22 May 1895
Beckett Longbottom

Beckett,

It has come to my attention that you - despite your supposed charm - have not made a single attempt to ask me what I want for my birthday, which is unacceptable. Do you even know what day it is? (What a terrible husband you will be, not remembering something as simple as one's birth!)

Well, you're in luck that I'm in a good mood, so I'll tell you what I want: I want the sea. Sand in my toes, sun on my skin, and expensive wine to drink. In fact, you can bring that as well. I'll bring a picnic, or something to that effect. I'll even make it easy and say that Sanditon is good enough for me.

yours,
J

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May 23rd, 11895

My Darling June,

Please accept my sincerest apologies, divination was never a class I took at Hogwarts, so I am behind on the festivities. Have no fear, I will make up for my mistake in spades. I have rented you the best cabin on the beach at the Sanditon the weekend next and will have it readily stocked with whatever you like, to spend your birthday celebration in style.

I will see you there, Cherie. For now, I have sent you flowers that will hopefully get you through until then. I know our time apart strains you so.

Forever yours,
B

  

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23 May 1895
Beckett Longbottom

Beckett,

I was halfway through composing a truly scathing note because it looked as if you were ignoring me when your letter arrived. You're lucky it did because I had already chosen which hex I was going to cast on the parchment, and I promise you weren't going to like it. I won't spoil which one though, in case I need to use it in the future.

I accept your apology. But only because you went all out with the cabin, and I appreciate the effort. I shall bring my newest hat, a bathing dress so I can get into the water, and books in case your company bores me.

The flowers are lovely, but they will probably be withered or dead by next weekend. It’s a shame you couldn’t send something that lasts longer, but I suppose I’ll have to settle for them.

Dream about me so you don't miss me.

Affectionately,
J

P.S. I expect champagne on arrival.

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   Beckett Longbottom

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May 24th, 1895

Dearest Pip,

Your impatience knows no bounds; it was less than twenty-four hours. I do have some demands on my time, other than meeting your every need. Which I do completely willingly, even if you are a bit of a chore sometimes.

Your champagne has been added to the welcome basket, along with expensive chocolates. Only the best for you, my darling.

If flowers are not to your liking, I suppose I shall send along your actual birthday gift early in hopes it will get you to stop hounding me. I was saving the bracelet for my arrival, but you're just so needy. My only request is that you wear it for me on the weekend and not for anyone else.

Forever yours,
B

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   Juniper Edevane

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25 May 1895
Beckett Longbottom

Longbottom,

Pip? That's awful. You can go back to calling me Juniper since you just lost the right to June.

Right, right. You have the responsibilities of running a quidditch team while I get to spend my days just being a pretty face. I did go for a promenade with a very nice gentleman around Padmore, so I too, have demands on time. I'm also never a chore. You adore me. You can be a chore, sometimes.

Oh, chocolate. Thank you. That makes me excited.

The bracelet, Beckett, is beautiful. It matches what I described, and I am impressed that you remembered such a detail. I promise not to wear it until I see you.

Who knows, maybe if you ask nicely it'll be the only thing I'll wear for you this weekend.

Yours sincerely,
Juniper

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May 25th, 1895

Dearest Pip,

No, no, it is Pip now, I like it, I'm keeping it. I hope your promenade was dreadfully boring. Walking and talking; there are such better ways to get in some movement.

You are a delightful chore, one I do not mind tending to, but a chore nevertheless.

I am pleased to hear you like the bracelet (and the idea of the chocolates). Despite popular opinion, I do have more than air for brains and I do listen, but if you continue to tease me like that, I will simply pop. The image of you wearing just the bracelet and that delicious perfume of yours will get me through the long nights until I see you next.

Forever yours,
B

  

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25 May 1895
Beckett Longbottom

Beckett,

I am going to give you a nickname when you least expect it. I didn't push this one into the lake, so it wasn't the worst one that I've had. (He also didn't wax terrible poetry at me, so that's probably why he was able to remain dry.) And is there? I have no idea what other ways there might be, unless of course you mean lawn games.

Good. I should hope you're listening—I'd hate to think all this effort was wasted on someone with only air between his ears. You are a pretty face, so at least you have that going for you too. Your imagination is clearly working hard, and while I’d usually scold you for it, I’m inclined to let you suffer. It will be a long week for the both of us.

Yours,
J

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At the bottom of the envelope is a handkerchief lightly scented with her perfume; there is a small bit of paper that had been ripped off the bottom of another with a note scrawled across it: To carry with you until next we meet.

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   Beckett Longbottom

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May 26th, 1895

Dearest Pip,

Happy birthday June, a whole one-and-twenty now; the countdown to spinsterdoom (yes, doom) is on. I can put you out of your misery if you like, just say the word.

You however, have put me into a world of hurt. How positively unfair after I've been so good to you this week. I've even sent along a sneak peak of the chocolates I procured for our celebration. Maybe if you're lucky I'll still be around to educate you on those better ways to get in some movement.

Forever yours,
B

  

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This letter came wrapped in a white ribbon.

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26 May 1895
Beckett Longbottom

Beckett,

One-and-twenty is hardly the brink of ruin—though if I do tumble into spinsterdoom, I think I'll be okay. I'll just spend my days on the stands where I can judge you all day. That sounds like a beautiful way to spend my time, and I won't have any regrets. Though if you really wish me to be Mrs. Longbottom (Juniper Longbottom doesn't exactly roll of the tongue), then by all means have a registrar awaiting at the cottage. Maybe I'll say yes there.

The chocolates are divine and I look forward to eating them all once I am there with you. Or perhaps I’ll share them… depending on how you plan to “educate” me. I do have a bauble of Felix Felicis that I've itching to use, so I can absolutely be lucky. Still, I’m not heartless—so I’ve sent along a little token to tide you over until you see me. I won’t tell you where it came from, but you’re welcome to guess.

Yours,
J

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May 27th, 1895

Dearest Pip,

You do not need luck, my darling, but if it is to be on the sidelines at the match, I do suppose you could do it with either surname. Longbottom is rather cumbersome, but I do not think they would let me take Edevane instead. I am fortunate that my given name goes well with most surnames.

I shall not tell you where your ribbon has ended up. That will be just for me, I think.

Looking forward to the weekend, Pippy.

Forever yours,
B

  

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28 May 1895
Beckett Longbottom

Mr. Edevane,

You are quite right—Longbottom is a mouthful on the best of days, though I daresay it’s grown on me. It's easier to spell and pronounce than Edevane. Beckett Edevane does have a nice ring to it though. Perhaps that will be the first and middle of my future son. (Although I'm not sure I can give you the pleasure of having someone named after you.)

As for my ribbon, I guess I'll console myself by imagining where you might be using it. I like the idea of it tucked into your breast pocket where no one else can see. For emergencies, of course.

I’m marking the days till the weekend in ink. Is there anything you wish for me to bring?

xx,
Mrs. Longbottom

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May 29th, 1895

My Darling Wife,

Tucked into my pocket indeed, I suppose I can let you have that, if you want to lack imagination. It's a little closer to my skin though.

What do I want you to bring? Not a chaperon, that's for certain. That perfume of course, my bracelet, but other than that, Cherie, I just want your time.

C'est la vie, after all.

See you tomorrow.

Your Devoted Husband,
B. Edevane

  

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