"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Remus Lupin sighed as he stared at the front page of the Daily Prophet. A gaunt and waxy face stared back at him and Remus could only be glad the picture, while able to move, could not talk. Oh, the lies it would have said…Just like he'd lied for too many years.

Worst of all was the uncertainty; Remus wasn't sure that, even now, he'd be able to close his ears to those seductive lies. There had been too much between them, he thought, for him to ever be able to completely shut out his former lover, despite the horrors and atrocities he'd wrought in their lives.

This particular face, both achingly familiar and now utterly foreign, prodded the deepest and most repressed memories that Remus would never admit to having. And the sensation was a lot more bitter than sweet.

Sirius Orion Black was the man belonging to that face on the page, or, at least, that's what the following article said. Even his friends… make that former friend, as there was only one left now, didn't completely recognize him, so changed was he since the last time they'd seen each other. That last night with all its mistrust and harsh words… It didn't bear thinking about and Remus forcefully closed the door on his memories as he had for too many years.

He scanned the article quickly, noting the important phrases, and sank back into his chair, covering his eyes with the palms of his hands as the truth made itself known in his brain in the form of a headache that squeezed right behind his eyes.

For thirteen years, Merlin knew he'd been expecting something like this. Sirius Black was too cunning and too sly to be held for long against his will, or that's what Remus had believed, anyway. As each torturous year passed and the news of Sirius' escape did not come, Remus grew more and more convinced that it would be soon, very soon, rather than being convinced they had succeeded in finding a way to hold him forever. It was the reason he was sighing in resignation rather than running about in alarm as he suspected the rest of the Wizarding world was doing; you can't be surprised by what you know is coming.

Sirius had never been one for confinement. Or rules. Or honesty. Or, apparently, loyalty, friendship, trust, or anything else that damn well mattered in this universe and every other one that could possibly be out there!

Remus slammed a fist down on the meager kitchen table in front of him as his temper got the best of him, shattering the wood and sending broken pieces and splinters to the floor.

Muttering a blistering oath against werewolf strength and his own lack of good sense that he'd learned a lifetime ago from another black-haired boy, he grabbed his wand and waved it rather more forcefully than was necessary at the mess, which jumped back together and resumed its former shape as though time was rewinding. There was no telling how much longer this particular table was going to last; it had been through so many reparo's that by rights the spell should have stopped working by now.

Remus remembered a few of the instances in which he'd had to mend it before, remembered a specific instance that he hadn't thought of in almost fourteen years, and then buried the whole lot beneath a blanket of denial. He would not go back there, he wouldn't think of it, he'd successfully avoided all of that until just now with that stupid article and that stupid face and that stupid ex-friend who was once so much more than that…

Face as white as the picture in the paper, Remus' tight grip shattered the table again at his memory. He fixed it again. And muttered, "stupid, stupid, stupid," under his breath like a litany as he grabbed the only other piece of mail he'd gotten, a heavy, emblazoned envelope, in hopes of some sort of distraction.