Dearest M,
I'm not using names, you know why. The Daily Prophet has finally reached here and I'm totally and utterly devastated. I know you are too and I can't even fathom how much. Please write anytime you need to. I'll always be there for you.
All my love, TRIt was a hastily scrawled and tear-stained note. It arrived a couple weeks after all the horror that went down at Godric's Hollow and beyond. I was still in shock at being suddenly all alone again and at the painful betrayal of the worst kind—and slipping into a deep depression that would last for a long, long time. I did not write back.
I hadn't realized how much I'd blocked out over the years until I came back to Hogwarts at Dumbledore's request to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. It seemed that everywhere I turned I was haunted by memories: The stone corridors echoed with our footsteps and laughter-- the familiar, heavy mullioned windows reflected all our trials and triumphs-- the old classrooms and library smiled with the knowledge they had imparted to my young mind-- the ancient tree spirits in the forest held the keys to our secrets there-- the blended face of James and Lily sat at the same table, on the same bench, amongst best friends at mealtimes. The very air was thick and all encompassing, saturated with whispers of my past.
I can't even describe how tickled I was to find out that Harry had James' old invisibility cloak and had somehow managed to get his hands on our Marauders map. Despite the worry about Sirius' escape from Azkaban, I came to enjoy being at Hogwarts again and getting to know Harry. Working along side Snape, with his outward display of a terse professional demeanor but the seething animosity barely hidden underneath the surface amused me to no end.
Then there was that full moon night we discovered the extent of Peter's treachery and realized Sirius' innocence. When I saw my darling Padfoot, ever so briefly, I was overwhelmed at seeing the love of my life once again. I owled Serena-Rose then, explaining everything. Her reply came back, weeks later, after I'd been home at my (and long ago Sirius') old cottage awhile.
Dear Remus,
It's so good to hear from you! I completely understand—there are some things too painful to voice, I was the same way. I tried not to wallow and dwell and felt the world was going to crush me. It seemed that to say it aloud would make it too real. So, that's great about Sirius, yeah? Except for the being on the run part that is. I hope you get your precious Padfoot back with you soon. And Peter! That despicable worm! What a shitty butt-munch! I hope he rots in hell! (I can't believe- out of the goodness of my heart- I gave him a naked picture of myself! Yeck!)
I've been really busy over the years, single mom raising twins (Yeah, can you imagine me being in charge of children? But don't worry about me, I've had plenty of company here and there, just never wanted to settle down. You know me, I'm too wild. Rawr! Wink,wink.)
You know, it's a funny thing about genetics, just like you were telling me about Harry (By the way, did you know that some kids around here actually want to tattoo lightening bolts on their foreheads? I wouldn't let my son—for obvious reasons, to me, but not to anyone else. They just think I'm square! Ha-ha!) Anyway, how Harry looks like James but has his mother's eyes? Well, my kids are like that too, a little like me and a lot like their fathers. Act like them too.
I hope you'll forgive me for not telling you about the twins, but times were dangerous, you know? Too much scariness and evil going down over there. The circumstances needed secrecy, and since we'd lost touch, I wasn't sure if you'd want to know… But, well, with your current good news and the kids getting old enough to understand adult issues, I think I might tell them who their fathers are.
Keep me posted, write back soon,
Much love, Serena-Rose, Rosebud and Orion
Twins? With fathers, plural? I looked in the envelope and pulled out another slip of paper and turned it over. A photograph. And there was Serena-Rose, a little older, more laugh lines but the same wild hair, smiling broadly in between two very familiar looking teens.
The girl on the left: curly honey-blond tresses framing a pretty face, amber-gold eyes a bit solemn but an irascible mysterious smile gracing pink lips just like her mother's. On the right: a handsome black-haired boy was laughing, tossing his wavy locks back with a twinkle in the bright blue eyes shaped just like his father's. I could almost hear him barking.
Ah, the wolf, the tiger and the dog!
I took out that old framed photograph Serena-Rose had given us as a farewell present and put it back on display on the mantle next to the new smaller one. I quickly wrote two letters, one a reply to Serena-Rose with a request for a visit and the other to Sirius, a copy of the photograph enclosed.
I knew they wouldn't get them for a while and I wouldn't hear back for even longer since California and god-knows-where in the tropics are so far away, but for the first time in years I felt something wonderful. I felt an excitement for the future. I breathed in new life. I felt hope grow and sweet love return to my heart.