owl to Iz
Dearest Isabel,
Someone asked me recently where I store all of my self-righteousness. I blew the question off because that is what I do. Once I've come to a conclusion it's hard to make me change my mind. I decided a long time ago that we just wouldn't work. How could we possibly make sense anyway? I was the son of a healer and auror. You were the daughter of Death Eaters. Yet. I kept coming back. Couldn't get you out of mind no matter how hard I tried to push you away. I've judged you based on your genetics. I've held you accountable for things that were not done with your hands. I've screamed and tossed insults because I felt the choices you made put our daughter in danger.
And then I blew a hole into the side of your bar while our daughter was in the other room.
I don't think I was wrong about genetics playing a part in who we are. I am the product of the people who raised me as much as I am the people who created me. The auror son of an auror, healer, and two death eaters. You'd think that would balance out, but I'm not sure it does. I've been trying to come up with the words to explain what happened that night. Honestly, the explanation is so simple that it seems lacking. Eagles tend to over-analyze things. The simplest solution rarely makes sense to us. But sometimes it's the only solution or explanation.
I found two people who were said to have been a part of the attack that left a 20 year old auror dead, and her partner without his arm, in your bar. I realized you were there. That Stella was there. I'd always trusted them not to make a move on either of you. Trusted that they had their own honor code that they went by. But how could people who would kill a kid just because she happened to be there, because she happened to think that enforcing the laws so the world was safe for them as well as anyone else, possess any real honor? That blind faith I had that my daughter and the woman I loved would be safe simply because their last name was Lestrange disappeared. I acted in that moment. I wanted them as far away from both of you as I could physically push them.
But then things got out of my control. That's hard for me to admit because the fact is I don't lose control. Blowing that hole into your wall wasn't impulsive. It was a calculated move. I lost control the moment I looked up, saw your expression as you saw the blood pouring out of me. It was in that moment that I realized I'd done what I feared they would do; I brought that war to where my family lived.
I'm sorry. You'll never realize how sorry I am for doing that. You shouldn't have seen that. It had never been my intention to ever make you and Stella be afraid of anything, especially me. I'm glad you took her and ran. I hope that you both stay gone until this is over. I know I've made a mess of things with us over the years. I run hot and cold. I get distracted with my job. I make excuses for why we won't work. The fact is, Isabel, I've loved you since I was fourteen years old. There isn't going to be a day that I don't love you and Stella.
But I think the simple truth is that you deserve better than me. It's not you that has the flawed genetics and morals; it's me. I wish I'd figured this out when I was young and able to fix it.
In case you see it in the prophet, please don't worry about me. I'm fine. Just a few days in St. Mungo's and I'll be fine. The jail break was a disaster, but Potter tricked me into taking a port key out of it before I could be hurt worse than I was. I'm too stubborn to die anyway, right? Take care of you and the kid. I know you'll do that even without me saying it.
I really am sorry I let you both down.
Yours,
Bastian