(At around 11 in the morning, an owl swoops in to the Whitman residence and sits there glaring at Oz until he opens the letter. The letter is written in an elegant cursive, though there is evidence of a few 'white-out' type charms and suspiciously blank spaces throughout the text).

Aileen Reid
London, England

Oscar Whitman
Brighton, England

Dear Mr.
Dear Os

Oscar,

This morning, I received an unpleasant and unwelcome surprise. Via owl. Right in the middle of the Hogwarts staff table.

I suppose you think a gaudy display of flowers and a musical card is an appropriate way to show your twisted affection.

Really, Oscar. What were you thinking? The card sang at me. It was the most ridiculous, humiliating, tacky 'present' I have ever seen.

And in front of the students!

Not to mention what was written inside!

I sincerely worry for your sanity if this was a serious effort on your part. I would think that Bombay's dinner party would have proved that we have nothing to talk about anymore. If this is a joke, and I can only hope it is, then your sense of humour leaves much to be desired.

Send me your reply to my home address. Do not send me anything, be it a letter or another horrifying flower arrangement, to Hogwarts again. Ever. Is that clear?

~Aileen

(Roughly an hour later, Oscar's own owl delivers his response. His letter is perfectly penned with no evidence of there being a mistake in what he wanted to write. There is apparent, however, a healthy dose of sarcasm which seems to drip from every stroke that was inked.)

Oscar Whitman
Brighton, England

Aileen Reid
London, England

My Dearest Aileen,

Imagine my surprise to have my morning routine so rudely interrupted by the owl post and your poor excuse for a delivery owl. Which just goes to show you that the more things change, the more they stay the same. Why hasn't that bloody bird died yet? Were you trying to torture me by inducing a sense of deja vous? You had him when we divorced and I had the misfortune of enduring his round the clock delivery of the the awful correspondence that finalized that horrible event in my life.

But alas, I digress. In addition to there being feelings of dread anytime I experience anything at all related to you, I must also admit to being unable to disregard any feelings of mild affection for the woman who was once my beloved wife.

It is in the spirit of that sentiment that I feel compelled to state quite seriously that I have absolutely no idea what in Godric's Hallow that you are talking about. I would never dream of sending such a horrible display of adoration for a woman who made a cuckold out of me.

No, dear wife, surely you must have me mistaken with one of the many men in line to become the next victim of your lack of fidelity. Talk about humiliation! For shame!

While I would love to continue to sing your praises as a failed life companion, I have other business to attend to on this day. Such as fulfilling my duties as a member of the Wizengamot.

In the event that you feel that my note lacks the ability to shed light on this little mystery of yours, feel free to reply to my office. I shall make it my aim to please you with the speediest of responses.

Your loving ex-husband,
Oscar T.A. Whitman

(The same dreaded owl returns about half an hour later, perching on Oz's desk and fixing him with a watchful glare. Aileen's handwriting on the letter is sharper, as if she were pressing the quill down on the page in annoyance. Which she was).

Aileen Reid
London, England

Oscar Whitman
Ministry of Magic

Oscar T.A. Whitman,

Yes, I spend every moment devising ways to ruin your day, because I clearly have nothing better to do. Unlike you, the extremely busy and esteemed Wizengamot member who is apparently swamped at the office on a Saturday. I'm so sorry the owl is an unpleasant sight for you. Rest assured he doesn't compare to the monstrosity you sent to the staff table this morning.

Do you really expect me to believe that you have no idea where this came from?

My apologies that you are still dwelling over our divorce that happened years ago. While I appreciate the accusation that I've left a heap of victimised men at my feet, I feel inclined to correct you: it's just the one. Just you, nursing your wounds for all eternity. I have absolutely no reason at all to even dream that someone so well-adjusted would resort to childish pranks on Valentine's Day.

Don't concern yourself with replying. I'll let you return to your important Wizengamot duties!

