Snapshots: Correspondence

[toujours_nigel]

From A. Tonks to R. Black.  12:15 p.m. 1 July, 1977, delivered by a post-office owl.

 

 

Reggie,

        What the hell is going on? I’m nowhere near a tapestry, an asking Cissa is more trouble than it’s worth. So, spit it out, brat. What’s Sirius landed himself in this time? Something to do with Aunt Dorea, isn’t it? Answer by return owl.

         Yours,

            Meda.

P.S. If you don’t, I’ll shake you till your teeth rattle, my precious princeling, don’t think I won’t.

 

 

From S. Black to J. Potter, found 10:53 a.m. 30 June, 1977, stuck under a pile of Quidditch magazines.

 

 

Prongs,

          As you know, Uncle Alphard left me a fair bit of gold. Well, now that I can spend it, I’ve decided to try living on my own for a while. Flat’s in London, just off Diagon. Bit small, but it’ll do for the time being. Don’t worry, it’s not near Grimmauld Place.

                                                                                 Padfoot.

P.S. Nicked a few of your old shirts.

N.B. Sorry for taking off like this, but you know you wouldn’t have let me otherwise.

 

 

From D. Potter to O. Black, 26 June, 1977, brought to his study on a breakfast tray, by Kreacher.

 

 

Dear Orion,

      I understand your reluctance to agree, but it will take place, whether you want or not. The boy is seventeen now; sui irius. You cannot rule his life any longer. He will be participating in the ceremony, with full understanding of all it entails. I’d advise you to accept this for the fact it is.

                                       Dorea Potter, nee Black

 

 

From N. Malfoy to B. Lestrange, 6:30 a.m. 29 June, 1977, delivered to her bedchamber by a black eagle-owl.

 

 

Sister dearest,

        Isn’t it a glorious morning? And such grand news, too. But perhaps you’ve not yet heard? Then I’ll try to keep the secret. You’ll know soon enough, and I wouldn’t dream of depriving Sirius of the pleasure of informing you of his bonding to James. Oops! Guess I just did. Ah well, no use crying over spilt potions. Aren’t you happy for our heir?

                                                                   Cissy.

He’s free of you and I’m glad. 

 

 

From A. Black to D. Potter, 15 June, 1976, delivered by a macaw.

 

 

Dear Dorea,

       I don’t think I’ve ever answered a letter in such haste— your owl is probably yet to return. David is frantic with curiosity but all I’ve told him is that it’s a “Family Matter”, which, of course, does nothing to mitigate his eagerness.

       I’m glad Sirius ran away from that house. I still have somewhat of a soft corner for Orion, unfortunate though that might be, but Walburga… well, you know all the sordid details, including, perhaps, ones I don’t. Incidentally, what of the other brats? They’ve all always been rather close. Especially Lucius and Sirius. I’m half-surprised, in fact, that Sirius didn’t take refuge with him and Cissy. But, of course, Abraxas would have been there. And James wouldn’t have. My nephew’s obsession with your son – was it ever mere infatuation – would be rather amusing if it weren’t so melodramatic and… is “tragic” a bit over the top?

       But adolescents being what they are, I cannot approve of you condoning something that might, after all, be nothing more than a passing phase. Don’t do this, Dorea. You may believe that being bonded will help them, but it might just as easily ruin them entirely. You have no right to decide for them. Let them choose. They may stumble and bruise themselves along the way, but it’ll be their own doing. Let Sirius decide when, and if, to tell James. Let James decide what to do with that information. You cannot chart their lives for them. What’s more, being the headstrong children they both are, they’ll undoubtedly rebel against this if you push them into it.

       I do not doubt your motives, only your method of execution. But that perhaps is no fault of yours, but is to be blamed on the blood that flows in your veins, as it does in the veins of,

                                 Alphard Black.

 

 

From L. Malfoy to S. Black, delivered at12:05 a.m. , 29 June, 1977, by a barn owl that pecked him till he woke up.

 

 

Sirius,

        Reg arrived an hour ago, by Floo, and is still stammering out explanations to Cissa and being tended to be the house-elves. While it’s quite true that he is not as stoic as you, I haven’t seen him this unnerved for some years.

