August [j.p]

047- Changin' for the better

Besties, here's your closure.
Alexa play closure by Taylor Swift, the author of Harry Potter.

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Wanting was enough
For me, it was enough
To live for the hope of it all
-
august

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Epilogue
10 years later

Augustine Thatcher-Williams was clearing out the cupboard in the old spare room, soon to be nursery when she came across the weathered shoebox.

"What's that mommy?" Her three year old asked.

"She patted the ground next to her, adjusting herself more comfortably, or as comfortable as she could with her growing bump.

She waited for the little boy to sit down. He was the mirror image of his mother, blonde hair and earthy brow eyes, however he had inherited his father's freckles. And these were scattered across his nose like small stars.

"These Sirius, are letters I wrote to someone whom I loved very much."

She flipped through the pages and pages of handwritten messages. She wrote to James Potter, but she never sent them.

She remembered the day, she was homesick for not home but him and she was on her way to the owl emporium to finally send one of the letters she had accumulated over months when she ran straight into Aleksander Thatcher.

He was slim and looked to her as if he was one cigarette away from death. His eyes were the darkest grey she had ever seen and his skin so white it looked as if he had not seen the sun for years.

But there was something about him that drew her in. His fingers were long and delicate, pianist's fingers and on his palms were scattered sentences.

"Pardon me." He said politely, his hands steadying her by her shoulders. He must've saw how flustered she was because he immediately asked, "Are you quite alright dear? You look ghastly. Sorry that came out wrong, you look beautiful, you're actually stunning. I just meant."

He stopped and scratched the back of his neck. "I'm rambling. Apologies."

She smiled lightly at his awkwardness, "S'alright. I believe I should actually thank you, I was about to do something very stupid."

He cocked his head, seeming as if a silent-debate was going on in his head. "Why don't you tell me about it."

So she did, she told this complete stranger everything. From the moment the climbed out of James Potter's window to what made her rush to the emporium.

And he listened, they walked and walked and he listened until they ended up at a nursery, where instead of coffee he bought her a succulent.

Soon after, they would walk together once a week. Sometimes talking and sometimes in silence. She learnt that he was a poet. She learnt that he had two sisters and saw his parents every Sunday. That he went to Durmstrang but absolutely loathed it. That his favorite band was the Beatles and he preferred to shower in cold water.

She learnt a lot about poets too. That they forgot stuff easily because they were always captivated by the details. He forgot their anniversary one year and his own birthday as well as the day he was supposed to go vote. But she learnt that they remembered the small things. Like how she once mentioned she loved blue and then seven months later he showed up with a bouquet of blue wildflowers. He remembered that she only liked coffee if it was packed with sugar and she liked those muggle pens.