Love, Dora

An unsent letter, dated 5 December 1997, written on Muggle lined paper stained with tea. Found 25 June 1998 by Andromeda Tonks while going through her late daughter's things, hidden inside a battered copy of Pride and Prejudice. Hidden again in an old jewellery box with a picture of a pink-haired eight-year-old and keep dear. Later found, tear-stained, by Teddy Lupin 19 August 2010.

Dear Sirius,

I know this is silly, writing to a dead man. But I have a few things I need to get off my chest and I read somewhere that writing a letter could help reconcile any unresolved issues with those past. I know you'll never read this--hell, I don't know if anyone will ever read this--and I'm sure you're somewhere much better than this god-forsaken world. Or maybe the soul dies with the body and simply ceases to be. I don't know what to believe in anymore. War has a tendency to do that to people.... I guess you're the lucky one right now: you don't have to worry about anything ever again. Or do you? I know you're probably worried about your Moony right now. Your Moony. He always was yours. Still is, after all this time. Calling him mine even now would be a lie.

Do you know what happened the first full moon after you left (I think it hurts too much for Remus to call it anything else)? We were all worried about him. He took it hard, Sirius. He was alone at Grimmauld Place, depressed and blaming himself for everything, and didn't take the potion like always. You can probably guess what happened. When Arthur and I went to check on him the next morning, there was so much blood. We thought he was dead at first, but he was just barely breathing. Three weeks at Mungo's, countless spells, and a few stern talkings-to later, he was good as new. Physically. You could see it in his eyes if you looked hard enough--he wanted to die, Sirius. Losing you once was bad enough and then he still had Hope, but this? You should have seen the way people who knew about you looked at him, and you know how he hates pity....

You're bloody selfish, Sirius. I hope you know that too. You're selfish for leaving him--and Harry--like you did. And I hate you for that. He loved you and don't you think for one minute I didn't know you felt the same way about him. I know you didn't tell anyone about the two of you--you never had to. It was clear to anyone who bothered to look. I think you're selfish and cruel and a sodding git for leaving like you did. Seeing Remus like that--holding him when he finally broke down there in that cold, sterile hospital room; watching him slowly wither away because he simply couldn't eat; seeing him retreat into himself like he did and shut everyone out--made my heart break. I don't know why, but I wanted to see him happy and smiling again. Maybe I picked it up from you; you were always so damn protective of him.

I remember once when Mum and Dad had gone to visit some Muggle relatives in Surrey for a weekend and you and Remus got stuck minding me because I hadn't learned to control my abilities yet. It was just after the full moon, though I didn't know it at the time, and you were half-mad from fussing over Remus and lack of sleep. I was three (and a half, I'm sure I would have added) and you were eighteen, which made you the epitome of everything that was "hip" at the time. Merlin, you even had the eyeliner. I remember the way you wouldn't let me play too loudly or roughly around Remus. He gave me chocolate and let me watch telly (why did you even have one of those things in your flat? I thought you said they were pointless?) and I fell asleep curled up beside him on the couch. When I woke up, you were sitting there beside him, bags under your eyes, but you were running your fingers through his hair while he slept too, your face knitted in worry. I remember thinking that he looked like one of the dolls Gran Tonks gave me that Mum let me play with--pale and fragile, like he'd break if you dropped him, but he was still so handsome, though. I loved his eyes (and still do) and I think he may have been my first silly crush. I remember asking if I could help you. You smiled and said sure and told me I could help fix soup for Moony, as you called him. The soup was barely edible, if I remember correctly, but Remus ate it anyway just to humour us.

Later that night when I couldn't sleep, I snuck back into your room--the moonlight was spilling through the window and onto the bed. You were both sleeping and you had one hand resting on Remus' stomach while the other was holding his. The moon cast shadows on his face and there was something magical, an almost feral beauty, about him and you were so in love with him. I think that's when I knew that I wanted a Remus of my own--someone I could look after and love and would make me feel as special as you made him feel. I never thought I'd get your Remus, Sirius.

I know I can't make him feel like you did--I don't even bloody know myself why, in the end, we got married. It seemed like everyone was pushing us together and we knew how the other was feeling (remember Emmeline Vance? It seems Voldemort has a tendency to take what we love most in this world from us). I guess somewhere along the line we got caught up in everything--I swear it felt like I was walking around in some sort of ridiculous dream. Remus was working with the werewolves again. Did you know he's calling them his "equals" now? I wish you were here to talk some sense into him, Sirius. Merlin knows I can't.

So we got married, tied the knot, did the "good and proper" thing, whatever you want to call it. It was nothing special, just a few family members were there and both our mums had fits before the wedding (Mum said I was making a horrible mistake and Remus' mum refuses to talk to me. Did she ever do that to you? I guess not. How could she not have liked you?). I feel bad for Remus--I'm sure you and him both wish it was you who was there exchanging vows he and I both know mean nothing to us. When did our lives become a farce, Sirius? I can count on one hand the times Remus could touch me without having to stop half-way through because it felt like cheating to both of us. And, as luck would have it, I'm up the duff. And I know you're probably joking about it from beyond the Veil, but it's true.

I told Remus I was keeping the baby--what else can I do? I thought maybe raising him or her together would be good for him (he or she would be a Black, after all. Albeit a few times removed. Of course, all the best Blacks have been "removed," wouldn't you say?). For us both, actually. Emmeline and I always talked about having a few sprogs of our own someday....

Remus left, though. He's convinced the baby will be a werewolf (I don't think I helped matters by saying it wouldn't be a big deal and I'd love it just the same). But he's a good man--you and I both know that. We finally talked to him the other day for the first time in weeks. When he showed up on the stoop, he looked like hell and that he'd lost a stone. Apparently he's been in Pembrokeshire, trying to get his head around things. It's given us both time to think about everything, I guess.

I don't what you'd have to say about all this, Sirius. I'm sure you'd want us to do what we think is right, and I think we're going to play pretend for the baby's sake and try to be happy. I love Remus--how could I not? There's just something about him that makes me want to make him happy. Maybe I'm just doing this because it's Right or it's what society says I should do or maybe I'm doing this for you, Sirius. Maybe I'm making sure he's happy when you can't be here to do it yourself. Or maybe I'm just being "cruel" to be kind--showing him what he's never wanted. Not wanted with anyone but you, at least. He still cries out your name in his sleep, did you know that? It feels like we're two people cohabiting, not a husband and wife and soon-to-be parents. Maybe it'll get better in time, though I doubt it. There are things neither one of can forget and ghosts of those we lost that still haunt us and lay between in bed.

But I guess all we can do is try to move on and try to love again. Maybe, as the years pass, Remus and I can learn to love each other. Maybe we're both tired of living with the memories. Maybe we're just looking for comfort the only way we know how.

I wish you were here, Sirius. We all do. You'd know how to fix things and you'd make sure it was done with a smile. It'd be nice to see Remus smile again. To see him happy just once, even if it's only for our baby's sake. Tell Emmeline hello for me and that I still love her.

Your little cousin,
Dora