Dear Girl

He dipped his quill into the bottle of ink by his table and carefully started his letter.

Dear Girl,

He paused, staring at the words that shone on the grubby piece of paper. He sat there, twirling the quill idly in his hands. He bit the end of it. What could he possible say to that? He stood up and picked up the letter that he had let fall carelessly to the floor. He read it, for the fifth time in a row. The first time had been roughly two hours ago, when her owl had awoken him from a troubled sleep.

Not that any of his rests weren't troubled. Remus Lupin never really slept well.

He had sat up disgruntledly and opened the window with his wand, and a fine, brown owl with black spots had flown in with a letter tied to its leg. He rubbed his eyes and saw that yes- it was addressed to him. He had unrolled it and read it while he was in bed. By the time he had finished there was a large lump in his throat which he tried to bit back. Instead he had let out a dry sob.

Now he paced the room, the letter tightly clenched in his hand. What could he say to it? What was his reaction to it? Even that he didn't know. At times he would normally feel torn and distraught- dash his lycanthropy, dash his age, dash everything about him. She wasn't giving up, and personally, he never wanted her to. But then, at other times, he felt so incredibly angry that he could hardly contain himself. How dare she even think about writing a letter to him like this! Hadn't he made himself clear? He didn't want her in his life- she only complicated things! He could not love anyone, it wouldn't be able to work! And then at other times he would merely collapse into sobs. He had done so much to her, so much bad that she must feel insulted by, and what he got back was a letter. This letter.

He pursed the letter again.

'Let's pretend I do not know you. That seems to be your approach now, so I'd like to try that too.'

His hands shook slightly. That was his approach. After the fight he had brutally ignored her. Now he felt the full effects of his brutality. He glanced at a few more lines. Things stuck out. 'If we fight, I'll miss you.' 'I'm so scared that someday I'll be alone.' 'The perfect man...' 'I only act that way because I don't know how else to act.' And then...

The line had shocked him before, as well.

'I kind of...I kind of love you. And no matter what you say, or what anyone else says, I always will.'

This time he dropped the letter and fell into his desk chair. He looked at the words on the page, which had long since dried.

Dear Girl,

He twisted the quill around in his hands until he found himself stumbling upon something. He leaned back in his chair and ran his feather quill down his face, smiling slightly at the tickle.

Dear Girl,

My name is Remus Lupin.

He paused. No...no, that was stupid. She would think him an idiot if he wrote that. It didn't sound right. He stared at the page. Surely Nymphadora had not had these kind of problems when writing the letter to him.

Dear Girl,

The owl that brought me your letter was very delightful. Very sweet thing, he was.

"No!" He said to himself. "Why even bother mentioning her owl? Nothing has anything to do with the stupid owl." There was a reproachful hoot from the corner and he turned around to see the bird sitting in the corner, waiting for a reply. "I'm sorry." After a pause, he let out an audible sigh.

"I'm talking to an OWL!"

He got up, paced the room again, and sat down on his bed. He picked up her letter from the floor.

'Iactually kind of like guys that aren't like me.'

"Not like her..." He got up and sat back down at his desk, dipping his quill into the ink bottle for what felt like the hundredth time.

Dear Girl,

Let's pretend that I know you. It's been a while since we've talked, Nymphadora. And you've obviously noticed.

That wasn't half bad...not bad at all, actually. It was more him, not more her. Not that he didn't like her the way she was, of course. He loved her the way she was. The free way she had of talking, how she could smile and laugh when no one else found it funny...and the way her letter had effected him had sent him on such a spree of emotions that caused him to pace in circles for hours on end. He liked that about her. He liked everything about her.

He scribbled another line out, pausing as he finished the sentence. He read it over- he liked that line as well. He wrote another, and another. Soon he was scribbling away, pausing every three lines or so to see if what he wrote was acceptable for him. Occasionally he scribbled out things he wrote, but he was rather enjoying himself. After about an hour he finally finished. He picked it up and read it back, mumbling a bit as he read the lines back to himself.

Dear Girl,

Let's pretend that I know you. It's been a while since we've talked, Nymphadora. And you've obviously noticed.

I'm sorry.

And it's obvious that sorry will probably not cover anything, even a fraction of what's happened between us. Your letter really opened everything up for me, Nymphadora. Everything. I hadn't seen anything before. Everything I'd done and said I shielded from my mind. I tried to block you out. Then you wrote to me.

I realize what I did.

Your letter was amazing. It was amazing, Nymphadora. And I call you that name because I desperately wanted your last name to be Lupin.

Well, cat's out of the bag, there. Happy?

And while we're letting cats out of bags, I'd just like to let you know. I love how clumsy you are. I love the way you trip over chairs and soak my robes and knock over candles and totally ruin serious moments by goofing up. I love the way you smile like you have a secret you want to share and the way you dance down hallways, how you change your hair color every day, how you always have something nice to say and know when it's the funniest moment to make a comment.

And when you shouldn't say anything.

And ever since I got your letter I've been asking myself what my reasons were for staying away. And even though it's been seven hours you've gotten me convinced.

I couldn't stop reading the part where you said that you're scared. And that you miss me. Because you have no idea how much I miss you. I've been denying myself the one thing I want. Turning away from you whenever you walked up killed me inside. It really did.

And all the deaths. They're coming. Just like last time. And I'm as scared as you. Maybe more. The thing I've been most afraid of is that I'm going to lose you. And I'm ridiculously afraid for you, but no matter how scared I am I want to be there for you. I want to be the one thing you can hold on to.

While everything else falls apart.

I'd like to be there for you. To give you white chocolate and to celebrate your birthday on Mondays. To hold you in public. And for you to accept me for who I am.

Nymphadora, you have no idea how grateful I am. All those times I told you to stay away - I never really listened to your answers. Most of them only consisted of 'I don't care.' But this one. It was different. That you loving me is the only thing that matters.

If I were to meet the perfect woman, she would stand up for what she thought was right. She would smile and laugh and love everyone. She'd have an addicting habit of twirling a long strand of hair between her fingers and occupy herself with that when she didn't know what to say.

She'd be elegant in her clumsiness and have a good sense of humor.

She would be you.

And only you.

And I would be ridiculously sorry for anything I ever said to her. And seeing as I know you, I think I owe you a slab of Honeydukes' best white chocolate. And maybe a date. If I'm feeling daring.

I do think the world needs some more love in times of war.

And I'm very glad that you are not in love with Voldemort.

Remus Lupin

He dropped his quill and smiled. It wasn't as brilliant as hers. But it was what he wanted to say.

It was what he always wanted to say.