It's hard to say how long I've loved you, Sirius. To be entirely honest, I think I've always been attracted to you, even from the first day I set eyes on you.
It was the first day of school, in first year. After we got off the train, of course. I spent the train trip up to Hogwarts alone, obviously. Nobody wants to sit with the weird, sick boy with scars all over his face - because, you see, they had already started to accumulate at the tender age of 11. People might not have known the true reason behind my looks, but they made plenty of assumptions. I could hear people whispering as I looked for an empty compartment.
"What's wrong with him? He looks like he's about to puke." "Why does he have scratches all over his face? Do his parents abuse him? Are those grey hairs? What's up with that?" Only one person did anything other than mutter behind my back. Lily Evans came up to me as I was looking for a place to sit and asked me if I was okay, and if I needed anything. I declined her offer of sitting with her and her friends, as I didn't want to impose on her. It might not seem like a lot, but that simple act brightened my day.
Then I laid my eyes on you. Once we got off the train, we were greeted by a half-giant, and then we got into these little rowboats aross the lake. I was in a boat with a group of girls who, after taking one shocked look at my face and scars, completely ignored me, leading a conversation among themselves that was obviously not going to include me.
With nothing else to do, I resigned myself to looking around at everyone else. In the boat ahead of me were a group of boys, cruel-looking, who were talking about how much they wanted to be in Slytherin. I'd heard about Slytherin from my dad, shortly after I got my letter, and it sounded like a most unpleasant place to be, with all the dark witches and wizards coming out of it.
The boat beside me contained you, Sirius, and I confess to being very taken aback by your appearance. I do not feel awkward saying this as you are in Azkaban, and besides, I grew comfortable with you years ago.
You were, quite simply, the most beautiful person I had ever seen, Sirius. I know you would merely thinking I was flattering you were I to tell you in person, but it is true. I loved the way your black, wavy hair fell elegantly across your face, the way you easily sat on the rowboat as it bounced all over the place - I was hard-pressed to keep my seat. I loved how your eyes lit up your entire face like a Christmas tree as you laughed at something that James said to you. A joke, probably, or a wry observation about someone or something.
Quickly I looked away from you and focused somewhere else, lest you notice me and know what I was thinking. The rest of the short trip I spent awkwardly staring into space, trying to not feel like I did: nervous, and trying to resist the temptation to look over at your boat every few seconds.
We reached the shore, and once we made it to the castle itself we were ushered into a sidechamber, where we were greeted by a witch, who looked to be in her 30s or so. She didn't look like someone I'd want to get in trouble with - not that I planned on getting in trouble or anything. She explained how Hogwarts worked and then led us into the Great Hall, where everyone was waiting.
The first thing I noticed was the roof. It was the sky, just like it was outside. Calm and serene, the stars clearly visible beside the moon.
The woman (Professor McGonagall) put this battered old hat on a stool. For a few seconds, nothing happened, then the hat started singing a song. It talked about the four houses, the different traits they valued, and then finished.
You, Sirius, were among the first to be sorted. I remember hearing Professor McGonagall read your name and being disappointed. You were part of the House of the Black. I was a half-blood, and you probably would not even deign to give me the time of day. Of course, that was before I came to know you and realized just how wrong my opinion was.
To practically everyone's surprise, you were not a Slytherin. You were a Gryffindor, and you hurried over to join the red and gold table that was cheering loudly amid the shocked silence of the hall.
When it became my turn to be sorted, I sat on the stool and waited as the Hat was placed on my head, obscuring my vision.
"Hmm, difficult," a voice said in my ear. "A good mind here, lots of intelligence. Very loyal, too. And courageous." Sirius, I must confess that at the time I did not know what the Hat was talking about. I hope I proved myself wrong during the war, but at the time I was a shy eleven-year-old who wanted to have a normal seven years (as much as was possible) and a normal life (also as much as was possible).
I was, to my surprise, pronounced a Gryffindor. It was not what I had expected, to be honest. If you had asked me what house I thought most likely to suit me, to accept me, I would have told you Ravenclaw. I had sincerely expected to don the blue and bronze.
But, nevertheless, I hopped off the stool, remembered to take the Hat off, and joined the Gryffindor table, which was clapping wildly. Somehow I ended up sitting opposite you, which I did not do intentionally, but was perfectly fine with all the same.
