The Letter

The flickering torches were the only light that lit the drafty infirmary. Madam Pomfrey bustled about, doing last minute chores before she retired to her small bedroom that connected to the hospital wing.

As she approached the only occupied bed in the wing, Poppy looked with sad eyes upon the prone figure of a young boy that lay in the hospital bed. Remus Lupin lay, unconscious still and covered with bruises and gashes. His deplorable body looked peaceful as his battered chest rose and fell with his breathing. Madam had always been amazed by this child; she had known him since he had been very young and had first gotten bit by a werewolf.

Poor boy, she thought, to have to spend Christmas all alone in the infirmary. For that was what tomorrow was. Tonight: the Eve of Christmas. Slowly the young woman made her way across the infirmary, straightening bedclothes and blowing out candles. She left the lamp burning in the window, a symbolic tradition passed on to her by her own Mother.

Finally she sank into the cool sheets of her own bed and piled as many quilts as she could on top of herself. She would be cozy tonight. With relish, Poppy opened her dog-eared and battered copy of Oliver Twist to the last place that she remembered reading. Slowly, her eyes began to wander from the page and to fall shut. As she sank into sleep she wished for one thing, for a good night and a merry Christmas for all of her students, her children, but for one in particular, a young boy who had no one to share it with.

~*~*~

Poppy woke slowly from her sleep, as though she were making her way to the surface of a deep pool. Finally, she was able to break to the top and open her eyes. Her reading candle had long since burned down to the stub and went out. Nothing stirred in her room. What had woken her up? Then, suddenly a small noise was heard. It was coming from outside of her room and it sounded very much like crying. Immediately Poppy knew that Remus must have woken finally after his long stretch of sleep and was afraid. Should she go to him? Comfort him? What could she possibly offer? What would you say to someone in circumstances like that?

It was with slow uncertainty that Poppy extracted herself from the mountain of blankets and quilts that covered her. Startled by the chill air, she quickly put on her dressing robe and slippers. As she fumbled for the matches she listened to Remus cry. It was quite a sad sound. It sounded so lost and helpless. Of course it would, she thought, how would you expect it to sound? Finally, abandoning her quest for the matches, she tiptoed out of her room and into the hall that shortly led into the main room of the infirmary. Light from the lamp bounced and played across the shrouded hallway; she had been sure to leave enough oil in it to last all night. She didn't know why she tiptoed except perhaps to avoid interrupting that cherubic weeping that was growing louder now that she got closer.

She stepped quietly into the light of the big room, and almost gasped at the sight before her. It was not, as she had expected, Remus Lupin who was crying. No, another figure, a young boy with soft black curls covering his head, knelt by the bedside, his hands grasping Remus's, and his head bowed. It was he who was weeping. The light from the infirmary danced on his dark skin, making it look rich, and his deep-red robe spread out around him like a pool of blood. His sobs, soft and plaintive, echoed through the room. It was, Poppy realized, Sirius Black.

Sirius was a second year, as was Remus. They were in Gryffindor together, but she had no idea they were close. They had only known each other for a short time, after all. Remus had not been admitted into Hogwarts until just this year, only a few weeks ago in fact. Dumbledore had just taken the position of Headmaster and insisted that the boy be allowed in. And Sirius, she knew, had not been allowed friends as a child growing up. He lived alone with his mother. Adoptive mother, she corrected herself. That's right, and the woman insisted that he remain aloof. Albus had explained both situations to the staff, on separate occasions, and both times Poppy had felt such a sadness for these boys, forced into seclusion; one because of what the people believed him to be, the other what the people did not know.

Slowly she drew herself back into the shadows, continuing to keep her eyes on the boys in the infirmary. She chose not to interrupt the young boy; she couldn't bear to do that. He looked so sweet, his dark Spanish-brown complexion contrasting to Lupin's pale, freckled skin. He cried for someone else, which was, in her opinion, the noblest thing you can do for another person. So many people cry for themselves, because they are not loved, because they don't have what they want, because someone hurt them. It was such a rare thing to find someone who cries, not for themselves, but for another human. Someone who hurts because person another is hurting. How devine, she thought, there was no time when a person was closer to God than when they wept for the pain of another soul. And here in front of her was this beautiful example of such compassion, and of such zealous devotion that she couldn't help but tear up herself.

