100 Letters Telling You I Love You

Letter 1: From Dorcas to Marlene (July 2, 1978)

Dearest Marlene,

I sat down to write this, fully expecting words to flow like the river in spring, but even now, with my quill in hand, I falter. How do I put into ink what you’ve done to my heart?

There are days when I can still hear the echoes of Hogwarts’ halls, laughter mingling with footsteps, the faint whispers of spells being practised. But louder than all of that is the memory of you—brilliant, unapologetically wild, and utterly magnetic. You made those stone walls feel alive in a way nothing else could.

Now, sitting here, far from that familiar castle, I can only think of how empty everything feels without you by my side. The world is vast and beautiful, yes, but it lacks the fire that only you bring. I know this is only the beginning of our story, but I can’t help but ache for you in the quiet moments.

Marlene, you are not a fleeting moment of joy. You are the essence of everything I hold dear, the light I search for even in the darkest times. And though I fear the shadow of war encroaching upon us, I find strength in the thought of you—of us.

I’ll write again soon, my love. Please, take care of yourself.

Yours, always,
Dorcas

Letter 2: From Marlene to Dorcas (July 4, 1978)

Dorcas, you bloody poet,

I read your letter twice, and then a third time because, honestly, I couldn’t believe someone like you could feel that way about someone like me. It’s not that I don’t know I’m great—I mean, I am —but you make me feel like I’m more than I ever thought I could be.

The whole bit about me being your fire or whatever? Sweet Merlin, you’re setting the standard so high I’ll have to start carrying a bloody ladder just to keep up. You’re ridiculous, and I love it. I love you .

And listen, I know the world’s a mess right now. I see it every day, feel it creeping closer, but if I start thinking too much about all that, I’ll spiral. So instead, I think about you. About your stupid perfect handwriting and the way you talk like you’ve swallowed a library full of romance novels. About the way you look at me like I’m the only person in the room, even when I’ve just said something daft.

Anyway, I don’t know how to end these things. Just—don’t stop writing me, okay? I need your letters more than I care to admit.

Yours, in every way that counts,
Marlene

Letter 3: From Dorcas to Marlene (July 15, 1978)

My dearest, most maddening Marlene,

You always know just how to make me laugh and cry all at once. There’s something so achingly raw about your words; they cut straight to my heart and stay there, lodged like a splinter I don’t want to remove.

I dreamt of you last night. We were walking along the cliffs near your family’s cottage, the wind tangling your hair as you laughed. It felt so real that when I woke, the ache of your absence hit me harder than I’d expected.

I know you’ll roll your eyes at this, but I need you to hear it anyway: You are not just a person to me. You are my anchor, my harbour in a storm that threatens to tear everything apart. In this world that feels like it’s cracking at the seams, you remind me why it’s worth holding on.

Write to me soon, love. I miss you more than words can say.

Forever yours,
Dorcas

Letter 4: From Marlene to Dorcas (July 17, 1978)

Dorcas, my sunbeam,

You dreamed about me? Cute. I’ve been dreaming about you too, but let’s just say my dreams aren’t quite as... picturesque as yours. (Let’s keep this PG for now, yeah? Not sure whose gonna go snooping through these…)

Godric, I miss you. I miss the way you tilt your head when you’re thinking about something serious, like whether it’s worth hexing Sirius Black for calling you “Meadow Muffin.” I miss the way you make even the most mundane things feel sacred—like buttering toast or tying your shoes.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, about holding on. You know I’m not great with all that deep, poetic stuff, but you’re right. You’re so bloody right it hurts. Sometimes it feels like we’re just trying to keep our heads above water, but having you—knowing you’re out there, loving me—it makes it bearable. More than that, really. It makes it worth it.

I don’t want to go all sappy on you (you’re already the queen of that), but I’ll say this: You’re my lighthouse, Dory. My constant. And I’ll keep swimming toward you, no matter how rough the sea gets.

All my love,
Marlene

Letter 5: From Dorcas to Marlene (August 1, 1978)

My Marlene,

There are nights when I wake from dreams I don’t remember, my heart racing, my hands trembling as though I’ve been clutching at something that slipped away. And then I think of you, and the ache softens, though it never fully leaves.

I saw a child today while on an errand—just a little girl, no older than five. She smiled at me with this unbridled joy, her whole face lit up, and I couldn’t stop thinking: Does she know what kind of world she’s in? Will she grow up with this war hanging over her head like a storm cloud?

It terrifies me, Marlene. Not just the fighting, the fear, the hatred, but the thought that we might not make it through. That this might end before it’s had a chance to truly begin. I want so much for us—for quiet mornings in a cottage by the sea, for lazy afternoons in your arms, for all the things they say love is supposed to be. But I can’t stop wondering if love is enough to keep us safe.

Tell me I’m not being foolish. Tell me this world is still worth fighting for.

With all my heart,
Dorcas

Letter 6: From Marlene to Dorcas (August 3, 1978)

Dorcas, my eternal worrier,

You’re not foolish. You’re human. And if the world had a shred of sense, it’d take one look at you and lay down its arms because nothing worth fighting for should scare someone like you.

But, yeah, I get it. Sometimes it feels like we’re just patching up holes in a sinking ship. Every time I read the Prophet, I think about chucking it out the window. The thing is, though, you make me want to keep patching. You make me want to fight until the water’s up to my neck and then some.

We’re in this together, yeah? You and me. No matter what. And if we only get a sliver of the life we want, well, I’ll spend every second of it making sure you know how loved you are. That’s a promise.

Now, stop fretting and write me something sappy again. I like it when you make me cry in the good way.

Yours, always,
Marlene

Letter 7: From Dorcas to Marlene (September 10, 1978)

My light, my love,

I’ve thought a lot about your last letter, about what you said— You make me want to fight until the water’s up to my neck and then some. It stayed with me, like the echo of a song I can’t quite place. You’ve always been braver than me, Marlene, though you’d never admit it.

The work I’ve been doing with the Order… it’s harder than I imagined. Not just the missions but the weight of knowing how fragile everything is. How easily it can all be taken away. I see it in the faces of the people we’re trying to protect—fear, desperation, hope flickering like a candle in a storm.

But then I think of you. I think of the way your laugh cuts through the darkest moments, the way you carry yourself like the world could never break you. I cling to that. I cling to you.

Promise me you’ll be careful. Promise me you’ll let me carry some of that weight when it gets too heavy. We’re stronger together, remember?

With all my love,
Dorcas

Letter 8: From Marlene to Dorcas (September 12, 1978)

Dory, my heart,

You think I’m brave? Sweetheart, I’m a mess. You’d laugh if you saw me right now—ink all over my hands, hair a disaster, desk buried in scraps of parchment. But when you say things like that, it makes me feel like I could take on the whole bloody world and win.

I can’t promise I’ll always be careful. You know me—I jump in headfirst and sort out the mess later. But I’ll promise you this: I won’t leave you. Not willingly, not ever.

I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately. About what we’re building, even in the middle of all this chaos. It’s not perfect, but it’s ours, and that’s enough for me. You’re enough for me. Hell, you’re more than enough—you’re everything.

Don’t forget that, yeah?

Forever yours,
Marlene

Letter 9: From Dorcas to Marlene (October 5, 1978)

My dearest Marlene,

I killed someone yesterday.

I keep replaying it in my mind—the flash of green light, the way their body crumpled like a marionette with its strings cut. It was them or me, I know that, but it doesn’t make it easier to bear.

I didn’t sleep last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw their face. And then I thought of you, and it only made the guilt worse. What kind of person am I, Marlene? What kind of world is this, where love and violence exist so closely together?

I need you to tell me it’s going to be okay. Even if it’s a lie.

Yours, in grief and love,
Dorcas

Letter 10: From Marlene to Dorcas (October 8, 1978)

Dory, my love,

It’s not a lie—it will be okay. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. Because if anyone can carry this kind of weight and still find a way to keep going, it’s you.

You’re not a bad person for surviving. You’re not a bad person for fighting back. This world doesn’t deserve you, but it sure as hell needs you. I need you.

If you ever feel like it’s too much, you let me carry it with you, yeah? That’s what we do for each other. We keep going, even when it feels impossible. And when we can’t, we hold each other until we can.

I’m so proud of you. Not for what you did, but for who you are.

Always,
Marlene

Letter 11: From Dorcas to Marlene (November 3, 1978)

My love,

The flat feels so hollow without you. It’s only been two days, but I swear the walls are colder, the light dimmer. I left the kitchen light on last night because the silence unnerved me—how ridiculous is that?

I went into your closet this morning, looking for one of your jumpers. Instead, I found the note you left tucked inside my favourite pair of boots. You always know how to make me smile, even from miles away. It’s unfair, really, how you’ve ruined me for anything less than this, this maddening, beautiful chaos we call love.

But I can’t stop worrying about you, Marlene. I know what you’re doing is important, but every time you’re out there, it feels like the world is balancing on the edge of a knife. Promise me you’ll come home, yeah? Promise me that when this is over, we’ll laugh about how dramatic I’m being, and you’ll tease me for fussing too much.

Come back to me soon. The flat is too empty without your laugh, without your voice reminding me it’s okay to hope.

Yours, forever,
Dorcas

Letter 12: From Marlene to Dorcas (November 5, 1978)

Dory,

You found the note, huh? Cute. I knew you’d be nosy enough to go looking. And as for stealing my jumpers—well, they look better on you anyway, so I’ll allow it.