"Hello," you said, greeting me cheerfully, before you saw my face. "Are you okay?" you asked me, your voice filling with concern. "Do you need a Healer?" When I shook my head no, you asked "What about a member of the Wizengamot?" Again I shook my head no. I am very happy, Sirius, that you did not ask any further, and were simply content to introduce yourself to me and eat - or wolf down, I should say - your dinner, leaving me in peace.
That peace was not something I had the luxury of during the next few weeks. A lot of people asked me about my scars or why I looked sick. I could not, of course, tell them the true reason for my illness. Most people would have ostracized me immediately and started becoming afraid of me, as though lycanthropy is a savage monster that rears its ugly head every day instead of just once a month for about forty-eight hours.
I still remain astonished at how kind the three of you were, how generous you were in giving me your friendship. I had expected to be spending my school years alone and friendless, and it was a surprise, a pleasant surprise, to have it play out differently.
Once I had you as friends I was dreadfully afraid of the three of you finding out about my condition. We all came from magical families and we all know how people like me are feared and hated. I knew you would hate me if you found out. I knew you would castme out of the group I was so happy to be a part of.
I was wrong, and I am extremely happy for that.
I remember when you first found out about my lycanthropy. It was in second year, and I am not surprised, looking back on it now, that it took you less than a year to figure out my secret. We only became friends in December of first year, and by the September of second you guys had told me.
I feel bad about lying to you guys about it. Of course, at the time, I thought that I had no other choice. The words "I'm a werewolf" would have caused everyone to tear away, and the truth would have spread through the air like Fiendfyre.
I told the three of you a lot of lies. I told you that my mother was sick, and my father. My grandmother and my grandfather as well. I then started into pets. My nonexistent pet bunny suddenly needed urgent care.
I know now that the three of you did not care about my being a werewolf, but I had never expected that you would become Animagi. If you had told me when we met that we would be the best of friends in three months, I would hae told you that you were crazy.
The day that we met remains crystal clear in my mind. I had, by that time, gotten over what I considered a temporary attraction to you that had happened the first night. You noticed me first, and I guessed you recognized me from somewhere, probably not the night of the Sorting, considering that was two months ago. I guess that the scarred, sickly boy who had no explanation for his appearance would be memorable.
We were in the library and I was working on Professor Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. You and James were just clowning around while your books lay open, forgotten and untouched, on the desk in front of you. Frankly, I was surprised that you hadn't been caught and kicked out yet.
Eventually, the din that you were producing proved to be too much for me. Sighing, I put my quill down, got up slowly, and walked over to where you were to tell you to be quiet.
I failed utterly. When I got to your table, you and James simply added me in to your banter and I was caught up in it. When James invited me toget my books and sit down with the two of you I jumped at the chance and brought my stuff over in a hurry.
I remember James looking critically at my half-finished essay as I organized my things. "Is that Moody's essay for Defense?" he asked me. When I said yes he added, "When did she say that was due again? I wasn't paying attention." Translation: I was having a sword fight with my wand with James and was completely ignoring the lesson. I had been sitting in the row in front of them.
I told him the due date, which was next Wednesday, and then mostly sat in silence. I found that I preferred to watch you two banter and listen in. I wasn't that demanding: I had company and the company in question wasn't asking me about my scars or why I looked sick. I added the occasional comment but mostly focused on finishing my essay and letting the ink dry while I listened to you two.
Eventually it came time for dinner and as the bell sounded James said, "Hey, Remus, do you want to eat with us?" I quickly accepted, smiled, and shoved my stuff in my bag.
James didn't know it, but that was the first time anyone at Hogwarts had called me by my first name. To all the teachers I was Mr Lupin, who paid attention and handed in his work in on time, but was very quiet and never raised his hand in class. On the rare occasion when people talked to me, they threw my last name across the distance between us. "Lupin! What'd you get on the essay?" "Lupin! You finish the homework?" Some were crueler. "Lupin! You look like you're about to puke. Do you need a bucket? And why do you have so many scars on your face? Did you get in a fight with an owl?"
I happily joined you at the table. I jumped at the chance for company. Most of the time, up until then, I had sat by myself in silence, talking with no one. I would read a book or do my homework while eating.
But that day I had people to sit with. I don't know if at that point I would have called you friends. There is no question now what you mean to me. I miss James with all my heart, and Lily, and Peter. And you... Sirius, I am divided now, I admit, on what to call you. Boyfriend? That was our relationship before the war, before fear and mistrust ruined everything.
Over the course of the next four months I found myself gradually spending more and more time with the two of you. I loved this feeling of having friends, but there was always that constant fear in my mind that you would fin out my secret and then abandon me. That fear, to be entirely honest, never left. It just changed form enough to continue to torment me.
