A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 6. My assignment was to write a letter to a friend. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Dear Frank,

Usually I start these things out with an "I hope this letter finds you well". That sounds like some sort of sick joke now, though.

I'm sorry, Frank. I'm sorry about what they did to you and Alice; I'm sorry for what you and your family have lost. I'm sorry I didn't do more when we were at the point in time when I could have, and I'm sorry it's taken me so damn long to write this letter.

I know it's a coward's excuse, but I just couldn't write this before, and that's exactly what I am—a coward. After losing James, Lily, and Peter to Sirius' betrayal, I let myself drown in my own grief. I should have been there for you and Alice. You were grieving, too. If I had been there for you two and focused on something other than my fear—my fear of losing more than I already had—maybe I could have saved you. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe I could have done something to change things so that you and your wife could watch your son grow.

He's a fantastic boy, Frank. He's kind and caring and brave, but he doesn't see any of that. I've been his Defense teacher for nearly two months now, and all he seems to see in himself are his shortcomings. I wish you could encourage him. I wish you could speak the words that I know you think every day. I know what that woman did to you, and I know what she took from you and Alice, but I also know that there's no way that she stole the pride that you have in your son. I want to tell Neville this—to tell him that you would understand his struggles, and that your love for him is stronger than your cursed insanity—but as I said, I'm a coward. I've spent more than a decade hiding from the world, letting someone else dictate my actions. I've given up every right I had to make amends. Neville deserves more from me, but I don't deserve him.

Harry—James and Lily's son—is at Hogwarts, too. He's friends with Neville and, my word, Frank, watching the two of them together is like looking into a pensive. Teaching them in class is like seeing you and James across the table at an Order meeting. Just last week they were partners for an in-class project, and in that moment—the two of them bent over their parchment, plotting the best way to distract a grindylow—it was as if everything was as it should've been. I could almost forget that they hadn't been raised together, that they hadn't been plotting together since birth. With Harry's bravery and Neville's quiet intelligence, both boys are so much like their fathers, and neither of them will ever know it first-hand. The War took everything from them—everything that mattered.

I remember, once during an Order meeting, you stood up to Severus and told him that I was a fierce and loyal friend, and to sod off if my condition made him think any less of me. The last decade has proven that to be false, but it has nothing to do with my lycanthropy. I'm simply a pathetic excuse for a man who insists upon dwelling on the past. I wish I were better. Please believe me, Frank; I want to do so much more than I have.

Damn it, Frank; it wasn't supposed to be like this. You and Alice, James and Lily—you had your entire lives ahead of you, and children that needed you, that still need you. I was and always will be the bachelor werewolf with nothing to lose. You shouldn't have had to go into hiding to save your son. You shouldn't have had to sacrifice your future so that he could have his. It should have been me, Frank. Why couldn't the War have just taken me instead?

This thought has crippled me for years, and even after hundreds of sleepless nights, I have no resolution for it. You were the rock—the one who kept us all grounded amidst the chaos, and Alice was the good one—the one who was too innocent to be part of the War, but too fierce to deny the chance to fight. This world needs you two. It's put back together now; Voldemort is gone, and life is as it should be, but it really isn't. The safety that we all rely on is hanging by a thread, and even a first-year's jinx could snap it. The Wizarding world needs people like you and Alice, not men who are willing to accept this fragile life, rather than fight to strengthen it—not men like me.

Forgive me. I've wasted the chance to know your son; I've never had the nerve to tell him how close you and I grew after Hogwarts, how well I knew you. He doesn't know that your commitment to Alice kept you from having a stag party, and that you spent days trying to make up for your first argument with her. He's probably never heard that you preferred the night shift at work, and that you secretly loved astronomy. He doesn't know any of that, Frank, and I'm sorry. Every day I pray for courage, so that maybe at some point I can reach out to Neville and give him all that I owe him—all that I owe you.

I miss you, mate, and when I'm less of a coward, I'll come tell you so in person.

Sincerely,

Remus Lupin

A/N: Thanks for reading! I'd love to get some feedback, so if you have any comments or criticisms, please leave a review or PM me :) I really appreciate all of the support you guys have given me!