Disclaimer: Own nothing.

Author's Note: Bear with me, I guess. Things reviewers might want to inform me of, in addition to the story's general worthiness of continuation, are whether the idea is made clear. By that I mean the whole outer story, as in Remus' letter to Harry, etc. Anyway, please review.

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It was the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. Harry Potter was lying in his small bed, listening to the tumbling snores of his large, boorish cousin. Unlike the other inhabitants of the house on Privet Drive, Harry was wide-awake. Since his arrival at his aunt and uncle's sterile, unwelcoming home Harry had barely slept an hour at a time, for he was consumed by painful thoughts of that night in the Ministry. Try as he might, Harry could not banish the image of Sirius sinking into the archway from his mind. There was so much left to be said between the two. This loss had not come easily to Harry, and in fact, his hands still bore the bruises that blossomed from several one-sided battles with the walls of his bedroom. To make matters worse, correspondence from his friends was rare, and the letters he received were guarded and forcefully chatty. Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed willing to mention that night in the Ministry, the night that Harry had destined his only true family to death.

Harry watched his window, scanning the night sky for a sign of his snowy owl. Instead of the bright feathers of Hedwig, Harry spotted a fragile brown owl beating its wings weakly as it approached the window…

---

"I fear much of it was our fault, Harry," Remus Lupin wrote. At this, he paused for a long moment. He was seated at a worn oak desk, leaning his weary head against a window so dirtied by time and disuse that the Muggle street below was blacked out in a sea of grime. Remus still bore the scars of that night in the Ministry, that horrible night…Remus had never been as close to Sirius after Azkaban, but no one really had been able to reach Sirius through the clouds of his own mind. No one, that is, except for Harry Potter. The boy had been orphaned twice, and now was left on his own. Reinking his quill, the pale man continued. As the light flickered, Remus wrote in a quivering hand.

"We were so young, your father and I, and Peter as well. We were so young, and while that is no excuse, we were occupied by many different things at the time everything started to go badly. It was a time of change; Voldemort was approaching, and everyone could sense it. We neglected Sirius often, during the hardest part of his life. The story of our last year at Hogwarts is a painful one, and for that reason it is not spoken of. But now, Harry, there is no one left but me to explain things to you, and I will do that as best I can. I have long put off this letter. You above all people deserve to have all of the information, because I know that you are left with questions unanswered. It does not explain Sirius' actions, or mine, or anyone's for that matter. But you deserve to understand it all. Forgive me if I falter, or if the penmanship is shaky, or even if my writing seems detached. I will falter, and shake, and the only way I can bear to tell of what happened is by removing myself from it all. And as you read, Harry, know this: James and Sirius, they loved you so fiercely. And remember, we were young…"

Remus paused once more. Was he making the best move by telling Harry everything? Surely he was, for didn't the boy have a right to know what made the two father figures in his life so unique? Didn't Remus, as the last true Marauder, have a duty to show Harry that he could not blame himself for Sirius' brazen attitude? And Remus could not deny that he envied Sirius' relationship with the boy who resembled his father in so many ways…

Aloud, he spoke, "There's no way to be sure of what I'm doing, but I can't keep on debating it, there's no use. Harry should know, someone should know…"

And with that, he resumed scratching at the parchment, inscribing a story untold.

---

At the beginning of summer, his parents had thrown him from the family home. Sirius could still smell the burning fabric as he watched his mother scorch his likeness from the family tree. He could still feel the sting of his father's ring as it bit into his flesh. That night was relived frequently in the seventeen-year-old's dreams. He had only been sixteen, being rather young for a rising seventh year student at Hogwarts. His age, or lack of, was a closely guarded secret, kept even from his best friends until their later years at the school of magic. Like many other things about this scorned member of the House of Black.

"Gods," Sirius cursed softly. Here it was, first day of the new term, his last at Hogwarts, and he was already thinking of his family.

Sirius was sitting in one of the window seats in his Gryffindor dormitory, surrounded by half-empty trunks and piles of new supplies for this final year. His dormmates were the same as always, his closest friends. The other three were still at the opening feast in the Great Hall, but Sirius had not even bothered to put in an appearance at the banquet. He could hardly bear speaking to even James, let alone engage in the pointless banter of "How's your holiday?" and such.