I’m fine. I swear. You’d laugh if you saw me right now, stuffing my face with whatever chocolate I nicked from Moody’s stash. (He hasn’t noticed yet, but when he does, I’ll just blame Sirius.) The mission’s been quiet so far—just a lot of waiting around and whispering in shadows.

But I miss you. I miss the way you hum when you’re making tea, the way you wrinkle your nose when I tease you. I even miss the way you nag me about leaving my boots by the door.

I promise I’ll come home, yeah? But only if you promise me something in return: never stop being my reason. The reason I fight, the reason I come back in one piece. You’re the only thing that makes all this madness worth it.

Love you. Miss you. Steal another one of my jumpers if you want—I won’t complain.

Yours, always,
Marlene

Letter 13: From Dorcas to Marlene (December 22, 1978)

Marlene, my reckless, beautiful idiot,

I didn’t sleep last night. Moody came by the flat, looking grim as ever, and told me what happened on your mission. You’re fine, he says. Just a few bruises, a couple of scrapes. But you didn’t write to me, and that’s worse than all of it.

Do you have any idea what it does to me, imagining you out there, hurt and alone? You’re my whole heart, Marlene, and when you don’t write, it feels like part of me is missing.

The flat smells like cinnamon. I baked biscuits this morning to distract myself, but I burned the first batch because I kept looking at the door, hoping you’d walk in. It’s stupid, I know. You’ll come back when you’re ready, but I can’t help wanting you here now, safe and in my arms.

Please, write back as soon as you can. Or better yet, come home and tell me to my face that I’m being a dramatic fool. I’ll take the teasing if it means I get to see you.

All my love,
Dorcas

Letter 14: From Marlene to Dorcas (December 24, 1978)

Dory, my sunbeam,

I’m sorry. I should’ve written sooner. I knew Moody would run his mouth, and I should’ve known you’d worry yourself sick. I hate that I put that weight on you.

I’m fine. Really. The bruises are nothing—makes me look tougher than I am, to be honest. The mission went sideways, but we got the job done, and now I’m back at HQ with a mug of something warm and an overwhelming need to be home. With you.

I’ll be back tomorrow, yeah? Christmas morning, just in time to open presents and kiss you under the mistletoe I know you’ve hung up. (Don’t deny it; you’re as predictable as you are perfect.)

Until then, try not to burn down the flat with your baking experiments. I love you too much to deal with replacing the curtains.

Yours, in every way that matters,
Marlene

Letter 15: From Dorcas to Marlene (January 5, 1979)

My love,

Do you remember New Year’s Eve? The two of us, wrapped in that absurdly soft blanket your mum sent, sharing the tiniest bottle of champagne because we forgot to buy more? I keep replaying that night in my head—the way you leaned into me as the fireworks went off, your breath warm against my neck as you whispered, “Here’s to another year of making you put up with me.”

I wanted to tell you then, but the words felt too small: I don’t just put up with you, Marlene. I choose you, every day, every moment. Even in this world that seems hellbent on tearing itself apart, I’d choose you a thousand times over.

You fell asleep before midnight, by the way. Did I mention that? Drooling on my shoulder, looking impossibly peaceful. I didn’t wake you. It felt like the most perfect way to start the year—holding you, knowing that even in the midst of chaos, there’s still this. Still us.

Yours, in every year to come,
Dorcas

Letter 16: From Marlene to Dorcas (February 2, 1979)

Dory,

I’m starting to think the Order hates us. First they send me to that freezing dive in Yorkshire, now they’ve sent you to Merlin-knows-where without so much as a proper explanation. It’s driving me mad, sitting here, waiting, not knowing if you’re safe.

The flat feels empty without you. I caught myself talking to the bloody kettle this morning because it’s too quiet. (Don’t laugh. Or do, but wait until you’re back so I can hear it.)

I’ve been doing that thing you hate, where I bite my nails until they’re a mess. It’s ridiculous, I know, but I can’t help it. You always have this way of grounding me, of making everything feel just a little less terrifying. Without you here, it’s like I’m spinning in a thousand directions.

Write to me when you can, yeah? Let me know you’re okay. And if you come back in one piece, I promise I’ll stop nagging you about leaving your books all over the flat. (For a week. Maybe.)

Yours, in worry and love,
Marlene

Letter 17: From Dorcas to Marlene (February 6, 1979)

My dearest Marlene,

I’m safe. Tired, sore, and possibly nursing the worst cup of tea I’ve ever brewed, but safe. Thank you for worrying about me, even if it makes me ache knowing I caused you that kind of stress. I hate being away from you, too, more than I can put into words.

The mission went as well as it could, I suppose. We recovered what we were sent for, and no one died this time. Small victories, right? But I can’t stop thinking about the faces of the people we left behind, the ones we couldn’t save.

I’ll be home soon, love. And when I get there, I expect you to lecture me about the state of the flat and then kiss me senseless until I forget why I ever left. Deal?

Until then, stay safe. I love you more than words can say, and I’ll carry that love with me until I’m back where I belong—with you.

All my heart,
Dorcas

Letter 18: From Marlene to Dorcas (February 14, 1979)

Dory, my Valentine,

You’re home now, so I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe it’s because you’re asleep in our bed, looking like the world hasn’t been slowly trying to eat us alive. Maybe it’s because I can’t say all of this out loud without sounding like a lovesick fool.

You’re it for me, you know that? My reason. My anchor. The one thing that makes this ridiculous fight feel like it’s worth it.

I bought you flowers today. They’re rubbish—half-wilted tulips from the corner shop—but they made me think of you, so I brought them home. They’re on the table now, next to that terrible lamp you insisted on keeping.

When you wake up, remind me to tell you about the old wizard I met in Diagon Alley today. He gave me a charm for “luck and love,” and I didn’t have the heart to tell him I don’t need luck—I’ve already got everything I could possibly want.

Yours, in love and stolen moments,
Marlene

Letter 19: From Dorcas to Marlene (February 16, 1979)

My impossible, infuriating love,

Tulips, huh? Half-wilted or not, they’re beautiful, and so are you. You keep surprising me, Marlene—just when I think I’ve figured out all the ways you love me, you go and do something like this.

I know things have been hard lately. The missions, the nights apart, the constant fear lurking in the back of our minds. But when I look at you, I see something bigger than all of it. I see the life we’re building, the love that refuses to be snuffed out, no matter how dark it gets.

Thank you for the flowers. Thank you for being my light when everything else feels dim. And thank you, most of all, for choosing me, over and over again, even when I’m a pain in the arse.

Yours, today and always,
Dorcas

Letter 20: From Dorcas to Marlene (March 18, 1979)

My stubborn, infuriating Marlene,

You scared me tonight. That curse came so close, too close, and the way you laughed it off afterwards made me want to shake you. Do you even realize how much I have to lose?

I know you think you’re invincible, that nothing can touch you. And maybe that’s what makes you so bloody brilliant, but it’s also what terrifies me. I’ve watched people I care about slip through my fingers like sand, and I can’t— I won’t —let that happen to you.

When you read this, you’ll probably roll your eyes and call me dramatic again. Fine. Be dramatic right back at me if you must. But promise me, Marlene. Promise me you’ll start being careful, if only for my sake. I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to.

Yours, no matter how infuriating your recklessness becomes,
Dorcas

Letter 21: From Marlene to Dorcas (March 20, 1979)

Dory, my heart,

You’re right. I do think I’m invincible sometimes, and maybe that’s stupid. But you’re wrong about one thing: it’s not because I think nothing can touch me. It’s because I know if I stop for even a second to think about the risks, the danger, the reality of all this, I’ll freeze.

I’m not afraid of dying, Dory. I’m afraid of leaving you behind. And maybe that’s why I fight the way I do, with everything I have—because if I don’t, the world might take you from me, and I can’t let that happen.

I promise I’ll try to be more careful. For you. For us. Because, Merlin help me, I love you more than anything in this miserable, broken world. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep us both standing.

Always yours,
Marlene

Letter 22: From Marlene to Dorcas (April 2, 1979)

Happy birthday, you brilliant, infuriating, perfect woman,

You thought I forgot, didn’t you? Admit it. You came home from that meeting looking all grumpy, and the second you saw the cake—yes, my cake, the one I slaved over—you lit up like a bloody Lumos charm.

It’s a miracle the flat’s still standing, honestly. I’m rubbish at baking, but for you, I’d set the whole kitchen on fire if it meant seeing you smile like that again. You deserve more than cake, though. You deserve peace, joy, a world where you don’t have to keep looking over your shoulder.

I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night, about wondering if any of this is worth it. I don’t have the answers, Dory. But I do know this: you’re worth it. A thousand wars, a thousand sleepless nights, and I’d still choose you. Always.

Now stop reading this and come let me feed you more cake before you disappear on another mission.

Yours, forever and ever, no matter how old and shrivelled up you get,
Marlene

Letter 23: From Dorcas to Marlene (April 3, 1979)

My sweet Marlene,

You outdid yourself yesterday. That cake—well, it tasted like burnt sugar and chaos, but it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Because you made it. Because you made me feel like the only person in the world who mattered.

You always do that. You make me believe in a world where birthdays aren’t overshadowed by missions and losses. Where love, messy and complicated as it is, still wins.

I don’t tell you enough how much you mean to me, how much I rely on your stubborn, ridiculous heart to keep mine beating. But I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to show you.

Thank you for making my birthday more than just a date on a calendar. Thank you for being my reason.