Suddenly, the boy lifted his head. As Poppy watched he drew from his cloak a small, gold tube. What was it? She didn't have to wonder long. Slowly, in a calm, quiet voice Sirius explained to his Remus what the bauble was.

"It's a kaleidoscope, Remus," he said. "You put your eye up to this end and you look in. Then you can spin it and it makes different patterns." He demonstrated this action to his friend.

For a long moment he paused. "Malia gave it to me," he said. "She adopted me when I was young. But I want you to have it. I know you'll love it. I always did."

Slowly, he placed the kaleidoscope on the table without making a sound, and he rose from his kneeling position at the bedside to stand by the bed. He still grasped Remus's hand in his own. Finally he let it go. It dropped quickly to the bed as Sirius walked, quite silently, out of the hospital wing and back to his dormitory.

Madam Pomfrey watched him go; she would never have the heart, or the courage, to tell him that she had been witness to his emotional display. Nor could she take away house points from him after what she just saw, probably never again. Slowly, she tiptoed to the bed where Remus Lupin slept and picked up his present. She raised it to her eye and smiled in delight as the beautiful colors danced and played before her eyes. She pointed it to the lamp and saw, even more brightly, deep red, gorgeous violet, striking ginger, burgundy, indigo, jade, gold, and silver. What a wonderful gift. But even more that any bedside bauble, she knew the real gift that Sirius Black had given to Remus Lupin that night. Devotion. And compassion, perhaps. Even such beautiful words could not describe what she had seen. Maybe she would try. For Remus, at least.

She went back to her room then, excited at the idea that had sprung into her head. Without thinking she grabbed the lost matches and lit the lamp. Quickly she gathered up all she would need. Parchment, quills, ink, wax and a seal. Setting all these things on her writing table, she sat down and thought. As she though she chewed on the tip of her quill and tapped her fingers on the wood of the table. Then, suddenly, she began to write. Dear Remus...

She wrote until her candle sputtered out, and finally she was finished. She took the letter and slipped it into her desk drawer. To be read by Remus at a later date. Much, much later. Or perhaps never at all. But she would always know the precious gift that had been given to Remus on this Christmas that could have been the worst, but that now could be better, or even, who knows, the best.

34 years later...

Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding!

The brash sound of the alarm clock startled Remus out of his fitful sleep. He hadn't been sleeping well at all the past few nights. He and Sirius were in the middle of a feud and neither man was willing to back down yet. The bed felt empty without Sirius, although he did have the covers a lot more often. Struggling to untangle himself from said covers, Remus finally managed to smack his clock into submission. The flimsy nightstand tipped a bit under the pressure of his blow, but Remus managed to right it before it toppled over. He didn't notice the small gold kaleidoscope that fell and rolled under the bed.

It was another freezing January day. It took all of his resolve to pull himself out of his warm snowman-patterned bed sheets only to face what he knew would be a nearly silent breakfast, punctuated perhaps by short monosyllabic phrases. Pleases. Thank yous. Yeses. Nos.

Remus cringed inwardly when he thought of the fight they'd had. He had accused Sirius of taking advantage of him. Of forgetting his responsibilities. Of drowning his problems and his past in whatever strong drink happened to be handy. Sirius in turn, accused Remus of pushing him, of smothering him, and of spending so much time trying to take care of him that he didn't realize what he really needed. Outraged, Remus had lost his temper. He called Sirius selfish, and told him that he only wanted to receive and couldn't bother to give when it came to anyone else. Sirius had stormed out of the house, presumably to the bar. He had come back the next night, but he hadn't come to the bedroom. It had been this way for three nights now.

