Chapter One: A Decision

Before he started school, Remus Lupin's father was quick to comment that the days spent in the castle would be the best days of his life. Despite his scoffs and the indignant reply that he probably wouldn't (because, at the end of the day, who would want to be friends with a freak? At the time, he was sure it wouldn't take long for people to discover his 'furry little problem'), his father remained positive he would. As excited as he was - it was a magical school, after all - all Remus wanted to do was learn to cast spells and brew potions, and maybe, just maybe, survive through seven years worth of teenage angst and rebellion, to gain his education which would then provide him with the means to find a cure for his condition... or, and this was more highly plausible, he would be able to sufficiently find a menial, dead-end job that would cater around his need for days - and nights - off around the full moon.

Eventually September first, nineteen seventy-one, arrived and he was on his own for the first time. It was lonely in the beginning. Remus purposefully kept himself to himself, avoiding making any friends, including with those he shared a dormitory with - James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. He didn't want any of them finding out and turning him in to a pariah in the school and in the community. Little did he know at the time that was not the case. Their persistence led to him becoming friends with them. To explain his absence once a month, he spun a lie about how his mother was extremely sick and he needed to go visit her - who knew how long she had left? It made him feel terrible. Hope Lupin, although run down due to the stress his condition brought her, was otherwise in tip top health. But, alas, they were not to be fooled. During their second year at the magical school, the three boys discovered his secret. When he walked in to the dormitory that evening, dread quickly filled him up, and he mentally tried preparing himself for the fear and anger he knew was surely about to come... but it never did. They were not scared of him. They were, however, a bit annoyed he had kept it a secret from them all this time, but they understood why. It was as though everything he knew about people was slowly dissipating. Maybe not everyone was ignorant and prejudiced. Maybe there were some decent, kind-hearted people in the world.

Hogwarts had given him friends. Friends who spent years learning how to each become an Animagus just so that they could keep him company on a full moon. The wolf would kill any human that dared cross his path; animals were relatively safe as long as they didn't make the wolf angry. His father's words when he was eleven and fresh-faced played back in his mind. The man had been right. The piles and piles of work they had to do, and the petty teenage drama that was constantly abound were all minor details that he could work through. His time at Hogwarts was one he never wanted to end. The end, as much as he wished would not arrive, was inevitable.

At the age of eighteen, Remus Lupin had taken his final exam; cast his final spell; and brewed his final potion as a Hogwarts student. It had all come to an end. It was then it all went downhill...

Dark times were ahead for them. Outside the safety of the castle walls, a war was waging on. Voldemort had rallied his forces, was gaining new followers, and was moving quickly. The body count was increasing exponentially on a daily basis. None of them worse safe. James and his wife, Lily, certainly weren't. A prophecy had been made regarding their then-unborn child. It was all surreal. How was this happening to them? Praying to a deity he wasn't sure existed - magical and non-magical - made him feel increasingly guilty. If it wasn't happening to them, it would be happening to someone else. Little did they know it had been one of their inner circle who would go on to betray them to Voldemort.

Here he was now, ten years later, drunk and sitting alone in the dark in his living room. There was a knock on the door. Remus ignored it, as he did every single Halloween night. The lights were off in his tiny cottage; all the windows and curtains closed; and the only light in the entire room was the illuminating glow from the fireplace. The fire was roaring, emitting enough heat to combat the October chill. In one hand, he held a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey. He had no need for a glass, he was already set on drinking the entire bottle, perhaps even two, maybe three. Nobody was welcome at his house tonight.. There had been a time, long ago, when he would have opened his door to the children, all dressed up in their costumes, excitedly asking for some treats. Remus had never been a fan of Halloween, now even less so. All he wanted was to be alone with his sadness, his memories of his friends, and to drink until he passed out and November first rolled in.

If anyone was to peer at him at this current moment, they would be under the false impression he was an alcoholic. Usually, he wouldn't touch the stuff. It was only on October thirty-first that he drank excessively to numb the pain the anniversary brought him. Every year he had to mourn alone. It was a terrible idea, one he would never normally condone - drinking to suppress a memory was not healthy, but he had endured through one too many anniversaries alone. This year, he didn't want to do that again, all he merely wanted to do was allow the day to pass without having to remember a single moment from it. Remus took another swig from the bottle, sloshing some whiskey down the front of his shirt.