Yours, forever and always,
Dorcas

Letter 24: From Dorcas to Marlene (April 6, 1979)

Marlene, my heart,

The raid last night was chaos. It’s like they’re getting smarter, more coordinated, and no matter how fast we move, they’re faster. Every victory feels hollow, every step forward shadowed by what we leave behind.

When I apparated home this morning, I saw you asleep on the couch, one of your awful crime novels draped across your chest. I almost didn’t wake you—I wanted to keep that moment, freeze it in amber, hold onto the sight of you so at peace. But the second I touched your shoulder, you stirred, looked up at me, and smiled like the world wasn’t falling apart.

I don’t know how you do it. How you keep finding pieces of joy in the cracks. You make me believe that even if we can’t save the world, we can save this— us. And that’s enough.

Thank you for being my constant, my safe place, my reminder that there’s still something beautiful worth fighting for.

Forever yours,
Dorcas

Letter 25: From Marlene to Dorcas (April 20, 1979)

Dory, my sunbeam,

I can’t stop thinking about last night. The way your hands trembled when you pulled me into bed, the shadows under your eyes that even sleep couldn’t chase away. You keep trying to carry the weight of this war on your own, and it’s breaking my heart.

You don’t have to be strong all the time, yeah? Let me hold some of it for you. Scream at me, cry, punch a wall if you need to (but not our wall—we can’t afford to patch it up again). Whatever it takes, I’m here.

I love you so much it hurts sometimes. Hurts to see you hurting, to see the toll this war is taking on you. But we’ll get through it. We have to. Because if there’s one thing I’m sure of in this mess of a world, it’s us.

Come home safe tonight. I’ll make your favourite for dinner, and if I burn it, we’ll laugh and have some of those dry crackers I know for a fact are in the back of the kitchen cupboard that you keep telling me to throw away instead.

Always,
Marlene

Letter 26: From Dorcas to Marlene (May 7, 1979)

My love,

I didn’t want to leave this morning. You were still asleep, hair a wild mess, breathing so steady it made the storm inside me quiet for a moment. It took every ounce of willpower I had to pull myself away.

The mission today was worse than usual. There was a family—parents, two kids, one barely out of nappies. We didn’t get there in time. I keep hearing the mother’s scream in my head, the way she begged us to save her children.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Marlene. I keep telling myself it’s worth it, that every fight we win brings us closer to peace, but it feels so far away. Too far.

When I got home tonight, you were waiting with that ridiculous grin of yours, holding a bottle of wine like it could fix the world. And for a moment, it did. You reminded me why I’m still fighting, why I can’t give up, even when it feels hopeless. You’re my tether, my reason, my everything.

I love you more than words can say. Thank you for being my strength when I have none left.

Yours, in gratitude and love,
Dorcas

Letter 27: From Marlene to Dorcas (May 12, 1979)

Dory,

I saw the headlines this morning. Another attack. Another bloody message scrawled across the ruins, like they’re proud of the destruction they’re causing. I hate it. I hate them.

But most of all, I hate how scared I am every time you walk out that door. Scared that one day, you won’t come back. Scared that this war will take you from me like it’s taken so many others.

I won’t lose you, Dory. I can’t. So promise me you’ll fight as hard as I know you can. Promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to come home, even if it means being selfish for once.

We’ve got plans, remember? That trip to the coast we keep talking about. A garden full of tulips and daisies and that absurd statue you’re convinced will make the neighbours laugh. A life, our life, waiting on the other side of this madness.

I’ll be here, waiting. Always.

Yours, in defiance and hope,
Marlene

Letter 28: From Dorcas to Marlene (June 3, 1979)

Marlene, my wild and beautiful love,

I’ve been sitting here for an hour, trying to find the right words, but nothing feels like enough. I want to tell you everything—the horrors I’ve seen, the doubts that gnaw at me—but when I picture your face, I can’t bring myself to put it all on you. You deserve better than the weight I carry.

But then I remember the way you look at me, like I’m not just some broken soldier in a losing war. Like I’m yours, entirely, flaws and all. And it makes me want to be better. To fight harder. To deserve you.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I know this: I’ll keep fighting, keep coming home to you, because you are my reason. My light in the darkness.

I love you. More than the stars, more than the air in my lungs, more than anything I’ve ever known.

Yours, in love and desperation,
Dorcas

Letter 29: From Dorcas to Marlene (June 16, 1979)

My darling birthday girl,

Happy birthday, love. I thought about writing you something grand and poetic, but everything I put down sounded ridiculous compared to the real thing. So here’s the truth, plain and simple: You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

I wanted to give you more than a letter, but time and war have other plans, so this will have to do until I’m home. But know this—I’m counting down the hours until I can hold you again, until I can remind you, with every kiss, every touch, just how much you mean to me.

You’re not just my love, Marlene. You’re my home, my safe place, my heart. Thank you for being born, for finding me in this mess of a world, for giving me something to believe in.

Yours, in longing and devotion,
Dorcas

Letter 30: From Marlene to Dorcas (June 17, 1979)

Dory,

You missed my bloody birthday. Again. But I’ll let it slide because I know you were off doing something heroic and stupid, probably saving the world while I sat here trying not to hex the wall out of frustration.

You sent flowers, though. I didn’t think you remembered that daisies are my favourite, but you did. They’re sitting on the table now, looking annoyingly cheerful while I sulk. You’ve got me completely wrapped around your finger, you know that? I’m mad at you, but I’d forgive you for anything the second I hear your voice again.

Just come back to me, yeah? That’s all I want. You. Here. Safe.

Yours, even though I’m a tad bit pissy at the moment,
Marlene

Letter 31: From Dorcas to Marlene (July 1, 1979)

Marlene, my firecracker,

I know you’re still mad. You barely looked at me when I left this morning, and it’s tearing me apart. But I can’t let things sit like this—not with the way the world is now. Every goodbye feels too final, too heavy.

I didn’t mean to snap at you last night. It wasn’t fair. You were just trying to help, and I pushed you away because I didn’t want you to see how much I’m struggling. But I can’t do that anymore, can I? Not when you’ve been nothing but patient with me, even when I’m at my worst.

I’m sorry, Marlene. For the way I spoke, for making you feel like you’re anything less than my everything. When I come home tonight, let’s talk. Really talk. No Order business, no distractions—just you and me.

I love you more than words can ever say. Please don’t doubt that, even when I’m too much of a coward to show it properly.

Yours, in apology and love,
Dorcas

Letter 32: From Marlene to Dorcas (July 3, 1979)

Dory,

You’re an idiot, but you’re my idiot, so I guess I’ll forgive you. Eventually.

Look, I get it. This war is a bloody nightmare, and we’re all just doing our best to survive. But you don’t have to go through it alone, yeah? That’s why I’m here. To share the load, even when it feels unbearable. Especially then.

When you came home the other night, all soft apologies and desperate kisses, I wanted to stay mad. Wanted to make you grovel a bit longer. But you looked so wrecked, so tired, and all I could think about was how much I hate seeing you like that.

So here’s the deal: you keep letting me in, and I’ll keep reminding you that you’re not just a soldier in this war. You’re you . My Dory. The woman who steals my books and burns toast and somehow still makes me feel like the luckiest person alive.

We’ll figure this out, yeah? Together. Always.

Yours, in stubborn forgiveness,
Marlene

Letter 33: From Dorcas to Marlene (August 14, 1979)

My love,

I can’t stop thinking about the fight we had last week. It was stupid—something about the flat being a mess, I think—but it felt bigger than that, didn’t it? Like all the stress we’ve been carrying finally cracked open.

I hate fighting with you. Hate the way it leaves this ache in my chest, this gnawing fear that we’re letting the war creep into the one thing that’s supposed to be untouchable: us.

But then you kissed me, all fire and frustration, and I realized something. Even when we’re at odds, even when we’re shouting and slamming doors, there’s still this thread tying us together. Love, stubborn and unshakable, even in the darkest moments.

Let’s promise each other something, yeah? No matter how bad things get, no matter how many times we argue or fall apart, we’ll always come back to this. To us.

I love you, Marlene. Even when you’re impossible. Especially then.

Yours, in love and determination,
Dorcas

Letter 34: From Marlene to Dorcas (September 6, 1979)

Dory,

If you ever leave me another bloody note on the fridge saying, “Gone to check on a lead, back later” without telling me where you’re actually going, I swear I’ll hex you into next week.

Do you even understand what it does to me, not knowing if you’re safe? If you’ll come back? I spent the whole day pacing, imagining the worst, and by the time you finally walked through the door, I was too relieved to even yell at you properly.

I get it, okay? This war doesn’t leave room for caution. But you can’t keep shutting me out like this. I’m not some fragile thing that needs protecting—I’m your partner. Your bloody equal. So start treating me like one, yeah?

I love you, even when you make me want to scream. But don’t push me away again, Dory. I don’t think I could take it.

Yours, in frustration and devotion,
Marlene

Letter 35: From Dorcas to Marlene (September 8, 1979)

Marlene, my storm,

You’re right. I’ve been shutting you out, and it’s not fair. Not to you, not to us.

I think part of me thought I was protecting you by keeping you in the dark. But all I’ve done is hurt you, and that’s the last thing I ever want to do. You’re not fragile, love. You’re the strongest person I know, and I’m an idiot for forgetting that.

I’ll do better. I promise. No more cryptic notes, no more running off without telling you where I’m going. You deserve more than that—you deserve all of me, even the messy, scared parts I’ve been too afraid to share.

Thank you for loving me, even when I’m an idiot. Thank you for calling me out when I need it. And thank you, most of all, for never giving up on me.

