Of Truths

A/N: Sorry for the lateness! Alright, the pairings are SBOMC RLOMC and will remain as such. I swear.

Warnings: Nothing really extreme

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Chapter 3: Letters

A good distance away in a small Muggle flat, Octavius Rossi was brought to consciousness by a soft prodding on his shoulders. Immediately, he became aware of the stifling, although very familiar, heat wrapping itself around his throat and his torso. He made to sit up, but was forced back down into the pillow and pulled back against an equally heated chest by the arm that was wrapped around him. Again, very familiar.

“You’re awake,” the man said softly with a hint of amusement.

“And you’re still here,” he answered dryly, prying the tanned, sticky fingers off his chest. The man laughed and Octavius rolled his eyes, though a small smile accompanied it. He yawned loudly, reaching his hand up to clutch his pillow and snuggle back into the warmth, ignoring the dryness of his throat to enjoy his last moments with his oddly recurring ‘one night’ lover. The man kissed his shoulder almost affectionately, though the slight flick of his tongue overrode that. Just then, a single high-pitched beep was heard from behind them; his alarm clock declaring the hour as it always did.

“You wouldn’t happen to know the time, would you, Daniel?” Octavius mumbled drowsily, falling back unto his pillow.

Daniel clutched the clock from the end table, and announced, “About eleven—”

“What?” Octavius hissed, snatching the alarm clock from his hand and throwing his legs over the edge of the bed so he was sitting, his free hand raking his dark hair back from his face. Daniel watched him, his head in hand, unmistakably entertained as Octavius threw the object aside with such a force that the two hands became undone behind the plastic and then hurried out of the room in a flurry of curses. “What’s wrong?” he called out, though there really was no need to, but harrying Octavius was something he loved to do.

“You fucking bastard! I’m late again because of you, you lecherous old man!” came the wrathful reply, followed by a string of insults, the next worse than the one before it. The small abuse didn't offend Daniel the slightest and he even fell back on the pillow, laughing hysterically.

“Bastard,” Octavius continued in a small whisper as he groped around the sink blindly, his glare narrowing his eyes so much it was difficult to see, before shouting aloud, “See if you'll ever touch my ass again!” His hand had found was it was searching for—a tube of toothpaste—but had crushed it so hard, the cap flew from its position and Octavius ended up with a handful of the contents. His cheeks flared a deep red in anger and he raised his fist to slam it against the sink, when a dark hand, much larger than his, encircled the wrist of the hand holding the toothpaste and another gripped his chin between the thumb and forefinger and jerked his head up toward the mirror.

Octavius’ flush spread down from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, surely not in anger, as Daniel's face came into view, nuzzling his neck lovingly, pausing a moment to bury his nose into the thick, dark tresses, before confronting their reflections as well. “We’d make a beautiful couple, don't you think?” he said softly, letting his hand snake up the chin to his neck then his cheek. Octavius shivered slightly at the caress and his black eyes fluttered up to their reflections. There was a large contrast in their appearances: Daniel was tall, strong, and rugged with curly dark brown hair and chocolate skin, while Octavius was short and lanky, considerably pale, his head adorning the Snape trademark inky, stringy hair, and his face the nose, though a size smaller and a smidgen straighter thanks to his father's genes.

“We’d make a beautiful couple, don't you think?”

Octavius turned his head away and wrenched himself out of Daniel’s grip with a snort, reaching for a small hand towel to wipe his hand. “Have you forgotten you're married?” he said with a small smile.

Daniel leaned against the sink and smirked himself. “No, actually, I haven't.”

Octavius rolled his eyes, “Would you just go to her already? Good lord! Why a woman of her stature would let a dog like you out after dark, I will never know!”

Daniel laughed loudly and kissed the smaller man on the neck. “Fine, fine. Twenty galleons as usual?”

“Eighty.”

This earned a raised eyebrow. “Oh? What for?”

