FOUR. GREY WISP OF MEMORY
( I'm addicted to your love,
that's the issue
you're my dream girl )
EARLY SEPTEMBER 1981
DEAREST MAR,
I spoke to Peter. He wore a mask, Mar, I could see it. But it only took five minutes of interrogation until he was crumbling, sobbing in my arms as if he was scared of the future, past, and present. His eyes were weary, as though he had seen all that he shouldn't have.
They say there's a traitor in the order, 'Lene, and it has brought the depths of chaos onto us. I do not know how someone could so easily turn their backs on something that has been fuelled by our time and energy, betraying the very people who have brought them love and joy.
I fear it is Peter.
Sirius suspected that it was Remus, because of his Lycanthropy, but I instantly shut down the idea; how could Sirius even fathom that the person who had nurtured him with love ever since he was eleven could do such a thing? And all because of something that he could not control?
That was probably why Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor, rather than Ravenclaw.
For Merlin's sake, he should think about something more probable than blame the first person he sees. I'm so tired of seeing Remus being discriminated against; because he has been doing his part. He has been working tirelessly in the order, day and night, but is unappreciated by most of its members, simply because he grows a hide when the moon rises.
It is disgusting how our society works - they say they want change when they continue treating people like Remus as if they're the true monsters rather than focusing their energy on Voldemort.
Everything is so chaotic, Mars. So chaotic without your presence. I wish you could come back to me. You would put Sirius in his place, he listens to you as if you were his sister rather than me. Your hot-headed demeanor and your talent at winning arguments would come to use here, and make everyone think rationally.
You were the glue of our group, making everyone smile and cheer up, yet discussing serious topics of conversation exactly when needed. The way your eyes would glimmer with knowledge and your lips would curl up when you were thinking - I miss that.
I miss all of you.
It feels like taboo, talking about you in the past tense.
As if you were never here, dissolving into the humid air as though you were the thick, black smoke emitted from cigarettes - only a thin, grey wisp of memory remaining.
Everyone seems to forget about you.
But I cannot.
Your memory is embedded in my feverish mind, your pale lips, the melodious notes of your laughter, your soft dimples - all driving me into sheer and utter madness.
When Regulus died, the earthen soil grasping onto him as if he were a nymph rather than a human, you were the one who comforted me, pulling me into your warm embrace, stroking my hair, and whispering sweet nothings.
You'd held me close to you while I sobbed, calming me down slowly as I could hear your heartbeat echo into my mind, your scent like the silent pitter-patter of the rain, butterbeer, and sandalwood.
But now that you're gone, who's going to comfort me?
I lock myself in my room, using a pillow to replace the empty void in my heart, my blankets growing crisp with dry tears.
You will always be in my heart, in my mind,
And in your grave.
FOREVER AND
ALWAYS YOURS,
CARINA LYRA BLACK