Yours, in awe and apology,
Dorcas

Letter 36: From Marlene to Dorcas (October 15, 1979)

Dory, you absolute prat,

How do you manage to get under my skin even when you’re not here? That raid you went on—you told me it was a routine operation. Nothing too dangerous, you said. But then Sirius stopped by, and the look on his face told me otherwise.

I’m not angry. Not really. I’m scared. Scared that one day, I’ll be sitting here writing letters to someone who isn’t there to read them. Scared that this war will take you from me before we’ve had the chance to live the life we keep talking about.

I love you, Dory. And that love isn’t fragile—it’s fierce and stubborn, just like you. So stop trying to protect me by lying. I can handle the truth, even when it’s awful. What I can’t handle is losing you.

Come home safe. I’ll make you that stew you love, and if you complain about the salt again, I swear I’ll hex you.

Yours, 

Marlene

Letter 37: From Dorcas to Marlene (October 18, 1979)

My fierce Marlene,

You’re right. I lied, and it was wrong. I told myself it was to protect you, but the truth is, I was protecting myself—avoiding the look in your eyes when I tell you how close I came to not coming back.

I promise, no more lies. You deserve the truth, no matter how ugly it is. And the truth is, Marlene, I’m scared too. Scared of what this war is turning me into. Scared of what it’s doing to us.

But then I think about you, sitting at home with that stew I absolutely love (and never complain about, thank you very much), and I remember why I keep fighting. It’s for you. For us. For the life we deserve, even if it feels a million miles away.

I love you, Marlene. More than anything. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure I come home to you.

Yours, in truth and love,
Dorcas

Letter 38: From Marlene to Dorcas (November 25, 1979)

Dory,

I saw Lily today. She’s glowing in a way that makes the rest of us look like we’ve been dragged backwards through a hedge. James is convinced it’s because of him, of course, but it’s obvious she’s keeping a secret. A good one, I think. There’s something in her eyes—hope, maybe? Can you even imagine what that feels like anymore?

It made me think about us. About what it would be like to have something normal in the middle of all this madness. A house that isn’t half-packed with emergency kits. A morning where we don’t wake up and check the bloody map for news of attacks. It feels impossible, but then I look at you, and I start to think maybe it isn’t.

Come home soon. I’ve been rereading your book—the one with the overly poetic hero who reminded me of you—and I’ve got a million arguments about why it’s ridiculous.

Yours, in stolen moments and unspoken dreams,
Marlene

Letter 39: From Dorcas to Marlene (December 1, 1979)

Marlene, my heart,

James told me today. He couldn’t keep it in—it practically burst out of him like a spell gone wrong. Lily’s pregnant. I saw her after, and you’re right—she’s absolutely radiant. She hugged me, and I could feel the hope she’s carrying, like it’s big enough for all of us.

It terrifies me, Marlene. This world isn’t safe for a child, not with Voldemort and his followers lurking in every shadow. But at the same time, it gives me something I haven’t felt in ages: a spark of belief that maybe, just maybe, we can carve out a future worth fighting for.

And you, with your wild hair and louder-than-life laugh—you make me believe it too. You remind me every day that there’s still light, still love, even when the world is falling apart.

I’ll be home soon, love. Keep arguing with that book. I can’t wait to hear your nonsense.

Yours, in cautious hope,
Dorcas

Letter 40: From Marlene to Dorcas (December 25, 1979)

Merry Christmas, you lovely sod,

You’re off saving the world again, and I’m here staring at a tree we both know will be dead by tomorrow because I forgot to water it. Typical, yeah? But I couldn’t let the day pass without telling you how much I miss you.

Remus stopped by earlier with gifts from all the usual suspects. Sirius gave us a book titled "101 Ways to Hex Your Enemies" —clearly thoughtful as ever. Lily knitted something adorable for the baby, even though it’s not due for months. The lot of them stayed for hours, but it wasn’t the same without you.

I love you, Dory. I love the way you smile at me like I’m the best thing in the world, even when I’ve just tripped over my own feet. I love the way you make me feel safe, even when everything else is crumbling.

Come home soon. We’ve got mistletoe hanging, and it’s going to waste without you here to snog me under it.

Yours, in longing,
Marlene

Letter 41: From Dorcas to Marlene (December 26, 1979)

My darling Marlene,

I got your letter this morning, and I swear, it was the best gift I could have asked for. Your words, your humour, your love—it’s everything I need to remind me why I’m still fighting.

I wish I could have been there with you, arguing over decorations and laughing at Sirius’s ridiculous gifts. But I’ll be home soon, love. And when I get there, I’m going to kiss you under that mistletoe until we forget there’s a war outside our door.

I love you more than words can say, Marlene. You’re my Christmas miracle, my constant light, my home.

Yours,

Dorcas

Letter 42: From Marlene to Dorcas (March 1, 1980)

Dory, my moon,

You’re going to laugh at me, but I bought a plant. A bloody plant. Lily said it would help—something about grounding myself, nurturing life. It’s ridiculous, really. I can barely keep myself alive most days, let alone a potted fern. But it sits on the windowsill now, soaking up the sun, and every time I water it, I think of you.

I saw Sirius and Remus yesterday. They’re... complicated, aren’t they? Sirius pretends he’s fine, all jokes and swagger, but Remus looks at him like he’s a puzzle he’s still trying to figure out. It’s almost comforting, knowing we’re not the only ones stumbling through this mess of love and war.

I miss you. I miss the way you make tea too strong and forget to put the milk back in the fridge. I miss the way you leave your shoes in the middle of the room and swear it’s “organized chaos.” I even miss the way you hog the blankets, though I’ll deny it if you ever bring it up.

Come back soon, yeah? I’m tired of talking to a plant.

Yours, in domestic chaos,
Marlene

Letter 43: From Marlene to Dorcas (March 10, 1980)

Dory, my idiot,

You left your scarf again. You’re lucky I love you, or I’d hex you for making me chase after you in the freezing cold just to drop it off. Moody caught me on my way out and grumbled something about “distractions.” He doesn’t get it—doesn’t understand how a piece of you keeps me grounded when the world feels like it’s tilting sideways.

I visited Lily yesterday. She’s showing now, just a little. She tried to pretend it’s no big deal, but I could see it in her eyes—she’s scared. And who wouldn’t be? Bringing a child into this . But James, the fool, is already planning Quidditch lessons for a baby that isn’t even born yet. He makes her laugh, though, and maybe that’s enough.

I’ve been thinking about us, about what we’re building here despite everything. It’s messy and imperfect, but it’s ours, and that’s what matters. You make me want to fight harder, love deeper, live louder.

Come home soon, yeah? I need to yell at you properly about that scarf.

Yours, in freezing hands and a warm heart,
Marlene

Letter 44: From Dorcas to Marlene (March 15, 1980)

My Marlene, my reason,

I’ve been thinking about what you said—that we’re building something. It feels impossible sometimes, doesn’t it? To believe in love and hope and futures when the world is so full of death. But then I think about you, the way you light up even the darkest corners of my life, and I remember why we’re fighting.

Lily and James—they’re brave in ways I never realized before. I saw them yesterday, and the way James dotes on her, the way Lily rests her hand on her belly like she’s holding something precious—it makes me want to believe we’ll all make it through this.

I know I’ve been distant lately. It’s not because I don’t love you—Merlin, I love you more than I can ever say. It’s just that sometimes, the weight of it all feels like too much, and I don’t want to burden you with it. But I’m learning, Marlene. I’m learning to let you in.

When I get home, let’s have a proper night, yeah? Just us. No maps, no missions, no war. Just you and me and whatever mess we decide to make.

Yours, with all my love,
Dorcas

Letter 45: From Dorcas to Marlene (April 2, 1980)

Marlene, my love,

It’s my birthday, but all I can think about is you. I woke up this morning to a gray sky and the sound of rain, and for a moment, I let myself imagine I was home with you, tangled in blankets and stealing lazy kisses.

Thank you for the gift. I don’t know how you managed to find a copy of The Little Prince in the middle of a war, but it’s perfect. You always know what I need, even when I don’t. I spent the morning reading it, and every line reminded me of you—your fire, your stubbornness, your heart.

I love you, Marlene. More than words, more than stars, more than anything. And I promise, no matter how dark it gets, I’ll keep fighting to come back to you.

Yours, in gratitude and love,
Dorcas

Letter 46: From Marlene to Dorcas (April 7, 1980)

Dory, my stubborn, beautiful fool,

I heard what happened. Moody told me you took a curse during the last mission, and I swear, if you ever scare me like that again, I’ll kill you myself.

I’m not angry—I’m terrified. Terrified of a world without you in it. Terrified that one day, you won’t come back to me. But I can’t lose you, Dory. I can’t.

Lily’s due soon, and every time I see her, I’m struck by how much she believes in the future, in us, in a world where this baby can grow up safe. I want to believe too, but it’s hard when every goodbye feels like it might be the last.

Come home, Dorcas. Let me hold you, yell at you, love you. Let me remind you why we’re still fighting.

Yours, in fear and fierce devotion,
Marlene

Letter 47: From Marlene to Dorcas (April 8, 1980)

Dory, my idiot,

Moody won’t tell me anything. He just grunted at me when I asked how you were doing, and that’s never a good sign. I swear, if you’re lying in some dingy hospital bed right now and haven’t bothered to write, I’ll come find you myself and curse you into next week.

You’re always so bloody brave, aren’t you? Throwing yourself in front of spells like your life doesn’t matter as much as everyone else’s. Well, it bloody does —it matters to me. You matter more than anything, and I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt and me not being there.