Octavius rolled his eyes again and said matter-of-factly, “I go in at five o'clock in the morning; it is now eleven. I charged you ten galleons for each hour. Eleven minus five is six, six multiplied by ten is sixty, sixty plus twenty is eighty. So, you owe me eighty galleons.” He batted his eyelashes a few times before the larger man pulled him in a bruising kiss. “Do you still not see why I love you?” Daniel chuckled, his hand sliding down to cup the younger man's pert backside.

Octavius let out a small sound of surprise and tried to push himself away, but it was to no avail. “Wha-What the hell do you think you’re—” He was cut off as Daniel shifted slightly and something hard pressed on the inside of his thigh. “Oh no—oh hell no! I have to go to work!”

Daniel’s eyes twinkled suggestively. “They can survive one more hour without you, can’t they? Youare only a secretary, Tavie.” Without waiting for a response, he swept the resisting Octavius in his arms and walked back into the room, his face split into a grin.

---

After nearly thirty-three years, there was one thing Alissa Daegon always thought true about the Ministry of Magic: intimate relationships between co-workers, even more with superiors, was strictly prohibited. And since the day she was employed, that rule was complied absolutely beautifully. Besides, at that time most of the employees were already pass that stage and had wives or husbands and children of their own, so that the Ministry never really troubled over, and after having plenty of horribly sexually driven jobs, she felt it was best without. Friends from her days at Hogwarts would be astonished at this statement for she was known to never turn down a good shag and have quite the suggestive mouth, but times change and people change.

It was that time again, when Alissa was to go to each department of the Ministry and observe the behaviors of the employees, and Lucius Malfoy's was next on her list. She cringed just outside the double doors at that thought. Although this office passed each inspection, she had always left feeling utterly disgusted at Malfoy's conduct, in almost everything he did she spotted some kind of sexual innuendo. And his secretary wasn't any better at all. When brought to the attention of her superiors, however, they marked her down as becoming paranoid and so Malfoy remained.

She took a deep intake of breath and straightened her clothes before pushing the door open. The room she stepped in was expansive and impressive yet barren save for a few doors, plants, the desk that stood before her, and the man seated behind it, his hand holding his head up as he read a magazine. The secretary glanced up for a moment then rolled his eyes and returned to his magazine, dismissing her presence entirely. When Alissa's face contorted in anger and she puffed out her chest, the secretary expected to hear the pudgy woman hoot.

"What do you want this time, Mrs. Daegon?" he asked boredly, engrossed in what he was reading.

Alissa lifted her chin slightly and snapped, "You know very well that I am here for the monthly conduct inspection, and if you do not watch your tone I will have to report you, Octavius Rossi. Again."

Octavius snorted and leaned back in his chair, lifting his feet up to the surface of the desk, blocking the woman's face. "Oh yes, because that worked oh so well the first five times you did it, right?" He grinned victoriously at the reddening of Alissa's face and the tightening of her beefy hands.

"I do not wish to have this conversation with you again, Mr. Rossi," she gritted through her forced smile, "I'll just talk to Malfoy, survey the other workers, and then you won't have to see me again for another month."

"You can't see Mr. Malfoy today, ma'am."

Alissa's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean I can't see him today? This is mandatory, may I remind you—"

"Mandatory or not, ma'am, he doesn't want to see anyone today—" he glanced at a note taped at the top of the desk and read, "—'Especially not that ugly, sexless bitch, Daegon'." Octavius watched the woman, amused, as she lost all will to stay calm and tromped to the door to his right, her face turning a brilliant shade of purple. "You shouldn't do that," he warned in a singsong tone, but she ignored him and threw the door open. There was silence, and Octavius took the joy of watching the woman's face make a drastic change of purple to white, and ticked off the seconds until she screamed and fled. He cackled as Daegon waddled frantically out of the room, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Moments later, a lanky brunette walked out, both his clothes and hair disheveled, caught sight of Octavius, and burst out laughing. "You're a complete and utter shame to the Snape name, man. You do know that Lucius is going to have your ass for this, right Tavie?" Octavius dropped his head in his hands and sighed, "In more ways than one, Elijah. But he let off the ‘eight hours late’ thing, right?" Elijah rolled his eyes.