Dealing with my lycanthropy at school was difficult. The week before the full moon I would get progressively sicker and sicker, to the point where the day or so before I could barely go to class. Eventually, I would have to find a way to get to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey would escort me to the Whomping Willow.
Post-transformation was the worst time of the entire month. I was still weak from the effects of the moon and there were all the new scratches that I had inflicted that I had to deal with and let heal. I always had schoolwork to catch up on, and I never felt up to doing it.
In those first years, before you three became Animagi, you and I would sit somewhere quiet, alone and undisturbed, and talk. To this day I firmly believe that this was how we became more than friends, as during this time we could talk about things that we might not have wanted James or Peter to know initially, like our relationship when it first started.
Peter joined our group in mid-April of first year. We were on our way down to the Slytherin dungeons for Potions and came across a group of boys mercilessly taunting and provoking him. Rosier, Selwyn, and Wilkes were among them, men we would come to fight in the war.
You, Sirius, were very quick to make your position clear. As soon as you saw what was going on your wand flew into your hand as you flourished it at the Slytherins, threatening them and telling them to back off. They, of course, drew theirs as well, and a fight would have been imminent had Professor Slughorn not walked out of his classroom and broken it up.
We walked into his Potions class and sat down at our table. The potion that we were working on required groups of four, so Peter sat down with us, lest he be stuck with a Slytherin who would simply continue the bullying. I was grateful for his presence, as it meant that I might have someone to work with nonstop, as you and James spent a large amount of time fooling around in class. I never said anything, because I didn't want to lose your friendship, but I would have liked to not always make potions by myself.
Safety was in numbers, as when Peter was with us during the lesson the Slytherins said or did nothing. Afterwards, you invited him to come eat with us and you permanently joined our group.
Second year started inauspiciously, and when I boarded the train in September I had no idea that you three knew anything. You waited until we were at Hogwarts, after the Sorting ceremony, in our dormitory, to spill the Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans about the fact that you knew.
It was just the four of us, of course - the other boy was Reginald McLaggen, and nobody like him, as he was an arrogant, boastful boy who thought the world of himself. Besides, the three of you wouldn't risk the idea of anyone else knowing.
You simply told me that you knew I was a werewolf and that it wasn't going to change anything. That was not the reception I had been expecting, and I told you that, several times. Eventually James said, "Damn it, Remus, stop trying to lose friends. We're not going anywhere just because you're a werewolf."
And that was that. You three started accompanying me to and from the Hospital Wing on the nights of the full moon. I felt relieved and happy that you had not abandoned me upon discovery, and felt a twinge of hope that maybe I could live a normal life.
It might have been around Christmas of our second year that my conversations with you, Sirius, began to change. At first, our conversations focused on little things. Things like school, our classes, and generally just bantering back and forth.
The full moon before Christmas, we were sitting in our spot, when you asked me the question that drew us closer together.
"Remus," you said, entirely out of the blue, looking at me with that piercing gaze of yours, "can I ask you something?"
"Of course," I answered, expecting your question to be a trivial thing like the due date of the Transfiguration Professor McGonagall had assigned in class yesterday.
"Well..." you hesitated, and that, I think, was what made me realize that you had more than a normal "I was busy drawing rude words on James' robes what was the homework" question. "It's, um... can you keep this conversation a secret?"
"Of course," I repeated automatically.
"Well... it's my family," he told me, and in that moment I thought I knew the sort of thing that he wanted to ask me about. "You know how they're all in Slytherin, right?" I nodded. "And how I'm the only Gryffindor?" I nodded again. "So... last September, when I was Sorted, my cousin Narcissa sent my mother a letter. I got a Howler the next morning - do you remember that?" I did. "I've never got along well with my family. They believe in blood purity and think that anyone who can't trace a pure-blood lineage back to Salazar Slytherin's time is filthy and not to be spoken to unless absolutely necessary. I hate the lot of them."
I nodded sympathetically.
"So last Christmas when I went back home to celebrate it was hell, pure and simple. I can't do that again. Is there..." you faltered for a bit before finding your sentence again, "is there any chance I could stay with you over the holidays?"
"Sirius," I said, pronouncing each word completely, "I would love to have you stay at my house with me over the holidays. But..." I struggled with telling you this next bit, as it wasn't something that I liked to admit to people. "My family isn't that well-off, to be honest. My parents make enough money to scrape by, but we don't have anything beyond that, and..."
