017: Regret is Insight That Comes One Day Too Late From Peter Pettigrew to Remus Lupin, 24 June, 1978, Glasgow
Dear Remus,
I miss you. I miss you every day, every hour, every minute. I suppose you get the picture. When I looked forward to leaving school, I never thought about the time we'd have to spend apart before we had the money to find a place to live. I never thought I'd have so much to make up for.
Mum was furious about the letter from McGonagall. I know you'll agree with her. She says I need to get a handle on my temper. I told her what had happened and she agreed I should have defended you, but I should have done it within school rules, instead of hurting someone. I know we never talkedI wish I could tell you Of course she's right. I wish we'd been able to talk about that a little, without NEWTs and all the rest of it going on.
Anyway, Mum also agreed with McG that scrubbing the floors without magic is a good punishment. She also has me sanding and refinishing her kitchen cabinets, and is threatening to send me to my dad's brother's farm so I can learn to muck cow shite. I am really hoping she will think me reformed before we get to that last part.
I want to see you. I know better than to try to skive off my punishment. (I may be of age in the Wizarding world, but my life would not be worth living if I defied my Mum, even for you, Moony.) But maybe if you were to ring and tell her how much you miss me and couldn't you come and see me just for a few hours, maybe she'd let me have a bit of time off. (You could even tell her how you haven't had much of a chance to yell at me yourself.)
I just want to hear back about my NEWTs and find out whether I have a job and what I can do to get our home by the sea.
I love you more than anything. I want to make things right.
Love, Peter
PS - I know you didn't ever really steal any pictures of me in my bathing trunks, and I can't say I think any of them are all that great, but I thought you might like to have one, maybe. So that's why it's enclosed.
From Remus Lupin to Peter Pettigrew, 29 June 1978, Newham
Peter,
I miss you, too. I'm still upset with you, but I really wish I'd had the stones to hug you on the platform before we parted. It was just awkward, you know, with your mum there and my Da there.
I still haven't told him about us. Would you be angry if I didn't? At least until I move out. Maybe not even then. I'm not entirely certain he wouldn't put me out on the streets if I told him sooner. Da hasn't said much about the letter he got from MacGonagall, so I'm assuming she left that part out, the part about why I was accosted. He hasn't asked why; is that weird? Or do you think he just assumes someone found out about me and Dumbledore silenced them like he did Snape? At any rate, the limp is almost completely gone now.
I sat my exams. Honestly, you have no idea how tiring it is to sit them all in two day's time, but they rush you through at the Ministry. I think I did all right, but Arithmancy might not be so great, since it was the last one and I thought I was going to fall asleep. (Can you believe they saved that subject until the end when I would clearly be exhausted?! It must be some sort of Ministry conspiracy.)
Maybe I'll owl her, yeah? Tell her I was in no state to lecture you properly and I feel I should do so now that I'm better? She still likes me, right? She doesn't hate me for making you a pervert queer or anything else stupid like that, does she?
I love you, but I hope you're finding the cabinets and cow dung educational.
And thanks for the picture. I'd put it up by my bed, but... you know. Maybe I'll just keep it under my pillow and hope it gives me dreams about the night we spent on that beach together.
Love, Remus
From Peter Pettigrew to Remus Lupin, 1 July, 1978, Glasgow
Dear Remus,
Of course I won't be angry if you don't tell your Da. Truthfully, I'm not sure I would've told Mum, if she hadn't asked. I still can't believe she noticed how we were when you came with me for the Dad's funeral. Anyway, I was just sure she was going to tell me I'd burn in hell for all eternity, so...yeah, I don't blame you for not wanting to tell your Da.
And of course Mum doesn't hate you. She and Dad always liked you best out of all my mates, anyway. I think because you're quiet and more well-behaved. In fact I sort of think she blames James and Sirius, even though I've tried to tell her they didn't have anything to do with it. Honestly, does no one believe I can have an idea on my own? (An idea for which I am, heartily, sorry, by the way. I will grovel properly the next time I see you. It's hard to grovel in a letter, but I promise, I will show you how very, very sorry I am. I think I've lost almost a stoneI dream about Harkiss' bloWhen I think about Anyway, I'm sorry.)
I miss you like mad. I'm glad your NEWTs are over. I'm sure you did well. Probably took Os on all of them. Especially with all the extra revising you got in, tutoring me. You ought to be a teacher, you know? Professor Remus Lupin. Professor R. J. Lupin. (Professor R. J. Pettigrew)
I think I'm getting impetigo or lumbago or whatever it is old people complain about in their backs (haemerroids?) from all this bending over floors and scrubbing. Honestly, the cow dung might almost be a relief. I have learned my lesson, and haven't lost my temper at all since getting home, but Mum says it's obvious I get angrier about things that affect you, so she's waiting to make sure I don't find out you've failed your NEWTs because of this. I'm not sure if she's joking or not.
Did I mention I miss you? I wish we could spend another night on the beach like that. I love you more than anything in the world, Remus John Lupin.
Love, Pete
From Remus Lupin to Peter Pettigrew, 6 July 1978, Newham
Peter,
You don't have haemerroids.
Well, I'm glad your mum doesn't hate me, because I've always liked her all right. Perhaps we can take turns lecturing you, though, really, I don't want to start sounding like your mum, and I think the grovelling should be reserved just for me.
I find it doubtful I got all Os, considering. I think that pain medication killed a bunch of brain cells. Anyway, you're mad if you think I'd be a good teacher. Can you honestly imagine me standing in front of an entire classroom full of people? I might die of embarrassment before I taught anyone anything. Perhaps I could tutor, though. Might have to, actually. I'm finding it a bit difficult to find a job. All the ones that don't check Ministry records before hiring really aren't very
I don't want you to get angry over me.
Love, Remus Lupin-Pettigrew... No, I think Sirius is right. Perhaps we ought to keep our own names.
P.S. I love you and miss you, too. Maybe our home by the sea will have a semi-private beach.
From Peter Pettigrew to Remus Lupin, 10 July, 1978, Glasgow
Dear Remus,
Here's the thing: You're mine. My boyfriend, my husband, the other half of my life. Right? I can't promise not to get angry over you. Because if someone mistreats you, I should be angry. But what I promise is not to ever hurt anyone because of you. Never again.
I love you. I want to be with you. If I knew where you were right now, I would Apparate there and wrap my arms around you and hold on to you. I miss you so much.
Love, Pete Lupin (maybe, maybe not)
From Remus Lupin to Mrs. Phyllis Pettigrew, 11 July 1978, Newham
Mrs. Pettigrew,
I'm sorry if this letter reaches you at an inconvenient time. I do hope you're doing well.
I was just writing to ask if it would be all right if I came to visit. I know that Peter might still be on punishment, and I agree with it, believe me... but I miss him.
Thanks,
Remus J. Lupin
P.S. Can you tell him I said to keep the alliteration, please? He'll know what I mean.
From Phyllis Pettigrew to Remus Lupin, 12 July 1979, Glasgow
My Dear Remus,
By all means, you're welcome to visit. You'll have to ask Peter if he's still on punishment; I told him when he came home from school that I was severely disappointed with him, and that, since he's been of age for nearly a year in the Wizarding world, and turned of age in the Muggle world in June, he would have to set his own punishment. My house has never been in such good repair, but I begin to think he's punishing himself far worse than you or I would have.
Perhaps you could tell him that you forgive him for the poor decisions he made.
I look forward to seeing you. Let me know when to expect you and I'll have the guest bedroom ready for you.
Love, Phyl Pettigrew
P.S. He looked at me as if I were mad when I mentioned alliteration, but he wouldn't explain. I can only presume this is a private joke.