Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Dear Remus,
I would never had presumed to have written to you in life and now that you are dead, I feel that all the things I wanted to say to you in life are pounding at the back of my tongue, begging to be spoken. Pretty stupid this, to write to you now when it doesn't count. But I wanted you to know that you meant more to me than anyone else in the world. You're kindness won me and your care to keep it distant helped me passed any of the stigmas I had against being touched.
You were loyal and gentle and worried about all people but yourself. You achieved what many of us can only dream about; you did no wrong to any man. Instead, you warmed people with good will and respect, good sense and kindness. There were many time when you were ill that I wanted to hug you and tell you that I didn't care if you were a werewolf, because what mattered was the effect you had on people. But I didn't touch you and tried to project my feelings to you in the only ways I knew how.
Did you ever know? I suppose I'll have to guess for myself. Did you ever get the impression I was trying to get you to marry Tonks without my saying anything? I never spoke its true but I threw thoughts at you fast and furiously. And when you questioned whether or not you should have married or whether or not Teddy would be infected, I tried to do my best to keep you away from those feelings. You're probably reading this and wondering what I'm saying because you complained I was too quiet. But I felt a great deal at you and I can't think you didn't pick up on it.
If we were nothing more than characters in a book, then I know this letter would reach you in the afterlife. You would read it and understand what I could never say in real life. You would know I loved you and you would smile that sad smile of yours and think kindly of poor little me. What was I thinking to throw my heart away on a werewolf? I don't feel as if my love is wasted. I felt that you returned in spadefuls what I gave in drops. I wasn't even torn when you married your wife. If we couldn't be happy together I wanted you to be happy with whoever could achieve that with you.
When you worried over the baby, I worried over you and when Teddy was born, I loved you for the love you felt toward him. The first time I held him, I knew Teddy would be alright; life seemed to burst from every seam of his tiny body and like a spell security hovered around him. He would be fine.
But when the day came and I knew Tonks was dead, I prayed that you would die too. It's a strange kind of love that makes you wish someone dead, but I prayed you would die before you knew of her death. Because her death wouldn't kill you, it would slowly eat away at you and you, dear sweet Remus, would be tortured for years and years before your heart gave out. You would hate yourself for being less than the perfect father to Teddy and we both know you would have been less than perfect.
But when the news came, when I knew that you were really dead, I fell. I felt all the light in my world sink into nothing. I broke down and sobbed and although everyone comforted me, I felt alone in my grief. I think I will always be alone now because in the eyes of the world I have no more right to grief than anyone else. But you and I know –now—what I really felt.
I promise I'll go back to Teddy, not now, but later when he's at Hogwarts and I will tell him what you meant to me and that we were friends. And he will look just like you and smile like you and he will almost pat my shoulder in comfort before pulling back. And I will watch over him for selfish reasons—but now, since you are dead, I am allowed to be selfish. You can berate me when next we meet.
Sincerely,
X----