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Mum,
I know this is really really really really short notice but please please please send an extra jumper this Christmas!! Hattie told me she’s not gonna get ANYTHING from her family!! You can just shrink one of my old ones that don’t fit anymore, but please send it as a present!
Ron
Mum,
Ginny has been really quiet and not talking to me lately. I know you said last time that she’s settling in and she’s still nervous about Hattie so of course she can’t talk to me with Hattie around, but it’s still weird. Please send her some cobbler or something so she feels better. Maybe a Pepper-Up too, the ones here taste awful.
Ron
Ps. Don’t tell her that I made you send something.
Mum,
Hermes is not dating Hattie. He wasn’t in the past and he isn’t now. He told me so himself, and so did Hattie for that matter. I don’t care what the Prophet says, especially Skeeter. Hattie met the woman and from what she had to deal with Skeeter just likes to make up scandals for fun.
The chocolate basket thing wasn’t funny. It really upset him, and I had to give him some of mine, so really all you’ve done is made sure I had less chocolate this year. Which is ridiculous since I don’t even know why him dating Hattie would mean he should get less chocolate—what, do you think they’re gonna leave me behind?
Sometimes I worry
I will accept more chocolate as an apology. Maybe Ice Mice too. They’re almost rabbits.
Ron
Mum
I miss you. Things have been rough from the start and they’re only getting worse. I think of you and Dad and Ginny and everyone else all the time. I heard about there being an arson case in Ottery and all I could think about was the Burrow.
I can hear Fred and George on the radio sometimes, which is something, but the rest of you could be dead for all I know.
I don’t know why I’m writing this. It’s probably a waste of parchment. Stupid, really, how much I worry about wasting parchment now when I could doodle on meters and meters of the stuff in Hogwarts. I worry about the amounts of everything now. We always had to, obviously, but now its the worst version of that kind of counting. I feel like I’m watching everything dwindle away day after day.
Hattie’s been tired. Hermes too. And I’m tired, I guess, but mostly I’m angry. Even when I don’t want to be. It’s like there’s nothing else, really, nothing but all the stuff we’re using up and I keep getting angry at and I wish I could use the anger up and make everything else last forever.
I keep trying to remember how you’d sing along to the radio and I think I’m misremembering some of the lyrics to that one Warbeck song you liked. Sometimes I turn the radio to music and Hattie hates it, and that song never comes up anyway so I’ve given up on it.
This is stupid. I should just burn this.
Mum,
I’ve suddenly got a lot of sympathy for how many times you yelled at Dad for his cars and cuckoo clocks and all of that. Hermes’ new job for the Department of Mysteries is going great, he loves it—he’s always hated how “unexplained” some magical rules are and now he gets to try and crack them open. I haven’t seen him have this much fun in ages. I just wish he wouldn’t bring it home!
Apparently, there’s this freaky chest that needs to stay in a low-magic environment (His words, I wouldn’t call our house low-magic, but I suppose that’s comparing against the DoM.) and our damn living room is the best option. I’ve replaced our coffee table with it for the minute, it can handle a few mugs and bowls of popcorn. It makes these ridiculous groaning sounds at night; I’ve made him spell the bedroom sound-proof so at least we don't have to listen to it. Hattie would get on my case about that being a safety hazard, so don't tell her about it.
It’s a good thing Hugo and Rose aren’t living at home anymore. One of them would’ve cracked that thing right open if they could, and Hermes says that doing that would put a curse on the whole neighborhood. After this, I’m banning projects coming into the house without my say-so. At least the car was in the shed, and real fun while we had it.
Anyway, the apples you sent were great, Hermes made a pie with the sour ones. Hugo stole half of it right out of the fridge and apperated away last time he was here—he pops up everywhere now, how did you stand it? Rosie was sensible about getting her license first, but now she’s encouraging him. I’m going to get Bill to set up a ward if I have to hear those pops more than five times tomorrow, I swear to Merlin.
The shop is still going good. Don’t let the twins lie to you, though, they haven’t gotten that purple stain off of the ceiling and at this point I think they’re gonna keep it. I heard Fred saying it added atmosphere. An atmosphere of breaking safety regulations, if anything. I got my way about the marketing for our perfect pitch mints, and it’s been boosting sales of them a ton. Don’t listen to them if they say I’m rubbing that in their faces, I’m bragging a perfectly normal amount.
Let me know how Dad’s doing with that VCR, and if he wants Rosie to come over and explain it to him. Don’t let Hugo say anything about it, he’ll lie straight to Dad’s face. He tried convincing me that DVDs work by unspooling in the machine and feeding into the hardware like spaghetti noodles. I don’t know where he comes up with this stuff.
Yours,
Ron