“So, no hard feelings about me kickin’ you out?” Octavius continued as Elijah walked towards one of the other doors.

“You best watch yourself, man. You’ll get fired the next time,” Elijah said instead before disappearing behind the door.

Octavius smiled. He really didn’t expect for him to answer. And there wasn’t a single chance Lucius would fire him. Lucius would never have fired Octavius for the most obvious of reasons. Firstly, his uncle was Lucius’ best friend since their days in Hogwarts and served as godfather to his son Draco and his upcoming child. And secondly, Octavius was just as good, if not better, in bed as Severus, which instantly made him Lucius’ favorite. Octavius gave another bitter sigh and dropped his magazine carelessly on the desk and fished out a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket.

“By the way, you just received a letter from that uncle of yours.” Daniel had announced just as he was about to step out the door, and he crammed it in his pocket being still angry at him. Now he read it slowly, happy that his uncle had finally written back to him after he had sent a letter a good month ago.

Dear Octavius,

Don’t be angry at me over the lateness of this letter. I’ve just been preoccupied with the upcoming school year.

“I’m sure you are, Uncle,” Octavius muttered.

Anyway, I would like to know how Triste and her husband are holding out; give them my love. Your grandfather is missing you lot dearly, as well as Septimus and Severin. By the way, Septimus and his wife had another litter this year. Triplets. All girls. Again. Seth and Sean are entering their fourth year at Beauxbatons, and Eilena her seventh. Titus is still abroad studying werewolves; funny, no? He even brought one of the elder Weasleys over during the summer. Sometimes I really do wonder if I will ever find a sanctuary away from these people.

Oh, Sebastian said his very first word not long ago, and oddly enough it was ‘pissant’. Seeing that you are the only one whom we have ever heard that word from, we would like to thank you for corrupting our son. Speaking of which, Gabriel and I are having our anniversary soon, our twenty-second.

And most importantly, how are you? I’m guessing you are still fucking that wedded man, aren’t you? And he isn’t the only one is he? No, I am not ‘bitching’ as you are so fond of saying. I was nineteen once as well, Octavius, and you will have to learn to grow up sooner or later, so why not now? And please tell me you kicked that damned roommate of yours out the door.

By the way, something very odd happened to me just a week of ago. It was on Sunday, the second I believe, around twelve o'clock am. I was just coming upstairs from making a potion for an associate of mine when there was a knock at the door. I opened it, ready to hex anyone for being at my door, Muggle or no, and it was none other than that workfellow of yours, Darius. He looked rather grave and told me that he wished to have a word with me.

Before you say anything, I didn’t just hex him anyway. I allowed him in knowing very well that you would have thrown a tantrum if I hadn’t. He offered him some wine and he declined which startled me seeing that you have always told me how much of an alcoholic he was.

I supposed he indeed had something very serious to speak to me about, although I couldn’t quite deduce why me. I could only guess that it had to do with you, though I wasn't very worried.

Your friend asked for me to brew a Pregnancy Potion for him, but I didn’t see the reason why. And, (I still don’t understand this at all), he said he wished to bear the child of his cousin, Sirius! The idea is completelyunreasonable. His mind was made up, however, so I brewed it for him and he retrieved it seven days later. I tried to talk him out of it, but he still wished to continue.

I swore that I wouldn’t inform you about what he was planning, but it is so unbelievably irrational I needed to tell someone something, and you are probably the only one who could talk him out of it.

Severus

P.S. Darius stated that Regulus is ‘missing’ when we first spoke. Does he not know he’s dead?

And there was silence, Octavius’ eyes widening ever so slightly. Then, he quickly retrieved a piece of parchment and a quill, ready to respond, when he was greeted by a painfully familiar grin. He didn’t look up, knowing this person already.

“Daniel.”

This earned a smirk and a wink from the taller man. “Nice to see you again too, love.”

Octavius narrowed his eyes and hissed, “What are you doing here? I told you to go back to your wife!”