It was hard to believe ten years had come and gone. Remus was still in a world of pain. He had not been the same since, and doubted very much that he would ever be again. On one night he had lost everyone. James, Lily, and Peter had all been murdered, and Sirius had been carted off to Azkaban, where he belonged, for life. It had been a struggle for Remus not to just tell the Ministry to subject Sirius to the Dementor's Kiss and be done with him. The fact he was still breathing while the other three were not was cruel; a complete slap in the face. This was no justice. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that the Dementor's Kiss would have been too easy. Let him rot in jail, feeling hopeless and miserable and pain for the remainder of his life; let him relive the moments over and over again, until his last, dying breath. It was no more than he deserved.

'You bastard!' Remus spat, his words slurring ever so slightly. His hand clenched tighter around the bottle; his knuckles turning white. 'YOU BASTARD, SIRIUS BLACK!'

There had always been two questions burning holes in his mind: how and why? Remus had tried to think of reasons that could have led to this, but he lacked the ability to think like a madman. They had all been a family - Sirius was even Harry's godfather. When he had cornered Peter in the middle of a crowded street in the hours after Voldemort had murdered James and Lily, Sirius had laughed about it. He had laughed about the murders of his friends, and then proceeded to brutally murder another, along with thirteen Muggles. How had they gone from being closer than brothers to this? Once again, Remus was the lone wolf.

The only consolation from the Halloween night of eighty-one was the incredible survival of Harry and the eagerly awaited downfall of Voldemort. No one knows what truly happened that night, but the common knowledge is that little Harry Potter had defeated the darkest wizard since Grindelwald at the age of one. The thought of James and Lily's son brought a pain to his chest. He had not only lost his friends that night but Harry, too. Dumbledore decided Harry belonged with his Muggle relatives, to live a life away from the magical community fawning over him for being the, as they called him, the Boy-Who-Lived. Even if he wanted to - and he did want to - there was no way possible that Remus could care for a child. He barely had enough money to feed him through the week. The life of one inflicted with Lycanthropy was a lonely one; it meant he went from job to job, accepting anything that paid some amount of money, regardless of how small it was. This was not a life for a child. Harry deserved much better than him.

His vision was blurry from the amount of tears exiting his eyes. He hadn't even realised he had started to cry. Remus wasn't having any of it; he put the bottle of Firewhiskey to his lips and drank.

'This is all your f-fault, S-Sirius,' Remus slurred. 'ALL YOUR FAULT! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! THEY'RE DEAD! THEY'RE ALL DEAD! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?'

Tears streamed down his face faster and faster until he was sobbing uncontrollably. This was not how it was supposed to be. None of this was meant to have happened.

Sirius was a Black, and the Blacks were an old, Pureblood family going back centuries, who placed a great deal of importance on blood purity, upholding the same ideals and beliefs that Voldemort share, which was that Purebloods were superior in every way shape and form and all Muggles and Muggle-borns were scum that didn't deserve to breathe the same air. Despite his upbringing, Sirius had been different... or so they had thought. Out of his entire family, Sirius had been the only one to not have been sorted in to Slytherin, rather he was placed in the house with the biggest rivalry to them - Gryffindor. For years he had fooled them all that he was different to his family. Perhaps he had been at one point, but the apple never does fall far from the tree.

How had he become this person? What had caused him to turn on his friends? It didn't make sense to Remus. He had seen Sirius had his lowest, when his parents had turned on him for not being a carbon copy of them. They had hurt him, they had beaten him down, stripping pieces of him away over time, pieces that had taken the other three Marauders a long time to help him rebuild. Was it the pressure from his family, from his little brother's death, that had caused him to revert allegiance to Voldemort? Remus didn't know and at the point, his brain was simply going through all the thoughts he had had since that night.

Regardless of how drunk he was, Remus knew he had enough of trying to come up with ideas of why Sirius had done what he had done. He could come up with as many of them as he possibly could and perhaps none of them would be the real reason. Ten years had passed; an entire decade. Before he was nowhere near ready to face him. Now, he felt differently. Maybe he was ready, maybe this was what he needed to move on. Didn't he owe it to James, Lily, and Peter to find out the reasons why they died?

His decision was absolute. In the morning, he would make a visit to Azkaban. He was going to get the answers he needed; the answers they all deserved.

Around two-fifteen that morning, Remus fell asleep in his armchair, snoring loudly, with his head lolling to the side. The nearly empty bottle of Firewhiskey - his third - had slipped out of his hand to the floor, spilling the remaining contents on his beige carpet.

