Work Text:
Dear Moony,
When are you coming back? A month is a long time. I'm not trying to blame you for anything, I swear, but I just really need you right now. Why is Wales so far away?
Mum's driving me mad. She keeps saying things about what a horrible son I am. It's nothing new, but it's infecting Kreacher, too, and between them and Dad I can't catch a break. I know when you read this you'll be worried, but you don't need to be. I'm fine. After sixteen years it's almost funny.
James has been inviting me to stay with him. I might be able to escape in a week or two, during those rallies. It's a bit scary, isn't it, how they're picking up speed like this? First it was just talk, and now everyone's got masks and tattoos. Yesterday Regulus was going on about giants. Personally, I don't think that's true—even You-Know-Who couldn't get them on his side. But who knows? The whole world's going to hell as it is.
Anyways, Regulus and my parents will probably be going. They never miss a chance to yell about blood purity. I don't think it would be too hard to get out for a few hours. Make some mischief. If you were here it would be even better, but
Oh, hell. Look, I lied. I'm not fine. I'm a fucking mess. It's hell in here. I need you to get me out, Remus, I can't stand it
To be honest, if you were here I'd probably just start blubbering. I wish it still felt like it did when we finished the map and everything was perfect. It was like Christmas, even in May, and we practically ruled the school—anonymously, of course. But now I'm stuck here and you're in Wales having loads of fun with your family and James has these bloody wonderful parents. Even Peter's got a pet cat. A cat would be better than a house elf that won't shut up.
Lately I've been remembering when you came out to me, at the end of third year. Do you remember? Of course you do, that's stupid, anyways, I always wondered why you'd tell me of all people, since you knew what my family's like. There must have been something that made me different even then. My point is, there's something different about you, too, and I don't mean your monthly issue. Sorry. You're just—you're kind and soft and you always wear idiotic sweater vests and you're NOT HERE, GODDAMMIT.
I guess I just hate it in this house. And I just realized that I'm never going to send this letter, so I might as well say it—I miss you so bad it hurts. You make things better when, logically, nothing should be able to.
I can't dump all of this on you in a letter. I can't even say it to your face. This is so stupid, you know, I'm just going to stop now—
I love you. I miss you.
I can't fucking wait until August,
Sirius