black coffee | remus lupin [2]

30. eight little rules

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

September 1st 1978

Dear Claudia,

It's been a month now. I know I haven't been writing to you for a few days, and I'm sorry. Not that I even know if you read these letters or even get them, but I'm still sorry.

I went to the manor a few days ago to find you. You weren't home I suppose, or maybe you aren't even staying there. I don't actually know where you are, but I went there anyways. Your grandmother opened the door and told me to leave. I did just that, but not because she told me but because I knew you weren't there.

Come back home, my love. I miss you in ways I can't even explain.

Yours,

Remus Lupin

Claudia took a shaky breath, putting down what must've been the tenth of the abundance of unread letters she had in that random wooden drawer in her room. This one was the oldest she had read so far, for in the beginning she couldn't read a single letter without bursting into tears.

In fact, she had never read the very first letter Remus had sent her just a day after she had left on August 1st all that time ago. And she had no plans on doing so, for she knew that that would be the most painful letter of all.

She was wrong.

She picked up another letter, opened it up and got to reading with shaky hands gripping onto the parchment.

August 1st 1979

Dear Claudia,

This is what is supposed to be my final letter to you. At least that's what I told Inez. I'm not sure if that's the truth, but only time will tell.

It's been a full year today since I last saw you. The longest year of my life. I dreaded this day like none other, because I knew all I would be able to think about was you. I was right about that in every way, not just because I miss you like hell but also because today was the day I found out about your marriage.

I don't wish to hurt you or invade into your life by saying this, but surely you must know it hurts to know that you've moved on. Especially since I haven't. Especially, honestly, since I can't even seem to do so in the first place.

But I hope you're happy. That's all I have ever wanted, and I know you know that. I hope he treats you well. I hope you love him, but not as much as you loved me even if that's a shitty thing of me to say. I hope you're okay.

I wish it could've been you and I. Maybe it is in another universe. Maybe not. I don't know. But what I do know is that I can't stop thinking about you, and about what could've been.

I wish I was lucky enough to have the privilege of marrying you. I hope he knows how lucky he is.

I also wish we got to have a baby just like we once talked about. We'd call her Blossom. Or something dull if it was a boy since neither of us knew what the name of him would be. I kind of hate writing this down and knowing that there's a slight chance you'll read it, because this is completely embarrassing to even think about now that it's been a year and you're married, but I honestly don't care.