The late afternoon sun slanted warmly across the table in the modest, book-filled cottage Remus Lupin now called home. A tea kettle whistled gently in the background as he sorted through post delivered by a brown owl he didn't recognize. Most of it was mundane wizarding correspondence.
But one letter stood out.
Three names, written in fresh, young script.
Remus stilled.
"Padfoot!" he called toward the adjoining room, voice oddly tight.
There was a thump and a curse as Sirius Black tumbled through the doorway half a second later, half-dressed and completely rumpled. "What? Are we under attack? Is it Dementors? Did someone hex the cat again?"
"No. It's… them."
Sirius blinked, then rushed forward, eyes darting to the parchment in Remus' hand.
"Iris. Hadrian. And Dora."
Remus passed him the letter with slightly shaking fingers. They read together in silence.
By the time they reached the bottom of the page, Sirius dropped into a chair like someone had let all the air out of him. "They wrote," he whispered. "They actually wrote."
"They want to see us," Remus murmured, rereading the line that invited them to meet on Iris and Hadrian's birthday. "They chose to write."
Sirius was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.
"I didn't think they would. Not after everything. Not after we left them—"
"We didn't leave them, Sirius." Remus's voice was calm but firm. "We were forced to wait. That's all. And they knew that, eventually."
Sirius ran a hand through his hair and let out a slow breath. "I want to go to them. Right now. I want to show up, tell them everything—how much they were loved, how long we waited, how proud we are of them."
"I know," Remus said gently. "I do too. But they invited us to their birthday. We need to respect it."
Sirius closed his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. It fits well, as we intended to wait until then anyway."
"They need time," Remus added. "To be ready. To feel in control of this. And we can give them that."
Sirius opened his eyes again, glassy but bright. "Alright then. We'll write back. Keep it simple. Let them know we'll be there. No surprises."
"And no gushing," Remus said with a raised eyebrow. "We'll save that for when we see them in person."
Sirius gave him a small, crooked grin. "Deal."
They penned the reply together, side by side at the same table they had once used to plan Order missions. This time, though, the ink held no weight of war—only the tremulous hope of reunion.
Dear Iris, Hadrian, and Dora,
Your letter was more than welcome—it was a gift. Thank you.
We'd be honored to see you on your birthday. We'll count the days until then.
You three have already done more than you know by reaching out. When you're ready, we'll be there.
With all the love in the world,
Remus and Sirius
P.S. Sirius says there better be cake.
As the owl soared into the evening sky, disappearing toward the golden horizon, Remus stood beside Sirius on the porch of the cottage, arms folded.
"They're coming back to us," Sirius said quietly.
Remus nodded, his throat tight. "Yes. And we're going back to them."