I'm afraid I'm woefully lacking in devious creativity today, I haven't any ideas. I could get out with Mrs. H in tow, but that is certainly not ideal. I suppose I could say I'm returning the book I borrowed, but that wouldn't lend us much time either. How utterly frustrating. There's already whispers among mother's friends about why I'm not allowed out right now.

That impromptu wedding is looking better and better. (I'm still teasing you.)

And out come the hard-hitting questions. (I'm pointedly ignoring your comment about weak lungs, as if you shouldn't know better.)

First of all, be I would like nothing more than to elope; a large stuffy wedding is not for me, unless it meant something to you. I do like children, very much so, though perhaps not for a little while yet in regards to having my own. And I don't think I would go so far as to have as many as my mother, either.

As to our hypothetical marriage, I would likely pick up my animagus studies again; charity work; though I'm sure I couldn't avoid all society events, unless requested of me I wouldn't do a lot of hosting if not strictly necessary. I'm also sure I would have to do some things in regard to the ministry,  considering your position. I would adjust, I'm pretty flexible.

Do I pass the Potential Wife Quiz?

Hypothetically,  it seems we're fairly well-suited then, should we ever decide to elope. I'm sure the ministry things would come in time.

I do have to warn you, twins run in my family.

I think I could be content any number of places, though after this summer, I should reconsider spending much longer in Hogsmeade. I've always wanted to live in London, it's so busy and there's always something to do. However, I also think a little cottage in the countryside with a library (that's a given wherever I land) and a little garden would be equally lovely.

I should think I'd be content wherever you wanted to be, honestly.  

Well, it seems we have a plan in place then, should we need it. I have a library all arranged in my head. Walls and walls of books, one of those fancy ladders to reach higher shelves (it's much more quintessential than using magic alright) and a big fireplace in the middle of the far wall. There'd be squishy armchairs and a really cozy rug right in front of the fireplace and lots of pillows everywhere. I really would rarely leave, it would be my own little haven.

So, no London, no Hogsmeade, wherever shall we land? Hypothetically, of course.

You know I stopped being hypothetical about three letters ago, right? Right about the time I passed the wife quiz. Curse your ability to do that to me. I am not some needy doe-eyed debutante, damn you! A cottage by the sea, with my library, and a garden? It's like you read my mind, I can picture it and I'm trying desperately not to get attached. I'm not supposed to get too attached.  You're seriously making it incredibly hard to keep this casual, Edric Umbridge.

Perfect, that settles that then. Clearly we need room for Mrs. H, since you insist on stealing her from my mother's employ. I wouldn't mind if the library was my room, that would be perfectly fine too.

I think I'm going to retire and read more of my detective novel, all of these late night letter exchanges really add up after a few days. Sweet dreams.

Hard to resist just one more; I don't think it would be too much of a sacrifice to wake up curled up together in the morning, would it? I could certainly think of worse things.

Goodnight, Love.

Good morning, Sunshine. Just imagine, we could be doing this in person. I don't know how to see you, Love. Use those brilliant auror skills of yours.

Ianthe woke me but I'm not ready to be awake.  I'll write again later. Have a good start to your day.

You do know you can still call me February when you're mad at me right?

That must have been Tuni. Fortuna, she's my friend; she's been stuck in London because of the fog. And she's just as brash as I am. I'm so sorry she cornered you, in public no less. I don't know what she was thinking, I'm sorry. I don't think she realizes just well, what's going on or what you actually mean to me.

I told her about punching you when I first met you, weeks ago.  I promise, I haven't said anything about it since. I haven't told her any details, nothing, please believe me. I meant what I said when I promised to keep it between us. When I was upset about the kitchen she was the only person I could think of who could sympathize. I was so confused that night,  I needed somebody to vent to. I haven't told her anything about what's happened recently, she must have just kind of deduced there was something by the way I talk about you, the way it's changed since I first told her about chasing Lydia through the alleys of Hogsmeade.

I'm so sorry, I know if somebody heard it could rebound back on your job. I would never, ever want to jeopardize that. I'm sorry.