DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the content referenced/quoted. Warning for swearing

...

Letters from Hogwarts

The letters from Cass come in a steady constant flow in the months before Christmas. She had been sorted into Ravenclaw, but had made fast friends with a number of girls in her year from both her house and Gryffindor.

But while Cass frequently mentions Remus, by the time November rolls around, Emilia is yet to have received a single letter from him.

"What are you scowling about now?"

Emilia glares at her mum as she shoves more caramels into Cass' care box roughly, "Nothing."

Isobel eyes her youngest daughter carefully. She had become more and more sullen of late - and lonely. Emilia had always had difficulty in making friends and without Cass to buffer some of her more strange tastes, she'd found herself more isolated from the other children her age.

Isobel tried her best - but she knows it isn't always enough.

"Is it about the lad? The wee one at the station?"

Emilia looks away, her cheeks flushed.

"Has he been rude to you?" Isobel asks, concern flashing through her.

"No!" Emilia blurts, and then pauses bashfully, "I s'pose in a way, yeah."

Isobel lowers herself to her daughter's height. She remembers being as painfully shy as Emilia, remembers keenly how difficult it was to relate to her own peers. She'd hoped that neither of her own children would face the same difficulties, but at least she understood better than own mother had.

"Talk to me, sweetie," Isobel says.

Emilia mumbles into her shirt, head cast low.

"What was that?"

"He hasn't...he hasn't sent me any letters."

Oh, Isobel thinks. She hadn't even realised, with the influx of letters from Cass, that the boy had yet to send anything. With how often Emilia speaks of him and the group of lads he seemed to have fallen in with, she assumed that he had been writing to her the whole time.

"Have you tried writing to him?"

Emilia shakes her head roughly.

"Why not?"

"Embarrassed."

"Whatever for?"

"Because," Emilia's face screws up and flushes even brighter, "He said he would write to me! And he's not! It's not fair!"

Isobel reaches for her daughter, wraps her arms solidly around her.

"I know, sweetie," she says quietly. Emilia sniffles into her hair, "I know...but maybe…"

"What?" Emilia's voice is small.

"Maybe, you should write to him first? Maybe he's just as embarrassed as you and doesn't know how to start?"

Emilia wipes her nose noisily on a sleeve, and Isobel swallows a grimace.

"Do you really think so?"

"Hm," Isobel nods. "I can't know for sure, but I have my suspicions. Boys are finicky creatures."

"What does ficky mean?"

"Finicky," Isobel repeats gently, "They're fussy. Like babies."

"Gross."

"Gross indeed," Isobel grins. "Why don't we make him a care box too? You can put some of your brownies in there and write him a letter?"

Emilia hesitates and fiddles with the hem of her t-shirt. Then she nods, "Ok."

"Ok," Isobel nods back. "Why don't you start writing while I gather some extra bits for his box."

Emilia grins and immediately reaches for a pen and paper. Her tongue pokes out as she concentrates on writing her words neatly.

Dear Remus…

…

After two months of breakfasts at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Remus is used to owls swooping in and stealing his toast before swooping back off again.

He is, however, not used to parcels being dropped on his breakfast by very smug-looking owls.

He scowls at the Barn Owl as it hoots gleefully at him, sweeping his scrambled egg off his trousers.

Remus tosses the package to James, who is sitting drowsily beside him, "Here James. Blasted owl just dropped your parcel in my breakfast."

James blinks blearily and turns the parcel over in his hands.

Remus turns back to his breakfast, determined to salvage the last of his egg before Sirius hoovers it up with his monstrous appetite.

"Eh, Remus?"

He looks up at James with a huff, "What?"

The moon is a few days away but he can already feel it pulling at him, the weary exhaustion already settling in his bones. His temper is starting to fray.

"This parcel is for you, mate."

"What?"

James slides the package back to him and sure enough, his name is written on the top of the cardboard in shaky handwriting. He doesn't recognise it - and that worries him.

He glances around the hall briefly, but no one is watching him and he doesn't feel as if there are any eyes on him.

The cardboard peels apart without much restraint and he peers inside. His stomach rumbles almost instantly at the smell inside the box - brownies, an odd assortment of chocolate bars - including something called a Fry's, some biscuits and a letter stares back at him.

He pulls the letter out and unfurls it carefully.

Dear Remus,

You said you would write and you didn't so I decided I was going to write to you. I've heard you're enjoying Hogwarts - that prank with the dancing and singing tables was so funny! - but you must be enjoying it too much if you forgot to write to me.

This is Emilia by the way.

I forgot to say that.

Anyway, I've decided to forgive you.

I was sending Cass some sweets and thought you might like some too. I'm trying a new type of brownie so let me know what you think! I think they're really good though.

How are you? How is Hogwarts?

Looking forward to your reply (my mum said it's polite to write this),

Emilia Withers

P.S. I won't stop writing until you reply.

...

Dear Emilia,

Thank you for your kind delivery. The sweets were very much appreciated - I'm a big fan of chocolate and wouldn't mind some more of those brownies.

I'm sorry I forgot to write. Please enjoy the chocolate frogs enclosed as an apology - be careful they're quite slippery things.

I'm glad you enjoyed the news of our prank, let me tell you what we got up to this week...