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You are all little shits.
[[If Mary survives the war and Lily doesn't]]
Lily --
I've been staring at this blank page for the past hour, trying to figure out what to say. But I can't. Because everything I want to say will just confirm what shouldn't be true. What can't be true.
You and James...you weren't supposed to die. You have a baby. Little Harry. You have friends, you have lives. You weren't supposed to go like this. You were supposed to be old and wrinkled with your grandchildren running around you and Marlene would be making fun of you for how gray you've gotten and I would be knitting beside the both of you, rolling my eyes at how much I love you two.
Now you're both gone and Sirius is in Azkaban, Peter and James are dead, and Lord knows where Remus is... I just feel so alone, Lily.
I keep expecting you to walk through the door and sling an arm around me in a hug and tell me that everything will be okay. I keep expecting the boys to make fun of me for being overly emotional and for Remus to tell them to sod off. But every moment that passes and it doesn't happen just makes things so much worse.
I love you, Lils. I really, really do. And I'd give anything to have you and James back with me. I promise to tell Harry about how great his parents were, how brave and strong and selfless they were. I promise to tell him of our adventures and our laughter and maybe even some stories of our tears. I promise that he will remember you and I promise he will love you so much.
How could he not, after all?
Please come back.
Sincerely, Mary