A,

Things must have gone well for you if you have the energy to write me letters the next morning, hm? And it seems as though you're feeling rather optimistic, saying it's been a little better when there's still one night to go. I'm happy for you, but you have to tell me more about it than that, you know. Is it anything that I could do? The Ministry isn't exactly keen on experimental treatments (or, to be honest, any kind of treatments whatsoever) but I think my father still has enough sway that he might be able to convince them, if we really thought it was going to make a difference. He got the trunk down there for me, after all, and that's been a huge help.

You don't have to apologize for 'bogging me down' with your thoughts. I like your thoughts. If I didn't, I wouldn't write to you.

Do you count your anniversary from when you were attacked, or from your first full moon? If it's the latter this month is mine. Four years, not seven, but still, I think I know what you mean. It seems like forever sometimes, doesn't it? Like your whole life before it happened all happened to a different person. But maybe that's just me, and maybe it's because so much changed right when it happened.

I probably wouldn't say this to anyone else because I don't think they'd understand, but I think the first full moon was worse than the attack. Not that being bitten by a werewolf is a walk in the park or anything. I remember I had nightmares about it almost constantly for those first two weeks, though now it's harder to remember. Of course I don't remember anything about the first full moon, either, but I think the feeling afterwards was worse. Being attacked is a thing that happened to you, but once you have your first full moon it's a thing that's a part of you, and that was — I suppose that's when your life really divides itself into the before and after. So I count from September.

This letter is getting a bit dark, isn't it? Blame two nights of no sleep, I suppose. I'm excited to hear about whatever J is doing that's working.