fatal love

chapter 100

Dearest Moony,

I can feel you rolling your eyes as you read that. But I know it made you laugh as well, so roll your eyes all you want, I don't care.

It's only been a day since we left Hogwarts, but I already miss you. That's really soppy, but it's true. We really wasted our time this term, and then when we finally got our shit together, we had to leave. It's okay though, I can last two more weeks. Probably.

I'm not doing much here. Prongs has got me playing a lot of Quidditch in his garden, which is alright, but it's too cold to really enjoy it. He's a madman, I swear. He's telling me to tell you he says hello, so: Prongs says hello.

Euphemia and Fleamont are good too. I helped Monty make breakfast this morning - he's been teaching me how to cook, because the Potters don't have House Elves. His food is way better than Kreacher's ever was though. And now, when we leave school, I'll have some 'life skills' as Euphemia says.

I'm rambling. I don't actually have anything to tell you, I just wanted to write to you. I'm thinking about you all the time: when I'm playing Quidditch, when I'm cooking, when I'm in the shower. (I just made you blush, didn't I? See, I know you like the back of my hand, Moony.)

I'll see you in two weeks,

Padfoot

Pads,

I miss you too, even if you are a daft git. There isn't much happening in Wales either. Everyone is talking about this new band, and how punk is the end of society. You'd love them, I reckon - they're called the Sex Pistols, and all the tabloids are shitting themselves about this interview on TV. I saw a tape of it, and it was wicked. The interviewer was a right creep, and one of the members called him a dirty fucker on live TV! I dunno if you know what that means, but everyone was watching it, and now they're all up in arms.

But that's all anyone can talk about. Mum and Dad ask me about my classes a lot, but not much else. And the town is so quiet, there isn't much to do. I'm reading a lot, and I'll probably go to the cinema at some point, but really I'm just filling the time until we go back.

I'm thinking about you a lot too. I get so used to you always being around, for hours and hours every single day, that you not being there feels like I'm missing an arm or something. I don't like it.

I'll see you in thirteen days,

Moony

My beautiful Moonshine,

Stop rolling your eyes! My parents had a loveless marriage, Moony, I don't know how to be romantic! I'm trying my best!

That band sounds wicked. I'll have to ask Marlene about them, they sound like her type of people. To hell with society, decorum, and all that bullshit. It's all meaningless anyway.

Sorry you're bored. The Potters are the opposite of boring - I think James used to find holidays boring, but now I'm here, he's having the time of his life. Euphemia and Monty are all about doing these wholesome, family activities, but I don't mind. It's all rather nice, actually. Everyone talks to each other at dinner, rather than complete silence or tense conversations. That took some getting used to, but it's great.

James got a letter from Evans yesterday, and I think all of his Christmas presents are going to pale in comparison now. You should have seen him when the owl arrived, he jumped up in excitement and everything.

When your owl arrived, I was totally cool, of course. I was all suave and nonchalant, and I definitely didn't give myself a paper cut because I was in such a rush to open it.

As amazing as the Potters are, I miss you. I'm thinking about you constantly.

I'll see you in twelve days,