Disclaimer: in my bloody profile.

A/N: Set a year after Halloween, Harry is roundabout two. Hope you enjoy, it took a lot out of me this story. May have an epilogue.

Clouded Moon

It shouldn't hurt this much. Darkness was soft, cold but soft; it didn't have to spike his vision so there was a dull throb articulated behind his eyes. A cool draft wafted over the back of his neck, an entire body shudder and he felt yanks clawing on his emaciated biceps. He didn't understand. He thought he should be able to; there wasn't a wound but something very, very close to that bleakly daggered somewhere in his chest. It was wrong, what was wrong?

The inky clouds simmered from his vision, a metal gleam had him reeling in sudden harsh light. He studied it, scratching the metal with a bitten filthy fingernail. It wailed softly. He didn't have metal in his cell, why was it here? "Sirius…"

It had been a while since he heard that name; his raised his eyes beneath his messy, tousled rats nest and felt something akin to a smile strain his lips. "Moony…" something about his image was wrong though. Moony looked exhausted, he sat ramrod, elbows hidden beneath the metal table, weeks' worth of stubble marring his too slim jaw. But it was the eyes, Sirius had never, ever seen Moony look like that and for some strange reason, Sirius felt he should be laughing but couldn't fathom why.

"Why?" Moony croaked his jaw quivering until he held it stiff. Moony didn't look at him, Moony hadn't laid eyes upon him and he felt something sizzle in his chest. What was that? It was familiar, like Moony's face but wrong. It wasn't supposed to be there, but it was. Why was it there? "Why?" he repeated, his jaw crumbled and he released a shuddering breath. Sirius spotted the new crimson, agitated scars on his hands as he clutched his hair. Why hadn't he patched Moony up? Moony grasped his hair a lot when he couldn't understand something, like a Potions essay. Sirius smiled, he remembered that… "You did go mad, didn't you?"

Moony trembled, he looked bitter, resigned but ferocious and Sirius didn't know why he was so enraged. "What's wrong Moony?" He reeled backwards at the slam of fist on metal, startled his hazy eyes wide. Moony glowered at him and Sirius felt something shrivel to rot inside him.

"Don't remember do you Sirius? When did you turn? How long were you playing us?" Moony's voice broke, strained and he buried his head in his hands, heaving dryly and silent sobs shattered his once so firm shoulders.

He wanted to wrap an arm around his friends back, steadily have him rant and rave, and swear to Moony he would make the one who distressed him rue. For some reason though, he doubted Moony would allow him. "I never played you Moony…" in response he received a dry cackle. Sirius frowned, Moony wasn't supposed to make that sound. His laughter was soft like his heart, usually bubbling at his and Prongs antics. "Where is Prongs?" Moony stilled, and Sirius realized he had spoken allowed. Why had Moony reacted like that? "What happened to Prongs?"

Moony's claws seethed on the metal table and Sirius grimaced. A weave of air and a coughing splutter of smog rang in his ears and smoked his vision. He felt sad, a detached sad that came from a glimpse of a memory he couldn't quite recall. "You killed them!" He snapped back to Moony eyes wide, but he's once friend was trembling, utter disgust and hatred polluted the once easily crinkled eyes. "You – You…How could you?" Tears swam in amber orbs, a sob wrenched Moony's throat and his pallid face was shielded by pallid fingers.

His fingers drifted over Moony's tattered sleeve in silent apology. "I made you like this?" Moony raised his head slightly, ambers dull, like a lone, resigned wild best with a loaded barrel at his temple. "You're going to be okay y'know. You were always the strongest of us." He smiled wryly and it hurt his throat. A non-committal sound escaped Moony. A duo of Moony's fingers clasped unconsciously over Sirius's dirt crusted appendages. He shivered at the hot touch, a brief exhaled relief from the cold. Moony would be fine. Moony would always be fine. Was fine enough?

"Why?" Moony ventured again, voice soft and pleading. "Why did you…?"

Glazed nightmares of deserted hazel, a rickety ash-ridden crimson and there, ever so faint, a begging wail of a child. He wanted to maul his mind from the cries; a clinging, tiny figure squirmed on his chest. He glanced towards his threadbare, straggly robe, expecting to have the child upon his skin. "Where's Harry?"

