Disclaimer: Don't own HP characters.
Warning: Heehee. I just sent out fluff and now I send out angst. This is a sort of religious piece about hypo-Christians. Not saying all Christians are like that. So, I'm warning you.
Burning Shame
I stand very still, hardly daring to believe what this letter says. It must be a lie. It can't possibly be true. I've believed in a God since I was old enough to believe. Why would something like this happen to me . . . to us?
James is sleeping in bed still as I stand in the kitchen, speechless. There should be someone here to make a joke about that right now. Me, Sirius, speechless? It's an oxymoron, right?
There are couple of other letters in the post: one from Remus and Lily, a Christmas card from James' mum and dad, and a bill for the Daily Prophet wanting their subscription renewed.
So what is this letter doing here? No return address, no postage, nothing worth noting. Just a hastily scribbled note on a piece of old parchment. Why would anyone waste their time sending a letter like this? It's Christmas for Christ's sake!
Fags, may you rot. Your life of sodomy is a mockery to all that is good and righteous in this world. May you be struck down by AIDS.
It's signed 'A Messenger of Truth'.
I hear James coming down the hallway. I crumple the letter in my hand and shove it in my pocket. There's no need to worry him. No need at all.
"'Morning." he says, giving me a kiss on my cheek.
"'Morning." I return. For some odd reason my cheek burns with shame where he kissed it.
He will then be reborn
From 1970's porn
Wearing tubesocks with style
And such an innocent smile (Rufus Wainright, "Gay Messiah")