the floor at night while she read her letters by candlelight.
James was already asleep. He was such an active, hyper-type person that he was nearly always exhausted by nightfall. Lily was a nighthawk, and so they hardly ever fell asleep at the same time. Harry was a nighthawk as well.
She lifted her son up from the floor and he blinked groggily. He then stared into her eyes, them matching each other. She grinned slightly and he grinned back.
After she put him in his crib, she wandered into the bedroom she and James shared. James groaned and slid his arm around her waist as she pulled the covers over herself and placed the half-moon glasses at her bedside.
There was a feeling residing in her gut as she fell asleep that evening. One that when Harry courted a girl, he would want one with dimples. He would write to her with an inky scrawl that read awkwardly and nervously, but would have an underlying charm that would make her smile to herself before such a girl would fall asleep at night.
Lily had a feeling that Harry would learn a lot more about girls from Sirius than from James, and Lily fell asleep before she could fathom exactly why her gut was telling her this.
The October wind swept the room and her eyelids fell into a world of darkness and of innocence. Harry squirmed in bed in the room beside. The moon shone as she always did. That day, as every day, life was beautiful and full and light. Life was taken for granted.