Every time they were in a room together Remus' fingers would twitch. He had to restrain them from reaching out to Sirius. From touching his hair, or his lips. He wanted to end this fight, but he couldn't bring himself to say that he was wrong when he didn't believe that he was. Of course, some of the things he had said were untrue, meant only to wound, but he didn't want Sirius to wallow away the rest of his life in booze and despair. He loved him too much to let Azkaban, and the dementors, win like that.

Shivering, he hastily stuffed his feet into his slippers and padded down the threadbare carpet to the bathroom at the end of the hall. He kept the heat low to save on the energy bill. Although he was lucky enough to be working now, it was always good to be ready for the inevitable; the long stretches of unemployment scattered throughout his life had taught him to prepare.

After showering and dressing Remus readied himself for the unavoidable breakfast confrontation. He walked down the hall and took a deep breath before entering the kitchen. Sirius was already seated at the table when he walked in. He was in his pajamas, reading the paper; a half eaten piece of toast sat on the bare table before him. Remus wasn't surprised to see him up already. Sirius tended to be an early riser, and he usually got breakfast ready while Remus showered and got dressed for work. The work he was doing for Dumbledore, endless research on possible recruits for the Order of the Phoenix, was done from home and could be started at any hour of the morning.

What Remus was surprised to see was that Sirius had, despite their row, still made him breakfast. Two eggs, scrambled, for Remus would have them no other way, sat on a cheerful blue plate next to two pieces of toast that had been cut into neat triangles. A tall glass of grapefruit juice, a jar of Miss Moffat's Homemade Marmalade, and a tea bag sat next to his plate. The kettle on the stove was steaming slightly. The whole affair was being kept warm for him with a heating spell. It was so like Sirius, to do something thoughtful when he least expected it.

Although he had made him breakfast, Sirius didn't seem reconciled to Remus yet. He didn't speak to him while they ate, nor did he say a word as Remus began to clear the dishes away. Leaving them in the sink to be washed at a later, nonexistent time Remus started toward the door. Remus, for his part, hadn't spoken a word either. He reached to grab his scarf and his winter cloak, a Christmas gift from Sirius, from the hat stand, which bowed to him with a flourish. Sighing, for Sirius had still not said a word, he closed his eyes and disapparated with a pop.

The workday dragged on unbearably for Remus. He was doing inventory for the shop where he worked. It was a dusty second hand bookshop in Hogsmeade, but Remus found that he liked working there. He usually liked working there. Today he couldn't seem to keep his mind on the job. It preferred to stray to Sirius and mull over their fight and how disappointed he still was in him. He couldn't bear how selfish Sirius was sometimes. Remus had done all he could for him yet he continued to neglect his obligations to Harry, to Remus, to Dumbledore, to himself. To real life. He had been so aloof the past few weeks. Remus understood that he was going through a difficult time. He wasn't dealing well with the reactions he would get after explaining over and over to Dumbledore's contacts the circumstances of his innocence. Not everyone took it as well as Harry and his friends had.

By the time his lunch hour rolled around Remus could hardly wait to get out of the building. Abandoning the inventory, he gathered his cloak and scarf and headed for the door. He chose to walk to The Three Broomsticks. He could have flooed just as easily, but he needed to stretch his legs. The wind pounded heavy snowflakes into his face, and he squinted to protect his eyes from the assault. With his hood up and his head down the managed to find his way to the large wooden structure. Wrenching the door open, he gasped with relief at the warmth and the smell of lunch being served. The windows were dark with snow so the main source of light in the big room was the crackling fire that danced in the huge grate on the far wall. There was a bar that ran down the entire left side of the room. All along the bar sat stools of varying heights and colors. There were also tables everywhere in the pub, placed in a way so that they were able to squeeze the maximum amount of furniture into the room without making it uncomfortable.

Walking up to the expansive oak bar, Remus took an empty stool and sat down in it. He was promptly approached by a young auburn haired witch who asked him, in a sweet voice, what he would like to have. He ordered the soup of the day (French Onion) and a basket of crusty rolls to go with it. As he sat pulling idly at a stray thread on his sleeve, waiting for his food to be served, a woman with graying hair and a stern round face sat down on the stool next to him.

"Remus Lupin," she spoke. Why, I haven't seen you since you left the school over a year ago."

