Owl to Tilly
Rabastan Ancelin Lestrange,
Sir, my name is Tilden Toots; you may remember me from our acquaintance at school. It has come to my attention that you’re not, in fact, dead. Forgive me; this was my understanding as I haven’t heard from you in weeks, you utter shitting twat. I even sent flowers to your dear mother.
Really, though. How are you, Rab? What have you been up to? UPDATE ME ON YOUR LIFE, PLEASE. I believe a night out in London is in order, what do you think? We could get Lucy off of his laurels, you could bring Rod.
Allow me a moment of sappiness; I miss your horrid face.
Mr. Tilden Toots,
My first concern is that you thought it prudent to send flowers to my mother. I have not done that in years and, as it is, she had been hounding me to do something nice for her. I do believe that these new expectations are your fault. My second issue is that you thought it was possible for me to die. You should know from our acquaintance in school, sir.
Rabastan is much too hardy for such a mediocre fate.
In all honesty, I am not up to much of anything besides the simple pureblood life. I might actually start to think of obtaining employment out of boredom. I am alright though, Tilly. Nothing some smooth alcohol and a night out with the boys cannot fix. I do not think Rod would be available, Bella darling has been a bit demanding of late, but we can easily persuade our Cissa to lend us her husband for a few hours.
I shall return the sap by countering with the following: I actually miss your horrible greenhouse smell.