Please, Dory. Write me back. Tell me you’re okay, even if you’re not, because right now, the not knowing is eating me alive.

Yours, in frustration and love,
Marlene

Letter 48: From Marlene to Dorcas (April 10, 1980)

Dorcas Meadowes,

I’m not even going to pretend to be calm anymore. It’s been days, Dory. Days of silence, and I don’t know if it’s because you can’t write or because you’re too stubborn to let me see you like this. Either way, it’s cruel, and I don’t deserve it.

Do you know what I’ve been doing while I wait? Counting the number of times I’ve told you I love you. I’ve written it in letters, whispered it when you’re half-asleep, screamed it in the middle of fights. I’d say it a thousand times more if it would make you come home in one piece.

Please, just... say something. Anything. Let me know you’re still out there, still mine.

Yours, always,
Marlene

Letter 49: From Dorcas to Marlene (April 11, 1980)

Marlene, my furious love,

I’m alive. I’m sorry for the silence—it wasn’t intentional. The curse I took was nasty, and they’ve kept me in St. Mungo’s ever since, fussing over me like I’m some fragile thing. I didn’t want to worry you, and I didn’t think it would be this long. Clearly, I underestimated your stubbornness (and mine).

I’m okay, Marlene. Really. A little banged up, a lot tired, but okay. They say I’ll be out of here in a week or so, but I’d rather be home now, wrapped up in you and listening to you rant about the state of the flat.

I missed you. Every moment in that sterile, white room felt colder without you beside me. I thought about the way you laugh, the way you kiss me like it’s the only thing holding you together, and it got me through.

I’ll be home soon, love. Don’t hex me when I get there—I might still be a little fragile.

Yours,
Dorcas

Letter 50: From Marlene to Dorcas (April 12, 1980)

Dory, my fragile idiot,

Don’t think for a second that I’m letting you off easy. You’re lucky I love you, because if I didn’t, I’d march into St. Mungo’s right now and drag you out myself. I don’t care if you’re still recovering—I’d make you pay for keeping me in the dark. 

But I do love you, more than anything, and I’m so bloody relieved to know you’re okay. I’ve been walking around with this weight in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe until I knew for sure. And now I do, and it feels like I can finally exhale. So, maybe I’ll just come visit you tonight instead?

Come home soon, yeah? I’ll make you tea (the good kind, not the oversteeped mess you always try to pass off as drinkable), and we’ll sit on the sofa and forget the rest of the world exists.

Yours, in relief and more love than you deserve,
Marlene

Letter 51: From Dorcas to Marlene (April 16, 1980)

Marlene, my light,

I’m home. Well, not home home yet—Moody’s insisting I stay at headquarters for a few more days, something about “monitoring” and “precautions.” But I’m out of St. Mungo’s, and that’s a start.

The healers were impressed, you know. Apparently, I’m “remarkably resilient.” I told them it’s because I have something worth fighting for, someone worth coming back to. They smiled like they understood, but they couldn’t possibly. Not really.

I’m coming home to you soon, Marlene. I miss the way your laugh fills up a room. I miss the way you pretend to hate my tea but drink it anyway. I miss the way you love me, fiercely and recklessly, like you’re daring the world to try and take me away.

Yours, in recovery and anticipation,
Dorcas

Letter 52: From Marlene to Dorcas (April 18, 1980)

Dory, my impossible love,

You’re coming home, and I swear, it feels like I can breathe properly for the first time in weeks. I’ve been cleaning the flat—not because it’s dirty (though it is), but because I want everything to be perfect when you walk through the door. You deserve that. You deserve a world that feels soft and safe and ours.

I was angry, you know. Angry that you got hurt, angry that you didn’t tell me, angry that this war keeps taking pieces of us. But the anger’s fading now, replaced by this overwhelming relief that you’re still here, still mine.

I love you, Dory. Come home, and let’s make this messy, broken world ours again.

Yours, in hope and endless love,
Marlene

Letter 53: From Marlene to Dorcas (May 1, 1980)

Dory, my heart,

It’s been two weeks, and you’re finally back. Finally .

I have to admit, when I first saw you walk through the door, it didn’t feel real. You looked... fragile, a little worn. Not like the woman I know, the one who charges headfirst into danger like it’s nothing. But the moment you smiled at me—really smiled—I knew you were back. You’ll always come back to me, won’t you?

I’ve been trying to keep busy. Mary’s been around a lot, helping with some work for the Order. She’s a bloody good witch, but she’s also a disaster when it comes to keeping her temper in check. She says I’m rubbing off on her, but I swear, it’s more likely she’s rubbing off on me. Either way, it’s nice to have her here. She’s a reminder of... something normal, something that isn’t full of death and lies.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately—about how I nearly lost you, about how we can’t keep pretending we’re invincible. I can’t stand the idea of losing you, Dorcas. But I’ve learned something. I’ve learned that love—this love, our love—is the one thing I can hold onto in this hellhole of a world. And I won’t let go.

I love you. Please don’t ever forget that.

Yours, in relief and desperation,
Marlene

Letter 54: From Dorcas to Marlene (May 5, 1980)

Marlene, my life,

You’ve been taking care of me. I can feel it in everything you do—the way you brush my hair back from my face, the way you stay up late to make sure I’m settled, even the way you tease me for not getting better fast enough. I don’t deserve you.

I’ve been thinking about what you said—about how we’re not invincible. You’re right. I’ve always thought I could fight through anything, that I could survive this war with my own stubbornness. But maybe... maybe that’s not enough. Maybe I need something else. I need you, Marlene.

You’re right, love. We can’t pretend to be invincible. But we can keep fighting—for each other, for the future we’re building, for everything worth saving.

Yours,
Dorcas

Letter 55: From Marlene to Dorcas (May 20, 1980)

Dory, my reason,

I wish I could say that everything is fine , but it’s not. There’s still so much bloody chaos, so much waiting. But at least we have each other, don’t we? Even if the world outside feels like it’s falling apart, there’s something solid here, between us.

I’ve been spending more time with Mary. She’s been worried about you too—about us, about everything. Sometimes, I can’t help but feel like I’m going to break if one more thing goes wrong. But then I look at you, and I realize that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. We’re stronger.

Lily came by this morning. She’s worried about how she’s going to manage when the baby comes—worried about the war, about what kind of world Harry will grow up in. But you know what? She’s not giving up. And neither are we. We can’t.

I love you more than I ever thought possible. Don’t let this bloody war take that from us.

Yours, in uncertainty and love,
Marlene

Letter 56: From Dorcas to Marlene (May 25, 1980)

Marlene, my strength,

I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but every day, I’m grateful for it. You’ve been so patient with me, with everything that’s been happening. I think I’m finally starting to heal—not just physically, but emotionally, too. The war... it takes so much from us, doesn’t it? It makes us hard, makes us forget how to feel. But you, Marlene, you remind me what it’s like to love without fear.

Mary’s been a good distraction for you, hasn’t she? I’m glad you have someone to lean on, someone who understands. You’re strong, Marlene. Stronger than you give yourself credit for.

Lily’s still holding on to hope, I see. She’s amazing, isn’t she? Even now, when the world is falling apart, she finds a reason to smile. She’s going to be a brilliant mother. And James—well, he’s already planning on being the perfect father. They’ll make it. They’ll make it through this, just like we will.

I love you, Marlene. More than anything.

Yours, in love and gratitude,
Dorcas

Letter 57: From Marlene to Dorcas (June 1, 1980)

Dory, my beautiful heart,

You know what I hate most? The feeling of waking up and not knowing where you are. Not in the sense of physically being lost, but in this... in-between space, where it feels like everything around us is constantly shifting. I’m scared, Dory. Scared of losing you, of losing us.

But then I look at you, and I remember what we’re fighting for. Every kiss, every moment of peace we steal—those are the things worth holding on to. And I will hold on to you, no matter what.

Mary and I were talking last night. She says I’m in denial, that I’m trying too hard to keep pretending everything will be fine, that I’m clinging to this ridiculous idea of us living some normal life when everything is falling apart around us. But I can’t stop. I can’t let go of this hope, even if it’s foolish. Because when I look at you, Dorcas, I see something worth fighting for.

You’re my hope. And I love you more than I can say.

Yours, in love and fear,
Marlene

Letter 58: From Dorcas to Marlene (June 7, 1980)

Marlene, my unshakable love,

I read your letter with a weight in my chest. You don’t have to be afraid, love. We’ve been through so much already, and we’re still here, still fighting. Maybe it’s not always about being normal , about pretending the world isn’t crumbling around us. Maybe it’s about finding those small moments—the way you hold my hand when no one’s looking, the way you laugh even when things feel impossible. Those are the things that matter.

I’m scared too, Marlene. Scared of losing this, of losing you. But I promise, I won’t stop fighting for us. I’ll never stop fighting.

Come home soon, Marlene. We’ll find our own way through this. Together.

Yours, in love and hope,
Dorcas

Letter 59: From Dorcas to Marlene (June 15, 1980)

Marlene, my only,

I feel you may need a more loving, happy letter today. So here it is. Just for you.

I’ve spent a lifetime searching for something I couldn’t name until I found you. It was never about needing someone to hold me. It was about needing someone to see me—to see all the broken pieces, the pieces I had so carefully hidden away. And when you look at me, Marlene, it’s as though you’ve unlocked a door I didn’t even know was there, a door to a world where I’m allowed to be loved just as I am.

