From Paris, With Love

Mon très cher Padfoot,

I'm sorry you hurt your hands. What were you doing? Trying to catch a Bludger? It was very nice of Prongs to write your Christmas cards for you. Is that why mine was so short? And tame? Thank you for the comics. (Where did you find them? They're brilliant!) And the new robe. The robe is especially nice right now, because I think Paris is actually colder than Melrose! Please don't worry about the presents being late. I admit, I was a little worried when I woke up Christmas morning and didn't find anything from you, but it wasn't because I thought you'd forgotten. Sirius Black forget Christmas? Lily Evans will shag James Potter before that happens. I was worried. I thought something might have happened to you. Maybe your parents wouldn't let you send any owls. So, it's a relief to hear you're all right.

I'm so glad you're with Prongs, now. I didn't like the idea of you spending time in your parents' house, even if it was just for a few days. I hope they weren't too mean to you, and you're having fun, now. Is there a lot of snow in Windermere? There isn't any here, yet. Well, a few flakes, but nothing stuck. I wish you could have come here with me. Maybe next year when you're seventeen and don't need anyone's permission to go anywhere. You'd like it here. I mean--at the risk of sounding hopelessly romantic, or maybe just hopeless--in a way, you are here with me. Everything I see or try, I have to think about what you'd think of it. How you'd enjoy it.

I got to Paris the day before yesterday. I'm staying in my cousin Camille's flat on Rue (street) Moufftard. The flat is right over a pâtisserie, so in the morning, the entire building smells like fresh bread. Yesterday morning, Camille and I went down in our pyjamas (apparently, she's done that before!) and had chocolate croissants right out of the oven. The croissants I sent you are from there, but of course they're not fresh, anymore. I hope you still like them! Share them with James and his family.

I know you'd love the food, here. As good as it is at Hogwarts, it's even better, here. You can get fresh-made crêpes on the street for just a few quid (well, francs). I had the best one yesterday. The crêpe part was golden-brown and so light and crispy, and inside it had chocolate and sliced bananas. Is your mouth watering, yet? Don't you wish you were here?

You don't have to worry about me pulling any French boys. I've been in France for a week and so far the only French boy I've met is my cousin, Christian. And there's no chance of anything happening there because:

1. He's my cousin

2. He's twenty

3. He's straight. (His girlfriend, Armelle, is a real cracker. She's the most sophisticated girl I've ever met. She's a model. I mean, she models for him. But she's very nice.)

4. He doesn't speak much English, and my French is still horrible.

5. I already have the best boyfriend a bloke could wish for.

So, stop nagging!

I told my cousins about you. My cousin Aimée is a lesbian (I guess homosexuality runs in the family!) and she was yattering about her girlfriend (who is American, a fact my other cousins find more objectionable than the fact that she's, well, a girl). My other cousins insisted I one-up Aimée by telling them about my girlfriend. (They knew I was seeing someone, I guess because they saw my face when your owl arrived.) I told them I didn't have a girlfriend who could one-up Aimée's--but I had a boyfriend. Then I showed them your picture. Not the one where you're stripping! The other one I really like, where you're standing in the rain wearing that horrible plaid mac, blowing kisses. They think you're very handsome, Padfoot, but they told me to tell you that if you break my heart they'll hunt you down and beat you! I told them it would be more evil to force-feed you escargot. (That's snails. They dared me to try some, and, thinking you'd be proud of me, I did. They were...interesting. Rubbery. I wonder how well my cousins would do with haggis.)

Christian wants to draw us together, but he says he hates drawing from photographs (even moving ones) so you'll have to come visit. I think all of them are amused by the fact that their little Scottish cousin has a lover! That's what they call you. My lover.

They call me Rémi. I'll tell you how it's pronounced when I get home. It's not like "Reeemie!" Do you remember second year, when Gwendolyn Moffat ran around, calling me that? Even if I weren't gay, that would have put me off girls, don't you think? I like being Rémi to them. They told me Remus just doesn't roll off the tongue. You would disagree, I'm sure! It was a good thing we were all sitting round a table and no one could see my lap when they said that. (If Prongs was reading over your shoulder I think it's safe to assume he's fled!)

I had a nice Christmas in Avignon, with my parents and my Aunt Odette and Uncle Philippe. My aunt and uncle are Muggles, so it was rather different from a Hogwarts Xmas. The food was just gorgeous, though. They took all the silver out of the house before I got there. They've known for years what I am, but for some reason I thought it would bother them more than it seems to. Maybe it helps that they're Muggles. They grew up thinking witches are these bad, ugly things, but my aunt's sister is a witch, and she's lovely. (Well, you know, she's my mum.) So that rather debunks everything they learned. Do you follow me?

Anyway, my parents are still in Avignon, with my aunt and uncle. They met there, you know, so they're very...nostalgic. I'm glad I'm not there right now! Dad was looking much better when I left him. I think it's good for him, being here. I know it's probably wrong of me to hope, after so many doctors and healers have said the same thing, but... I suppose one never knows.

Yesterday, I just hung about with my cousins. Later today (Christian likes to spend the morning in his studio, Aimée works, and Camille has errands) we're going to take a tour of the city. They want me to meet the gargoyles of Notre Dame. Aimée says they like to tell very dirty jokes, but only in French, so I'm safe.