Remus, startled out of his thoughts, looked at his new companion. He knew instantly who it was.

"Madam Pomfrey," he replied. "How lovely to see you. It's true that I haven't had much time to be up at Hogwarts recently. How are you though?"

She smiled. "I'm very well Remus dear. Thank you for asking. And how is your mother? Such a nice woman. Is she doing well?"

"Yes, yes. She's doing very well. I just saw her at Christmas. She's decided to take up yoga." Remus chuckled, but Poppy only nodded knowingly.

"I'm sure she gets lonely, living all by herself. I do hope you visit her often." Poppy spoke with genuine concern in her voice. Remus knew that she and his mother had been close friends.

"As often as I can," Remus assured. "I try to see her at least every other month. We're hoping to get together for an outing in a few weeks."

Madam Pomfrey smiled. "And that beau of yours. How's he?" Poppy, Remus remembered, had been one of the people that Sirius had contacted.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose." Remus tried to skirt any uncomfortable conversation that might develop.

If Poppy thought that his reply seemed vague, she didn't seem to mind. "That's simply wonderful Remus, dear," she said. "I always did think that you two were a wonderful couple. You seemed to be made for one another. So compatible. And always so in tune with each other's feelings. Finishing the other's sentences, and the like. In fact..." She trailed off in thought, and Remus didn't bother to prompt her to finish.

"Well, I must go Remus. I've already eaten and I'm off to meet a friend in her shop. It was good to see you. Stop by Hogwarts some time if you can." She stood up and waved goodbye to Remus.

"Goodbye Poppy. It was good to see you too. I'll see you around again I suppose. I'll probably be at Hogwarts sooner or later. Can't manage to stay away for very long. Well, goodbye."

His food was brought to him a few minutes later and Remus finished his lunch without further event. After the last of the soup had been sopped up by the roll Remus resignedly left the pub to return to work. The day passed, albeit slowly, and Remus resolved to make up with Sirius when he got home. When five 'o clock finally rolled around he signed himself off of his shift and Apparated into his living room. Remus let himself revel for a moment in the comfort one finds when they first arrive home after a long day. He looked around for Sirius, but saw no sign of him. He walked through the compact kitchen and into the study. It was there that he found him, slumped over the mahogany desk, with at least eight glass bottles of some unidentifiable beverage littered the desktop and the floor around it. Another half empty bottle was clutched in his hand. Crumpled parchment sat, right at home, amongst the bottles on the floor.

For a moment Remus just stared; he couldn't believe that Sirius had gone and gotten himself drunk once again, especially after they had just had a huge row over this very problem. Shaking with anger and forgetting all about his commitment to make up with Sirius, Remus marched into the study. It took all of his self-control not to just push Sirius off the chair. He looked about to fall anyway. Gathering himself together, he took up his wand and woke Sirius with a quick revival charm.

Groggily, Sirius raised his head. As he started to move a bit the bottle, previously supported by his hand, tipped over and spilled across the desk. Sirius groaned. "Aww, shit," he muttered.

Turning around, he finally seemed to notice Remus' presence in the room. He had been standing behind Sirius with his hands on his hips and a somewhat disgusted expression on his face.

"Remus," he mumbled. "You're home early."

"Oh really," Remus questioned. "Then why don't you tell me what time it is Sirius?"

"Huh?" Sirius, looking confused, answered vaguely. "Probably about two or three. But Remus-"

Remus lost his temper and cut Sirius off. "Two or three," he yelled. "Sirius it's five o' clock which works out to at least two hours that you've been passed out on the desk. How could you do this? How could you go and do something like this when you know I hate it. Isn't this why we fought in the first place? Are you ever going to learn, Sirius? Do you even care that I've asked you to stop this sort of thing?" Remus was breathing hard by the time he finished shouting.

Sirius looked angry. "What should I say Remus? That I'm sorry? That I should stop drinking myself into oblivion? Sure, it would be true. I am. And I should. But it's the only thing that seems to help at the moment Remus, and I can't just wake up one morning and decide that I'm fine, no matter how much you want me to. If it were that easy that's exactly what I'd do! But you know what Remus? Every morning I wake up to another day where I'm not fine, and I'm so sick of it that I just want to hurl!"

