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Dearest James,
Tomorrow is our wedding day. I can hardly believe it, can you? You chased me at school for all those years. Do you remember? Tomorrow I shall be yours at last.
You tried so hard, but finally won. And I couldn't be happier. I love you more than I ever thought imaginable, and I have you to thank for never giving up on me. I don't know where I would be today without you by my side.
I am not writing this to give it to you tomorrow, the next day, or even the next. This is for the future, if you ever begin to wonder why you loved me in the first place. Then I will give you this letter. These words; this parchment; may never see the light of day again. I may never read these words again, you may not either.
I may grow old and forget I have even written these words. This may get misplaced, or may simply blow away in the wind. If you ever read this letter, it may do no good at all. I may have simply aged too much for your taste.
James, I wish to dance with you one last time, under the moonlit sky. I wish to dance with you, without a care in the world. I want one last dance as James Potter and Lily Evans. I want that, yet I want something else too. I want to have children with you. To grow old and gray. I want to be with you until the end of time. To never leave your side.
I can remember the day you first called me Lily. Do you? That was the day you found the missing piece in the puzzle of my heart. That was the day you called me Lily. That was the day that you melted my heart once and for all.
Know this now, my darling, as you read this letter, yellow and aged, by some fireplace in a time many years hence: I shall love you forever, no matter how few times I have told or shown you. Words such as these have been shut away, and my quill has long since ceased to scratch on miles and miles of parchment, such as it does now.
When I grow old, and our children have children, please do not leave me. When a flower comes out of its prime, is it not still a flower? Is a wilted rose not still a rose? I shall always be your lily. Your fragile darling Lily.
As long as you love me, I shall love you, James. Remember that always.
Love,
Lily
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Lily folded the parchment neatly, slipping it into an envelope. She walked barefooted over to the closet, where she crouched down. Taking out a box, she sat on the floor, her legs crossed.
She lifted the lid off the box, and was greeted by the waving photos she had stashed in here. They were of her and James at Hogwarts. In one, Sirius had pranked James right before, and the James in the photo would be eternally unaware that his hair was pink.
With a small smile, Lily put the letter into the box at the bottom. Placing a photo of her and James spinning in front of a fountain on Hogsmeade on top of of it, she replaced the other photos and mementos onto them.
Stashing the box into the back of her closet, she stood, closing the door of the closet. She blew out the candle and slipped into bed. Her last thought before drifting off to sleep was, 'I hope he never reads that letter.'
And he never did, even after over eighty years of marriage.
A/N: Yes, the end implies that both Lily and James survive. Don't ask how Voldemort was killed and all that stuff.