“And I did,” Daniel responded, smile still present, “She had an appointment with Crouch, so I just came here to say that my wife’s about.”

“WHAT?”

And sure enough, the heavy double doors behind Daniel were pushed open by thin fingers and revealed a tall, aristocratic woman with short, straight blond hair and hazel eyes, sporting impressively expensive purple robes that Octavius couldn’t even think of affording. And this was Deirdre Yvon, one of the most powerful witches in politics, someone who was always seen in newspapers, both Muggle and Magic. She strode forward, her chin jutting out as if she owned the place, which she might as well have seeing the money she had in her possession.

“Ah, Deirdre,” Daniel said with a small smile, offering his hand to his wife who accepted it and leaned into his chest, “We were just talking about you.” She caught sight of Octavius her eyes raked over the smaller, trembling man, inspecting him suspiciously.

“You have, have you? May I ask who you are?”

There was a lump in Octavius throat at being directly addressed by her, and so his voice was hoarse when he said, “O-octavius Rossi, ma’am.”

Her eyes flicked over him again and her lips curled up in a cruel smirk. “Ah, I remember you now! You are that silly little boy of Triste’s, are you not?” Octavius flinched slightly at the insult, anger tightening his jaw as he nodded slowly. “And what is it that you do here, Mr. Rossi? Surely it must be something very important seeing that you are of the Snape family.”

“I . . .” Am fucking your husband? He mentally laughed at that. Surely that was something that would wipe that damned knowing smirk from her face, because he knew something that she didn’t. “I . . .”

“He’s Lucius’ right-hand man, love,” Daniel cut in, smiling apologetically at Octavius. He raised his eyebrows as a hint for Deirdre to stop talking, but she only continued.

“And where is Black? He’s related to the Sirius Black, correct?” She was asking the most obvious of questions and Octavius’ frown deepened.

Daniel then took that time to whisper something in his wife's ear, too low for Octavius to hear, and she bid the pair farewell and left. “Sorry ‘bout that, Tavie,” Daniel apologized.

Octavius narrowed his eyes dangerously. “For the love of fucking God, Daniel! I warned you, I fucking warned you, if you ever pulled shit like that on me again, I’d—”

“You’d never shag me again. Yes, I know, and I swear it will never happen again.” He smiled, but Octavius scowled and returned to the magazine he was previously reading.

“By the way, where’s that friend of yours, anyway?” His voice was oddly interested, similar as to when he was discussing politics. Curious yet severe.

Octavius, however, didn’t catch onto the strange tone in his voice, but still decided to tell him nothing of what he had learned. If Darius wished to keep what he was doing a complete secret, as his closest friend Octavius had to oblige. “He’s just moving to a new flat is all. He’ll be back by tomorrow. What’s with the sudden interest?” Daniel avoided this question however and Octavius assumed he just hadn’t heard him.

---

Blood pounded furiously in Darius’ ears at the sight of his cousin curled up on the floor. In the darkness he could tell whether or not Sirius was breathing at all, and the mere thought terrified him. If Sirius was dead, then he wouldn’t be able to bear his child, which meant that he couldn’t satisfy his Aunt’s wish, which meant absolutely no good. At once he was at his side, nudging him gently. He pulled back after a few seconds, wondering if he had awakened him, but the slap to his face was answer enough.

It didn’t have much force behind it, Darius hardly even felt a sting, but the suddenness of the action startled him so bad he fell backwards. Sirius’ slate grey eyes fluttered open and locked with Darius forthwith.

“Get out.”

And so this was the Animagus’ response to his cousin’s concern. Darius remained silent for a moment, his lips thinning into a straight line, trying to give Sirius his best ‘well thanks a whole fucking lot’ look. It wasn’t very effective, however, and he stood silently, obedient to his cousin's command. Darius felt stupid just leaving the room without the slightest debate with Sirius. If Regulus were there, he would have stood up for him until Sirius would finally threaten to hex him. Then, they would run off together. Sometimes he just—

“I wish Regulus was here.”

