Mischief Managed

48: I Shall Not Live in Vain

Dear Sirius,

    It's unfair how feelings never seem to die. It's cruel how your emotions cling to your skin, rubbed raw from years of tears, of shouts and laughs. I wish you could choose what feelings to hold and which ones to release.

    I can't, of course, but maybe that's our minds' way of guiding us- of hinting who we should follow, who we should stay with. Of telling us who's meant to be in our lives.

    If you were still here, you wouldn't believe what I got in the mail yesterday. I can picture your expression now. Your mouth dropping in perfect staged shock, your grey eyes beginning to sharpen as your mind races with frenzied, knotted thoughts.

    My mother wrote me a letter. She told me about her life in New York- my first update in two years- and talked about her musical growth, her new friends, one of whom has a daughter my age who plays viola. I wasn't sure how much of that I wanted to hear, but I kept reading.

    The point of her letter, she revealed, was to invite me to go out for tea with her next week, since she's stopping back in London for a concert. Not solely for me, but apparently I make a good side dish while she focuses on her rising musical career.

    I don't know Sirius, I don't know what to think. When she left, six years ago now, I wasn't even of Age yet, and she left anyway. She left me alone with the entire future of the Wizarding World looming in front of me, and, Merlin, I still can't figure out how she could do that. I don't know if I've forgiven her yet. To be honest, I try not to think about her. It's not difficult now that I have so much other tragedy.

    I think, if you were here, you would tell me to ignore her. To stay in Paris. That, if she really cared about me, she would come visit me herself. But I don't think I can do that. I need to see her, Sirius, I need to see if there's any bit of my mother, of my father, left in her.

    Because I still have so much love for her, even after what she did. So, I'm contacting Remus tonight. Hopefully I can stay with him, and I'll meet my mother in a few days.

    Then, I'll know if I can forgive her. I can draw up one more anchor and, by Merlin's blessing, be back in Paris with a heart significantly clearer than the black one beating now.

                                    Love,

Bree

❋ ❋ ❋ ❋

Sirius sat in his cell. He had transformed, so he lay curled atop Azkaban's cold floor, his legs curled tightly around his body so he could keep warm. He didn't enjoy staying in his Animagi form for long periods like this, but staying a dog was infinitely preferable to the horrible headaches he got whenever he was in human form.

Today was the same as every day he could remember on the island. The same as every day to come. Today was...he lifted his head and narrowed his dark eyes at the lines of white claw marks on the wall.

Today was January 17th. At least that explained the cold.

A shiver ran through his body, and he curled in on himself even tighter. There was little point, it seemed, in staying alive, but Sirius convinced himself that people outside still needed him. Harry needed him. Remus needed him. Bree needed him.

A tiny whimper escaped him at the thought of her.

A loud, insane cackle sounded from the cell next to him.

Where was she? he wondered. Where was Bree Convelo on January 17th?

As Sirius shivered again, all he could hope was that she was in some place better than here. Even if he could never see her again.