Sirius could already tell this would be a horrendous year. So much pressure, so many expectations- the teachers expected high marks, all of Gryffindor expected a win at Quidditch, and his friends, his fellow Marauders, expected Sirius to be as he always was. Never mind that everything had changed, that nothing would ever be right again. While at the Potters' over the break, Sirius had been able to pretend that everything was fine. He had hidden all signs of his changing mood from James. Sirius was embarrassed to even admit that the roar of the shower had masked his anguished shouts, and that when he took a fall in a game of backyard Quidditch, he always wished it had been a bit more dangerous.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Sirius muttered as the door across the room slammed out.

"That's what I've always wondered!" beamed James Potter as he leapt into the room. "Why're you up here sulking about, Padfoot? You missed the feast!"

Sirius slid into his role as Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew entered the room. "Well, old Prongs, some of us aren't tied to a feeding bag at all hours of the day. You might want to follow my lead and miss a few puddings," Sirius scoffed. "Looking a bit like a stuffed pig, mate."

James sneered and made an impolite gesture. Remus sighed, and interjected himself into the conversation. "All right, ladies, settle down. I think you lot should follow my lead and finish unpacking…I'm not going to spend my last year here living in a pigsty…"

Sirius and James shared a smirk. "Yes, Mother dearest," James said. "We'll be as clean as a house elf this year!"

"Good. Some of you," and Remus' let his eyes rest pointedly on Sirius, "could use a little cleanliness."

"Oh, but Moony, I thought you liked your men dirty," Sirius said in a low growl, as he chucked a stray pillow at the rangy werewolf, who merely sighed.

"I'm considering ripping you to shreds next moon, Padfoot, so watch it."

James laughed. "He's got you there, Padfoot. Now, let's unpack before Mother upsets herself."

Remus and Peter lounged on James' bed as the other two finished their unpacking, grumbling the entire time. "Sometimes I wonder why we tolerate you, Lupin," Sirius muttered. His comment was predictably ignored.

As Sirius withdrew the last items from his roomy trunk, James wandered over to lend a hand. He reached into his friend's trunk as Sirius shoved a few schoolbooks underneath his bed, and then James let out a yelp.

"Damn!" he swore, and hopped away from Sirius black chest.

Remus grabbed his wand and went to his friend, whose palm was bleeding inexplicably.

Sirius watched the scene, curiously detached. Peter cast a confused gaze over Sirius, who did not even appear fazed at James' injury. In fact, Peter thought, he looked a little…angry?

"James, what happened?" Remus asked after healing the wound, which amounted to a deep cut a little over an inch long.

"Stuck my hand in Sirius' trunk, and came out with this, damn it. Stabbed myself on some damn sword he's got in there."

Remus looked up at Sirius. "Sword?"

"Nah," Sirius said, suddenly moving forward. "Just a knife or something."

"Or something," James muttered darkly. "You've got a weapon in there, Padfoot. Planning murder, or something?"

Sirius laughed weakly. "Or something."

The wind wended its way through the bed-hangings as the four boys settled into bed. James nursed his wounded hand, before dropping off into a deep sleep. Slumber took Peter quickly, as it always did, but Remus remained awake. He watched the occupant of the bed next to him, letting the moonlight that dripped from the window at his left side guide his alert eyes. And sure enough, within an hour Sirius rose from his bed.

Remus saw his friend scoop up a small black pouch from his bedside and then slip into the bathroom. But no noise emanated from the small lit room, and eventually Remus himself was claimed by sleep. The mystery of Sirius' actions that night were delegated to the deepest recesses of Remus' mind as the opening of the Marauders' last year at Hogwarts began. But Remus did not forget, and as the year began to unfold, he knew that something was very, very wrong with Sirius Black…

---

August and September had crept along for the Marauders. The first two months of term had been largely uneventful, full of academic tests, Quidditch trials, and the usual dramas of school life. Peter and his on-again, off-again had become officially on, and he was more likely to be found in the broom closet by the Charms classrooms than in the dorms. James, who was Quidditch captain that year, had taken training to a completely insane level, and he was just as busy fielding Quaffles and Bludgers as he was complaints about his "inhumane" practice sessions. Sirius was sorely missed from the team, but he had made his intent to drop the sport clear early on in the year. James had berated him for a few minutes shy of an hour, but finally Remus had bellowed, "HE'S NOT GOING TO CHANGE HIS MIND," which shamed James into silence.

