In honour of Mr Lupin's birthday...
Alright. So. I decided to do this because I'm a big girly nerd. We knew that. And HERE IS UNDENIABLE PROOF!
These are messages, written to Remus, from Sirius. It is based on characterisations of those characters as portrayed over at communiquills. Much love to my wonderful Moony, synodic_pup/sopdetly. I will probably be posting this around someplace other than here at some point, but for now... I'm already late to meet people for dinner - eep!
Enjoy!
10 March 1972
A garishly ornate, obviously expensive note card:
To Remus:
On the Ocasion of your Birthday.
Many Pleasant Wishes.
Happy Birthday.
Best,
Sirius Black
10 March 1973
Hastily dashed out (with many messy cross-outs) on a page of Muggle notebook paper:
Remus-
Take heed of what your best mates said:
Beware Dark Creatures in your Bed (haha!).
Eat too much Cake, drink too much Wine
And have yourself a Spiffing Time!
Have a bloody ACE birthday!!
~Sirius
P.S. I know wine is sort of stupid because we don’t drink it, but pumpkin juice and butter beer didn’t rhyme. Plus James said it doesn’t really count because it’s in a poem and poems are for girls ayway right? so it doesn’t really have to make sense or anything.
10 March 1974
A garish, brightly coloured note card, the message written inside in flashing, multi-coloured ink:
Remus!
Happy Birthday, you mad bastard!
I do hope it’s been a good one (what can be bad about presents, right?). Do you like the ink? We’ve been working on the Charm for a while. James and me, I mean. I want to figure out one that changes colour depending on the mood of the person who's writing. Wouldn’t that be brilliant? Or maybe the mood of the person who’s holding the parchment/what-have-you. Although that would be more of a spell for the parchment, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t make so much sense if you had to touch the ink to get the Charm to work. You’d have to tell the person, wouldn’t you? And that would be crap because then you would have spoilt the surprise or whatever. And anyway, what if you got a really cheerful message, but you were in a bad mood and then it turned all awful and pea-soupy green and that just made you feel worse, right? Then what kind of cheer-up would that letter have been?
So. Right. Happy Birthday and all that.
~Sirius
10 March 1975
Plain parchment, handwriting visibly rushed and messy:
Dear
Remus,
Happy Birthday.
I don’t know if Have you ever thought about Would it bother you if - hypothetically
lo
Best,
~Sirius Black
10 March 1976
A crumpled piece of parchment, wadded up and forgotten in the bottom of Sirius’ school trunk:
Remus-
I’m sorry. I don’t know how to
I know you don’t want to speak to me anymore.
I know you hate me.
I know you probably would rather I just up and died.
Sometimes I wonder if
James and Pete and I have a surprise for you. I don’t expect it to make any difference but I thought that maybe about what happened, but we’re all doing it anyway. We’ve been working on it for an awfully long time.
Please don’t say that
Happy Birthday.
I’m I never meant for
Since
Sirius
10 March 1977
Written on a folded bit of tea-stained parchment with a largely illegible chunk of an Ancient Runes essay on the back of it:
Moony,
I’m crap at this sort of thing, but I expect you already know that after having shared a room for 5 ½ years. Hope you like the first part of your present. You’ll get the rest of it after dinner, in private. (Meet me. Hallway outside of the Charms classroom.)
Happy Birthday.
love,
Sirius
P.S. Am happy to administer an Appropriate Birthday Spanking if so desired.
10 March 1978
Standard parchment, sealed and delivered by an owl:
R-
Yes. An owl. From me. And I’m sitting right across from you at breakfast while you’re reading this, right? Don’t give me that look, just keep reading. And don’t think that that’s even HALF of the look the owl gave me. Not to mention the beak-mark I’ve now got on my thumb when I didn’t have any treats to hand out. Honestly, someone ought to check these school owls for appropriate temperment before they’re allowed to be in the school’s employ. Most of them seem to have a fondness for fingers.
So. Have you tried to talk to me yet, or are you being a good lad and just playing along? I expect it’s the latter. Regardless that James and Pete know about us by now, I know you greatly favour being discrete.
And now. The reason for this owl. I’m sure you’ve an idea at least.
It’s your birthday. Obviously you already know that. I’m not suggesting that you’re so daft as to have forgotten your own birthday. Anyway. What I’m trying to say here…
I talk a lot of crap all the time. You know that. I say a lot of things that I only half mean because they’re funny, or they piss people off, or they sound clever. Sometimes, though, I wonder what you think I might be joking about when I say it. We both know I have no talent for subtlety whatsoever, but I can’t always figure out how you’re taking things. So. Here it is, plain and simple (and if you ever show this parchment to anyone, I will personally castrate you with a rusty fork, in spite of the resultant loss of your balls for which I have a distinct admiration) -
I’ve done a lot of stupid things. I’ve said a lot of stupid things. I’ve cocked things up more than once. I’m bound to do something just as stupid at some point in near future. (In fact, I think I’m rather due for a massive cock up, don’t you? It’s been a while. How does this afternoon suit you?) But through it all, we’ve still managed to stay mates with only a bit of a bump here and there (some bigger than others).
Alright. I thought I knew what I was saying and now I’m not so sure anymore.
I suppose it’s just that - I’m glad you’re around. I’m glad you’re my mate. I’m glad for the fucking amazing sex. More than anything, I’m more than a bit relieved that you don’t hate me even after unnumbered fuck-ups. And I guess I just wanted to make sure I told you that. On your birthday.
