A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 4: A Newfound Fixation

James shook his head, pacing the small space by his bed. "Unwanted interruptions? What's he planning, locking her away at his estate like some... prize?"

"It's about control," Sirius said, his voice low. He set the letter down carefully. "He's not just writing to her. He's reminding her that she's his. That she doesn't have a choice."

James stopped pacing and stared at him. "That's a bit dramatic, isn't it? It's just a love letter. A creepy, nauseating one, sure, but—"

"It's not a love letter, James," Sirius said, his tone cutting. "It's about control. Ownership. 'You are mine, Anastasia, and I am yours.' It's not devotion. It's possession."

James stared at him, his brow furrowing. "So what? She's engaged to him, isn't she? Why would she care? If she didn't want this, why is she going along with it?"

Sirius stood abruptly, pacing the room. "Because she doesn't have a choice. I've told you this before. She's not in control of any of this—my parents handed her over like a bloody pawn in a game. This letter isn't love; it's a reminder that she belongs to him now."

James scoffed, shaking his head. "She didn't look like someone without a choice when she was sitting all smug in the Great Hall. You're telling me she's scared of this? This is what she's always wanted—status, power, all the rest of it."

"Did she look like she wanted it when she read the letter?" Sirius snapped, turning to face him. "Did she look smug then?"

James faltered, remembering the fleeting expressions that had crossed Anastasia's face. The fear. The anger. The tension in her hands before she'd folded the letter with mechanical precision.

"Maybe she just doesn't like the phrasing," James muttered weakly, though the argument sounded hollow even to his own ears.

"You're impossible," Sirius said, shaking his head. "You see what you want to see."

Remus, still holding the letter, spoke up quietly. "It's not love. Sirius is right. This reads more like... a warning. Like he's reminding her that she's his property."

James hesitated, glancing between them. "So what are we supposed to do about it?" he asked, his voice laced with frustration. "She doesn't exactly want our help. She'd probably hex us if we even brought it up."

"Maybe she would," Sirius said, sitting back down heavily. "But that doesn't mean you get to sit here and act like this is what she chose."

James didn't respond immediately. His gaze fell to the letter on his bed, the elegant handwriting curling across the page. The words that had initially struck him as melodramatic now felt darker, heavier, as if each one carried the weight of something far more sinister.

Finally, he muttered, "Fine. I get it. He's a creep. But she's still... she's still her. You can't convince me she isn't a little bit happy about what this engagement is offering her."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Sirius interrupted, his voice rising. "This isn't a bloody game to her. This is her life. And you think she's happy about it?"

James gestured at the letter, his voice heated. "Well, forgive me for not understanding why she'd let herself get tied to someone like him if she didn't want to."

Sirius stared at him, his expression filled with something James couldn't quite name—pity, maybe. "You've never had to live in that world," Sirius said quietly. "You don't get it, and you never will."

James's eyes narrowed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "She's Anastasia Gaunt, Sirius. She doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do. If she's so brilliant, why is she going along with this? What's in it for her?"