Les Lettres

Author: Kati-Lara
Rating: NC-17
Archiving: All FQF will be archived solely at this site until September 30th, 2005. After that, it's yours to do with as you will.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I do not own Harry Potter, its characters, or anything associated with it. I'm not making any money from this story, and I don't intend to.
Challenge & Summary: Challenge SS #10: Remus is forced to go on holiday with his parents over the summer. Sirius and Remus exchange letters. Extra points if a rather embarassing letter is opened by Remus in front of said parents. Sirius is dragged away on holiday by his family during the summer after fifth year and he writes to Remus about the general goings on. It turns out that things aren't exactly as boring as he'd imagined they'd be.
Author Notes: I really didn't want this to be like most of the other letter things that I'd read. Not that there's anything wrong with them, but I have a phobia of being a biter. Feel free to let me know if you think I should stick to the biting. :p I'm sort of taking a liberty here with Sirius' age. The lexzicon doesn't have a date listed for his birth so I'm making him be 16 byt he summer after fifth year. Beta'd by the lovely Marilla82.


I'm just, I'm, I'm buggerd, that's what I am! I can't believe my bloody parents are taking us on a bloody holiday. We've NEVER taken a holiday that didn't involve dress robes and relatives who smelled of toad spit. There's a catch, I know it. Aside from the biggest catch being away from you lot for most of the summer. I can't sneak off to James' if I'm not even in the same country!

At any rate, this is me begging off from any plans we had. Sorry this isn't long. I don't even know where we're going it's all such short notice, but if you send something back with Antigone she'll find me. Please, please send something. If I have to spend all my time talking to Regulus I'll go deaf and blind. Or catch git. I really can't decide which would be worse.




My Impaired Friend,

I'm sorry to hear about your abduction. You can be sure that James, Peter and I are in the process of planning your rescue at this very moment. Actually, at this very moment, James is working out the logistics of levitating the giant squid into the dungeons and Peter is trying to scourgify my mother's favorite rug, which he just dropped a large glob of raspberry jam on. I could fix it, but I think I'll wait. He really is such a bad liar.

Don't despair, we'll find a way. It is harder to get organized without our enthusiasm though. Who knew I'd be amiss without the random insults and flying objects. I'm actually amiss without a lot of the things you do Sorry, I can't write that, James will call me a nance, it's bad enough that I was reading when they got here. Apparently reading is only done by girls and men in pink trousers. Pink is a hideous color for trousers, maybe red if we're going to be daring.

I don't want to write too much because I can't be sure who will get this before you, but know that we miss you. I miss you. Let us know where you end up and all the fabulous things you do with your toad spit relatives.



PS. James says if I end this letter with Love then I'm the pansiest nance to ever nance.
PPS. Bugger James.


Loony Lupin,

Do not fear my wooly one. I have Antigone very well bribed trained and no one will read these letters but me. This is good because, oh Godric Remus, we're in France. We're in France and my father has spent the entire two days away. I don't know where he's going, but mother keeps saying he wants to look into Beauxbatons. They've been talking about transferring Regulus for a year now. He doesn't get on so well with the Slytherins, and they'd be shamed if another of their children was placed into a house that's not Slytherin. Seems I was bad enough to cause mother to take up drink again. I don't even know if you can change houses, but I'm sure Dumbledore would do it. He's not so bad, Reg, he's just misguided. Were he a Gryffindor you can be sure the Marauders would give him a proper training. I think he should be, got a bit of bravery that one. Even if he is my insufferable little brother.

That being said, I have seen none of France. I just sit in the hotel room and watch out the window. There are some fit birds and lads in Paris mate, we MUST come back to properly consummate my horrible lust do the job. Mother takes Reg out on proper trips to museums and historic sites. Hmmph! I wouldn't want to go even if she wanted to take me. Seems she doesn't want to be seen with her bastard son. Not that the muggles care. If I was smart I'd run away. Maybe spend some time in a French circus before returning to you. Can't you see me now? Sirius the werewolf tamer? With my big whip? Like to see that wouldn't you? You cheeky tart. Loony, loopy Lupin. Peeves is right. Stick with me, and you'll end up bat crazy as I am. And possibly parentless. I can't tell yet.

