Remus woke up the morning after drinking with Molly. They had shared dozens of stories, and he could only remember clips and snips... But what he could remember was that she was not the person he assumed her to be.

Motherly, yes... but she was wild. Untamed. He hoped to look forward to many more nights like this one. Just talking to her. Hearing more about her life. Hearing all the stories that went untold.

For the first time in a long time, he also didn't have a hangover. He hadn't had much to drink, and he had eaten with it. It was nice to wake up happy to see the sun.

He opened his dusty blinds and was unsurprised to find the black owl sitting on his sill. He had no idea how it could do it, but the owl always returned eerily fast. He brought the owl to the kitchen to feed it before reading its letter.

The black owl was inclined to biting if not fed before its letter was removed. Remus fed the owl and waited until it made a cooing sound to move toward its leg. Finally contented the owl stretched out its leg and allowed Remus to relieve it of its burden.

The letter seemed like it shoult have made perfect sense. A letter that began with "Dear Remus" and ended with "From Dumbledor"... but it didn't. The writer had scrawled in a hurry and the only thing on the parchment was


I'll do better.


Maybe he got the wrong letter. Maybe Dumbledore was sending the books with another owl?...Maybe he needed more scotch. Remus poured himself a glass and waited for the "better" that was to come.

It was several days later that his "better" arrived... but, "better" is certainly in the eye of the beholder.