I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about how we’ve grown. There are days when the world feels too heavy, like I might break under the weight of it all, but then you’re there. And it’s as though the light you carry pulls me back, reminding me of what it means to be alive, to fight for something pure amidst all the darkness.

Today, I realized something—something that makes me laugh at myself for not seeing it sooner. The greatest adventure isn’t in the missions, or the battles, or the blood we spill. It’s in the quiet moments we share, the way you touch me like you’re afraid I might disappear. The way you love me with a fierceness that only you could possess.

And I’ll keep holding on to you, no matter what comes, because you are my sun. And no war, no darkness, no curse can take that away from me.

Yours, in eternal love,
Dorcas

Letter 60: From Marlene to Dorcas (June 16, 1980)

Dory,

It’s my birthday today, and I think you might have to explain to me how it’s even possible that I can feel this fucking loved. I’m usually the one who’s got a good grip on the world, you know? But every time you touch me, I lose my breath. You make me feel like I’ve got more than I could’ve ever dreamed of—and that’s not something I was prepared for, not even a little bit.

We’re not exactly living in ideal times, are we? War on every front, people vanishing, too many bodies buried too quickly. But today—today, I’m with you, and it feels like I’ve got everything. It’s crazy. Every second with you is a second I want to hold forever.

I don’t know what the future holds, Dorcas. We both know that. But I swear, I’ll fight for you—fight for us. The world can burn down around me, but as long as I’ve got you, I’ll survive.

Thank you for making this day the best I’ve ever had. I love you. You’re more than I deserve.

Yours, now and forever,
Marlene

Letter 61: From Dorcas to Marlene (June 17, 1980)

Marlene, my precious love,

I thought today would be about you, about celebrating the incredible woman you are, the strength and courage that you carry in every step you take. But I’ve realized, as I sit here thinking of you, that it’s also about me. Because without you, none of this—none of these moments, these quiet, stolen breaths—would even exist.

Today, I saw the way you looked at me. The way you smiled, like you didn’t know if you were more in awe of me or of yourself. And I realized that I will never grow tired of this. Of us. Of the way you make me feel like the most beautiful, the most important person in the world.

We’ve both changed since this war began. We’ve both lost things we never thought we’d have to. But I’ve gained you. And for that, I would do anything. Because you, Marlene, are worth every sacrifice. Every battle fought.

On your birthday, I want to give you all of me. All the love I have, all the hope, all the passion that this war hasn’t taken from me. You’ve become the safest place I’ve ever known, and I will always choose you. Always.

Yours, endlessly,
Dorcas

Letter 62: From Marlene to Dorcas (June 18, 1980)

Dory,

I thought I was going to burst when I woke up this morning. Not because I was getting older (bloody hell, I’m still young) but because I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said last night. You make me feel like I’m more than just a soldier. More than just a woman trying to survive in a world that’s crumbling. You make me feel like I’m worth something more. And that... that’s a feeling I don’t know how to express, but I hope you understand it, because I need you to.

We had a quiet day today, didn’t we? It was nice—just us. It almost felt like the war didn’t exist, like we were allowed to live for just a few stolen hours.

I’m scared, Dory. I don’t want to lose this, this life we’ve built, this love that feels like it could set the world on fire. But even in my fear, I know something. I know that you and I are stronger than anything they can throw at us. And I’ll fight for that.

I love you more than I could ever say. I’m so bloody lucky to have you.

Yours, completely,
Marlene

Letter 63: From Dorcas to Marlene (June 31, 1980)

Marlene, my everything,

The sun is setting as I write this, casting golden light through the window, and I can’t help but think of you. How your laugh fills the room like the sound of rain on a summer day, how your smile makes me feel like I’m home no matter where I am.

I know we’re living in times that don’t leave much room for peace. The Order is growing more frantic by the day, and I can feel the war pressing closer to us, like a shadow we can’t escape. But you— you —are my light. You’re the reason I can still see beauty in this broken world. And every time I close my eyes and think of you, I feel like we’re safe, like nothing can harm us.

I’m holding on to you, Marlene. And I will keep holding on, no matter how dark things get. Because I have something most people will never have—I have you. And that makes me more powerful than anything else in this world.

Yours, always and forever,
Dorcas

Letter 64: From Marlene to Dorcas (July 16, 1980)

Dory,

You know, sometimes I think you’re made of magic. The way you write to me, the way you see me—it’s like you’ve got a spell on my heart. And I can’t even begin to explain how much I need you, how much I crave those little moments of peace we steal from the madness.

I’m scared, Dory. But I’m not as scared as I was before, because now I have you to keep me grounded. And that makes all the difference.

We’ll get through this. We will. Together.

Yours, forever,
Marlene

Letter 65: From Dorcas to Marlene (August 4, 1980)

Marlene, my dearest,

I have never understood the weight of silence until now. In the quiet moments, when the world around us falls still, it feels as though I can hear the ticking of time, the way it slips through my fingers as I wait for your return. These missions, they pull at me in ways I cannot describe. I know you are out there, fighting, as you always do, but the emptiness in my chest seems to grow with each passing day.

I miss you, Marlene. And I ache for the days when the sound of your voice was the loudest thing in my world, when our love felt as though it was the only thing we could count on.

The war has a way of dulling everything. People become shadows of themselves, their hopes fading into the smoke of battle. I try not to let it consume me, to not let it steal what little light we have left. But there are days when I feel as though I am nothing more than a fading star, trying desperately to hold on to the light.

But you— you —are the one thing that will never fade. You are the pulse that keeps me alive, and I hold on to that with everything I have. I will wait for you, Marlene. Always.

With all my love,
Dorcas

Letter 66: From Marlene to Dorcas (August 20, 1980)

Dory,

I don’t even know what to say anymore. Every day I’m out here, it feels like I lose a piece of myself. I can’t keep pretending that I’m not terrified of what’s to come. There’s too much blood, too many bodies, and I can’t escape the feeling that we’re all running out of time.

But I think about you. I think about you every goddamn second. And it keeps me going.

I hate that I can’t protect you from this war. I hate that I can’t hold you close and pretend that nothing has changed. I want to tell you that I’m okay, but I’m not, Dory. I’m not okay, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending I am.

But when I think about the way you look at me, the way you make me feel—hell, it’s the only thing that keeps me from losing myself entirely. You’re my reason for everything, and I’ll be back to you.

Don’t forget me. Don’t ever forget me, because I’ll never forget you.

I love you.
Marlene

Letter 67: From Dorcas to Marlene (September 2, 1980)

Marlene,

I know you’re out there, but some days, it feels as though you’ve slipped into the shadows, and I can’t find you. These missions… they’re taking pieces of you, and I can’t help but feel the distance grow. I don’t want to admit it, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid that when you come back, it won’t be you anymore.

The thought of losing you to this war, to everything that’s happening, is the one thing that terrifies me more than anything else. It’s not just that I don’t want to lose you—it’s that I can already feel the pieces of you slipping away. Every time you leave, you take more with you, and I don’t know how long I can hold on to the parts of you that remain.

But when I close my eyes, I see you. I see the woman I love—the one who keeps me grounded, the one who makes all of this worth fighting for. And I remind myself that as long as I have you, I have everything.

Come back to me. I need you, Marlene.

Yours, always,
Dorcas

Letter 68: From Marlene to Dorcas (September 15, 1980)

Dory,

I can’t seem to escape the feeling that I’m losing myself. Every mission takes more out of me, and I can feel the pieces of who I was slipping away like sand through my fingers. But what’s worse is that I’m afraid you’ll be the one left picking up the broken pieces. I don’t want you to see me this way. I don’t want you to see me unravelling.

But every time I think about you—about us—there’s something in me that feels whole again. You’re the only thing in this world that makes sense to me anymore.

I know I’m not the same person you first met, Dory. But you have to believe me when I say that my love for you hasn’t changed. It will never change.

I’ll make it through this. I have to. Because I have you waiting for me.

With everything I am,
Marlene

Letter 69: From Marlene to Dorcas (October 20, 1980)

Dory,

Sometimes, I wonder how much longer we can keep doing this. The missions are getting harder, the losses are piling up, and I can’t stop thinking about what might happen next. I don’t want to drag you into my darkness, but I can’t help it. Every time I look at you, I see the woman who loves me, who has stood by me through all of this. And it scares the hell out of me that I might not come back.

I think about you constantly. About your smile, your laugh, the way you make me feel like I’m not a soldier, but a woman who is loved. But I don’t want to be the one who leaves you behind.

I’ll be back. I swear it. I’ll come back to you. Always.

With all my love,
Marlene

Letter 70: From Dorcas to Marlene (November 3, 1980)

Marlene, my love,

I can’t stop thinking about how perfect things were when we were together. How even in the chaos of everything, the worst days felt like bliss when I was in your arms. I find myself searching for you in the spaces around me—sifting through memories, trying to pull you back into the present. Every quiet moment I’ve had these past few days, I’ve imagined you here beside me, your laughter filling the room, your hand in mine, steady and sure.

But even when I close my eyes and feel the warmth of your love in my heart, I know it’s not enough. I want you with me in this world, not just in dreams. The missions continue to get worse, Marlene. The darkness presses in tighter with each passing day. But when I think of you, I can breathe. You are my reason for holding on, for continuing this fight.

Come back to me soon, love. I don’t know how much longer I can do this without you.

