Obsession, Skirts, and Disownment

“I’m going to snap your wand if you don't stop talking.” Regulus grumbled.

Sirius’ poor, hostage wand had received so many threats over the last week that Sirius had lost count days ago. It was only a sign of how terribly dull his summer was that he’d ever started counting at all though.

“There’s nothing to do but talk, Reg! That’s why I’ve been begging you for a fucking hour to get me out again. Imagine how little I’d need to bother you if I was allowed to talk to other people.” Sirius complained.

“I can’t again.”

Sirius flopped face-first onto the bed and sighed. “You’re boring. Can you at least help me get letters? Do the parents read your mail?”

“They haven’t been recently.”

“Then fucking help me. Your owl needs exercise anyway.”

“Is that how you ask for help?”

Sirius did his best puppy eyes; being Padfoot had made them quite convincing. “Please help me have contact with the world outside this prison, most noble and adorable little brother.”

“Whatever. Just tell your friends not to write too often, or Mother will wonder why I’m getting so much mail.”

“Mother will wonder why you’re getting any mail at all.” Sirius laughed, beaming at Regulus, who just huffed.

Letters made life so much more bearable. He remembered what his life could be like and what he was living for. His friends would be waiting for him, right back where he belonged, as soon as summer was over. He knew it was extremely selfish of him, letting his friends write to him while Regulus was still feeding information to their parents, but he couldn’t help himself. It seemed to make his friends happy anyway, and he’d obviously told them about Reg. It was worth it for all of them.

They all originally even included polite little notes for Regulus, until they were told that Regulus wanted absolutely no part in it. If the mail did start getting checked, the plan had all been Sirius’, and Regulus knew nothing about it.

Sirius didn’t tell his friends much about the harder parts of being home. He told them his parents were hoping to find him a bride (James was absolutely unsympathetic and thought it was all very hilarious) and that Regulus was watching him. He didn’t tell them why, or about what happened when his parents got too upset. He focused on asking them all about their summers, and gushing all about how much he’d loved his muggle adventure. It helped him to pretend the rest of it didn’t exist.

They sent all their letters together, with James’ owl. Sirius knew it meant he was getting his letters more slowly, but he was grateful for the precaution. Besides, Regulus only allowed two letters a week, and so it was the perfect loophole. Sirius had received six (or eighteen really) little letters in the last three weeks, and he’d loved reading every one of them. As September was coming closer, he was starting to get even more impatient to finally be away from Grimmauld Place, so the correspondence was helpful.

James was being doted on by his parents as usual and spending time with loose acquaintances that lived near him. Sirius had to be promised in multiple letters that James wouldn’t suddenly love any of them more than him, but he was happy James was enjoying himself.

Peter was having a decent time on a family holiday at some beach Sirius had never heard of. He could write quite funny stories about his strange little cousins, and Sirius looked forward to that small source of entertainment more than he’d ever admit.

Remus had survived the full moons so far, although of course they didn’t talk about it outright. Sirius didn’t know much about what else was going on with him; he tended to ask more questions than he answered, although he wrote as frequently as the others and managed to fill letters with rambling philosophical thoughts or prank ideas, which was adorable. Since focusing on other people’s lives was the same strategy Sirius was using in his letters, and in general, he was a bit worried about Remus. He was sure he’d be alright though, and at least he’d said his transformations had gone fine. Once he saw him, he could make sure everything was perfectly wonderful for him.

It was a Monday, which for the last two weeks had been a letter day. They tended to use up their weekly allotment somewhat quickly and so wrote again as soon as possible to shorten the time in between. It was essentially a self-fulfilling prophecy. Sirius was lying on Regulus’ bed, watching his brother practicing shield-charms. It was no wonder people thought purebloods were more naturally gifted in magic, with the amount they were able to practice at home without setting off the trace. It was extremely unfair, but it was at least keeping Sirius occupied while he waited.

