i'm drunk and happy and this is what i think...
regulus looks older now. he's all dressed up in that fancy shit our old breeder wears and he's probably got people ironing all his clothes because he actually gives a fucking damn if they're wrinkled or not, and not just because the she-hag'd ream him and make him feel like shit if he had a wrinkle or stain. not that regulus ever walked around with a wrinkle or stain. fucking prat.
i'm so fucking glad i got out of that mad-house, so fucking glad i became friends with james and didn't end up like rabbit-beta-"i have self-esteem issues because i'm a second son and i'm worth shit but make it up by spouting genealogies"-stan. in button downs and vests and stupid stupid boring colors like gray.
you know, i wonder what i'd look like if i wore clothes like that, just to see. maybe i've outgrown it all - it used to look good on me once, when i was like fucking 10, but i've probably been out of them so long it'd look damn funny on me. james for one would crack a shit and never let me live it down. it doesn't fit me. you look like a fucking prat, he'd say. you look like the fucking heir to some stupid inbred pureblooded twisted conglomeration of a family.
i like my cotton shirts and muggle-wear. i'm glad i don't dress like them glad that i don't have to own a single fucking pair of fancy pants and sure as fuck glad i don't have to have my clothes ironed and washed every week.
regulus sure as hell looks a sight sometimes. fucking sprog. he'll always be little to me he'll never be the big-shot heir to me.