When he awoke the next morning, he felt terrible. His head pounded with the same force of a hundred demolition drills; every movement of his head brought about another round of pain, and he hissed loudly when he opened his curtains to reveal a very light, very bright November morning. He knew there was a reason he rarely had more than a couple of drinks every now and again; the hangovers were insufferable. He could not bounce back the way he could when he was eighteen. Before he dressed for the day, and to get out of the clothes that reeked of booze, Remus dug around his bathroom cupboard for his supply of medicinal potions, including the best hangover cure he could find. There were moments when he was severely glad he was a wizard and this was one of those moments. He uncorked the vial and downed it in one, grimacing at the foul taste.

The idea he had formed during his drunken haze last night still remained. He was still going to brave the sickening fortress of Azkaban and come face-to-face, for the first time in ten years, with the man responsible for the deaths of three of his friends. It was time to do the right thing.

Remus decided not to eat breakfast before going. While he had never been to Azkaban before, he had been in the presence of the Dementors, and knew seeing his breakfast twice in one day was not a pleasant experience he wanted to endure. He would eat when he returned, if his stomach could handle it. Instead, he brushed his teeth, doing so more than once to rid the smell and taste of the alcohol he had consumed, and dressed in a grey button up shirt, black trousers, and a matching grey cardigan.

It was just after nine o'clock when he disapparated from his cottage in the middle of nowhere. It was a quaint thing that he had spent a few years of his life in while he was a child before he had gone off to Hogwarts. His family had moved several times over the years while he was a child. Remus' father used to say it was because he enjoyed the world and wanted to see more of it, rather than staying in one place, but Remus knew the real reason was because they were afraid; afraid of Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who had bitten Remus as an infant, finding them again, and afraid that the local inhabitants of the community would discover the secret they had worked so very hard to remain as just a secret. The cottage had been one of the very few properties to have remained in his parents possession, and after the war, and after his mother had quietly passed away, Remus found himself back inside one of his childhood homes. It was peaceful around the area; he had a woodland not too far of a walk from him, as well as the seaside. Taking a walk around during dusk and dawn provided him with relief..

Remus arrived just outside the entrance of the Ministry of Magic. Once inside, he had to submit his wand to the wizard at the desk for a check, and identify the reason for his visit.

'I'm sorry, did you say you're here to receive an escort to Azkaban prison?' the wizard inquired, looking extremely perplexed as to why someone would want to do such a thing. People very rarely visited Azkaban under their own accord. Most of the Aurors would not go if they weren't required to due to their job.

'I did,' Remus said firmly. He was not going to back out.

'And the name of the prisoner you wish to visit?'

'Sirius Black.'

'Are you a relative?'

'No.'

'Are you a friend?'

Remus laughed bitterly. 'Friend? Not anymore.' He was beginning to lose patience with the man. He didn't want twenty questions, it was a unpleasant enough of an experience without having his actions scrutinized. Remus knew they were routine questions that he was required to ask him, but that wasn't to say he had to like it. 'Could you please just arrange for an escort. I would rather not be there longer than I need to.'

'Certainly, sir,' the wizard grunted. 'I won't be a moment,' and he retreated behind a closed door, leaving Remus standing in the Atrium.

He was gone for several minutes before returning with a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who would be on hand to escort Remus to the prison. After a run down of some more routine questions and a search of his person for any hidden weapons, potions, and anything that could potentially be used to inflict harm on another person; he did have to surrender his belt, along with his wand before being allowed to set foot on Azkaban.

'The Dementors are going to be stationed at the entrances and exits at all time. We cannot do anything to change this. They are there for our safety, as well as to secure the prison,' said the Auror who introduced himself to Remus as Savage. 'Do you understand?'

'I understand,' Remus confirmed, swallowing hard, and rubbing his sweaty hands down the side of his trousers nervously.

'They will also be patrolling the corridors at every fifteen minute intervals.'

'I understand,' Remus repeated.

'And lastly, for security purposes, I must remain with you at all times for the duration of your visit.'

Remus simply nodded that time around; his throat was getting tighter. This was not something he anticipated he would ever be doing.

'We'll be going through the Floo network to begin with, then we'll be taking a boat over to the prison, so if you would please follow me,' said Savage.