Will write when I find out something new. I may need to go out exploring on my own. I've already had my naked arse on every surface of the room, and even that gets old.

Love is not nancy or stupid,


PS. Pout.


Pouty McPout,

James says to tell you that love is so nancy AND stupid. He'd feel differently if Evans actually looked at him once in a while I'm sure, but if what she's confided to me holds, he doesn't have a mermaids chance on the quidditch pitch. And stop pouting, it makes your cheeks do bizarre things. You look like a red cap on gillyweed, and not in that thin, reedy, flattering way either. Go put your bum on something else, maybe one or all of the stair banisters. It'll cheer you up I'm sure.

As for whips, it's not something I'd considered, though I'm sure it comes shortly after Sirius Black's Grand Idea For Tying Things With Ties and shortly before we're both thrown in Azkaban. Although several things come to mind of what we could do in the meantime. Are we taking things to fast here? I worry. I found myself wondering how many uses a whip handle could have, but then I was startled by one James Potter running into the bedroom door. Wanker really should open it first. I told him his hand would suffice and he didn't have to knock with his whole body, but he just looked a little off center for a moment and then blurted that dinner was ready. I think he thinks he caught me doing something other than writing you. I'm actually better off with him thinking I was wanking, as he's not going to try to read my sheets. Em, I don't think so anyway. Boy gets stranger every day. And I thought you were the bizarre one.

Everything is as strange and fine as ever here. James visits regularly and Pete stayed for the week, he just left. I can tell you that in that time there were more naked boys, more pranks with broom wax, more cookies eaten, and more muttered Repairo spells than any other time in this house. Maybe than in all the time of the house collectively. It's a glorious thing. Please go out and see something historic, or at least slightly artistic, even if you have to be on drugs to understand it. You'll regret it later if you don't. I know you think I'm just being stodgy, but I promise there will be a day when you wish you could just go anywhere you like and see the world, and you'll rue the days you spent rubbing that tight arse on everything in reach that wasn't me. Damnit! Stop taunting me!

Being glared at by James,



My Tight Arse Coveting Poof,

You know you wish you were the banister of dear mother's bed. All long and cylindrical and a lovely rich mahogany colorsmooth. I might be touching it with my arse right now. You'll never know. Hahahaha! The people in the next room probably think I'm raving mad. They're probably right.

As for whips, I can tell you exactly what you do with them. Bear with me because I've been out of the room three times in a week and I'm insanely bored. You know how descriptive I get when I'm bored. Anyway, ahem, Whips For Cheeky Tarts, Class One.

Whips, as you know, are mainly used to keep an animal in line. And oh, are you an animal. (You'll be interested in knowing I unconsciously scrunched my nose and bared my teeth just then like the dog. Weird mannerisms like that only fortify my parent's belief I'm loony. If only they knew what I was loony for.) I personally believe that the best whip will be made of leather, perhaps with a braided handle, and be black. In the beginning it can be used to frighten your prey into removing all their clothes, but if I know you you're not wearing any anyway, so it matters very little.

Once I have my prey in a comfortable position, preferably somewhere underneath me, I can begin to get creative. I like to think that lightly running the small tip of the whip over your skin would cause some tortuous and wicked goose bumps. Say, if I circled your nipples, ran it under your arms, or ghosted the insides of your thighs. I could also follow the tip with my tongue, making detours at the more important spots. It would be more fun though, to just blow on the goose bumps and watch you squirm. Oh, but you're insanely attractive when you squirm. I feel like that's part of my ancestry coming out in me. Man my family is weird.

Once the captive my Moony is nice and warmed up I can begin to get at things properly. Stroking your cock would work if I was feeling direct at the time. We could snog shamelessly for a while also. You know, my tongue bravely exploring your mouth (which usually tastes of jam) while my hands bravely explore your other bits. All of them. The whole lot that is Moony. I like to rub up against my Moony. Not only does the friction do prickly things to my skin, but it makes him emit these strange little restrained moaning noises which stir my, er, heart.

The thing is, once I have the Moony captive all distracted with lips and tongues and fingers, he'll entirely forget that I promised that next time he could be in charge. Not that I don't like it when you're in charge, but it's my whip damnit! Anyway, at this juncture it's usually a good idea to start something, as you'll be begging by now, and while I like begging, I like the calling of my name more. What can I say, Evans was right; I'm an egotistical bastard. And you love it.

