Destinies Collide

Ink, Parchment and Blood

A/N: Me: I might take a break.

Also me: churns out this chapter faster than I've written the last five

I give up on planning what to write, I'm obviously at my muse's mercy.

WARNING: The scenes in between the letters are all set on the day of the will reading, as you'll notice, but they're going back and forth in time instead of being chronological. (this is just in case it wasn't 100% clear)

Also, I realised I made a mistake in the whole "Harry hides in an alley behind a dumpster" scene because I forgot to look it up, but now that I did it on a whim I learned that "garbage alleys" are not a London thing, so I had to rewrite that part. If you don't feel like going back to reread, all I changed is that he runs into the Leicester Square Station instead and gets on a train.

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His blood starts boiling when he hears the crash. It makes him turn around immediately, telling the reporter and her basted photographer to get away from his son, eyes searching Harry over for injuries as he crouches in front of him. There's no bleeding, and his head didn't hit the stairs so there's no concussion, but he's staring fixedly at something and when he follows Harry's gaze, all he finds is broken glass around the now empty silver base of the will recording sphere. So that's what made that sound.

Someone yells something from the crowd forming around them, most likely a result of Skeeter's loud questions and exclamations of his name – something she'd made sure anyone who reads the Prophet would recognise – and Harry's as well. He ignores them all, cursing himself for not having arranged for someone to apparate them out of the door of the bank like they'd done after the blood adoption, and becoming even more upset for letting Dumbledore and McGonagall's questions about his suitability as a guardian get to him enough that he forgot to ask Harry to disguise himself again.

Instead of wallowing in the guilt, he follows his son's request to leave and takes his hand, pulling him along toward the Leaky Cauldron where they'll be able to floo back home. The crowd is only growing, no doubt due to the commotion getting the attention of those browsing the stores, and he tightens his grip as they weave through the crowd. "Almos there," he tells his son, already spotting the open archway to the pub, where two witches have just let themselves in.

~

Dear Moony,

I know you're probably beating yourself up right about now, so stop that. You're one of my best friends, never doubt that, and whatever happened wasn't your fault. We all made a choice, and we have to live with it- or not, I guess, if you're reading this.

What my tactless husband means to say is that you're smart, so don't be stupid enough to blame yourself for a war that's been raging since before we were born. I don't know when you'll read this, since you already left for another assignment and we'll have to cut all contact for a while. I hope you don't blame us for the coices we've made, but we both love you too much to put you in even more danger than you're already in.

Yeah mate, you're already risking your hide with visiting all those packs, we're not about to send even more enemies after you. We have a plan (Lily made it, not me, so you know it's a good one!) but we can't tell you what it is, I guess if you never get this letter it must have worked. If you're reading this, though... I'm sorry.

We are sorry, but not for not including you in the plans. We wanted to protect you, you're doing enough as it is, but never think it was because we don't trust you, because we do. Thank you, Remus, for being a good friend. I hope you never get to read this, but if you do, I want you to know that you mean a lot to us, and I'm glad to have met you.