Moony scratched tears from his cheeks, his heated palm encircling his own. "Please…" He didn't want Moony to beg, he was better than that. Why was Moony begging? "Just tell me what happened that night." Thoughts trickled in unbidden, and once calculated he laughed. He laughed at the remembrance of his stupidity. Because better to cackle then sob, better it to erode the tight clasp smothering his once heart.

A rigid strain upon his hand, and he blinked blearily as Moony crushed his fingers. "I made a mistake," he pawed crusted tears from his gaunt cheek. "I trusted the wrong person, Moony. Will you ever forgive me?" His other hand pinched Moony's sleeve, anchoring the heat to him as he ducked to catch Moony's downcast stare. "I would never hurt them Moony."

"But you did hurt them," Moony spat bitterly, cragged lips twisting and grasp tight on him. Moony didn't let him go through; the small wonder lightened the dull pound in his chest. Moony needed him, he could see that. He didn't understand how it was possible. But Moony was always loyally forgiving like that. "You betrayed them though, you were with them." The tone sparked a familiar face, contorted with panicked frustration, the same soft face he had shielded in his darkened room when mother and father held particular nasty battles.

"I was never one of them." A smile faltered on his lips. Why was he so exhausted? Sleek wood flicked into his vision, he gazed in wonder when magic warmed the tip of his dirty nose and a fine silvery wolf leapt into the air. He watched it breathlessly as it scampered on the white walls, bounding up to him and barking mutely. The first time in a long time, he laughed brightly. "Been a while since I've seen you," the wolf grinned savagely, laying his wispy coils of silvery azure maw on his mucky bare feet where the beast settled to a slumber beneath the table.

"Tell me now." Moony released his fingers, scratching the stubble across his jaw and threading his fingers into his hair to perhaps relieve one of the headaches he usually received a few days after the full moon. He kept his fingers on Moony's sleeve; he didn't want to release him yet. "Tell me you didn't betray them."

After a particular vicious yank on his locks, he encompassed Moony's wayward hand with a tight smile. He fingered the callus pads cradled in his palms, recalling the times he had grasped them with a barking laugh after their exploding cauldron struck him to earth. "Been a while since I've had company." He traced an offensive mar on Moony's palm that cut into his wrist. "I would never betray them, y'know I love them Moony. They're my family."

"Were," he lifted his gaze to the forlorn amber, "they were our family."

He shook his head, the fingers twitching in his consoling hold. "No, even if…if they're gone, they're our family. I couldn't have handpicked them better myself, " a brief smile lit up his lips and Moony's eyes sparkled with the deranges of hope. "If you still want to-" an unfamiliar flutter rung in his chest, "-can I consider you family too?"

Amber eyes brightened but Moony's clasp was tight in his hands. "You didn't betray them?" Ever-cautious Moony permitted a sliver of his former grin on his wasting lips.

"Never." And, finally, Moony smiled. It was hesitant, but softened the once hard edges. He realized that while he was enslaved in prison, Moony had been trapped in his own personal manacles. In solace though, their shackles fissured with crags, awaiting upcoming freedom.

0o0

Whenever their timed session was forced to close, he felt sharp fear spear his gut. Moony would slip him into the briefest of warm embraces, mumbling incoherent comforts and promises. He would clench his only family, stricken with the biting in his eyes but vigilant in their standings. Moony parted with him solemnly, amber apologetic and he always remembered to impart a tilt, or a smile, or a word in gratitude.

What followed was burdening to describe. Each comfort and smile vanished wordlessly; he remained as if he had never left his confines, dragged back into his horrid turbulent of memories, contorted to provoke his most petrifying nightmares. Sometimes, in the glow of the moon, slit through the miniscule barred window, he would recall Moony's perseverance for a long overdue trail. If he be lucky too, word of his godson refused to flee from his mind and he would forever ponder and play with mythical visions of Harry's life.