The words struck Sirius hard in the chest, oddly close to where his heart was. Although the words were murmured softly without the slightest hint of malice, he still searched for some kind of evidence of resentment on the younger man’s face, but he seemed far too engrossed in brushing dust from his clothes with his hands, as if he hadn’t even noticed he had uttered those words. Slowly the sudden blow and the dull ache dissolved into fury that flamed in him dangerously, the restrained anger he’d felt following his encounter of their trysts, anger meant for his brother.

Even after all that Regulus had surely forced Darius to do, Darius still favored him to Sirius. Sirius’ hands balled into fists as he watched Darius cross the room in absolute silence like a scolded child. Sirius wouldn’t stand for it, having him think of Regulus while he was right there.

Then there was a soft thud to the ground that caught his attention and there was a small vial of a cobalt liquid on the floor, its sharpness clashing with the soft dust on the carpet. He looked back up to see if Darius had noticed it, but he was already gone, his foot the last thing he saw.

---

It wasn’t until he was all the way to his room when Darius realized the potion was missing. He had stepped into the room and rummaged his pockets for it so he could take his daily dosage, but it was gone, and he was sure he placed it in the pocket of his trousers so he could always have it on him when needed. He looked through all his things which was easy enough seeing that he hadn’t unpacked but wasn’t there. He searched downstairs for it and gave Remus a very vague description of what he was searching for, which of course ended fruitless. Then, after a good thirty, forty minutes, he concluded that it could be in only one place: Sirius’ room.

He silently cursed his stupidity as he stood just around the corner of Sirius’ bedroom, waiting for him to leave at some point. Time passed at a comfortlessly slow pace, every minute seeming to be twice in length.

“So, now you’re spying on me?”

Darius’ went rigid, his blood pounding in his ears as a small warning. Before he could crane his neck to glance over his shoulder, however, Sirius roughly turned him so they were face to face, and Darius soon found himself forced against the wall, Sirius’ hands on either side of his head, blocking his chance to escape. Sirius was smirking down at him and Darius turned his head to the side, refusing to look at the other man as he spoke.

“I wasn’t spying,” he said, trying to muster as much courage as he could, but the lack of eye-contact didn’t reinforce it. He was mortified at how childish he sounded.

Sirius gave a sharp cackle and Darius flinched when his fingers brushed over his lips, definitely an accident he concluded. “If you weren’t spying, what were you looking for then? This perhaps?” And he produced the vial from his pocket and Darius gasped, his cheeks flushing slightly. He tried to snatch it back but Sirius pulled his arm back and then waved it tauntingly before him. “Now what, pray tell, is this?” Darius shivered, feeling Sirius’ hot breath against his neck with each word. “Were you trying to poison me?”

The question brought Darius back to his senses and he instantly replied, “No!” though, maybe, he had said it a little too quickly for Sirius quirked an eyebrow suspiciously. But then Sirius laughed, loud and hearty and unbelievably bitter, and he was pressed further against the wall. “You’re an awful liar, Ulrike,” Sirius snarled with a sneer that didn’t suit his face at all, “Always were.” Darius opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Sirius who continued speaking, his face softening slightly. “Y’know, Ulrike,” his voice was husky as he leaned in closer to Darius, now dangerously close, “Y’know, I’m much better than that wussy brother of mine.”

Darius jerked his head up, the shock and embarrassment clearly evident on his face. This, however, only made Sirius’ smirk widen considerably. “I knew what you two used to do.” Darius’s eyes widened so that all the white around the grey iris could be seen. He flushed a darker shade as roughly padded fingers crept beneath his shirt.

Darius tried hard to fight the moan that threatened come forth, but those fingers prodded and pinched so nicely it escaped, although strangled. Sirius observed his reactions closely, curiously, trying to see what places affected him the most. And then he pulled himself back abruptly with a wince, his expression almost suffering.