You nodded, understanding. "Thanks anyways," you said, clearly downbeaten by my reluctant refusal.
"Maybe ask James?" I told you. "I'm sure he would understand."
You did end up asking James, and when Professor McGonagall came around with the list of who was going to stay at Hogwarts over the break none of us signed it, as we were all going to James's house for two weeks. My parents had owled me their permission the day before.
The two weeks the four of us spent at James' house was the first time I had well and truly enjoyed myself. The full moon was behind me and I had recovered from the post-transformation shitty feeling. James' parents, an elderly couple whose names were Fleamont and Euphemia, had prepared two bedrooms; one with two single beds and one with a double. Peter took the double bed and you and I shared the room together. It wasn't much different from sharing a dorm room at Hogwarts, except for the obvious fact that we were by ourselves.
The two weeks, unfortunately, went by way too fast and before we knew it we were back at Hogwarts, to the hustle and bustle of school, exams, Quidditch (James had successfully tried out as a Chaser), and your efforts and pranking. I didn't involve myself with your pranks, aside from the occasional critique on how you could make it better, as I preferred to keep my head down and stay out of trouble. You, I think, were trying your hardest to completely distance yourself from your purist Slytherin family.
A week after we got back from holidays your mother sent you a letter. Your expression and mood upon opening it and reading what she had to say are forever burned into my brain. Your happiness and joy before the owl post arrived. How that happiness and joy turned into anger, and then depression after you read the letter. When James asked you what was wrong, you shrugged your shoulders listlessly. "My mother says that if I don't start acting like a proper Black she'll end up blasting me off the tapestry," you informed us. I, who was not that familiar with the customs of your family, despite all our talking that we did those nights after the full moon, didn't really know what you were talking about. It was only later that you informed me that your family had a tapestry in one of the rooms in your house where misbehaving members were blasted off, or disowned from the family.
Peter suggested that you simply pack your bags and leave. You shook your head at this. "I'm only twelve," you said. "Where I am I supposed to go? I can't exactly stay at the Leaky Cauldron all summer; I'd run out of money."
"You can live with me and my parents," James offered.
"For five years?" you asked, your black curls hanging in your face. "I think your parents would start to hate me."
No matter how much James argued, you were set firm in your arguments, and refused to do anything. You simply avoided your family as much as was possible. You spent your summers out and about: in Diagon Alley, at James's house with him, over at my house with me, after my dad got a promotion at work and was able to fix the house a bit. You spent Christmas at Hogwarts, and I was the only one from our dorm to stay as well. James's parents were getting on in years and he wanted to spend as much time with them as possible, and Peter said that he loved his parents too much to want to spend Christmas at Hogwarts without them. You ignored that remark, but it made me feel down.
It was one of these Christmases, during our fourth year, that everything changed. Our conversations in our nook in the Gryffindor common room after my transformations had become even more personal. We started talking about love and romance and things like that that I had barely thought of. You told me that you didn't know what was so pretty about girls, and you could never understand them. I had never seen you flirt with girls or talk to them in anything other than a purely platonic way. This was, as far as I could see, a disappointment to many of the females in the school, who were attracted to you based on your (considerable) looks and were saddened by your lack of reciprocation.
I, too, had been noticing a change in feelings on my part. Before, there had been no instances of attraction, aside from my feelings towards you the night we were Sorted. Now, I started noticing things. I found myself looking forward to the time after my transformations, when we sat alone by ourselves, simply for the fact that I could spend that period of time alone with you. It was a guilty pleasure in a sense. I did not believe myself worthy of you, and I still don't. You, Sirius, deserved better in life than to love a werewolf, and I did not even know if you held any feelings towards me. This was before the war, before separation and stress bred mistrust between us.
We were sitting in our alcove in the common room, as usual, when you brought up the question. I was wrapped in a blanket, still shivering uncontrollably from the transformation. You had no need of extra warmth and leant your back comfortably against the stone wall, your ankles crossed one over the other and your hands in your lap.
"So, Remus," you began. You looked outwardly confident but I had come to be able to recognize the way your voice changed when you were nervous. "Have you ever been attracted to someone? Romantically?"
"Yes," I answered. You. But I didn't say that out loud. I simply provided my one-word answer and waited for your reply.
I must confess that I was not expecting you to come out to me. I had thought you would say something about a girl you had a crush on, instead of telling me about this guy you liked. Once you had finished talking I wasn't sure what to say other than words of support and comfort, promising that I would always stick by you no matter what happened.