With all the love in my heart,
Dorcas

Letter 71: From Marlene to Dorcas (November 22, 1980)

Dory,

Sometimes I think I’m losing my mind. The constant fighting, the constant running, the constant waiting ... It wears on you, you know? Even though I’d never tell you this out loud, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find peace again. The weight of everything, of the war, of the destruction, it just keeps building. And all I want is you. I want to curl up next to you, have you hold me like you used to, tell me everything will be okay, even when we both know it won’t be.

But I won’t ask for that. I can’t. I need you to be strong, for both of us. I need you to be the anchor that you’ve always been for me.

I think about you more than I think about anything else. And when I close my eyes, it’s your face I see. You’re my home, Dory. No matter how far apart we are, you’re the only place I want to be.

I’ll be okay, I’ll be alright. But don’t ever forget that I love you. That I need you.

Yours,
Marlene

Letter 72: From Dorcas to Marlene (December 1, 1980)

Marlene,

I am getting tired, my love. Tired of pretending that everything will be alright, when every day feels like a struggle. Tired of waiting for things to get better, when it seems like the world only gets darker. But I hold on to you. You are the reason I get out of bed in the morning, the reason I keep fighting. And I don’t think I could survive this without you.

You’ve always been my strength, my constant. You’re the fire that burns within me, the warmth that keeps the cold at bay. But lately, I feel the heat of that fire fading, just a little bit. I feel the weight of this war pressing down on us both. I see it in the way you carry yourself, the way your eyes sometimes go distant, like you’re not really here with me.

I know you’re carrying so much, Marlene. And I wish I could take some of that burden from you. But all I can do is promise you that I’ll always be here. I’ll always love you. And together, we will make it through.

You are my heart. Always.

Yours,
Dorcas

Letter 73: From Marlene to Dorcas (December 16, 1980)

Dory,

I hate the thought of this war ever touching you. I hate the thought of anything happening to you. You’re not just my partner, you’re my best friend. You’re the one person who understands me in ways that no one else can. But I can’t escape the feeling that every time I leave you, I’m leaving a part of myself behind.

I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to think about the worst possible outcomes. But when I hold you in my arms, and I think about the world outside of us, I can’t help but wonder if I’m ever going to come back to you.

I’m scared, Dory. I’m scared of losing you, of losing us . I want to hold on to you forever, but I know that we’re both running out of time.

Please wait for me.

Forever yours,
Marlene

Letter 74: From Dorcas to Marlene (January 10, 1981)

Marlene,

I dreamt of you last night. It was nothing remarkable, just the two of us sitting on a hill somewhere, wrapped in each other’s arms. You were laughing, and I was lost in the sound of it. The world around us was still, the war forgotten for just that moment. And I thought to myself, This is what peace looks like .

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what we’ve become. About how much we’ve had to fight for just to be together. The war has stolen so much, but it hasn’t stolen us. It hasn’t stolen our love. And no matter what happens, that’s something no one can take away.

I miss you. More than I ever thought I could. But I’ll hold on to this: when the world is crumbling around us, I know that you are the only thing that is real.

Forever,
Dorcas

Letter 75: From Dorcas to Marlene (February 7, 1981)

Marlene,

The days are getting longer, but somehow it still feels like night. The missions continue, the losses pile up, and yet all I can think about is you. I want to believe that we can survive this, that we can hold on to each other despite everything. But the darkness is closing in, and it’s hard to hold on to hope when it feels like the world is falling apart.

I miss you, love. I miss your touch, your voice, the way you made everything feel a little less heavy.

I am still here. I am still fighting, for you, for us. But every day that passes without you feels like a weight I can’t carry alone.

Please come back to me, Marlene. I don’t know how much longer I can do this without you.

Yours,
Dorcas

Letter 76: From Marlene to Dorcas (February 11, 1981)

Dorcas,

It’s strange to think I’m writing this when I’m supposed to be out there, doing my part in this war. But here I am, writing to you in the quiet moments. The ones when I can still remember what peace feels like.

I just wanted to remind you: I’m coming back. Every time I leave, I think of you. Of us. I’ll come back to you. I have to. I need to. You’re the only thing that keeps me grounded. The only reason I’m doing this at all.

I know the war is starting to eat at us, but I’m here, Dorcas. I’m fighting for us. Fighting to see another day where you’re waiting for me.

I’ll keep fighting for that. For you.

Marlene

Letter 77: From Dorcas to Marlene (February 15, 1981)

Marlene,

I don’t know how to put this in words. How do I tell you that I’m scared? That the thought of losing you terrifies me more than anything in this war?

I watch as everyone around us changes, as we lose friends and family, and I wonder if I’m being selfish for wanting you safe. For needing you to stay with me. But I can’t stop the fear.

Every day you leave for a mission, I hold my breath, praying you’ll come back to me in one piece. You’re all I have left, Marlene. And the thought of living in a world where you’re not by my side... it breaks me.

Please come back. Please come back to me.

Dorcas

Letter 78: From Marlene to Dorcas (February 23, 1981)

Dorcas,

I know you’re worried, and I wish I could promise you that I’ll come back safe, that I’ll never leave you. But I can’t make that promise. None of us can.

I wish I could give you something more than empty words. I wish I could take this fear away from you. But all I can do is remind you of this: I love you . I’ve always loved you, and I’ll always love you, no matter what.

Don’t doubt that. Don’t doubt me. Don’t doubt us. Even in the darkest times, we’ll always have what we’ve built. I won’t let that go.

Just hold on, Dorcas. Hold on to me.

Marlene

Letter 79: From Dorcas to Marlene (March 2, 1981)

Marlene,

I try to keep busy. I try to pretend that everything is normal, that I’m not losing myself in fear and worry. But it’s hard. It’s so hard.

You’re out there, in the thick of it, and I’m here, waiting. Waiting for news, waiting for you to come home. And I can’t help but wonder what it’ll feel like when you do. Will you be the same? Will I be the same?

I want to hold you, to feel your heartbeat next to mine and remind myself that we’re still alive . I need that, Marlene. I need you.

But right now, I wait. I wait and pray that you’ll come home to me.

Dorcas

Letter 80: From Marlene to Dorcas (March 10, 1981)

Dorcas,

I can hear the worry in your words, even from here. And it breaks me, more than anything. I want to tell you everything will be okay, that this war will end and we’ll be safe. But you and I both know better.

I’m not afraid of the fight, but I’m afraid of what it might cost us. Of what it might cost you . The thought of you losing hope, of being left in a world without me—it makes me sick to my stomach.

I know we’re not promised tomorrow. But I need you to know that I’m fighting for us . Not just for survival, but for the life I want with you, after all of this ends.

Please don’t lose faith, Dorcas. I’m coming back. I’ll always come back to you.

Marlene

Letter 81: From Dorcas to Marlene (March 20, 1981)

Marlene,

I can’t stop thinking about that last letter. About your promise. You’re right. We’re not promised tomorrow. But I need to believe in that promise, Marlene. I need to.

The weight of this war is starting to crack us. I see it in your eyes when you leave, in the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your face anymore. I see it in my own reflection too.

But we can’t let it destroy us. We can’t let it take everything we have. We’ve fought too hard, loved too fiercely, for this to be the end.

I’ll hold on to the light in you, Marlene. Even if it feels like the darkness is swallowing us whole.

Dorcas

Letter 82: From Marlene to Dorcas (April 5, 1981)

Dorcas,

It feels like the whole world is falling apart, doesn’t it? Like no matter what we do, it won’t be enough. Every day, I feel more and more like I’m losing myself in this fight. I can’t see the end of it anymore.

But then I think of you. Of us. And for a moment, I remember what hope feels like. I remember what it means to want something more than just survival.

I don’t know how to explain it, but you give me purpose. When I hold you, when I kiss you, I feel like I can breathe again. You’re my air, Dorcas. The only thing that keeps me grounded.

Don’t let go of me.

Marlene

Letter 83: From Dorcas to Marlene (July 10, 1981)

Marlene,

I don’t know how to begin this letter. The words don’t come easily anymore. The fear, the grief, the anger… it’s all swirling inside of me, and I don’t know how to escape it.

I haven’t heard from you in days. And I’m starting to feel like maybe I’m just imagining it—this life we’ve built, this love that feels so real. I keep thinking you’ll come back, that you’ll come home and hold me, and everything will go back to the way it was. But deep down, I know it’s not that simple anymore.

I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to even think about what that would mean. But the fear of losing you is overwhelming.

Come back to me, Marlene. Come back, and tell me that we’re not just fighting for a lost cause. That we’re fighting for each other.

I love you more than I ever thought was possible.

Always,
Dorcas

Letter 84: From Dorcas to Marlene (July 23, 1981)

Marlene,

Where are you? Where are you? I keep waiting for you to walk through the door, to laugh, to hold me. But you don’t.

I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to be without you.

I keep hearing your voice in my head. I keep imagining you here, telling me that everything will be okay, that we’ll get through this, just like we always have.

But you’re not here. And I don’t know if I can keep going without you.

Please… come back to me.

Yours,
Dorcas

Letter 85: From Dorcas to Marlene (August 1, 1981)

Marlene, my love,

Where the hell are you? I’ve been writing, writing, writing, and you’re still not here. I don’t know how many more times I can do this. Do you even know what this feels like? To think that you promised me? You promised me you’d come back, didn’t you? But now… now you’re gone. And I’m left here. Alone.

You lied to me, Marlene. You lied. And I don’t even know how to forgive you for it. How can I? You said we’d be together forever. Forever, Marlene. You said that. And now, I have to live with the weight of that forever hanging over me.

You were everything to me, and now—now you’re nothing but a memory, a ghost I can’t escape.

What did I do wrong? Tell me. What the hell did I do wrong to deserve this?

