Regulus Black’s final letter
Found in an enchanted wooden box, the kind that opens only for the right touch, long since delivered to the intended recipient:
My Dearest,
This is the last indulgence I allow myself, writing you, although you won’t get the letter until I am dead. It’s selfish of me, it must be, but you know me and know that selfishness is on par with my character. Forgive me this; I cannot abide the thought of never letting you know the truth.
It’s been a week since I have last seen you: I’ve given myself this week to remember the shade of your eyes when I broke both our hearts. The first lie, of any degree, that I ever told you.
Of course, I love you. Of course, I choose you over them, over anyone else, over myself even and that’s why I have to do this – so you’re not stuck in a war we’re both too young to be part of. You stubborn, stubborn man, not looking before you leap, following the right thing with no account for consequences.
If we could both stay at the sidelines. Find a cottage on a cliff, above the sea, away from society. I would grow us vegetables and you would cook those lovely things your father taught you. Just you and I, amongst some ancient forest. The rest of the world could go to hell.
I’ll keep that dream close and hope to slip into it at the end.
I miss you, already, so much. Didn’t think it was possible to feel this, this fast, at least not for me – but then you were always the exception, weren’t you. From the moment you first said my name, when you changed the sound of it so completely it wasn’t the same thing I’ve been called before. A rose by any other name – maybe so, but with the change you gave my name I was different, too. You opened the gates and you opened my eyes and then you forced my heart open too and crawled into it and I would keep you safe there, my love, as long as I could.
I will keep you safe.
Love you, for now and for ever,
RAB