27th August 1980
Dear Moony,
This hospital is so boring! There's nothing to do (not even you) and I'm not even that bloody sick anyway. I should be at home, recuperating, with you! But instead I'm here, in agony, because the Healers are sadists who like to see me suffer (no painkillers for two days! And just because it 'might react with the poison'. I don't bloody well care!)
Anyway, how goes it all at home? James still panicking over how to hold the baby? And Peter's keeping you company I hope. Can't have you all on your lonesome while I'm wasting away in here. And I have to say, this isn't exactly the nicest place in the world to waste away in. There's a man in the bed opposite who won't stop talking to me about Nargles (whatever the hell they are) and the fella in the bed beside me screams bloody murder every twenty seven minutes on the dot. I know. I've timed it. That's how bored I am. I've also counted the eight six petals on those flowers your mother brought me and the number of rectangles on the curtains (two hundred and twelve if you're interested).
You better visit this evening or else you'll have a clinically insane boyfriend on your hands.
Sirius