Two Years Later

Dear Albus,

I never thought I would ever again experience the genuine feeling of normalcy. The comfort of waking up in the morning to a world where I no longer have to pretend that one day everything would simply and delicately fall into place. But then again, what could be more curious in my life than a lifetime of pure content? What could be stranger to me than willingly sitting drinking coffee on a Saturday morning and writing a Christmas card?

Well, Albus, it is Saturday morning, my coffee is hot and I am in fact writing my first Christmas card. It's beautiful out here. The snow is no less than a foot thick which is delightful because Jacob is not more than two and a half feet tall. He's out there now with Draco. I'm thankful we took him in after his sixth year. We couldn't let him go back to that family, to that kind of world.

Jacob is walking now, well – he is, at least, trying. I had nearly forgotten what it was like watching them grow up. It's absolutely fascinating the way their world expands – everyday something new. Everyday he'll point to something as mundane as a tree and smile as if it is the world's greatest creation.

We were originally worried about having another child. Before we even had William, we joked about how we never wanted kids in the house after we had each turned fifty. But truthfully, it's lovely. Jacob will never replace what we lost, but he has reminded about what we loved. He is such a gift. And he will be out of this house before we are sixty.

Draco is coming along greater than I had anticipated given the circumstances. I think having Jacob around has helped him begin to put things besides his own life into perspective. A few nights ago he was actually, I swear to you, helping with the dishes when he turned to Maylin and called her "mum." The look on her face was priceless to say the least. She dropped her chore and held him as if he was her own son. Since Lucius's death his birth mother has refused to see, let alone speak to the boy. Maylin swore to take back every nasty thought she ever had about him. I guess they both just had a bit of growing up to do.

As Draco finishes up his seventh year, he tells me he's interested in pursuing medicine. I'm proud to say that my own endeavors have prospered so favorably I feel I might be able to provide him with some real guidance. I'm back again working with the same pharmaceutical company as before, the one infusing potion mastery with modern muggle medicine. It's mind boggling the way the two worlds just melt together. Maylin says I should try to find the missing link between potions and chicken soup. Then and only then will we finally be able to cure the common cold.

And Maylin? God I love that woman. She still manages to shine like every star in my night sky. She's reading right now on the couch across from me. Every once in a while she looks up and smiles. She says everything she needs to with her eyes. She was summoned not to long ago by the Ministry. They wanted her back for more "diplomatic consulting." She, of course, politely declined the offer saying there were all a bunch of bullshit twat sucking wankers. I'm so proud of her.

About a month ago a publishing company got a hold of her and offered her the opportunity to write her own textbook series. She wants to call the first one "A First Year's Guide for Fending Off Faeries, The first in a series you'll only live to regret." It's a rather long title but I think in the end she'll win out.

I hope this letter finds you well. I think of you often and and will never forget your undying respect and faith in me. Give my regards to the entire staff and if you should happen to find yourself in the area, never hesitate to simply drop in.

Merry Christmas Albus.

-Severus Snape