12 November 1998
Dear Padma,
Scandal indeed. I, however, am a gentleman, and have no intention of tarnishing your reputation to your sister, or your Ammamma who, if you are her reflection as it sounds from your letters, is a very winning woman. Also, I have no hope of uncovering the sentiment of your poem, no matter whom I try to play in its part. Despite - or perhaps because of - the mystery, I find it compelling.
In case it is better for you, or your family, Ive delayed my own response as long as I can manage. Unfortunately, Cairo has little for me by way of entertainment, so I am actually beginning to look forward to what home will hold for me. Crisp winds, my friends, a lack of sand, my mother, with both good and bad, just as youve written about your own, I imagine, and - if this other plan of yours does not keep you away - you. There are many more unappealing things waiting along with the good, I know, but four months have finally wrung a drop of homesickness from me. I feel though, for the first time in maybe even a year, that I am longing not for a remembered time of happiness at home, but for those yet to come, in a home I havent made.
Your good friend,
Theodore( . )
14 November, 1998
Padma,
I shall take my cues from the timing of your own letters, for the time being, if its alright? Content, however, is not to be censored from me. I know no ladies - nor, as you are correct in assuming, do I really aspire to - who would write of banality. I can only hope there are moments in your days that are better and more entertaining than these, and that you share them with me. By pen, for now, at least.
Do not feel shamed, for poems. Its impossible for me to judge you as author when I cannot even completely comprehend content. Arent they intended mysterious, anyhow? If not, I must be thicker than I imagine. It must be the case, as I havent the foggiest who Zelma Bieke is. Likely either because I didnt continue on after O.W.L.s, or because I was in a state of stupor induced by Binns monotonous drones. Needless to say, the information is rather more interesting coming from you.
As I imagine you will find mention of my father, I will tell you what I know now, so you dont feel uncomfortable in trying to think of how to broach the topic with me.
He was as flawed then as he is now, in opinions and judgments, though he showed enough cunning - and enough well placed funds - to stay out of Azkaban. I know him to have been a murderer. I know my mother may be considered accomplice. I know my family to have had a longstanding history of intolerance and prejudice stretching far before Joseph, myself, my father, beyond Grandfather - back to France even. My own mistrust of Muggles was born from something much more recent, but was happily cultivated by my parents, all the same. I know you must, as any historian is bound to do, judge him for his actions, but I hope that you can have some understanding why, no matter my distaste for what he has done, Im not looking to defect from my family. There are centuries of history and tradition that follow my name, and despite all of the parts I find unsavory, it is mine to own.
If you will still have me, after all that you learn, Id like to ask you what you would like to do, while in Britain. It sounds as though your family would be equally as keen on a visit by me as mine would from you, and our names feel heavy burdens in this case. I am wary to spend very much time in Hogsmeade, or Diagon, but if you wish it, I will. I have a house though, outside of Burnham-on-Crouch, if its not too ungentlemanly to invite you. My family had meant for me to start there, so youre welcome to see in person what I suppose are my imaginings.
Ever yours,
Theodore( . )
13 November 1998
My dear Theodore,
I am heartily shamed now both for what you must be thinking, that I am not a lady, and for wanting to have my poem back as I loathed the ending as soon as I had sent it off. How shall I amend? I am afraid there is little hope for the former, as a lady's letter would require such formality and utter lack of content that I do not think I can manage, nor - though you are welcome to correct me - do I think you would enjoy such a letter. Do tell me, and I shall henceforth write only of the linens, the tedious hours with the house elves only for company, and planning large, exhausting dinners for ungrateful relatives.
As for the poem, well. I do not know the young woman as well as I thought I did.
I cannot thank you over much for delaying your letter, though I must. For all I wanted news the discretion was most welcome. If Parvati's opinions of you are half as glaring as I suspect my mother's would be I am better off not giving her leave to voice them. She is not unkind nor entirely unreasonable, but we do not always see eye to eye, nor even from the corners of our eyes in the same way.
I would not miss Scotland for any thing. But, I am traveling again. Though I am certain mother does not approve of my using her Ministry contacts in this way, I have secured a brief residence for myself in Berlin, just until I am to depart for a few days in Kent with my family before next I see you. There is an historian and linguist who lives there, Zelma Bieke, do you remember her from History of Magic? Admittedly, it it easy to forget anything upon which Professor Binns lectures. She is working on a revision of her earlier text concerning the first war in regards to what has happened now, and I am pleased that she has little interest, as yet, in the stories of students. I am to assist her in editing and gathering first hand accounts in exchange for the opportunity to revisit my German and, though not to her own knowledge, improve my own perspective. It seems strange to have avoided these waters for so long only to dive headfirst into them, but I feel pulled along by many currents in this course, and so, I follow it.
Perhaps if I enjoy the work and she does not despise me, unladylike as I am, she will invite me to return after the holidays.
You write of homesickness in a fashion that makes me think I must take it up, even where crisp winds and winter are concerned. I have always lived so much in fancy, and I suspect, regrettably, taking far too much for granted, it is difficult to fathom what sort of home I shall have that I haven't now. With a lagoon, perhaps?
Perhaps I should draw from you your imaginings so as to inspire my own.
Fondly,
Padma
( . )
15 November 1998
Theodore,
Please believe me when I write that nothing I hear of what your father has done, from you or from anyone else, can change my opinion of you based on the things that you have done. You are your own man, and I think are like always to have been and to be. In the same breath I assure you that I neither anticipate you to exchange one cruelty for another, namely, severing yourself from your family. We have grown so used to attitudes about blood that have as much to do with magic as they do with biology, and I find in this I prefer a Muggle attitude. We are pieced and made whole from the bodies of our mothers and fathers, raised in hope and likeness and, even in seeming misguided cases, love. Loyalty to one's family could never for me be something to admonish, even if the attitudes and traditions were not in accord with my own.
I hope I have not made you think otherwise.
What I wish is to carry our friendship off of the page. I would like very much to see your house if you regard it as yours, and as I am eighteen and a woman, feel entirely within my right to determine what is gentlemanly and ungentlemanly.
Let us look at Vega, side by side?
I am writing you but a moment before I kiss Ammamma on both cheeks and bid her a tearful farewell. My next from Berlin.
p.p.
( . )
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