Late June
Moony,
If, if, if. Too damn many of them, eh? Best we just let it go and start over fresh, I think, or else next we'll be angry with Harry for not letting us kill Wormtail in the first place. Suppose we just call it even and carry on best we can. And you're right, as usual, as long as Harry knows, it'll do for now.
And that you know. I cannot begin to tell you what that means to me. As I think back on all the years in Azkaban, the thought that haunted me most was the knowing what you must be thinking of me and how you must have hated me. When I would see the full moon through the bars of my cell, I would transform just so I could be with you in some small way, not that it did you any good. All I could think of was that you were alone and scared and perhaps injured, and I was letting you down again. It was almost unbearable to have the dementors feed on all that was worth remembering about you and me, leaving me with nothing but your wretched, disappointed, miserable face staring down at me. I swear I've never done anything terrible enough to deserve that!
Remus, you are most definitely already being a prat about the money, and I insist that you stop it immediately. I got plenty before I left England, and there is enough there for what you need, my friend. Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT consider the potion a luxury. If I am able to return home someday only to find that you have been imprisoned or killed because of something that happened during a full moon, I shall be most put out with you indeed. Do it for me, Moony, so I can see you again. (And do try to get somebody other than Snivellus to make it for you, for Merlin's sake.)
Speaking of the bleedin' money, I suppose you haven't heard. Such wonderful news! I've got . . . The House! A dream come true, eh? It comes with a huge legacy for upkeep, of which I plan to spend sod all until the hellhole falls to the ground. Then I might spend a quid or two on matches. I really am serious (smile when you say that!) about there being enough. I've checked into that potion of yours, and I believe you'll find Mummy's emeralds useful there. They're in the vault, and I am absolutely giddy at the prospect of her Slytherin Crown Jewels being ground up for your potion.
I seem to move from maudlin to euphoric at a moment's notice, don't I? I think I am growing used to the idea of being alive again, Moony. Padfoot thoroughly enjoys romping in the surf, but wishes someone were around to throw a stick for him to fetch. He sends you lots of very wet, sloppy, sandy kisses, I'm afraid. How very sensual it is to remember and feel and love again. I want to eat and sleep and fuck all at the same time! Two out of three will do to be getting on with, I suppose. I think about you constantly.
Sirius, Newest Keeper of the Ignoble and Most Ancient House of Black
P.S. Don't fret so about my being found out. Padfoot is still an excellent disguise. I have also started turning rather brown, much to my surprise. And I got my hair cut. Shocking, I know, and it was rather a wrench, but really I am most unrecognizable with this new air of respectability.
P.P.S. Keep an ear to the ground for anything unusual, Moony. Something is causing an unholy ruckus in the wizarding community here. Vacationers are whispering and gossiping with the locals, but I can't make heads or tails of it. And please keep an eye on Harry for me. Don't let those Muggles get away with any crap.
P.P.P.S. You will never be middle-aged, Remus. You are eternally beautiful and young. It's just your nature.
P.P.P.P.S. Sorry this is so long, but once I start talking, I can't seem to shut my gob.
Padfoot