Remus was subdued by Sirius display of raw emotion but it didn't change the fact that his destructive behavior had to stop, and Sirius was in no condition to stop it himself. "I'm sorry that you're hurting Sirius, but the way your dealing with it isn't going to help."

Sirius staggered to his feet, toppling over the chair in the process. "I can't hear this right now Remus," he spoke quietly. "I've got to go...somewhere..." Without waiting for a reply he scooped up his wand, muttered a quick spell to clean up the alcohol he had spilled, and disapparated out of the room.

Remus sighed and closed his eyes. He stormed into the kitchen where he threw down his cloak and scarf. An owl, missed in his haste to find Sirius, sat on the table. Remus took the letter the owl carried; it was addressed to him. Ignoring the indignant hoots of the unpaid bird, he walked into the sitting room and collapsed onto the sofa. He slowly broke open the seal on the letter, wondering whom it could be from. He didn't recognize the seal, and there was no sender address on the outside of the parchment. He unfolded it and realized that it actually contained two pages. He read the first page, which was marked with the current date at the top.

Dear Remus,

Meeting you in Hogsmeade today reminded me of something that I have been meaning to give to you for a long time now. You seemed a bit distracted at lunch and you know I can't help worrying about you even though you're already many years gone from our school. I'm not sure whether this will cheer you up or not but either way you deserve to have it. All my best to you and yours!

Love,

Poppy Pomfrey

He looked at the top of the next page. It was dated December 25, 1972. He read:

Dear Remus,

I'm finding this to be a very difficult letter to write, so let me just say very plainly what I have to say. It's very early in the morning now and you are sleeping in the hospital wing. Not so very long ago I woke from my sleep and heard someone crying. I though it might be you so I ventured out to see how I might help. What I saw, Remus, is the reason I'm writing this letter. It wasn't you who was crying, but your classmate, Sirius Black. By the light of the lamp I saw him kneeling by your bedside and speaking to you, ever so softly, as he cried. I wish you could see the picture the two of you made. I almost cried myself. The sight that I saw was enough to spring tears into anyone's eyes. To see such a beautiful child committing such a heartfelt - well I'm getting off on a tangent. Let me continue; he left you a present also. Perhaps you're remembering it as you read this. It was a kaleidoscope. A beautiful and sincere gift. It sounds so sentimental of me to be telling you all of this, but the whole scene struck a chord in me. I'm not a very eloquent person. I'm a nurse not a writer, and I find it very difficult explaining to you in words what I saw. There was truly magic of a very sacred variety in my hospital wing on this night. This description is wanting but I'll never be able to describe in words what my heart feels inside. Let me conclude saying that you're a very lucky boy Remus, to have found companionship and devotion like that which Mr. Black showed this night. It occurs to me that it's very rare that one comes across a person who demonstrates such selflessness. I believe that to cry for someone else is an ultimate act of selflessness. I hope I was able to express even a small sense of how intimate and sacred the love Sirius Black seems to have for you is. Hopefully, this letter will mean something to you and will convey a bit of what I intended to convey.

Yours,

Madam Poppy Pomfrey

Remus held his letter in shaking hands. He could hardly believe what he had read. Well, he could believe it. It was something that Sirius would do. He was so passionate about life. Everything around him had to be beautiful. It was one of the reasons why Azkaban had affected him so violently. The sudden thrust from a rich, beautiful environment to the dank shadowy hell that was called Azkaban was enough to shock a man into a coma.

Or drive him to drinking,

Remus thought. And the kaleidoscope, he remembered. He hadn't forgotten the trinket that had turned up at his bedside in the hospital wing all those years ago. It had been from Sirius, and yet for years it had sat out in the open and he had never said a word about it. Sirius had never admitted to being the giver of the gift.