In the end, Sirius, it was you who did not stick by me. But our story has not yet progressed that far.
Later that night, as I was lying in my bed, the drapes pulled tightly shut against the frame, I thought over what you had said to me. You had told me about this boy - emphasizing the word boy - talked about why you liked him, his personality, and a brief physical description of him. I had nodded without paying too much attention. Now, looking back at all this, it seemed awfully familiar.
Your words floated back through my brain. "He's a really close friend of mine," you had said. "He doesn't really speak up in class, or raise his hand, but he knows the answers anyways. He's quiet but has an amazing sense of humour. He's sick a lot, pretty much every month, and I would love to help him through it, but I don't know how. I don't want this to impact our friendship, though, so I don't know what I should do."
This crush of yours was sick every month. I was also sick every month.
And so it clicked.
I wasn't really sure what to do with this knowledge of mine, now that I was certain I was right. I wasn't the kind of person to go up to you and kiss you to prove my reciprocation, although that might be the fastest and least painful route. Instead, I waited, and did nothing to indicate any change in feelings, as though you were a mind-reader who were capable of knowing this.
This was in December. By September I was happy, for possibly the only time in my life. The three of you had been acting weird and distant on the train to Hogwarts, as though you were keeping some kind of secret that I wasn't to be held privy to.
Two weeks later, the first full moon of the year, I realized why you had been extremely distant and secretive. When it was time for me to transform, I dutifully staggered (walking was usually beyond me, at this point) to the Hospital Wing, to walk down to the Shrieking Shack so I could transform. This month, when I was almost to the Shrieking Shack and Madam Pomfrey had left, I saw that the three of you were right behind me. You ignored my efforts to send you away for your own safety and then transformed into animals. James was a stag. Peter, a rat, and I could barely see him on the floor. And you, Sirius, were a black dog, with sleek and shining fur.
It was then that the pain began, the precursor to the actual transformation itself. It started in my shoulders and spread, and I felt the snap of bones as my human skeleton was replaced by the lupine one.
I do not have any memories of my transformations, as wolf brains do not have the memory of human ones. I do remember feelings however, and the only thing I recall is happiness and joy.
After I turned back into a human, I confronted you, asking you why you would do such a thing for me. You said told me that that was what friends did for each other. You were right, as I would gladly have undergone the arduous process of becoming an Animagus for any of you.
Once you had become Animagi and began to accompany me on my transformations recovery after became a much less arduous process. I did not have to lean tenderly against the wall for fear of hurting myself.
I started noticing you more in class, your behaviour and what you did. For most of our classes, we sat together in a group of four. You, me, James, and Peter, free to banter and not pay attention and cause mischief. In a few classes (namely Transfiguration, where McGonagall was too smart to let us sit together), however, we were spread throughout the room, usually by alphabetical order by last name. This usually let James and Peter sit together, while you sat up front with some random person. I usually got stuck with another random person while I wished I was with you.
You were, by virtue of your surname, sitting up front in these classes. Every so often, I would glance over at you, finding myself unable to keep my eyes off you. You would be staring back at me, your gaze focused on my face. If our eyes met you would either wink or wiggle your eyebrows and turn around to pay attention. Whenever this happened my breath would catch in my throat, my hands would get all sweaty, and my heart would speed up.
I knew myself very well, Sirius. I knew that I was attracted to you. I thought long and hard with myself about what to do at that point. I didn't want to ruin our friendship, or the group that we had created. Also, I thought that you deserved better than me, a werewolf with no career prospects and little to look forward to other than a life of unwanted solitude.
Nevertheless, I started to look forward to my transformations, not to get it over with, but to spend time alone with you after. It was just you and I, and we were free to do whatever we wanted. At first, that was simply playing chess and bantering about little things, but gradually it evolved. Once we realized that our attraction was mutual, things progressed quickly.
I remember our first kiss. February of fifth year, the ever-prominent cliche Valentine's Day kiss. It was Valentine's day night, however, and we weren't under mistletoe or anything as we were in the corner. Our lips briefly touched, parted for a second as we figured each other out, and then joined again. You were careful, slow, and gentle, and it was with exquisite tenderness that we moved upstairs to our dormitory, where we collapsed on the bed in a heap, as though all the built up sexual tension was being released in an instant.
We didn't notice James or Peter come in. By the time we paid attention to our surroundings, they were sitting in their beds, drapes drawn.