Where are you? Why aren’t you here with me?

I can’t even begin to figure out how to breathe without you. But maybe that’s what I want, Marlene. Maybe I want to stop breathing. Maybe I want to stop caring.

Please. Just come back to me. Please.

Dorcas

Letter 86: From Dorcas to Marlene (August 17, 1981)

Marlene, my princess, my goddess, my heart and soul, 

I keep thinking that maybe if I just close my eyes long enough, I’ll wake up, and you’ll be standing there. Your smile will be the first thing I see, your laugh the first sound that fills the silence.

But then I remember. And I can’t breathe.

Why did you leave me, Marlene? You said you’d come back. You said we’d be okay. What happened? Was I not enough? Was I too much? Tell me what it was.

I can’t stop feeling like you left me because I wasn’t good enough. That everything we had was just a lie, something you used to keep yourself from feeling empty.

You promised me you’d come back. Why didn’t you?

Dorcas

Letter 87: From Dorcas to Marlene (August 24, 1981)

Marlene,

Do you hear me? Do you hear how much I’m begging? Do you hear how much I need you to come back?

I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep living like this, wondering if the next time I close my eyes, it will be my last. Wondering if I’ll ever find my way back to you. I can’t keep pretending that this is just a bad dream.

I want to believe you’re still out there, somewhere. That maybe, just maybe, you’re coming back to me. But I know that’s not true.

I don’t want to live in this world without you. I want to go where you are.

Why won’t you come back to me?

Please. Please.

Dorcas

Letter 88: From Dorcas to Marlene (September 1, 1981)

Marlene,

It’s been weeks. I’ve written you countless letters, and still, nothing. No answers. No words. Just silence.

Why did you leave me, Marlene? Why didn’t you tell me the truth? That I wasn’t enough for you? That this was all just a game?

I thought we had something real. But now… now I don’t even know what’s real anymore.

What was the point of all of this, if you’re not here to share it with me? If you’re not here to keep your promises?

I can’t keep doing this, Marlene. I don’t want to.

Where did you go? Why didn’t you come back to me?

Dorcas

Letter 89: From Dorcas to Marlene (September 3, 1981)

Marlene,

I don’t want to keep doing this. But I don’t know how to stop. Every day I wake up, I feel like I’m suffocating without you. And every night I lie awake, I imagine what I’d say if you were still here. What we’d do.

And I wonder if maybe I’m not strong enough to survive without you. I wonder if I’m not strong enough to make it through this war, through this world that’s falling apart, without the one thing that used to keep me whole.

Do you miss me? Do you wish you were here with me?

I wish I could be with you. I wish I could follow you wherever you went.

Why can’t we be together again?

Dorcas

Letter 90: From Dorcas to Marlene (September 8, 1981)

Marlene,

I don’t know how to say this, but I can’t live in this world without you anymore. I’m not sure I ever could. The weight of this grief is too much for me to bear.

You were the reason I fought, the reason I breathed. Without you, I don’t know what the point is anymore.

I want to join you. I want to be with you again.

Please, tell me it’s okay. Tell me you’ll be waiting for me on the other side.

I just want to be where you are.

Dorcas

Letter 91: From Dorcas to Marlene (September 9, 1981)

Marlene,

I’ve been thinking about what I would say to you if you were still here. And the only thing I can think about is how sorry I am. Sorry that I couldn’t be the one to protect you. Sorry that I couldn’t keep my promises to you.

I don’t know why I’m writing this. You’re never going to read it. I know that. But I can’t stop myself from writing, from begging for something I know I’ll never get.

But I can’t keep going on like this. I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.

Maybe it’s time for me to stop fighting. Maybe it’s time for me to join you.

Dorcas

Letter 92: From Dorcas to Marlene (September 14, 1981)

Marlene,

I’m so angry with you. I’m so angry that you just left without even saying goodbye. I’m angry that I’m left here to deal with this on my own.

You promised me you’d come back. You promised me.

And now, I’m left with nothing but this goddamn anger. It burns inside me like fire. I don’t know what to do with it.

Maybe I never should’ve believed you. Maybe I should’ve known better than to trust in something so fragile.

But I loved you. I still love you. And I hate myself for it.

You’ve left me with a hole so deep, so wide, that I can’t fill it. Nothing fills it. Not time, not memories, not the damn war.

Why did you leave me, Marlene? Why did you leave us ?

Dorcas

Letter 93: From Dorcas to Marlene (September 18, 1981)

Marlene,

I don’t even know where to begin. How can I even begin to explain the rage that burns through me now? The grief isn’t even the worst of it. No, the worst of it is the fury that has taken root in my soul.

You were taken . Torn away from me, from us, by them—by those monsters . Voldemort, his Death Eaters, the goddamn people who stole everything from me. Everything we had.

I will never forgive them. I will never forgive him. And I’ll make sure they never forget the pain they’ve caused, not as long as I live.

You’re gone. And in your place, all I feel is the kind of rage that I can’t control. I want to tear them apart. Every last one of them. I want them to feel every single second of suffering they’ve caused.

It’s all I can think about, Marlene. You’re gone. And they have no idea what they’ve awoken in me.

Dorcas

Letter 94: From Dorcas to Marlene (September 21, 1981)

Marlene,

Do you hear me? Can you hear me screaming, roaring against the universe for taking you?

I see their faces in my nightmares, the ones who did this to you, to your family, to everyone. The Death Eaters who swarmed in, wrecking everything, leaving nothing behind but blood and ashes.

Voldemort thinks he’s going to win, that he can break us all. But he’s wrong. He’s wrong about everything. I will make him pay. They all will. I’ll drag them all down to the very pits of hell if I have to.

You’re gone, and they think they’ve won. But they haven’t. No. I swear to you, Marlene, they haven’t seen what’s coming for them. They’ve awoken a beast, and I will hunt them down, piece by piece. They’ll feel the weight of their actions—of your loss—until their last breath.

I promise you.

Dorcas

Letter 95: From Dorcas to Marlene (September 27, 1981)

Marlene,

Every day, every moment, I think about what happened. I think about those bastards, those Death Eaters who slaughtered you and your family, leaving nothing but bloodstains behind. It should have been me . Why wasn’t it me? Why the hell wasn’t it me instead of you?

But no. They’re going to pay for this. They’re going to suffer for what they’ve done to you. I swear it. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.

I’ve been training harder. I’ve been taking every opportunity to get closer to them. I’ll find them, Marlene. I’ll find the people who did this to you, to us, and I’ll make them bleed.

Don’t think for a second that I’m not going to finish what we started. I will. I’ll make them feel every ounce of pain you felt when they took you from me.

Dorcas

Letter 96: From Dorcas to Marlene (October 3, 1981)

Marlene,

I want you to know that I’ve been moving through this world with one singular goal in mind: vengeance. I can’t let you go. Not like this. I can’t just stand by and let them win. They’ve taken everything from me, from us. They think they’ve crushed me. But they haven’t even come close.

You deserve better than to have your life snuffed out by those cowards, by those animals who are too afraid to face the light. But I’m coming for them.

Every Death Eater who had a hand in this will burn. They’ll burn until they remember your name. I’ll make sure of it.

I can feel the rage coursing through me every second. It’s all I have left. I’ll make them regret the day they ever crossed us.

And when I’m done, Marlene, you’ll be able to rest. I’ll make sure of it.

Dorcas

Letter 97: From Dorcas to Marlene (October 10, 1981)

Marlene,

I’m not the same person anymore. I don’t know who I am without you, but I do know this: they will all die. I won’t stop until I’ve torn them apart, piece by piece. I’ll make sure they suffer .

I want them to know. I want every single one of them to know what it’s like to lose everything. To lose what they love, what they hold dear.

I’ll make Voldemort see the consequences of his actions. I’ll bring him down. I’ll bring all of them down.

And when they’re gone, when I’ve finally avenged you, I’ll find a way to say goodbye. I’ll find a way to put this all to rest.

But until then, I will hunt them. I will make them feel the weight of what they’ve done.

Dorcas

Letter 98: From Dorcas to Marlene (October 17, 1981)

Marlene,

I’ve spent every waking moment thinking about them. I’ve been infiltrating their ranks, gathering what I can, and I’m closer than I’ve ever been to bringing them down. Every single one of them.

I’ll make them remember your face. I’ll make them remember the fire you brought into this world.

I’m angry. So angry I can barely see straight. But that anger is what’s driving me. It’s what’s keeping me going. And I won’t stop until I’ve wiped them from this earth.

I promise you, Marlene, they will burn. I will make sure of it.

Dorcas

Letter 99: From Dorcas to Marlene (October 26, 1981)

Marlene,

I know you’re not here. I know I’m writing to the wind, to a ghost. But I can’t stop. I won’t stop.

I’ve made my peace with the fact that I’ll never be the same. And I’ve made my peace with the fact that I will do whatever it takes to bring justice to you. To us .

Voldemort and his followers think they can win, that they can tear us apart, but they’re wrong. They’re wrong because they underestimated me. They underestimated how much I loved you. How much I still do.

Every Death Eater who had a hand in this will know what it’s like to feel their world crumble beneath them. I won’t stop until I’ve seen them all fall.

And when I’m done, I’ll find you.

Dorcas

Dorcas, eventually consumed by the grief and rage of losing Marlene, sets out on a reckless solo attack, determined to strike back at the Death Eaters who tore her world apart. In the end, the darkness claims her as well, leaving the world, and Marlene’s letters, behind.

They never make it to the 100th letter.