Finally, (Reg could really only be interesting for so long), an owl flew onto the sill, and Sirius pounced on it. James’ owl absolutely loved him and happily tolerated all of Sirius’ impatience and rough handling in return for little treats and beak kisses. So, Sirius was taken aback when the bird squawked and pecked his fingers.

A few seconds later, Regulus was slapping his hands away and talking nonsense at the bird. Sirius wouldn’t be surprised if his brother had actually learned Owlish, but why was the owl being so rude to Sirius? He’d thought they were friends. Christ, he was lonely.

“This isn’t for you, idiot.” Regulus snapped, petting the bird’s head gently. Maybe Sirius was a bit dumb, or just hopeful, because that definitely wasn’t James’ owl. Completely different color.

“Do you actually have mail?” He giggled. Disappointed or not, teasing Regulus was always a delight.

“I get mail just as often as you, thanks.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “I don’t let you see it.”

“Why not?”

“Have you heard of privacy?”

“You fucking read mine.” Sirius snorted.

“Obviously. And I wish I didn’t have to. They’re dead boring most of the time.”

“Like yours are so interesting. Who’s writing to you, Slughorn?”

“Mine are actually very interesting, if you have to know.”

“That’s doubtful.”

“Well he’s definitely a better writer than James bloody Potter. Out of my room, I’ll tell you if any others arrive.”

“Mondays are letter days Reg, please read it to me? You’ve made it sound so very wonderful.” Sirius whined, half mocking and half being pretty sure he couldn’t handle the boredom of a Monday without any outside distraction at all.

“No.”

“Can I at least know who it’s from? You know all my friends.”

“Sirius, my life very literally depends on knowing as much about you as I can. I really don't care at all about what Pettigrew had for breakfast.”

That was definitely dark, but what was Sirius good at if not ignoring things he didn’t want to think about? “My life depends on not dying of loneliness and monotony. Is this your very secret friend?”

“He’s not a secret. You know about him.”

“So yes. Well, what’s he saying? Come on Reg, you know I’ll just be a bother otherwise.”

Regulus glared at Sirius for several moments before opening his letter, which was almost four full pieces of parchment (double-sided) and muttering a spell at it immediately. Sirius was sorely disappointed when all of the writing disappeared; so much for his plans to snatch it.

“Tell your friends to do that and I won’t have to be your bloody secretary anymore.” Regulus mumbled. Sometimes it was so obnoxious how much cleverer he was.

He spent a few minutes reading each piece of parchment, and like a lovely brother, occasionally telling Sirius (obviously shortened) versions of what they said.

“He’s in Brazil looking for an animal I don’t know how to pronounce. I think he’s technically on holiday but he makes it sound more like a quest.” Regulus read the next page slowly then, didn't say anything, and continued on. Still, it was better than being kicked out of the room.

“He tried a salted orange and now it’s his favorite food. He had a row with his uncle.” Regulus stopped talking again.

“If you can convince Kreacher to get us some oranges, we can try them salted too.” Sirius suggested. He knew how hard it was to miss friends and how much it could help to enjoy things they also enjoyed; it was why he stashed chocolate under his bed.

Regulus nodded absent-mindedly as he kept reading.

“What was the row about?” Sirius was going to take every ounce of interest he could from this letter.

“Clothes, nothing important.”

“How can you row about clothes?”

Regulus laughed for once in his life. Even if it was at him, Sirius was proud of himself. “You’re just not very bright. Let me know how it goes when you finally wear that skirt you’re hiding under my floor.”

“You’re supposed to act like you don’t know about that.” Sirius snapped, thwacking him with a pillow.

“You’re supposed to let me read my letters in peace.”

“Am I? Someone should let me outside then.”

Again, Regulus was ignoring him. “So your friend wears skirts then?” Sirius tried to sound as casual as possible.

“That was an example, Sirius.”

“Then what did they row about?”

Regulus was smirking as he picked up the last piece of parchment. “Frocks.”