"Are you two done?" came James' muffled voice from behind the drapes of his four-poster bed. When we assented, he drew the drapes apart and bounced off his mattress to sit on the edge. "So... are you two... together?"
There was a long silence, during which you and I looked at each other. "Yes," you said firmly. "We are."
"Okay," James said. He got back into bed and promptly fell asleep, filling the room with his deafening snores.
The next year and a half was the best time of my life. At first, we kept our relationship a secret, but you became more and more confident once you left your parents' house and moved in with James. Without family to worry about or appearances to keep up, you persuaded me to let it be an open thing.
I easily withstood the taunts and insults thrown at us by people who barely knew us. Slytherins, Ravenclaws, even some older Gryffindors who thought that homosexuality was a sin or otherwise wrong. You corrected them with your wand, gaining a reputation for defending your views that would later help you in the Order. I preferred to simply ignore people who insulted me.
In October of our seventh year it all came crashing down. I have no idea what gave you that stupid idea to convince Severus Snape to go to the Whomping Willow on the night of the full moon. I am only grateful that James was there to save him. In no way did I want to live with the knowledge that I had murdered someone. Even the fact that I, in my wolf form, did not have a logical, emotional brain would not have been any consolation.
I remained angry with you for a long time, and refused to speak to you. After, sitting in Dumbledore's office, he waited until Snape had left and then told us about the Order of the Phoenix and its mission against Voldemort. The four of us all said we were in and I, still at the height of my anger, specifically asked for a mission that would take me away from you, away from our past history.
After we graduated from Hogwarts I spent the summer packing my things up at home and moving them. James had offered to store some of them in his house, and I nearly took him up on that, but then his parents were killed by Death Eaters and the house was sold. I disposed of most of my belongings, offering them back to places like Flourish and Blotts for a reduced price. I needed money at the time, and I still need it now.
The mission that Dumbledore gave me was with the werewolves. They were living in a remote corner of Scotland, near the body of water the Muggles called Scapa Flow. I was supposed to try and convince them to come over to the Ministry side and abandon Voldemort.
While I was doing this, you were trying to rebuild our friendship, sending me owls with letters and updates on what was going on. Eventually, I gave up on the werewolves and moved back to London. Without a lot of money (for the Order didn't pay, and my parents were poor) I moved into a flat with you. At first it was awkward as we were extremely conscious of what had happened at Hogwarts. Gradually, though, we rediscovered why we had been friends and I didn't have to worry about whether or not walking into the kitchen at 2am, back from an Order mission, would cause you to be angry about how creaky the floor tiles were.
It felt good being reunited with James, Lily, and Peter as well. James and Lily, by this time, were planning their wedding. Peter had physically changed a lot since our seventh year. He seemed to be under a lot of stress and had lost a lot of hair and weight. None of us were sure why; we just knew that he was nervous a lot of the time.
Things started looking up. Yes, we were in the middle of a war and people were dying. James and Lily were married. You were the best man and Peter and I were two of the groomsmen.
Then, of course, there had to be a downside to this. Our friends started dying. First Gideon and Fabian Prewett, who we had gotten to know during our time in the Order. They were older, in their 30s, and they were killed by a large group of Death Eaters. Marlene McKinnon, who had been one of Lily's bridesmaids at her wedding. Dorcas Meadowes, who had been Fabian's girlfriend, was killed by Lord Voldemort himself.
Amidst all these deaths, we realized that we were probably losing the war. You, Sirius, became suspicious of me, thinking I was a spy. How funny it is that you thought I was the spy, blamed me for things that happened, and refused to have a discussion about it when you were the spy all along.
Then, the prophecy. A glimmer of hope in an impossibly dark tunnel. This glimmer forced Lily and James into hiding, making the tunnel seem even darker. I was content, though, with the knowledge that they were safe and that one day Lord Voldemort would be defeated.
And then came the worst day of my life. October 31, 1981. Since you thought I was a spy, I spent as little time in our flat as possible. I was out late on a mission for the Order, tailing a Ministry worker who Dumbledore thought was a Death Eater. When that was done I returned home and went straight to bed. You weren't there but I didn't think anything of it, as you had gone out to the Leaky Cauldron or other bars to drink several times, returning late at night.
It was in the morning when I learned everything that had happened, breaking my heart. Voldemort might have been dead, but so were James, Lily, and Peter, all killed, directly or indirectly, by you. How could you, Sirus? How could you betray everything you stood for, everything you fought for, ran away from home for? How could you sacrifice your beliefs, which were so important to you, for petty survival?