Remus took a deep breath, trailing quietly behind the Auror. He was nervous about seeing Sirius again. It was ridiculous; he used to see him every day for ten years. The again, it had been another ten years since he had seen him last, not including the coverage he received in the Daily Prophet newspaper.

There were so many questions Remus wanted to ask him, but he wasn't sure how to begin. What do you say first of all to a friend-turned-monster? Sirius had spent ten years in Azkaban, there was no telling what a decade among the Dementors would have done to him and to his already addled brain. Would he be in such hopeless despair that he wouldn't even recognise Remus? There's always rumours that the prisoners tended to go mad in Azkaban what with only the Dementors, their worst nightmares, and the screams of the other inmates for company.

Well there's only one way to find out...

Remus felt queasy on the boat, and was quite glad he decided to pass on breakfast. If he hadn't, his morning meal would definitely have made a reappearance there and then. As soon as the boat stopped alongside the rocks, Remus had to breathe deeply, in through his mouth and out through his nose, in order to avoid heaving. He must have looked as bad as he felt for Savage decided to comment.

'If you need to be sick, be sick. Merlin knows plenty of Aurors have thrown up on their visits.'

'I just didn't realise it would affect me so much,' Remus admitted bitterly.

'There is no shame in it.' Savage looked up at the fortress, looking disturbed, and sighed. 'This place is dark. Inside it's worse than what you ever imagine it would be. The smell of nightmares and urine and death constantly linger in the air. Even the strongest of men would struggle here.'

Remus took another deep breath. 'I'm okay. Let's just get this over and done with.'

Savage took point, leading Remus up through hundreds of stairs, with many twists and turns, until they reached the top. All that seperated them from the inmates - from Sirius - and the Dementors was a door. Just a wooden door.

'Ready?'

Remus nodded weakly, his answer getting caught in his throat. His heart was pouding hard inside his chest, he could feel it beating against his ribs, hearing his heartbeat in his ears. It was so loud he was sure Savage could hear it, or the very least it would burst out of his chest.

The door swung open. Remus' legs felt too heavy for his body, and it took all of his efforts to pick his feet up and bring them down again and again. They felt weaker the more steps he took. However, he kept going, with his eyes down, avoiding the blank stares he imagined were on the inmates faces. His heartbeat was still loud, ringing in his ears, but it wasn't loud enough to block out the sound of the hoarse screams. Most of them, Savage had told him, had screamed themselves raw; their voice boxes had been damaged, their screams turning silent. It was obvious which were the newest inmates from the sound of their voices.

'Black's an odd one,' Savage had said to him while they had been inside the boat.

'Why is that?'

'He never screams. I've been there a few times since I qualified and I've noticed it, the other Aurors have all noticed it, and it's quite strange. He will talk and mutter in his sleep. The place has not effected him as much as it has with the other inmates, including those who have been there for less time than he has.'

This disturbed Remus a great deal. Was he that insane that the Dementors barely effected him, or was it because he just did not feel any remorse at all for what he had done? Remus had no idea about the inner workings of a madman, nor did he feel the need to. He would see for himself in mere moments.

And there he was. Remus could spot that hair, although much dirtier and greasier than he had ever seen it before, and his silhouette, which was worryingly thin (or at least it would have been worrying had he not been a prisoner), from a great distance.

'Black,' Savage called out coldly. 'You've got a visitor.'

At the sound of his name, Sirius turned around; his face was sunken in, white and gaunt, looking very emaciated. Remus could see his ribs protruding from one of the many places his prison clothes were torn. The moment he laid eyes on Remus, the werewolf heard Sirius' breath catch, and saw his eyes flash with recognition. They were hollow and there was no spark of mischief that Remus had known so well, but they were not empty and lifeless as he had thought after a decade in Azkaban. The Sirius standing before him was very aware of who he was.

'Hello, Sirius.'

I hope you enjoyed this new story I'm working on. I've had this idea for years; it's one I have always wanted to write, but I never did have the time nor a solid foundation to work on. My mind works on overdrive most of the time, so I find it hard to process ideas and get them fully formed, but I have a good idea of where this one is heading. I will not forget about my other story. I'm very much invested in that one, even if it did take a year to update. Now that I've started writing again, I do not want to stop. I'm hoping to get a few chapters written for both stories in the next few weeks so that I'm ahead of the story when it comes to updating.

Any comments, positive and negative (as long as you're mature and constructive with your comment) are welcome.