I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Please come back to me.
Flying?
Sirius and I are going to be working on brooms. This may end tragically. I thought I should warn you ahead of time. This way you will hardly be surprised by my untimely and yet utterly predictable demise.
Don't fear too much. I'll do my best to prevent such an occurrence.
Gotta say, though, I'm glad she's grown and not tiny because I would not know what to do with a tiny little baby.
Are you any good at traps?
Alright, little boy self, you and me are either going to have a good serious sirius conversation, or you're getting a couple of sentences and a punch in your pretty face. Choose carefully, because if the first choice doesn't work then you'll have to deal with the other. What'll it be?
Give me maybe an hour or two, and then I'm going to want my best girls to get me very drunk.
I feel like I'm missing a whole year of my life.
And that I either drank too much bourbon or not enough. I'm not sure which.
I'm having such a 'bad dog' feeling.
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