Your dearest ex-wife,
Aileen

Oscar Whitman
Ministry of Magic

Aileen Reid
London, England

Aileen,

If only I could send to you via letter a sigh which would adequately convey the extent of my frustration and confusion. But sadly I fear that, as well as any other means of communicating with you would be destined to fail quite miserably. I simply cannot hope to be proficient in speaking the same language (or languages) as one who is in the business of studying the means of being so cryptic.

Quite honestly, I do not know how else to explain to you that I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. While I do admit to having the idea of sending you a horrid floral display cross my mind in the past, I truly have moved beyond such petty means of seeking revenge.

Consider this, dear wifey: had I truly desired to embarrass you or make your life a living hell, I would have put even more effort into the act. In other words, you would have felt the full breadth of my displeasure. There would have been nothing childish about it.

But alas, all this chatter about what happened is not affording either of us any more clarity on the matter. Thus, I propose that we meet to discuss this in person.

Please let me know a date and time that is suitable for you and I will be sure to personally add it to my lunch plans for the upcoming week. Perhaps we can use the time to hammer out details on how we may prevent such annoyances from happening in the future.

Oscar

(Oz receives a letter back about a few hours later. On the corner of the note, there's a suspicious drop of what just might be alcohol. The handwriting is much less spiky, more loopy!).

Aileen Reid
London, England

Oscar Whitman
Ministry of Magic

Oz,

I didn't realise the English language seemed so cyptic to you. No wonder a sigh shows the extent of your communication skills!

I suppose I can pencil in a lunch date meeting into my schedule next week. I have plans tonight that don't include you, so how does Tuesday, February 17th, around noon sound? If all ends well you might never have to see the dreaded family owl again. Unless I send it on a Ministry errand just for kicks.

Thinking of you!

~Aileen

Oscar Whitman
Brighton, England

Aileen Reid
London, England

February 14, 2010

Aileen,

Fresh out of flowers. But I thought this was nice. Someone suggested that  I send a copy to your dear, sweet mother, Cullodena.

Oscar

Aileen Reid
London, England

Oscar Whitman
Brighton, England

February 14th, 2010

Oz,

How kind of you to presume I care about your old wedding announcement. I suppose I might have overlooked the news in light of more pressing matters earlier this year. Thank you for reminding me! You must have known I woke up this morning and wondered what was missing in my life. The absence of those ghastly flowers had indeed left a hole in my cold, cold heart, and it was only until I received your letter that I could trudge onward with my day, secure in the knowledge of my dear ex-husband's happiness.

As for the clever soul who made the suggestion, do be prepared to endure the dulcet tones of my mother. You know how sweetly her voice rings.
 
Aileen

Oscar Whitman
Brighton, England

Aileen Reid
London, England

February 14th, 2010

My darling sweet ex-wife,

But you are missing something in your life, aren't you? Surely you must miss the company of a gentleman friend or two. You know, those who can keep your bed warmer during London's most frigid temperatures. Or those who know well the fine art of tracing runes with their tongues.

Yes, perhaps I ought to have sent you a catalog full of mail order husbands for this holiday. For I do so hope for your happiness. And I know to see you happily married would go a long way towards quieting mummy dearest's
shrill demands

Yours,
Oz

enc. An old rune book, one of the first books in their library collection after they were married.

Aileen Reid
London, England

Oscar Whitman
Brighton, England

Oz,

You put far too much thought into vexing me, my dear ex-husband.

I am returning this book in the futile hopes that you will find something better to do - such as the plans I assume you have today. I should hate to lurk in the back of your mind as you and Miss O Morain wax poetic about each other’s virtues, or whatever it is the two of you discuss when you get together.

Only one of us has lurking down to an art form.

-Aileen


(Attached is the same book he sent her)

Oscar Whitman
Brighton, England

Aileen Reid
London, England

February 14, 2011

(The package is a plainly wrapped book, the same one he sent the previous year which she returned. Only this time, there is no letter but just the following card used as a bookmark strategically stuck among the pages.)

Aileen Reid
River Boyne, Ireland

Oscar Whitman
Brighton, England

February 18th, 2011


Oz,

How thoughtful.

Please note change of address.


-Aileen