A/N: This story was written for one of my closest friends...happy birthday!

November 1, 1981

It's raining hard outside.

Fits the mood, doesn't it?

Once, you might have cared.

Of course, that was back when it (or anything, really) mattered.

When you and him were planning a prank. (Not James, if you wanted to prank someone with James, no one cared about such minuscule things as the weather.)

No, Peter never did like the cold.

January 22, 1982

Is that…?

No, it can't be.

James is dead, Lily is dead, you don't even know what might have happened to Remus and Nymph at this point. Marlene...that was your fault, too. No matter how much Nymph blamed herself, you know it was your fault.

But this, this, not even you can have luck that is quite this miserable.

Yet there she is, (looking worse than you remember), and the dementors are leading her into the cell next to your own.

She doesn't see you.

But you see her.

You see the thick and tangled black curls, the wild eyes, the crooked, terrifying, smile.

And you try to remember that this is Bellatrix Lestrange, that you're looking at the woman who is the Dark Lord's most faithful Death Eater, who tortured Alice and Frank, your friends, into insanity, who made your childhood even more miserable than it already was, who killed one of the only people you've ever truly loved.

You try.

But what you remember is how her hair is so like Regulus, that terrifying smile that is so similar to Nymph's crooked smirk, those eyes that are your own.

And while you try to remember a Death Eater, you remember your childhood hero.

You look at Bellatrix Lestrange, but all you see is Bella Black.

June 22, 1993

You quite honestly don't care anymore.

You can remember everything, unlike others here.

But you don't want to anymore.

What use does it do? To mourn James, Lily, and Marlene, to worry about Nymph, to wonder about Remus. To know that this -all of it- is Peter's fault.

What good does it do?

You want to forget.

Honest, you really do.

But the problem with forgetting is that, well…

It's so much harder than remembering.

October 31, 1993

You've been a fool, and you know it.

To think you could get away with attacking the Fat Lady. You only just got away.

Anything, really, to forget what today is.

12 years.

Has it really been that long?

June 25, 1994

You saw Remus.

It was only for a few hours, and there was too much happening to dwell on it, and now you only speak through letters. The letters are meaningless. You talk about nothing.

You ask about Nymph, but his replies are always vague.

Why wouldn't they have kept in touch?

You haven't tried sending her a letter. You tell yourself it's too risky, but in all honesty, you're too scared.

What if she's changed? What if she's not Nymph anymore, what if she's become someone else? You wouldn't blame her. Something had obviously happened between her and Remus, you were in prison, and there was no one else left. Who would you have become if it were you?

So now there's two questions that you don't want the answers to.

What if she changed?

And, of course…

What if she didn't?

July 31, 1994

You didn't realize it was Harry's birthday until you open the Daily Prophet and see the date.

You sent him a letter a week back. Not worth the risk today.

Mostly you sit, remembering Harry's 1st birthday. You were all there except for Peter, who had made some flimsy excuse about an appointment and didn't show up.

Harry had been flying around one foot from the ground, with you, James, and Remus chasing him. Lily and Nymph were somewhere else, and you can still remember Marlene's grin as she showed up an hour late on the summer evening, holding a cake with Harry's name.

Then you have to stop yourself.

Don't think, Sirius.

Don't think.

Thinking will make you remember.

And remembering will make you want to forget.

November 2, 1994

The Triwizard Tournament?

When you first heard, you couldn't fathom how Dumbledore would let this happen.

When you thought about it again, you realized it was coming all along.

Typical.

July 18, 1995

Yes, yes, Voldemort's back, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is roaming the countryside once more.

But right now, you couldn't possibly care less.

Because finally, finally, after all these years she's right here, and it's wonderful.

You walked in and there she was, standing near the door, (with the umbrella holder on the ground), and she had the same expression you had when you first walked in this house.

Disgust, hatred, maybe a little fear or even sadness.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

And you know she's thinking the same as you.

Noble? Oh, please.

But then she turns around, and she looks almost exactly the same, and there's a moment of shocked silence, and then she's still standing there, and then she's right in front of you.

You hug her, and she finally gives in, and though she's silent, you can tell she's crying.

"I knew it wasn't you, I did, I really did, I- I went to Remus, and he didn't believe me, but I knew it wasn't you, and I'm sorry, I really am…"

You don't say anything, but you realize two things in this sentence.

One, they weren't talking to each other because Nymph had thought that you were innocent and Remus thought you guilty. You don't know what to make of that yet. So you push it away, and concentrate on the second realisation.

She has changed, and she hasn't, but whatever changed, she's here, and that's all that matters at this point.

You look at her one more time and she's standing there, hastily wiping off her tears, and you remember a time when she and Narcissa and Regulus and you stood in that same place, staring down, eyes unmoving, and that's when you realize just how far you've come since you were that Black kid who got into Gryffindor.

"You alright, little sis?" you ask with a small smirk.

She pauses for a second, then frowns and replies.

"I'm only two months younger."

And that's how you know that she's just fine.

June 18, 1996

"Sirius, you can't go, you're still wanted by the Ministry, and dozens of things could go wrong. Besides, what-"

"I have to go. Harry needs me." You know you sound crazy, but you can't let Harry get hurt, after everything, he has to be spared.

Remus looks exasperated, Kingsley's almost given up, and Nymph, for her part, looks mildly amused at your expression.

"You know what, fine." Remus this time. "We're wasting time, we need to get going if we're to do any good tonight."

You get up to go with them, and this time no one protests.

. . . . .

It's Bella again. Bellatrix. Whatever.

You're dueling her, and she's dueling you, and you need to stop thinking, because at this point the most minuscule distraction is something you cannot afford.

Dumbledore's here, Remus is dueling a masked Death Eater not 20 feet away. Kingsley is lying on the ground, but he seems to be getting up. Nymph is too, and doesn't look anywhere near awake, but she'll be fine. She has to be. At this point, you need to worry more about yourself.

Because you see it coming minutes before it happens, the second Bellatrix lays her eyes on you, you know that this is it, this must be the end.

But you try anyways, of course. For James. For Lily.

Marlene.

At least you get to see her now.

You'll miss Harry and Nymph and Remus, but you know you'll see them at some point, hopefully later rather than sooner, but eventually nevertheless.

And as you duel, an odd sense of peace seems to fill you. You've come to terms with this. Death.

And that's when you see the veil behind you, and wonder what is on the other side.

Not long to wait, now. And no matter how selfish it sounds, you want to die.

Harry will be fine, you're sure.

You've done your part, and now, finally, you can leave without guilt weighing you down.

Guilt that you should've done more.

Because now you know that you've done what you can.

And that's all you need to know.

A/N: This slightly ties in with my AU universe where Tonks grew up with Sirius, but it can be read alone. Speaking of the AU story, the first chapter will be up in a few days.