January 20th, 1971
I noticed your closing was rather heartfelt. Are you, dare I say it, trying to be nice? You know, we could just be friends. We don't have to tell your family. Do you think they'd like us talking? It wouldn't be very much of a step up from mutual acquaintances that talk every other day and do rounds together. So, what do you say? Will you be my friend?
I suppose we'll know if Nova did go to your parents soon. I remember the last time you got a Howler, in first year, when you helped that Turpin boy with his homework before you learned his blood status. If you get one, write me immediately. Deal?
You're serious? You'll go to the kitchens with me? Brill! I'll tell Aiden and Arthur, you tell Clearwater, and we can meet up in two days' time. Wednesday, yeah? I have a free period right after lunch, so I'm in no hurry. You can tell the Slytherins that you have to work on an essay or something. What's your favourite food? I need to tell the elves if five of us are going to be raiding the kitchens.
You seriously have a dungeon? Have your parents ever, you know, kept someone in them? Did they put you in them? Andromeda, tell me what they've done. Wow. Sorry. That was a little frantic. In all seriousness, if they hurt you, tell me. The way you talk about them… you don't really like them do you? You hate your family, but you're too afraid to say anything. You want to hang out with me. You don't call me mudblood. You don't talk to people at your table. I've never seen you hex someone without provocation. You don't want to be one of them. So, why is getting blasted off a tree so bad? I mean, it's just symbolic, right? You get blown of your family tree. You don't blow up yourself.
I have a plan. What if we disillusioned you? That way, it would just look like I went out with some random witch, and not the middle Black sister?
I will not let you marry that man, Andromeda. He's five years your senior, you've never met, I'm fairly certain you two are related, and he's a deatheater. You can live with me. I'm not kidding. Think about it, 'Dromeda. Just think about it.
Afraid of fire, hmmm? Well, I'm not sure if that beats fear of the dark, but I guess it is a fear for fear.
Okay, I'm secretly in love with this girl, have been for ages, but she doesn't like me that way.
Your very best friend,
Un sous-sol avec des chaînes est un donjon.