The younger cracked open his left eye of which he did not remember closing. Sirius was panting just as hard as he was, yet was sweating much more, his soot black hair clinging to his face, blocking his view of his eyes. He looked as if he were remembering something, reliving something painful, but what struck him the most, though, was the conspicuous bulge between his cousin’s legs, large even against the thick fabric of his trousers. And he did the first thing that came to his mind.

He slapped him.

The strike was hard, eliciting a sharp, echoing crack. He hit him directly on the cheek, the spot turning a dark pink against alabaster skin. Seconds after the slap, he cursed himself again for acting on impulse. It was the perfect scenario, getting impregnated by a drunk Sirius, and he went and blew it without thinking. He wouldn’t remember it surely after drinking as much as he did and so he could go on without any guilt. But everything Sirius said, everything he did, it crawled Darius’ skin unpleasantly, or rather, far too pleasantly. He brought his hands to his mouth as Sirius gingerly caressed the scorching spot on his face.

“You don’t want me, huh?”

Darius didn’t respond, instead turning his head to the side.

Sirius snorted. “Fine. I didn’t want you much either.” A lie really, considering his dangerously hard arousal that pointed directly at Darius. “I bet you’d only scream Regulus’ name, anyway.” He narrowed his eyes. “Isn't it boring to call a dead man's name after coming? They can't call yours back.” With that, he strode toward his bedroom and waved carelessly at him before shutting the door.

And this was when Darius’ knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor, then something cold tapped his ankle. He looked down and then smiled slightly.

The vial.

---

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Remus’eyes flicked open at the small sound that sliced so cleanly through the silence like a knife. As his vision gradually cleared, he expected to see his small black-and-white photo of his little brother when he was a child in front of the house they both grew up in, grinning cheerfully, waving wildly, his dimples making him even cuter, but instead he was greeted by the sight of an old, grey stove. He blinked.

“Shi—Shoot,” he corrected himself quickly, sitting up, “Shoot, shoot, shoot.” Ever since he had accidently blurted ‘goddammit’ in front of Mrs. Weasley after a rough night of trying to convince other werewolves to join the ‘Light’, he had never forgotten how he had to restrain the woman from barging into the Order meeting, waving a wooden spoon violently, just to give Dumbledore a piece of her mind on giving him that mission.

He pulled a pocket watch, the white face and sliver back littered with nicks, scratches, and scrapes, and the longest of the curly, ash grey hands amidst the wild flurry of smaller ones, and it was pointing just between ‘Lunch’ and ‘Work’, both written in thin, black, curly letters. He groaned. ‘Work’ meant another night of trying to convert werewolves of the ‘Dark’ to the ‘Light’ which was impossible seeing that they all weren’t the brightest bunch and preferred to do as they wished which the ‘Dark’ side allowed them to do, as long as they did it under Voldemort’s name. ‘Work’ was the very reason why he had fallen asleep in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. “I know it is asking a little too much, Remus,” Dumbledore had said when the mission was first issued to him, “But the more allies on our side—” Remus knew already, but he still didn’t like any more than he would have if he didn’t know.

Tap. Tappity-tap.

“Well, aren’t you going to answer it, Remus?”

Remus had almost forgotten the reason why he had awoken in the first place, and glanced to his right to see an owl outside the rectangular window just above the sink, looking quite sour at being forgotten. He then looked to his left and his heart sunk. Tonks smiled cheerily at him, though it was a bit strained.

“Ah—”

“I just came to see how you were. You weren’t at home like usual, so I was worried,” Tonks said. Remus only nodded in response, deciding to open the window for the poor owl, but Tonks beat him to it. “You’re avoiding me,” she said quietly, dejection evident on her face, making Remus feel more guilty than before.

“No, I’m not—”

“If it’s what happened Sunday, I’m sorry, but I meant every word!”

“Tonks—”

“The kiss meant even more!”

“Nymphadora, please—”

“I told you that I don’t care if you’re a werewolf, Remus! I don’t care if you’re older than me! I still love you!”

“But it matters to me!”

Tonks was taken aback by the lycanthrope’s sudden outburst, and took a step back.