More often than not though, the concerns he witnessed wrought on Moony's features as he attempted to deliver gratifying news, plagued his mind. He didn't expect much, but he refused to erase Moony's hope and assist his helplessness. Moony would not settle for a despairing future, not for anyone besides himself anyway. As was his nature.

All which remained was an illusionist hope that once coherent sanity fled his mind, and he was trapped in his hapless soul for all eternity. That Moony would retain the strength that had perceived him during his youth, and Sirius had leeched off in times of upheaval. Moony had always been the steadily strongest of them.

0o0

"I beg you to reconsider,"

"He has befuddled you my dear boy, we know the truth. There is no mistaking what happened-"

"Obviously you do not, for you insist on ignoring what I am telling you-"

"Mind your temper Mr. Lupin." Minerva McGonagall crossed her lethal arms, unrelenting to her sleek raven draped height. It was an image regularly shown after a disastrous getaway from a crime scene. Once it may have cultivated a rueful smile. But now, for it buffeted his goal, it succeeded only to fan roaring flames hidden in a cast-iron cauldron. And soon, very soon, he would recall his pride, banish his groveling and take matters into his own callused and clawed hands. The cauldron would fracture; disintegrate with his newly cultivated antagonism.

Remus licked his cragged lips. "I implore you to push for a trail, I am certain in my belief that there has been a mistake." Dumbledore merely shook his head, twinkling ice eyes considering him with disappointment.

"We warned you my dear boy that visiting him would only grieve you. I fear this hope you currently hold, is only there to find pardon for your former friend. But the man sitting rightfully in a cell in Azkaban is not the boy you grew up with, nor the man we've both known." The elderly man was harsh, blunt with his personal honesty. He was also tremendously wrong. His palms fists, a solid mask concealed his outrage.

"I see we have nothing more to discuss." Swept to his feet, he plowed from the room, halting briefly to hear their refutes. He spared them not even the simplest retort begging to lash off his tongue, and vanished into the floo.

Hours upon hours, he scourged for sign of the traitorous Rat. Resilience never faltering, not once from pleads of McGonagall to contemplate his life onwards. With a crooked, wryly smile he directed her out from his modest cottage in the forest plains. She could not comprehend that Remus held no future without his family. An existence with a maligned and imprisoned Padfoot was not one he wished to partake in.

In cover of night he inspected usually-bustling streets for traces of familiar magic, a familiar scent. Not once did he capture a lead. But not once did he falter beneath failure and critic, in opposition he flourished. In conflict with society's views was a position he regulated often.

One wane dawn while scouring Privet Drive, unwarrantedly seeking a glimpse of Harry while he protected the streets, he had come across the object of his intentions. The sight of the soft, tiny babe he had once cuddled in his marred hands. Curled fetal and sucking his thumb into the prickle grass, assuaged no fears. An overcoming desire to protect surged the limp, feeble babe into his arms, until he was nestled into Remus's open coat and shielded by the cloth. Harry whimpered softly, soft lashes scrunched, curling those tiny digits Prongs took great pleasure of nibbling for giggles, into Remus's warm jumper.

Horrified with the neglectful treatment, he vowed to mend the awry, and break some bones in repercussion. Hidden in a bushy alcove, the dawn glared upon the cookie-cut houses windows'. Harry fluttered emeralds, tiny fingers tight in Remus's jumper and soft jabber intercepted with familiar 'Moo-ey's'. Remus buried his nose in the crusted hair. Apologizing pitiably as tears grizzled down his hollow cheeks; for Padfoot, for Prongs and Lily, and for the life forsaken upon him. Harry was only a babe, and Remus was required to leave him again. But never would he abandon him to this fate, never would he take it lying down as in silver.

He pressed apologetic kisses to the black locks draped over a blemished forehead and lovingly erased a smudge of dirt from Harry's smooth cheek. When Lily's despised sister peered beadily round the front door, he dutifully prodded Harry to crawl in the front garden. Remus vanished with a charm, observing masochistically as Harry shot betrayed glances in futile search. The following wails perceived him home, looping repeatedly while he scrutinized bundles of newspapers and various relived Ministry reports.

