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Dear Sirius,
You lied to me.
When you kissed me, I told you I was worried. I told you I knew there was no way I could deal with you leaving if we were together. It would be hard enough just seeing you as a friend.
You looked right into my eyes and said you would never leave.
I believed in you.
Yet, here I am. Alone.
I don’t know what to do alone. I think maybe I could manage if Lily and James were here. But they’re not. And neither are you.
They tell me it’s all your fault. I find it hard to believe. But it all points to you.
It doesn’t sit right with me. It’s not the Sirius I knew and loved. The Sirius who would give his life for James without asking . How could you turn them in? Not even Peter managed to escape.
And worst of all, you left me behind. I wish you would’ve come back to the flat. Killed me, too. It would’ve hurt less.
I wish I could… hope you were suffering in Azkaban. Merlin knows I think you deserve it. But I can’t. After all this, all you’ve done, I still catch myself wishing you are well.
It has no logic. And I can’t voice this outloud. They would think I’m even crazier than they already think I am.
The werewolf and the killer. We would give a good book. A good movie, too, if it were up to your looks.
Damn you, Sirius Black. Years and years numb, unable to feel a thing. Yet, when I thought about your reaction to our movie, I smiled. You shouldn’t have this kind of power over me still.
Fun fact for you. Do you know when was the last time I cried? When Harry was born. A happy cry, of course. A flame of happiness amid the war, how could I not cry?
But since then… I couldn’t.
When you left me, when… all of that happened, it felt wrong not to cry. But it was like I couldn’t feel anything anymore. I couldn’t feel sad. I couldn’t feel happy either, and there were a few moments here and there that felt appropriate to be happy, but… nothing.
Dumbledore was worried about me, can you believe it? I mean, not about my physical welfare, he couldn’t care less about that, my emotional. He set me up with some other werewolf. I could do with a job, but he thought a boyfriend might be better.
He had black hair. Long, curly.
I stayed about 10 minutes in the restaurant, and I left. It was too much. Even his voice, Sirius.
I got back home, and somehow I found that goddamn note you left me. The one you wrote in 7th year.
“Moony, please meet me at Three Broomsticks saturday, 7-ish pm? P.S. it’s a date. Please.”
Why I haven’t thrown that away, it’s beyond me. It’s just memories now. Should be bad memories, but I guess nothing can ever really blur the image I have of you. Not even…
God, Sirius, why??
I miss you so much. I can’t tell anyone how much, but I do. I need you by my side. I just wanted you sleeping next to me. Is that a horrible thought? To want to hug and kiss an assas murd kille you.
Everyday, all I want is to wake up and read in The Prophet you’re innocent. I want you to wake me up and tell me it was all just a bad dream.
It isn’t, though. I checked.
In checking, I also verified one thing I already knew: when you have too many scars, people never notice if there’s a new one, even if it’s not a full moon.
You noticed before. You’d notice it again.
I need you more than I care to admit. Tonight more than ever. Which is just… weird. It’s not a special date or anything. It just hit harder.
Without you, I feel… empty. Lifeless, but not dead. I feel like I don’t exist.
Please, come back.
Please, be innocent.
Forever yours,
Moony.