And so it was often Sirius and Remus who occupied the spacious dormitory allotted to seventh-year students in Gryffindor Tower. Remus had never stopped watching Sirius, and Sirius was not unaware of the silent eyes that trailed him, timed him, and trapped him. It was frustrating, and irritating, but Sirius found himself noting the few times that Remus was not close by disappointedly.

Remus had caught Sirius slipping into the bathroom with that satin bag several times over the weeks, and yet, despite a thorough search, Remus could not find the bag during the hours in which Sirius traipsed about the castle alone. And when Remus quietly staked out the locked door of the bathroom during those late nights, he heard no noises. When Peter and James had made it clear that they intended to attend the all-night Halloween Ball being thrown in the Great Hall, Sirius had asked Remus, almost excitedly, if he was going along. And when Remus shook his head, it was a curious expression of both happiness and disappointment that flitted across Sirius' face.

The two boys were sitting in silence on their respective beds, and the time was fifteen past eleven. Remus was skimming a chapter in their Charms text, and Sirius was gazing up into the canopy of his bed, occasionally sending a shower of sparks into the air. Remus watched Sirius out of the corner of his sightline, making sure that there were no trips to the bathroom or sudden outbursts. A few days ago Remus had made a promise to himself that tonight would be the night that he uncovered Sirius' secret. After all, nothing healthy could be occurring behind that locked door, and it was Remus' duty to protect his friends.

As Remus turned the tattered page in his book, a sudden burst of purple sparks rained down on a faded diagram of some wizard executing a complex charm. Remus looked up abruptly, and saw the culprit grinning widely. A little too widely, Remus thought to himself, as Sirius teetered over to his friend's bed.

"Hello, Remus, darling," Sirius said as he leapt onto the bed.

"God, Sirius, what have you been drinking?" Remus had noticed Sirius sipping some beverage, but he had naively assumed it was water, since it had been clear. But now he knew it was anything but water, for Sirius smelled like he had spent the last week bathing in alcohol.

"Juice," Sirius replied promptly.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Fine, but don't get sick on my bed. I've had enough of that, what with you and James and your two-man parties." Remus was not exactly unused to Sirius and his drinking exploits, but this was the first time that Remus had seen him this far gone alone.

"Just wanted to get in the mood," Sirius laughed and grabbed Remus' book. He threw into across the room, and grinned even more widely at Remus' expression. "It's in the way," he explained.

"Oh, yes, in the way," Remus grumbled. "Let's get you into bed, okay?"

"Okay," Sirius agreed easily. He crawled underneath the comforter of Remus' bed, still with that wide, beaming smile. "Done."

Remus laughed in spite of himself. "You really are smashed. Fine, I'll go to sleep in your bed."

But as he made his move, Sirius grabbed his arm. And while Remus could have easily gotten away, something stopped him.

"There's room for two."

Remus' laugh became a nervous chuckle. "Sirius, you should get some sleep…"

"There'll be plenty of time for sleeping later," Sirius said in a knowing voice.

"Well, there's no time like the present," Remus said lamely. He slid out of Sirius' grip and stumbled into Sirius' bed. He slipped into sleep, a heavy sort of silence hanging in the air.

---

Remus was awakened by James and Peter, who were clearly attempting to be as quiet as possible. They failed abysmally, and Remus groaned loudly as James dropped his wand with a bang.

"Damn, it just shot out a bouquet of flowers," James said with a barely stifled laugh. He looked around, and saw Remus glaring at him from Sirius' bed. "Here you go, Moony. A present."

"Thanks. How was the ball?"

"Fantastic," Peter said, grinning. "Mary is an excellent…dancer…"

James laughed as he threw himself down on Remus feet. "Yeah, they were certainly doing some sort of dance last night. Anyway, it was pretty much on par for a Hogwarts event. I'm more interested in what appears to be last night's game of bed-swapping. Care to share?"

