Until The Next Time -R //JEGULUS

Letter 3

                    9th August 1979

J,

We both know I'm not going to send this. I'm going to get far too dramatic and emotional to confidently send it to you. I've been checking the papers these past three days to see if they had recovered the identities of those who fell victim to the attack. I've been hopelessly searching my way through the lists, scouring every article I can find on it, looking for something, anything that could tell me that you either made it out alive or died in amongst it. Nothing, I haven't found a single mention of your name on the list of those dead or wounded but I also haven't found anything that signifies that you were okay. I hope that means you were nowhere near it and didn't try to heroically save them all when you found out, getting yourself killed in the process. You must admit, it is a very you thing to do. I am trying to take it as a good sign, you aren't mentioned at all so I take it you weren't anywhere near where the attack took place but I can't help but worry that maybe you died and they just haven't found you yet, maybe you were hurt but they didn't think it worth mentioning. Maybe they found your body but thought your death was worse than the rest, that it was too horrific to share with the public. I know it's stupid to think that but I'm just terrified that you're gone and it was my fault. I try to convince myself that you're okay but I can't.

I saw the list of the dead, in some twisted way it brought me down to reality. None of the names were too familiar but I did recognise a few of them from school or past events. A Hufflepuff girl from the year above me, a boy whose father wrote some of our textbooks, famous for having a muggle mother. I saw the blood statuses next to each name, showing exactly what my side thinks of them. 2 halfbloods, 5 mud muggleborns all dead, 12 injured in the backwash. It felt weird, I didn't really care much for any of them but it is odd to remember that this is the sort of thing they want. This is pretty much the only thing they're fighting for. It feels strange.

They won't catch the killers, I wasn't there for when they discussed who was going but I know they will have put care into it, having people thrown into Azkaban would be too much of an inconvenience for them at the state we're in in this war. It feels wrong to think of people being punished for multiple murders as an inconvenience. But I guess that's all it is to them. I can almost imagine your response to seeing that. I know exactly what you'd say. You would be horrified that I'd even say that, that I could know exactly how they feel even if I don't believe it myself. And I would tell you that I know why you hate me saying that, that I know it makes me look like one of them but that I promise I hate it too and that your hatred for beliefs like those is one of the things I love about you. And you would cross your arms and shake your head but you would smile, you would try to hide it but you would smile and I just wouldn't be able to keep up my blank facade and I would smile right back at you. And you would say that you didn't like it when I tried to flatter my way out of things like that but you would laugh, you would forget about it and that was the problem, it was so easy to make you forget about something, I didn't even have to make a conscious effort and that scared me, it still does. God, that makes me look creepy. The way I can imagine exactly how you would react to every situation on the spot. Either I've spent too much time with you or I've been so much of a creep that I know enough to memorise exactly how you think and act, so much so that I can tell you more about how you think than even you can. Maybe it's a mix of both.

I guess, the only reason I am writing today, sitting alone at the window, trying to get all this down before my mother comes in is because I desperately hope that you are alive and I'm so so scared that you aren't. And if that is the case, if you really are gone, I fear it is my fault. That my pathetic embarrassment and fear of disturbing you, my dreading that you'll only hate me and laugh at me if I were to try to contact you stopped me from saving you from death. And if you are alive, if you are safe, mon chéri, I am sorry all the same. That I may have risked your life, that I am too stupid to think properly. I hope that wherever you are you are safe and happy without me.

Until the next time

-R