I could start, at this point, to rub a finger or two into the captive Moony's anus. He likes that quite a bit, which is something to know if you ever need to keep one at bay. He's a monster in the sack. Since we have the whip at our disposal though, I thought to myself, why don't I do it with that? Now, I can see your eyes all large and hopeful, but no, I wouldn't start with the handle. I'd start with the thin end. Circling the puckered and sensitive flesh before I finally slipped it in. Now I know that wouldn't register much shock, but it is rather pointy, and flexible, unlike any of the appendages on your current instructor. Pointy and flexible means great things in the world of Sex With Moony, much like it does in the world of Lets Get The Slytherins. Fortunately, not in the same ways.

I would then poke around a bit (James would appreciate that I know) and work some fingers in. I would say I'd insert the handle, but those hopeful eyes from the last paragraph were probably just hoping that I'd leave you alone and you can go back to your poncy reading and pink trousers. Besides, that might hurt my dear Moony, and I'm just not that into that. Yet. But you would love it. You would moan louder, which really gets me, and you would stretch to reach me, to lick my own until now neglected cock. Except you wouldn't get there. I'd get to you first. I'd lick around your shaft and close my mouth over your penis and I'd lick and I'd suck until you was finished. And then some after, because you know, torture.

I know what you're saying, but what about Sirius? Yes well, he'll get his in the end. (James'd like that one too.) I promise you. But our great werewolf tamer has yet to leave a customer unsatisfied, so why start?

Now that you're all sweaty and panting and possibly running away from this letter to the bathroom I can tell you that tomorrow I'm sneaking out after Father. I don't have the cloak, obviously, but I'll figure something out. After all, I'm Sirius Bloody Black. If you can bugger a werewolf with a whip you can do anything, right? I thought so.

Wet dreams,

Sirius the Stupendous



GODRIC REMUS, HE'S MEETING WITH BAD, BAD PEOPLE! I told you lot there was a catch. I followed Father and he met up with some men at what appeared to be a pub. I snuck in after him and sat in a corner, ordering some wine (not bad incidentally, but not firewhisky) and listened to them talk. They discussed what it meant to be a pureblood and how the muggles and the halfbloods were ruining the way things should be. And they talked about a person or thing named Voldemort who's apparently going to try to do something about it. That terminology is worse than any description ever could be. Do what about it!? Reg's name came up, apparently I'm dead to my Father but he wants to try and get Reg to join this underground movement. What am I going to do? How can I talk to Reg about this?

I don't even know if you got the last letter yet, but I had to tell someone. Owl me back please! VITE!! Damn that French slipping in. Stupid bilingual quill.




Mr. Histrionic,

First I'd like to let you know that I hadn't yet gotten your first letter. I hadn't gotten it because my MOTHER HAD. Your bloody owl dropped it in the kitchen and Mum picked it up and read it. She held on to it until this morning when she dropped both letters on the foot of my bed when she woke me up. THEN she sat down next to me and had a talk about sex and boys and being gay and being a werewolf and being an outcast. Over all I'd say she wasn't as impressed with your lesson as I would have been had I not been scared to shit! She's not happy. Not happy at all. She loves me still, and she said she'd help me, but I believe the direct quote was "You're already a werewolf, how much more do you have to bring on yourself?" And then she did that cluck thing in the back of her throat like Grams does when she can't find a kitchen utensil and left the room. For the first time since I met you lot, I can't wait for the summer to end. I may go to James' for the remaining month just to escape the shame of Mum staring at me across the table and wondering where she went wrong. Please let Antigone know any future letters are to be delivered TO MY HANDS, either here or at the Potters.

As for your second letter, I don't know. No offense but your Father's always been slightly titched where it comes to class and race and what not. How do we know that he's not just blowing off steam with some of the other crazies he met on his trip? And Voldethingy? Sounds like a dry goods store. I wouldn't worry for now.

Do be safe Sirius. Next time follow your Mum and Reg and absorb something that won't drive you into tremors. I could barely read that last one, your handwriting is bad enough. But keep me updated on anything else. I don't want to completely dismiss this just in case. And I'll talk to James and see if he's heard anything from his parents. They are very well connected, and pureblood, so they may know something.

