Time had long since past from when their divorce was final. Their children had all grown up, and had children of their own. James Sirius Potter was proud to call himself a grandfather to seventeen wonderful children, with one more on the way. There were enough wrinkles on his forehead for each of them and then some. Of course, he loved them all more than he could ever thought possible. Even his wife, who had only been mother to half his children, happily took all the kids in as her own. It was wonderful to have such a large family.

There was only one small corner left unstitched in his life.

James had started writing letters to her ten years ago. Pennsylvania Cypher would never get a chance to read the words written just for her. How could she? She had been dead the entire time. Ten years ago was the day she died alone in the hospital. James would have been there for her, but she refused to see anyone. In her elder years, Penny had become bitter and senile, which, in a way, wasn't too different from the Penny he had known and fallen in love with.

Every day, he wrote just one letter, and when he was done, he hid it away from the world. Sometimes he missed a day or two, but never had he missed more than a week. James always remembered to write to someone who once was the love of his life.

Victoire knew exactly what he was doing, but she never asked why. Perhaps she felt the same sort of longing for her first husband, Teddy, as James felt for Penny. They say time heals all wounds, but that isn't entirely true. The wounds of divorce tend to lay open for many years after the fact, and even when they are gone, the people involved still feel a connection to those they used to be close with. Or, perhaps, she just trusted his judgement, and knew that what he was doing had no harm.

On the 10th anniversary of her death, not a single person showed up to Penny's grave. Not her brother, nor her children. James showed up, though. He was there from 10:00am to 10:00pm and began to read to her the letters he had written. Of course, he didn't get through them all, but, he supposed, there was always next year.


Dear Penny,

I stopped loving you today. You probably won't believe that, will you? I always said you were never one for jokes, even if I'm not joking right now. It's most likely that you still hate me for the fact that I married Victoire, so you think I've hated you, too.

I've never hated you, to be honest. For the longest time, I just could never let go of the love we used to have. No one could ever replace you in my heart, because you were always going to be my first love. Not even Victoire, whom I've learnt to love greatly, or our grandkids. Did you know that Allen's wife is pregnant? Our little baby boy is going to have a little baby girl to call his own. Isn't that just wonderful, Penny?

I'll be blunt here: I didn't write to ask for forgiveness. I know that the things I did were wrong, and I know that I didn't treat you right. But no amount of apologies will ever make up the awful things I did. The reason I wrote is because I wanted you to know that I'm living on without you, and that your family, our family, misses you so, so much.

I won't ever forget you.

With love,

James