Boys Will Be Bugs

Chapter 119: Forest

Dear Sirius,

I don't think I'll ever send this letter, but I'm writing to you because my grandad once told me that if I'm ever angry at someone, I should write them a letter telling them everything I want to say and then chuck it onto the fire and forget about it. When I was six, I wrote a letter to Santa Claus asking him why he never brought me a dog for Christmas, and instead of throwing it onto the fire, I sent it to him instead. I suppose I've always been a little more proactive in getting what I want than I'm willing to let on. Perhaps it's the only child syndrome.

The point is, I don't know what I'll eventually decide to do with this. I am angry at you, that much is for certain. You betrayed me, in the worst way imaginable, and I don't know how I'm ever going to move past what you did. When Snape called me a girl, it hurt, because he knew that his words meant more than what they sounded like. It hurt me a lot, but it was just Snape. He was just a guy that I could ignore, because I didn't care about him. He used my identity as a weapon, but it's hard to be angry at someone that means less than nothing to you.

You wanted revenge for what he said, though, without talking to me first to see if I even wanted that. You didn't actually care whether or not Snape hurt me, you just wanted an excuse to get back at him. For what, I'm not entirely sure, but I know that it wasn't really about me. You used my identity as a weapon, just like he did, but oh was it so much worse. He was just trying to get under my skin, but you risked putting my life in irreversible danger to the point where I had no choice but to leave. I still can't figure out why you thought that was okay, but you hurt me in the same way that Snape did, except for the fact that I cared about you. I loved you. I was willing to devote my entire life to you, which is almost laughable now. I was an idiot. A stupid teenager who just got too obsessed with you and the insane little world that you lived in. I don't know why I bothered, but I hope it was worth it. I hope the stupid prank was worth it.

I don't know when I'll see you again. I'm sure I will eventually, I don't even think I can quite handle the thought of living the rest of my life without seeing your face again. Not because I still love you, because I don't, but because it feels too weird to know that the kid I spent my whole teenage-hood with is just going to disappear from my life without a trace. I know that's not going to happen, but I don't know what I'll feel when we do eventually see each other again. I don't know if I'll ever forgive you, and I don't know if we'll ever be friends again.

I wish that didn't make me want to curl up into a ball and cry for hours, but I suppose I wouldn't be human if it didn't. Then again, I'm not exactly human, am I? You of all people are perfectly aware of that. I'm not sure why I sound so calm. I'm angry, and I want to sound as angry as I feel but if that happened, this letter would probably just be a shredded mess of black scribbles. I just wish you hadn't ruined everything. I wish you hadn't thrown away everything we fought for. Did none of that matter to you? The years of hiding who we were, the relief when we finally allowed ourselves to hold hands, to kiss each other, to date each other? Was that all a lie?

When did you stop caring about me, Sirius? When did I become just another pawn in the revenge plan you have against everyone who hurt you?

I want to say that I hate you, but I'm not even sure how true that is, because it's so hard to hate someone who shaped so many of your good memories, but everyone has a limit. I just wish that you had never reached it. I'm not saying I don't want to go to this village, even if I am terrified of what's going to happen, but I wish we could have done this together. I could have taken you with me. We would have been happy together, Padfoot.

You may have tried to ruin my life, but all you did was make yours a living misery. Then again, what's new? You always did make things unnecessarily hard for yourself, even at the expense of your friends' safety.