Remus cast a look around the room, and then noticed that the window was uncomfortably far from his side. And then he noticed the snoring body that was slumbering in his bed, and then he remembered last night…"There's room for two…"

"Oh, damn, thought I'd dreamed that…"

James raised a quizzical eyebrow, and Peter emerged from what was surely an X-rated reminiscence of the last night. "Yeah, Moony, what happened?" he asked.

"Well…Sirius was completely out of his mind…"

"Tell me something I don't know," James said proudly.

Remus smiled weakly. "No, I mean he was as drunk as the two of you have ever been, but by himself, you know? And I don't even remember a lot of it," he lied, as the image of a shirtless Sirius crawling under the blankets surfaced, "but, long story short, he passed out over there, so I just left him."

Frowning, Peter commented, "Padfoot was drinking by himself? That's not good…"

"Nah, doesn't mean anything," James said, reassuringly, "He was probably just bored out of his skull. After all, he was sitting here with our brainiac all night. He was driven to the bottle by N.E.W.T. revision, most likely."

Remus laughed, but shook his head. "No, James. I really think something's is wrong with him."

"He'll be fine, Moony. Wicked hangover, but other than that, fine. Now, I need some advice. Last night, Lily was talking, and…"

James proceeded to relate a long conversation, asking Remus to analyze what seemed to be nothing more than a request for punch made by Lily, but James apparently saw as a marriage proposal. After giving some generic answer, Remus watched the steady rise and fall of Sirius' chest as he slept on. Whether or not James believed him, Remus knew that something was wrong with their proud, aloof friend. No one gets that drunk by himself for fun, Remus reasoned. And he had not even gotten a chance to question Sirius about the black bag…Sirius had been too busy sliding into Remus' bed…

"Moony? Are you even listening?" James asked, waving a hand in front of Remus' face. "Do I have to start over?" he said threateningly.

"No, no, I got it all…But let's discuss it over breakfast. I'm starving.

"Me too, actually," James said. "Let's get old Padfoot up, that'd piss him right off…Hey, Sirius!"

James jumped on his friend's shins. Some muffled curses were uttered, and the blanket was thrown off to reveal a distinctly hungover teenager. Sirius stared angrily in James' direction, and then looked around.

"Damn, where am I?" he muttered.

"In my bed," Remus responded dryly.

"Oh, is that it," Sirius said absently. "Then why is this monster on my legs?"

"Breakfast time," Peter offered from his position at the door while James grinned.

Sirius groaned. "Food? I can't even see straight, let alone allow my tender nose to be assaulted-"

James raised a hand unpromisingly and interjected, "More than your nose is going to be assaulted if you don't get up. This is the price you play for having fun without me," he chastised as Sirius struggled out of bed.

"I wouldn't call it fun," Sirius said as he lurched into the bathroom. Remus unconsciously moved towards the door so that he could watch Sirius as he brushed his hair.

"Yeah, it wasn't exactly a picnic," Remus added, keeping an eye on Sirius. James laughed.

"Oh, that's right! I'd love to hear your version of the night's events, Sirius," James said.

Sirius caught Remus eye as he gulped down a glass of water and stepped into the room. As he pulled on a shirt (inside-out, of course), he said, "Well, I think it's pretty obvious. Remus was just so tempted by me; he dragged me into his bed. I mean, who could blame him?"

Remus protests were drowned out by James and Peter's laughs as they left the room. Sighing, Remus followed the two chortling boys, and Sirius brought up the rear.

In a voice so soft, Remus might have imagined it, Sirius said, "There really was enough room, you know."

But before Remus even got a chance to respond, Sirius was grabbing James in a headlock at the foot of the stairs as Peter threw open the portrait hole door. Remus stood in silence for a few seconds at the base of the staircase, but he shook himself into action and grabbing the swinging door.

"Damn him," Remus said as the Fat Lady's likeness clattered shut.

"That's what I always said," she replied grumpily.

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One thing I ought to mention is that this isn't going to be slash, and that will be made clearer if I continue this. Thanks for reading!