Remus slumped into his rigid seat, papers littered his kitchen table. A cold mug of tea ringed into useless stacks, a forgotten dinner of crackers and chocolate he could not stomach set to one side. Remus knew he was alone in his venture to right the wrongs of what had arisen; he would not be complacent any longer. He had a charred family to reform, huddle to his chest and shield. And he would do so gladly, with little caution for his own wellbeing.

0o0

The demontors bony fingers glistened chills to his hollow cheeks, delicately icing in the numbness. It cupped his cheek, the touch a frigid heat; thumb grated an enflamed dirt-crusted pallor. Fear clasped his pleading heartbeat, it wanted out, as did he. "Padfoot…" Moony was far from him now, barricaded as he was in frothing thunderous waves, bleak ghosts and entombed in a stone cage. "-I'm getting you out of here." It was Moony, but it couldn't be. Not here, not in his cell.

He hissed a reprieving grunt as heat licked his frame -"stop Padfoot, it's okay. I'm getting you out of here." Dark clouds battered his vision, his ribs suffocated under the strain. "-you're hurting yourself, calm down. I'm right here, always right here Padfoot." He staggered with footfalls, toes crackling upon stone. Why was Moony here?

A sharp crag bit in his palm, familiar pads encompassed his hand. He was hauled, caged, battered and then, plummeting. Moony wouldn't have hurt him. But he convulsed in agony. Why was Moony hurting him? Bruises plunged in his gut, violently heaved from stinging lips. Moony's hand splayed across his emaciated back, smothering warmth through his scraping robe. Bile drizzled from his indigo lips. "Moony…?" His blurred vision rendered no comfort; his shuddering arm was grasped firmly. He sunk into something soft, poufy clouds pressing from all sides. He exhaled brokenly, fingering the duvets shielding him from the cold.

Moony perched on a rickety tea table, racing his palms on Sirius's toothpick biceps. "I'm right here Padfoot," Moony breathed heavily, the hollow too severe in his cheeks and the sags too bulged beneath his eyes. Padfoot heaved curdling fires into his lungs, but better it than the frigid breezed ache of his cage. Moony skimmed filthy palms through his greying, sandy hair illuminated in the breaching sun, the hood of his ebony jumper fell to his rigid shoulders. Those clammy hands pressed onto Sirius' forehead, brushing matted locks from his vision. "You've got a bit of a fever…" he mumbled entirely to his own, rising and slinking from his view.

"Moony…" he rasped for his friend into the creaks and whistles of an old cottage. A modest fireplace gleamed, its crags in rays through the drawn windows, drew his gaze. A chip at the mantel released a sardonic smile; he and Prongs had freed an old bludger from Moony's attic and it had taken rather violently to freedom. Multicolored vials patted his lip, blinking blearily they skirted down his throat. He coughed at the bitter scratch; Moony rubbed soothing circles into his back. "Moony…?"

Moony spared a twitchy quirk of lips, removing the blankets of warmth surrounding him when he rose and hauled him through a dim hallway. "Come on, you'll thank me later." He shot longing glances at the duvets, consenting as Moony deposited him upon the rim of a bathtub. "I'm turning the light on," Moony warned, still he hissed at its stark glow and he heard a soft snort. It warmed an area of his chest he believed cold, and he smiled wryly. "-now Padfoot, safe to say, you smell atrocious, and I'm putting it mildly..."

"I do apologize;" he told glittering amber sardonically, "I'll bring up the lack of showers at our next annual inmate meeting." Moony smile elongated to curve the scarred, slim face.

"Thank Merlin, for small wonders," Moony set a dry, chaffed towel in the sink, beneath piled articles of clothing. "Anyhow, as it stands you're in dire need of a shower,"

He smothered a laugh, spreading a wounded palm on his protruding ribs in mock indignation. "Spare my beating heart."

Moony carried forth undeterred if not for the stifled snort. "Dire need," he repeated fraudulent haughtiness thick. Sirius succumbed to a wheezy chuckle; promptly stifled with a gaze at the gleaming toilet in distraction. "A shower is in order, use what you like of the soaps, towel and clothes in the sink," he jerked a thumb in direction, stuffing his hands into his jumper's pockets and slouching, "I'll leave the door open a bit, so holler if you need anything." Awkwardly Moony ducked his head, blush sprinkled his high cheeks. "You need help getting out of that?"