Plus, many happy returns and all that shite.
I lo
I love you.
~S
These are messages, written to Remus, from Sirius. It is based on characterisations of those characters as portrayed over at communiquills. Much love to my wonderful Moony, synodic_pup/sopdetly. I will probably be posting this around someplace other than here at some point, but for now... I'm already late to meet people for dinner - eep!
Enjoy!
10 March 1972
A garishly ornate, obviously expensive note card:
To Remus:
On the Ocasion of your Birthday.
Many Pleasant Wishes.
Happy Birthday.
Best,
Sirius Black
10 March 1973
Hastily dashed out (with many messy cross-outs) on a page of Muggle notebook paper:
Remus-
Take heed of what your best mates said:
Beware Dark Creatures in your Bed (haha!).
Eat too much Cake, drink too much Wine
And have yourself a Spiffing Time!
Have a bloody ACE birthday!!
~Sirius
P.S. I know wine is sort of stupid because we don’t drink it, but pumpkin juice and butter beer didn’t rhyme. Plus James said it doesn’t really count because it’s in a poem and poems are for girls ayway right? so it doesn’t really have to make sense or anything.
10 March 1974
A garish, brightly coloured note card, the message written inside in flashing, multi-coloured ink:
Remus!
Happy Birthday, you mad bastard!
I do hope it’s been a good one (what can be bad about presents, right?). Do you like the ink? We’ve been working on the Charm for a while. James and me, I mean. I want to figure out one that changes colour depending on the mood of the person who's writing. Wouldn’t that be brilliant? Or maybe the mood of the person who’s holding the parchment/what-have-you. Although that would be more of a spell for the parchment, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t make so much sense if you had to touch the ink to get the Charm to work. You’d have to tell the person, wouldn’t you? And that would be crap because then you would have spoilt the surprise or whatever. And anyway, what if you got a really cheerful message, but you were in a bad mood and then it turned all awful and pea-soupy green and that just made you feel worse, right? Then what kind of cheer-up would that letter have been?
So. Right. Happy Birthday and all that.
~Sirius
10 March 1975
Plain parchment, handwriting visibly rushed and messy:
Dear
Remus,
Happy Birthday.
I don’t know if Have you ever thought about Would it bother you if - hypothetically
lo
Best,
~Sirius Black
10 March 1976
A crumpled piece of parchment, wadded up and forgotten in the bottom of Sirius’ school trunk:
Remus-
I’m sorry. I don’t know how to
I know you don’t want to speak to me anymore.
I know you hate me.
I know you probably would rather I just up and died.
Sometimes I wonder if
James and Pete and I have a surprise for you. I don’t expect it to make any difference but I thought that maybe about what happened, but we’re all doing it anyway. We’ve been working on it for an awfully long time.
Please don’t say that
Happy Birthday.
I’m I never meant for
Since
Sirius
10 March 1977
Written on a folded bit of tea-stained parchment with a largely illegible chunk of an Ancient Runes essay on the back of it:
Moony,
I’m crap at this sort of thing, but I expect you already know that after having shared a room for 5 ½ years. Hope you like the first part of your present. You’ll get the rest of it after dinner, in private. (Meet me. Hallway outside of the Charms classroom.)
Happy Birthday.
love,
Sirius
P.S. Am happy to administer an Appropriate Birthday Spanking if so desired.
10 March 1978
Standard parchment, sealed and delivered by an owl:
R-
Yes. An owl. From me. And I’m sitting right across from you at breakfast while you’re reading this, right? Don’t give me that look, just keep reading. And don’t think that that’s even HALF of the look the owl gave me. Not to mention the beak-mark I’ve now got on my thumb when I didn’t have any treats to hand out. Honestly, someone ought to check these school owls for appropriate temperment before they’re allowed to be in the school’s employ. Most of them seem to have a fondness for fingers.
So. Have you tried to talk to me yet, or are you being a good lad and just playing along? I expect it’s the latter. Regardless that James and Pete know about us by now, I know you greatly favour being discrete.
And now. The reason for this owl. I’m sure you’ve an idea at least.
It’s your birthday. Obviously you already know that. I’m not suggesting that you’re so daft as to have forgotten your own birthday. Anyway. What I’m trying to say here…
I talk a lot of crap all the time. You know that. I say a lot of things that I only half mean because they’re funny, or they piss people off, or they sound clever. Sometimes, though, I wonder what you think I might be joking about when I say it. We both know I have no talent for subtlety whatsoever, but I can’t always figure out how you’re taking things. So. Here it is, plain and simple (and if you ever show this parchment to anyone, I will personally castrate you with a rusty fork, in spite of the resultant loss of your balls for which I have a distinct admiration) -
I’ve done a lot of stupid things. I’ve said a lot of stupid things. I’ve cocked things up more than once. I’m bound to do something just as stupid at some point in near future. (In fact, I think I’m rather due for a massive cock up, don’t you? It’s been a while. How does this afternoon suit you?) But through it all, we’ve still managed to stay mates with only a bit of a bump here and there (some bigger than others).
Alright. I thought I knew what I was saying and now I’m not so sure anymore.
I suppose it’s just that - I’m glad you’re around. I’m glad you’re my mate. I’m glad for the fucking amazing sex. More than anything, I’m more than a bit relieved that you don’t hate me even after unnumbered fuck-ups. And I guess I just wanted to make sure I told you that. On your birthday.
Plus, many happy returns and all that shite.
I lo
I love you.
~S