Remus sighed and passed his hands through his honey-colored hair, flecked with grey. “I’m sorry, Tonks, I really am, but—but it wouldn’t work. You just don’t understand; I’m old, I’m tired, and I just want to see Voldemort defeated before I die. I haven’t the time for intimate relationships, I no longer have the patience for them. It would be better off if the two of us never became anything more than close friends. Please.” Harsh perhaps, but he said what he wanted to say for a long while, and it felt calming.

For Tonks, however, it had the opposite effect. Her cheeks flared a deep pink equal to that of her hair and her eyes were more luminous than before, surely with tears. But she only nodded and smiled weakly. “I–I understand,” she said softly, but it was clear that she didn’t. Then she turned to leave, brushing past him with a sniffle, seeing that her reason for being there was finished.

Remus sighed again and slumped against the sink, pinching the bridge of his nose. This is not what he wanted to deal with right before going to that horrid place, which would be in only a few minutes. A hoot sounded above him and he angrily forced open the window and wrenched the piece of parchment from the bird. The owl, Tton he learned the name was after seeing the name tag around its neck, gave an enraged hoot and ruffled its feathers before flying off in a huff. He had the sudden urge to apologize to it, really, even more after he realized the name Tton sounded familiar to him.

He looked at the folded parchment in his hand. On one of the sides ‘Darius Black’ was written in very cramped, squiggly cursive. He had the impulse to read it, but that would be wrong, reading someone else’s mail. But then the handwriting was familiar to him as well, and it wouldn’t hurt if he just read who the writer was. With that he unfolded the paper, but instead of going directly down to the signature, he was drawn to the opening.

---

Dear Darius A.K.A. Sick Son of a Bitch,

Blunt. Very, very blunt. So he continued.

I’ve heard what you are planning to do my sick, sick best mate, and there is one thing I have to say to it.

That is totally fucking kinky.

I mean, Sirius?! The murderer?! Dude, that is the ultimate kink! I mean, he must know some good stuff after being in prison with all those guys, but then is Azkaban different than Muggle prison, because I wouldn’t know.

So, how was he in bed? How big is he? How thick? Good god, I wanna know! Is he better than Lucius?? If he is, let me get some! Ha Ha Ha! Kidding, kidding.

Remus blushed a deep shade of red.

What I can’t get is the fact that you want to get pregnant. Yeah, Uncle Severus told me all about your plan on getting impregnated by that guy, but why, man? You that desperate for a kid? You’re only in your thirties, man. You still have some juice in you! Ha Ha Ha!

Remus’ stomach sunk.Darius was what?

And what are you going to do after you get pregnant, because this sounded like a big, secret thing. Are you going to tell him or does he already know? If not, how the hell are you going to hide it from him?! I think he’d notice that you were pregnant with that huge thing of flab you’re going to get. Trust me. Guys like him would notice things like that, especially if it was like, five times the regular size, y’know? Hey, are you going to get man boobs, too?! I mean, I just wanna know, for, uh, if I decide to have kids of my own.

Pfft. Yeah right.

Anyway, let me let you go. Daniel asked me to dinner next Wednesday, and no, it is not a ‘date’, it’s just another excuse for a shag, alright? I’m a slut, Darius, we don’t fall in love, we make it!

Love,

Tavie

P.S. Ooh, Lucius is piiiiiiiissed. Maybe it’s the pre-baby-having stress kinda thing, I dunno. Dammit, is everyone getting friggin pregnant??? Just thought you’d like to know.

---

Remus stared at the letter in disbelief.

Darius was planning to use Sirius to get pregnant?

And Sirius. Bless that poor man’s heart! Only a few years after he left Azkaban, and now he had to deal with this. He was already mentally unstable enough, but this going to tear him to shreds, especially if he actually fell in love with his cousin. He needed to get to the bottom of this, now. He glanced at his watch and quickly changed his mind as he made his way toward the fireplace.

Whatever he was planning to do would have to wait until morning, because he was already late to that hell hole.

---

Chapter 3 End

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A/N: Reviews greatly appreciated!