        It appears that both your parents are pitching temper fits. Walburga, in addition to screeching curses at you, has burnt your name from the family tree. Considering that she did not feel the need to do this when you ran away… oh, almost a year ago, your latest scrape must have offended her delicate sensibilities a bit too much. Do you wish to know your crime? Probably not, but your desires do not concern me, Lancelot mine.

        Our esteemed Mrs. Potter appears to have bonded you to her son. I congratulate both of you and sincerely hope that you find much happiness in your life together. Really, pup, I’m overjoyed. Truly. Was it romantic? Did the bride wear white and blush? Was the fornication enjoyable? Did James screw your meagre brains out?

        Or were you lying in bed, dreaming of him? Sirius, did you plan this, you and James? Some grand declaration of love… happily ever after? Or did Dorea push you into this, like sightless puppies into a pond? Methinks the latter is more likely. She probably told you it was a protective bond, tying you to the house and clan, so your parents couldn’t drag you away later. The incantations are close enough, and anyway, you’d be concentrating more on the feel of his hand in yours than on the words, right? Did it even cross your mind that your parents have not tried to bring you back in the last year, that they’re unlikely to suddenly decide to?

        Stupid child, stop dreaming those fanciful dreams of yours. You love him, but does he? What of that redhead he’s been lusting for since he set eyes on her? Will he give her up to be with you? Will he renounce every chance of a normal life?

        And what, pray tell, do you plan to do about the public reaction your bonding will cause? And please, don’t be an ostrich and say it doesn’t concern the public. You know as well as I that all we do concerns the public. And even leaving the louts out of this for the time being, d’you think the Five, or the Ten, for that matter, are going to react well to the news of the Black and Potter scions being bonded, at a time like this?

        Pull your head out of the sand, Sirius, and do it now. Decide whether you’ll tell James. He deserves to know, in my humble opinion, and my wife’s arrogant one, but the decision rests with you. Then, together or alone, decide your future course of action. Cissa and I may be able to muzzle the Press for a while, but the news will eventually leak out. News of this sort inevitably does. If you choose to stick it out, be prepared for some truly disgusting comments and speculations. If you choose to run away, alone, I suggest giving James, and Dorea, a false address (but one owned by you), then slipping out of the country. That way, even if the news spreads, it’ll be assumed baseless slander. I’ll make sure of it.

        Narcissa insists that I add that you are both far too young to be bonded, never mind that she was betrothed at the age of six. She also begs to be the one to inform Bellatrix.

                                                                                                                    Yours,

                                                                                                                       Lucius

 

 

From S. Black to D. Potter, found 9:45 a.m. 30 June, 1977, inserted into a copy of Witch Weekly.

 

 

Dorea,

          I don’t know, really, why I expected that you’d be any different from my mum or Bella. Or even Meda or Cissa, when they want something. All the Black women are fully capable of committing murder to get their own way, as, I daresay, are the men.

          Oh, I’m not saying that your motives were anything other than saintly. You only wanted to make us happy, I’m sure. The fact that this would ensure that James wouldn’t be able to contaminate the clan by marrying a Mudblood didn’t even cross your mind, and obviously, neither did the thought that this alliance would pump a fair bit of gold into the Potter vaults. Not that Uncle Charlus needs it, but the Black fortune would still make quite a difference, wouldn’t it? But you didn’t think about any of that, did you? Of course you didn’t.

          Well, ma tante, I’m not as yet desperate enough to need you to set me up with my best friend. So, and as it is extremely unmannerly to live on the charity of one’s in-laws, I fear I must take your leave. It was a most enjoyable visit. But I fear I cannot pay you in the coin of the realm, as my place of residence is not designed to accommodate more than one inhabitant. Ah well, maybe later.

                                                                                               Ever yours,

                                                                                                          Sirius.

P.S. You do realize I will find a way to break this bond? The Mudblood is going to bear your grandchildren, dear one. And she’ll probably name the girl Rosa or Iris and the boy… well her father’s name is Timothy, so…