He peered down at his threadbare prison rag, grinning ruefully, and pleased at the discomfort of the man usually so firm, and certain. "Nah, I'm good." Moony nodded, disappearing whence the door almost slid to a close.

A fluttering of warm solace gave him an unfathomable urge to giggle. Finger played with his newly smooth lips, his breath fled onto his cold knuckles. He didn't think his jubilation would ever warrant leave. He could actually feel something besides numbness and anguish and guilt.

Always knowing Moony was the brightest of them, it shouldn't have been startling to have him cipher the torturous prison's workings. But for him to fathom, an unscheduled release, a liberation? Unfortunately, he hadn't considered anyone would be so bat-shit crazy to attempt it. Course, he should have, for Moony was exactly the man capable of issuing such a feat.

Padfoot grinned; delight grizzled in the muck upon his cheeks, plodding dirt into crusted palms in his lap. Not for the first time, he expressed gratitude to whatever deity ogled him, for his chosen family. Merlin have mercy on his soul, he would still be in Azkaban without them.

0o0

The presented robes bundled wool to his chest, soothing agitated and raw skin, whence dry. "You great sod," his tone fond, Moony swiveled from his packed trunk on the corridors counter. Moony grinned, languidly slipped his palms into the alcove of his jumper, his exhaustion apparent. Something inflamingly tender cultivated in his chest, a gasping sobbed laugh hailed his friend. "Moony, you… how-?" Moony's fingers seized his quivering shoulders, his embrace received with snorted amusement.

"Careful there, no breaking your neck on wet patches. Be a waste, after everything?" he barked a laugh, recalling the time he collided with a swearing suit of armor in a resounding clash and cackle. Moony observed him critically at arm's length, "Hang on," and twirled his wand. His beard vanished, and dripping locks became easier to carry on a feeble neck.

He rubbed wrinkled pads upon his smooth chin. "Content are you, with this handsome mug?" Moony snorted, a smirk worming onto bruised lips, reminiscent of years long gone. And a taut cord upon his numb heart snapped, dissolved in elated gratification. Moony was so young, and he fell beneath his disbelieving touched laughter.

"Ecstatic." Moony's sardonic tone refused to bypass his mirth. He exhaled, tension lost in blissful familiarity. "Come on, you prat," Moony's callus fingers encased his wrist, and he treaded from the hallway into the bedroom. A soft pat of his shoulder, Moony withdrew from his side, bending towards a crib. Moony didn't have a kid, did he? A burdensome tightness in his sternum, wrinkled his brow. But then he heard it, a soft 'Moo-ey'. He choked on his breath; he didn't believe he would ever, ever hear that voice again. Not like this, not so welcoming. There were pricks in the corners of his blurry vision. Moony snuggled a tiny, curled figure to his chest. "Morning Harry, ready to see your good ole' godfather Padfoot, again?"

Harry flicked emeralds to Moony, than finally, they landed on his stricken figure. "Pa-foo?" He liberated a breath from his chest, swiping tears from his eyes. "Pa-foo?" at his questions, he managed to nod, a bright grin dazzling in joy on his lips

"Hey, kiddo." Harry squealed with delight, and he had never heard something so bloody brilliant. Moony chuckled, stowing the squirming babe into his wiry arms, his godson babbled inconsistently and he paid scrupulous attention to each almost-word. The grin refused to pass his lips, and he did not try to release it. He ruffled the soft messy locks, pressing kisses to his temples and held his godson close. Wet breath puffed onto the hollow of his throat as Harry abated his excitement in favor of wringing tiny digits in his jumper. Padfoot lifted his astounded eyes to meet softened amber, Moony's head tilted in observant tenderness. "Thank you." The words rebuked in his throat, nothing could compare, and nothing was enough to express his gratitude.

But then, Moony nodded, picking at a supple smile. And he thought maybe, maybe Moony understood. Rays beamed sliding through the curtains, not a cloud in sight. Long gone was Azkaban and never, ever would it return.