I miss you. I said that before, I think, but I'm sure you don't mind if I say it again. I miss you. I love Footpad, but he's not enough, even if he smells like your...big feet. I miss holding you when I go to sleep. It's strange. We've only been together five months. When I write it out, it sounds like a long time, but it doesn't feel that way. There's a moment when I'm more than half asleep, but still a little awake, and I can almost feel you, almost smell you. I have good dreams, but it hurts when I wake up, because you're not really there.

I like seeing your star. I can't see it here in Paris, but I was able to see it in Avignon. I never told you this before, but I always liked seeing your star. Even before I fell for you. Even before I realised I was gay. At night, on winter hols, when I was at home, and really lonely, I used to look at the sky and feel a bit better, because there was your star. There's a constellation called Lupus, you know. The wolf. It doesn't have any bright stars, so it's difficult to see. I don't remember when it's overhead. I actually left my Astronomy textbook at home. Can you believe that? I thought I wouldn't need it. Anyway, the wolf. I just rather like the idea that Lupus is up there with Canis Major.

This is awfully soppy. I'm going to write one more soppy thing, then I'll stop. The last soppy thing I want to say is thank you. I told you before that my parents were willing to take this holiday because they can see my transformations have gotten easier. They haven't stopped worrying about me, of course, but I think they've finally accepted that I'm not going to...I don't know...catch a chill and drop dead, suddenly. I'm not an invalid. (Not that I ever was.) I don't know what they think has changed. We don't talk about it.

I'm happy, now. More than I've ever been (except for those last three weeks in August), and it's mostly because of you. Thank you.

No more sop, now. Now, I'm going to tell you a few of the things I want to do with you, when we're both back in Scotland.

D'abord, évidemment, il faudra sortir James et Peter du dortoir. Ce sera ta responsabilité. Ensuite, une fois que nous serons seuls, je te déshabillerai, lentement, et je te pousserai sur mon lit. (Je suis désolé si ça sonne comme un mauvais roman d'amour de Muggle. Tu les connais, non? Essaie d'imaginer, ça devrait sonner mieux, je crois.) Puis, je grimperai sur toi. (J'aurai enlever mes vêtements, moi aussi.) Je veux seulement rester coucher sur toi et sentir ton corps contre le mien. Je ne crois pas que je pourrai faire ça très longtemps, par contre... Je t'embrasserai. Partout. Je commencerai par tes oreilles. Puis tes yeux. Ton nez. Tes joues. Tu me diras d'arrêter de taquiner. Tu essaieras de m'agripper, mais j'attraperai tes poignets et je te maintiendrai en place. Je t'embrasserai, sur les lèvres d'abord, puis tout le long de ton corps. Ta gorge. L'endroit où ton cou et tes épaules se rejoignent. Tes mamelons. Ton nombril. Je pousserai du coude tes jambes et j'embrasserai tes cuisses. [1]

Merlin, I just realised I'll never get to do all that. I'll get through about half of those things, then you'll get impatient and either ravish me or whine until I ravish you. You're more patient in my fantasies, Padfoot.

Je te veux dans ma bouche. Tes cuisses trembleront. Tu essaieras de pousser, mais je te maintiendrai en place. Tu caresseras mes cheveux. Je te lècherai et je te sucerai jusqu'à ce que tu sois presque fou de désir. Puis, je me retirerai et je me pencherai sur toi et je t'embrasserai à nouveau, afin que tu te goûtes toi-même sur mes lèvres. Tu m'appelleras un stupide surnom. Tu me diras que tu me veux en toi. Je le voudrai moi aussi, après tout cela. Plus que tout au monde. Je serai rapide, mais j'essaierai d'être doux. [2]

Merlin, this is hard to write! I can't describe in words the way you make me feel when I'm doing...what I just described.

Je te veux.

Je te veux.

Je te veux.

Maintenant je suis dur et mes cousins seront de retour bientôt!

Tu me causes tellement de troubles, Padfoot. [3]

Don't ask me how long it took to look all that up! I've probably butchered what I wanted to say.

If you want to know what all that means, you have two options: 1) ask James' mum (she speaks French, I think); or 2) be patient, and I'll show you.

Bons baisers,

Moony

____________________

1. First, of course, we have to get James and Peter out of the dorm. That will be your job. Then, once we're alone, I'm going to undress you, slowly, and push you onto my bed. (I'm sorry if this sounds like a trashy Muggle romance novel. You know about those, right? Try to imagine it, and I think it will sound better.) Then I'm going to climb on top of you. (My clothes will be off, too.) I just want to lie on top of you and feel you with my whole body. I don't think I can do that for very long, though... I'm going kiss you. Everywhere. I'll start with your ears. Next, your eyes. Along your nose. Your cheeks. You'll tell me to stop teasing. You'll try to grab me, but I'll catch your wrists and hold you down. I'll kiss your lips, then all down your body. Your throat. That spot where your neck and shoulder meet. Your nipples. Your navel. I'll nudge your legs apart and kiss your thighs.

2. I want you in my mouth. Your thighs will tremble. You'll try to thrust, but I'll hold you. You'll stroke my hair. I'll lick you and suck on you until you're almost insane with desire. Then I'll pull back and lean over you, and kiss your mouth again, so you can taste yourself. You'll call me some stupid nickname. You'll tell me you want me inside you. I'll want that, too, by then. More than anything in the world. I'll be quick, but I'll try to be gentle.

3. I want you.

I want you.

I want you.

Now, I'm hard, and my cousins will be here, soon!

You're so much trouble, Padfoot.