Horny and Worried,

Captive Moony

PS. Captive Moony sounds like a pirate name. Arr! Care for me to swash your buckle?
PPS. James would not appreciate either of those as I've been told that he doesn't EVER want to see or hear about the two of us again. It appears that time on his bed was too much. What a pansy. And not in that sexy, tight arsed way.
PPPS. If you went as in depth into your real lessons as you did into that one, McGonagall wouldn't be near as angry with you all the time. And no, it isn't unrequited love when your nostrils flare and your hat steams.


Monsieur Big Word User,

Am not histrionic, am honest, and you know it. Now quiet, or you'll get the whip again! You're blushing aren't you? Ha! It's probably a good thing your mum found the letter. Now she won't have to wonder why her ickle Moonykins is carrying a book in front of his trousers. Do you think she hates me she'll call me son? Someone needs to. Seems Sir Regulus the Brat Prince is now the heir apparent to the Black name. Just as well I'm a ponce, I'd hate to subject any more children to this family. I mean, look at how I turned out. Stop scowling; you look like a gargoyle in heat. Are you in heat, my dear Moony?

I've decided to write this letter stream of consciousness. I know you miss my rambling and verbal abuse of commas. Today my tooth hurts, and my thighs are sore from all the walking I did yesterday around this bastard city. Couldn't find daddy dearest again, but had to duck away from Mother and Regulus a time or two. They were coming out of a museum of torture. You see!? This is the great educational experience I am missing out on. So ferme la bouche my dear friend. Ferme. La. Bouche.

I know you'll say I've lost what few marbles I had left, but I think I have good cause to worry. My slinking around and looking generally shifty has afforded me the chance to hear some very interesting conversations about Voldethingy. The current theme is that he can't die. Do you know how cool it would be to not ever die? Maybe he'll offer that as a perk. I'd join. Then I could ravage you forever. Think of it!

Someone's coming, will write again when I find out something else.



PS. Give Jamesie-Poo a big wet kiss for me. I know he misses being molested.


Dearest Crazed Mad Man,

James avoided my advances so I'm sorry to say that you'll have to molest him yourself. But he sends his 'completely heterosexual and in no way poncy' love. I knew he'd come around.

There will be no whips and no books in front of trousers in this house, ever. I've been severely embarrassed enough for the rest of my life, which is another good reason to not live forever, along with being eternally ravaged. The muggles have a place for the likes of that, it's called hell.

LOOK AT WHAT YOU HAVE ME DOING WITH THE COMMAS! You lousy bastard. Next time you want to write something stream of consciousness, go do something else instead. Like, I don't know, buy one of those poofy shirts they seem so fond of in France, or something. Also, James says: "Tell him it's called a blouse and it would suit his nancy arse to a tee. And I do NOT miss being molested!" It's nice to know you're still loved here, yeah?

I got James to talk to his parents about wotsname. They were initially visibly startled, which of course makes us want to Make Plans and Search For Clues. (We need our adventurer and pirate back. We're a broken team without you.) They wouldn't tell us anything else though. Just that they had heard the name before and that it was something they were looking into, but not to worry. When an adult says not to worry, it's a definite cause to worry. We need you to follow your father some more to see if you can find something out. Pads, please, be careful. James'd miss you molesting him something awful, (to which James interjects: WOULD NOT!) and I don't know what I'd do. Report back when you hear anything Agent Pads.

Your Captian,

Messr. Remus Lupin


HE HIT ME! The bloody bastard hit me. And it wasn't one of those off the cuff backhands he's been so fond of since I was nine, it was a full on bloody punch to the jaw!

I followed him, like you lot asked me too. A lot of it was boring. He bought presents for my mum and Reg and my cousins, and then he had lunch with an old mate. They didn't talk about wotsname, henceforth properly known as Voldemort, or the underground movement at all. Just about the British MoM and some very boring politics which didn't involve killing muggles or eating halfblood's hearts or anything. There was a close call when he went to the restroom during his meal, but I held the paper up high so he didn't see me. Muggle papers really are very boring. The pictures don't wave back.

