My dearest beloved,
I've been here eleven years now and with each sunset hope of you someday receiving this letter is harder. I've passed variants of it to every living being that passes my cell, but I've never had an answer.
Laura, I need your help, I'm gradually going mad. It's the small things in life I miss the most. I long to live again; to feel the caress of your hand and the sun's warmth on my face, to smell the flowers in your hair, to hear rain pattering on leaves, to run with reckless abandon across the fields, to see James fly with Harry on his lap and Lily shake her fist in mock anger.
These four walls are shrinking in, with each Dementor feeding I'm slowly forgetting about the other world, outside with you. This grey pain is my life now. I wait for you to visit and let some light in but you never will. I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I know you must hate me, but please, for the sake of our godchild hear me out.
It wasn't me, you know deep in your heart it can't be, that's why it has ached so much. You saw James and me at school, our closeness, you were jealous of it. Remember our sixth year when you left me because you felt you couldn't compete with my friends. You were right, it wasn't friendship, it was love, but not the kind you thought. James was my brother in all but blood, and I could have never betrayed him. Seven years of marauding forged stronger bonds than that. After school James and I were just as close despite the demands of his new family. I simply gained two new friends. I learnt that love doesn't have to rationed, I grew up enough to realise it is a boundless reservoir and you forgave me and gave me the best two years of my life before it crashed and ended up in Azkaban. But you know all this already.
You have seen me roll on the floor as Padfoot with Harry, you laughed as I let him ride me around their home, you watched me shoo away his exhausted parents and look after him so that they could sleep. You were at my side when I comforted Lily and James after Dorcas was murdered. You witnessed my grief at my brother's end, you know what I learnt from that, how profoundly it marked me. You have seen me naked, you know all my faults, you have even seen me kill in battle. You know every facet of my character, we were one. My darling, you don't, you can't believe I was the traitor.
It was Peter. We swapped at the last moment, I thought it perfect. I thought nobody would ever suspect him of being the secret keeper, quiet bumbling unimportant little Peter. We grossly underestimated him. He must have sought from Voldemort what we didn't give him, but the tragedy is he couldn't have found it there either. Despite his ineptitude he had our love, our support, our faith and he threw it all for some fool's gold glory. He betrayed them but I good as did by my idiotic trust and self-belief.
I feel like Prometheus and each time I think on my stupidity it tears me anew. We knew someone in the inner circle was a traitor; it could have been me, Remus, or Peter. The only person I trusted one hundred percent was myself, so I ask over and over, why was I so convinced of the brilliance of my plan.
My dragon, I think we swapped because I was scared the Death Eaters would find us, that they'd torture me in an attempt to extract the secret and then start on you. I think I could bear everything but that. There's where in hindsight the idea breaks down because if they believe that I know then I'm dead whether I actually do or not. Whether I'm babbling the location or that Peter's the one with the knowledge, when Death comes bursting through the door, there's no exit for any of us.
I wish more than anything I'd talked it through with you but there was no time. Fear clouded my brain and James was so distracted with concern for Lily and baby Harry that he was no help. He was still reeling under the shock that Voldemort was after them, that bloody prophecy would fill anyone with dread. Those vicious days must be etched into your memory too; speed was essential.
My firestone, I'm rambling, shaking with emotion as I write this. I pray it makes enough sense to you. I believe I will die this winter, but I can't go without letting you know the truth about that night, what I did was unforgivable. I give the reasoning behind my decisions not for absolution but to persuade of my veracity. Peter is alive, as a nine-toed rat. Harry is in grave danger from him. You must protect and help him anyway you can. Tell Remus and Albus, awake the dormant phoenix. You know from the prophecy Harry holds the Earth's future in balance. I beg you, believe me, do not let it tip into darkness.
Farewell Laura
You have always had my heart
Your Sirius
