James' Diary
Dear Wad of Paper Lilly-kin gave Me for 'Theraputic Purposes' When I'd Really Just Prefer Reviving the 'Pantsing Snivellus' Club -

Don't you dare tell her I said that. She's off kilter enough about this being dead and not being dead stuff that if I whisper one word against her preciously reformed Snape, she'll probably run away with his old greasiness and make babies. Eeeew, Grease babies. Oh MERLIN! Greasy LILY babies! Have I mentioned how eternally grateful I am to have her? Very, very, grateful. Eternally. Speaking of babies - Jesus, Harry's fat. Apparently, Jesus is a very important muggle baby. They use his name for swearing. I heard a few in the halls go about it. Funny kids these days.

Anyway, fat Harry. Not like, rolly polly, but he's hardly the twenty pounds I left him as. He's like.... quandrapiplted, or whatever. Much much, fatter than when I died. Dying is so damn inconvient. I don't think I'm going to do it again, any time soon.

Maybe I could ask Snivellus if I could make him little some way. Little, and gurgly, and puking on my shirt. Ya know, babies are oddly adorable while they puke. Sirius, though, is not. I should mention that to him, again. Haven't seen him drunk yet, but it's Pads, and he's a creature of habit.

Merlin, I want... I want... Damn wad of paper, tell me what I want! You're SUPPOSED to be therapeutic! ... Lily LIED.

Deep breath, James Potter. Think of this as a transfigurations test. After all, giant transforming cat lady WAS the one who asked. What DO I plan to do with myself? BEFORE, I'd planned to be a calm, gentlemenly, fellow and take care of my lovely little wife and bouncing baby while stabbing evil in the eye with a spoon. As it is, I become a far too calm fellow who died with his pretty little wife and left my bouncing baby while stabbing evil up the nose with my wand as I landed on the floor. Not particularly something you want to brag about, but effective for the most part.

Now? I have my pretty little wife, my bouncing baby is taller than I am, evil is still afoot like a yippy puppy in need of a kick, but really? Not a huge problem. So, with me and my pretty wife, what can I do with myself? What did I do before that I can still do? Uh...

Make... Babies?

Babies.

Yes, actually, that sounds rather wonderful. Let see. If I say -

'Lily, let's have a baby.'

She'll say -

"We've already done that."

and I can say -

"But I want one."

And she'll say -

"Then you can get fat and pop it out your ass."

Hmm... I need to work on that.

Wait... HOLY CRAP! Am I the only one to realize people with baby girls don't die horrible deaths? At least, not very often in ratio to those with boys.

Lily and I - dead

Remus and Nymphy - dead

Frank and Alice - positively crackers, so close enough.

Then look at -

Weasleys - Alive

... Uh

Other people...

Oh! That odd little chit, what's her name...

LOVEGOOD! - Aliveish, I think.

Patils - Still kicking, to my knowledge...

Actually, this theory isn't well thought out, is it?

This has been very, very theraputic in that way of absolutely not. But, at least I know I want a baby.

-

The Dashing Mr. Potter