As soon as the flurry of owls stopped, Snape went immediately to see Al. He really didn't like the sound of those 'questions about his private life', and Jamie's offer of scripted answers couldn't do much to alleviate his disquiet, mostly because it wasn't just his private life which stood to lose privacy.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, drawing the curtains around the bed and casting privacy wards with a flick of his wand, before settling into the rapid flickertwitch gestures of firewriting, which over recent days had become almost as practiced as writing with a quill.
Jamie sent me these just now, and I'd like you to read them. He passed over the letters to Al in chronological order. As I think you'll gather, I was less than impressed. But I'll have to throw the masses some sort of sop. I'm going to do my best to keep you out of it. He sighed gustily. I just don't know how successful it's possible to be.