Mischief Managed

45: Forward

Dear Sirius,

    I hope you don't interpret my silence as dislike; it's anything but. I want to tell you everything, I want to talk to you for hours- I want to wrap my arms around you and never let go.

    But I can't do any of those things.

    Instead, I'm holed up in this room determined to finish at least one whole letter for you. I've found that I have so much to say I can't form a single word.

    So, I'll just offer you these three. The words that won't ever change. The words I never want you to forget: I love you.

                                    Bree

❋ ❋ ❋ ❋

The apartment was getting lonelier by the hour, and the emptiness, the quiet, was becoming palpable. At night, I laid awake for hours, waiting for Sirius's heavy breathing to lull me to sleep as shivered underneath the blankets that were cold without his warmth.

Every morning, my heart would break again when I'd wake up alone. Eat breakfast alone. Dress for a day that I would spend entirely alone. I didn't have a job yet- after Hogwarts, the Order had been my job. Money was beginning to run tight, and I tried desperately to ignore that fact each time I dug into my purse.

I talked to Dylan and Remus more often since the two of them were relentless in their attempts to help me heal with frequent coffees and sweets.

It took me a few days to pick up my violin again. Just looking at the instrument brought the loud, joyful music I had last played rushing to my ears, and the thought of the happiness that I had felt and lost was too much to bear.

And it still was. I didn't stop thinking of everyone who I had lost, and the passing of time did nothing to wash away the pain. Instead, I could feel myself adjusting to it: learning to cope with the people and the dreams that had been taken from me. Accepting that I had to continue life with only half a heart.

❋   ❋   ❋   ❋

Dear Sirius,

    I'm so furious. I think I'm angry enough for the two of us. That...cow...Barty Crouch...who does he think he is? What right does he have, what wisdom have been possibly been revealed to him so that he just 'knows' you're guilty? Where in the bloody hell is any justice?

    I hate Crouch. I equal him to the dirt so filthy it sticks to the bottom of a rubbish bin. And that's what he is- rubbish. That man is absolute rubbish, and I'll forever despise him for what he did to you. For keeping me away from you- for keeping me from telling you the things every human deserves to hear.

    I'm sorry. I'm sure my vents aren't something you would want to read-and, Merlin, there's been much worse. Remus is considering purchasing tubs of soap to stop the non-stop profanity from permanently staining my mouth. I argue it's too late.

                                    Bree

   

❋   ❋   ❋   ❋

Dear Sirius,

    I've been thinking a lot lately. The present is still too painful for me to dwell on for any substantial amount of time, so I'm looking to the past. The way past: the eleven-year-old-us past.

    I remember the first time I saw you. You and James swaggered into our train compartment, and I'm surprised your egos managed to squeeze into one seat. I thought, although I'd never admit it, that you were rather good-looking, (at least that much never changed).