He felt a wave of panic wash over him and settle in his stomach. He wanted things between them to be better. He had to find Sirius and figure some way to rectify the whole mess. Mind reeling, he stood up from the couch and the letter that had sat in his lap fluttered to the floor. He wondered where Sirius might have gone. Perhaps he had taken refuge at Hogwarts. More likely he had gone to finish his complete and total inebriation at some cheap bar. Surely he would be back tonight. If he did in fact go to the bar then he had to come home eventually. Remus would wait until he did.

After eating a supper of cold ham on rye bread, Remus settled down with a cup of tea to read until Sirius returned, but his restless mind got the better of him. He thought of Sirius. Despite the argument, it was hard to deny how smitten he was with his old friend. Of course the feeling was generally mutual. They had been living together for a little over half a year and it had never failed to amaze Remus how fascinating it was living with Sirius. After being separated for so long, everything about his companion was a new discovery. Simply watching Sirius shave, or brush out his hair, or read, or sleep would entrance Remus. And when Sirius noticed he was being watched he would smile back and sometimes take Remus in his arms. He wasn't overly fond of constant physical contact. He wasn't the type of person who, like Sirius, always had to have a hand in someone else's or an arm around someone's shoulder. Still, he relished in those touches from Sirius, who would handle him so gently and with such care. His touches weren't awkward, but they were controlled.

Sighing, Remus stood up and began to pace the room. Darkness had fallen some time ago and the light from the gas lamp was reflected off of the sitting room window, making it difficult to see outside. It had to be twenty minutes later that Remus heard the reassuring sound of someone Apparating into the room. He spun around and was relieved to see that it was in fact Sirius whom he'd heard. The man looked up from his wallet that he was fumbling with and stared at Remus, a surprised expression on his face.

"Remus," he said, "I didn't expect you to be awake still."

Remus stared back at Sirius, taking in what he had said. "You think I could sleep while you were out in the local pub getting yourself smashed? I was worried Sirius. I've been worried for a long time now." He waited for Sirius to say something in his defense. He didn't wait long.

"Well, you needn't be worried," he said in a quite voice. "I wasn't at any bar."

Remus narrowed his eyes in misgiving at his lover. He couldn't help it; he wanted to believe Sirius, but...he wasn't at a bar? Then where had he gone?

Taking Remus' wary look as a prompt Sirius explained. "I went to Ty's. We talked a lot. I-I didn't really know where else to go." Sirius didn't sound angry anymore. His voice was quiet, and yet full of feeling. He seemed to Remus to sound more timid than anything else.

"You went to Ty's," he asked incredulously. Ty, Remus knew, had been a good friend of Sirius' from Hogwarts. She had been in their year. Remus had never had much to do with the girl; who had been something of an outcast at school, even more so than himself. He had seen her once or twice since they had graduated; he knew that she and Sirius had remained close friends.

Sirius continued to stare at his hands as he spoke. "I told you Remus. I had no where else to go." He stopped and looked up at Remus then. His voice was full of anguish and passion when he continued. "I hate fighting with you Remy. I want things to be right again. I want to try to make this better, and if I have to suffer, than I want to do it with you, rather than away from you. Oh, Gods, Remus." His voice cracked but he stepped forward with determination. "I have some problems," he began slowly, "that I'm going to have to work out. I've got a lot of emotions built up that I'm trying to sort out right now and I've really made a mess of it so far." Sirius' cheeks flushed from his emotional outpour. It was a rare thing indeed that could make Sirius, for all his dark coloring, blush. "I suppose Remus, that I'm just asking you...Well, I-"

Remus cut him off before he had to ask. He knew what was coming. He could finish Sirius's sentence. Hell, he could practically read his mind; he was feeling the same thing.

"Yes, Sirius," he said. "Yes, I'll stand by you; yes, I'll help you, and yes, of course I'll support you. I did a bit of reading while you were out. It was a correspondence, actually, with an old friend of my mother's. Something about a hopeless romantic and a kaleidoscope, I believe." He smiled, and Sirius, quickly remembering, smiled too."

"Oh really," he asked in a sly voice as he pushed his wavy ebony hair behind his ear. "And what else did you do while I was out?"