The most fantastic and studious Remus!
How's your holiday's going? I snuck –well, tried to- into my parent's place a couple of days ago to get the rest of my stuff. They bloody locked it up in the attic. None the less, James' dad came with my and he convinced them –with the help of six other aurors, namely Mad Eye Moody freaked them out a lot- to give it all back.
Mad Eye made some threat to my Dad about illegal possession of dark artefacts. However, after that it was all sunshine and roses and it was cheery and pleasant. I'm beginning to doubt whether I should have run away or not.
That was sarcasm.
Most of it was my old magazines with the pictures of those girls, but I don't even need that anymore now that I reckon –well, know- that I'm not straight. Not that they know that.
Regardless, I still needed it back because I sold all my old stuff to get some decent form of transportation.
But now I can come and see you without feeling guilty for snapping several twigs from James' brooms.
Love,
Padfoot.
Sirius,
Not much has happened yet, I got all of my homework out of the way within the first week while it was still fresh in my head.
Gran gave me a new ointment she found when she was backpacking in Tibet that is meant to help with magically induced wounds. I tested it on that pinkish one that is still pinkish that I got from last time, it's seemed to help a lot for fresh wounds not so much for the already aged ones.
You do know that you can still visit me via the floo network or you can apparate or get a cab? Because of my furry little problem I don't even live near Muggles or anyone in general. You know that.
Love,
Remus.
To the guy that doesn't have any creativity,
Of course I can come to your house using simple and boring means, but where's the fun in that?
All will be revealed on Thursday. This is the day I'm going to come to your place and see you.
We haven't seen each other in nearly a week and I'm about to drop myself off to an asylum. That was also sarcasm.
My new mode of transportation is the shit. This is a new term I learnt from the Muggle kids down at the club. It's meant to be a good thing. I'm not sure.
-S.B
Remus woke up at six o'clock on Thursday morning. Within half an hour he had eaten breakfast, brushed his teeth and had a shower. He was waiting expectantly in the front sitting room reading a thick paperback novel where he let the light overfill the room from the outside world.
He didn't want to seem too eager, hence, the book.
By midmorning a thunderous roar swallowed the entire house. Confused and a little terrified, Remus shuffled up in his seat to get a clearer view of what was probably a dragon on the front lawn.
As soon as he saw the source of the racket, his shoulders dropped.
"He's outdone himself this time." Remus muttered darkly as he met his completely not-heterosexual boyfriend.
"Do you like it?" Sirius called as he lifted off the shiny black helmet, a grin was tattooed onto his face.
"Really?" Remus pretended to be irritated.
"I think it's quirky. James likes it. Mrs Potter tolerates it." Sirius sounded like he was rehearsing a speech.
"I'm not getting on that death trap." Remus said.
"It's not a death trap!" Sirius gasped.
"I'm terrified of motorbikes! I'm not getting on it!" Defended Remus.
"What if I told you that it could fly?"
"Forget it."
Dear Guest Reviewer,
Who art thou? You didn't log in to post the review, which is perfectly reasonable, given that logging into is like trying to teach a horse how to use its opposable thumb. Though, you could have at least put your penname or whatever you're meant to call it in the title. Alas, you didn't. You mentioned that you have this story on your alert list, meaning that you do have an account.
Maybe you don't want me to know who you are.
Maybe you're a dragon. PLEASE, PLEASE BE A DRAGON.
If you are a dragon, please don't set fire to my house. I quite like my house. And I like my books a whole lot more.