After lunch I followed him into a dodgy part of town. I saw him go into a house, but since I didn't have the cloak I couldn't follow him in and none of the windows were open for me to listen at. I considered myself buggered. I slunk into the alley and crouched down against the wall waiting for him to come out. After about ten minutes though I realized what an utter idiot I was because I could hear him talking. Over the wall. That surrounds the GARDEN. Idiot or not, the old Black luck was working in my favor.

There was a large rubbish bin next to the building, so crawled up onto the top of it. Standing on it I could just see over the wall, and I hear everything perfectly.

This meeting was definitely about Voldemort. It seemed to be more of an organizational thing than anything else. How to gather people and identify each other. At one point they made a list of possible members. Remus, my brother was right at the top of that list under that brat Lucius Malfoy. He's bloody thirteen!! I just had to tell him, to warn him. I turned then to hop down, but I tripped over part of the lid and fell.

I broke my arm, and swore up a storm. No matter how many times that happens, it still fucking hurts. I was trying to remember the spell Madame Pomfrey used that time I cracked a rib when the ground around me became very dark. I looked right up into the squenched, purple face of my father. It wouldn't have done any good to lie to him. I stood up to face him like the man he always wanted me to be. It's bloody hard to look defiant when you're swaying from pain.

He didn't say anything at first, he just punched me. When I was on the ground he went into a tirade about honor and shame and how I'd always been a bad seed and he didn't ever want to see my face again. He told me if I came near Regulus, even at school, he'd have me killed. Remus, it's so hard in a moment like that not to cry.

I wanted to run to Regulus, but Father was already stalking down the alleyway and I knew I couldn't beat him to the hotel. I cried then. Don't tell James, he'll never understand. Everything is straight or poncy with him. He won't understand how I was so very afraid at that moment for my brother, and me, and everyone.

After about thirty minutes I sucked it up and changed into the dog. I hobbled around for a bit, trying to get my bearings, then I headed slowly back to the hotel. I didn't know how to get Reg's attention once I got there, and I was in too much pain to really think about it. I just collapsed in the walkway out front, transformed back into me, and passed out. Soon, could have been hours or minutes I don't know, Reg was leaning over me and whispering my name. He asked if there was anything wrong. Poor boy. I told him about my arm and he ran back into the hotel. I was on the verge of passing out again when he returned with a bottle and his wand. He picked me up and carried me the block or so the park where he could put me down behind a copse of trees where I could hide. When did he get that strong?

He fed me some of the elixir and used his wand to do the healing spell that mother has become so adept at while raising two boys. He has always picked those things up quicker than me. He's a more efficient observer. I hope the Ministry can't track his wand use here, but it wouldn't make a difference, since he's a Black. I told him first about following father before and about what James' parents said. Then I told him about what I'd heard that afternoon and why my arm was broken and my face bruised.

He didn't say anything at first, and he didn't cry. Father's brave man to the end. He stared at me and worked it out in his head. His lower lip pushed out into the petulant pout that has become part of him after all these years. Then he told me that Father had been in a right state when he returned but wouldn't say why and wouldn't answer questions about my whereabouts. How should he know, he had asked. My jaw hurt and I reeled where I was sitting as the elixir worked its way through me. I think I must've teared up again because Reg leaned forward and hugged me. Then he kissed me on the cheek and asked if there was anything he could do. I had him bring me some parchment and a pen so I could write this, and then he left. We understand that we can't see each other at school, Reg and me, and while we've never been really close we have always had our own bond. This hurts both of us so much. But if you and I can keep the school from knowing about us then there has to be a way for me to meet with my brother undetected. Maybe I can get Dumbledore to give us detention at the same time. Heh. Ouch.

I don't know what I'll do now. I can't apparate back because the Ministry'll know and make things difficult for my father who will then make things infinitely more difficult for me. For now I'll stay here, until my arm completely heals and I hear back from you. I know Regulus will bring me the letter.

So that's where I'm at mate. At least it's not cold. I have only the dog catchers and father to evade, and if I can get past McGonagall all these years that shouldn't be tough.

Write back quickly, this old dog needs his mate.


The Mutt



Stay where you are. Have Reg meet Mr. Potter at the park. We'll see you soon.

All our love, poncy and otherwise,

Remus, James and Pete

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