Disclaimer: It's all JKRs...

Sirius Black hurried down the street, his faced turned down against the harsh wind as his hair was blown back. He briskly stuffed his hands in the pockets of his overused dirty muggle trench coat and continued walking. The sun was just setting and a red light was cast on his pale face. His face was thin and his features sharper than normal; there were dark circles under his eyes. Grey eyes that used to shine with laughter and joy, eyes that were now grim and emotionless. But that was how it had to be. If you felt, if you cared too much, you would never make it.

He suddenly stopped in front of what many would only see as an empty lot. But Sirius strode confidently up the front walk, eager to escape the cold, and knocked on the door. Moments passed before the door was thrown open and a man with untamed black hair and wild eyes appeared with his wand pointed straight at Sirius' face. Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender and chuckled joylessly.

"No need to bring out the big guns Potter. It's just me,"

James stuffed his wand in his back pocket, eyes still vaguely suspicious. You never could be too careful. He motioned wordlessly for Sirius to come in. Sirius hadn't expected a warm greeting. If he was visiting it could only mean grim news.

They both automatically entered the drawing room. A fire was blazing and candles burned on numerous surfaces. At one point in time the room might have appeared cheery but now, the shadows cast by the flames were only seemed to bring out the darkness in the room. And the darkness in the eyes of its occupants.

"So um. How's Lily?" Sirius attempted small talk. Even though they both knew it was pointless.

"Fine…now are you gonna tell me why you're here?" Sirius sighed and sat down, putting his face in hands. James always did get straight to the point. He wearily looked up before beginning.

"We've all known there's been a traitor in our midst for a while now, longer than a while. Someone close to us, close to you. I think…I think I know who it is,"

James' face had lost all color and he grabbed Sirius roughly by the shoulders.

"Who!? Goddamnit who is it?!"

Sirius looked James in the eyes and whispered a single name.

"Remus"

"How can we still succeed, taking what we don't need?
Telling lies, alibis, selling all the hate that we breed.
Supersize our tragedies! (You can't define me or justify greed)
Bought in the land of the free! (Land! Free!)

And we're all to blame,
We've gone too far,
From pride to shame,
We're trying so hard,
We're dying in vain,
We're hopelessly blissful and blind
To all we are,
We want it all with no sacrifice!"

A short man was scurrying along the deserted Knockurn Alley with the hood of his cloak drawn up when he let out a small yelp and stumbled. The man clutched at his left forearm and leaned against the alley wall. His hood fell off to reveal a pale, sweaty face and eyes screwed shut. He let out a long sigh and his entire body seemed to sag. The man stood there for no longer than thirty seconds but when he opened his eyes they seemed so bleak and downtrodden, it was as if he had aged thirty years in that half minute. As soon as the man stood up, he apparrated away with a crack.

Two hours later Peter Pettigrew entered his small flat in London. He was clutching a small white mask and a bundle of black robes, which he immediately stuffed in the corner of a small closet. Because of security measures, the Order had taken to using muggle telephones for certain messages and codes. Peter walked over to his and fumbled with the buttons for several minutes before he could here his friend's voice.

"Hey Pete, just me. Thought I should tell you that we have a meeting tomorrow. Something 'bout sales and what not. See you soon!"

He could hear the fakeness in Sirius' voice. They all had to fake the happiness now. Especially when sales meant they were only going to hear about another death. But Peter already knew this; because he had helped organize the killing, the killing of his so-called enemy. But he knew this was a lie. It was the killing of his comrade.

Peter Pettigrew broke down in sobs on his kitchen table, because his life couldn't get any worse.

"Realize we spend our lives living in a culture of fear.
Stand to salute; say thanks to the man of the year.
How did we all come to this? (You can't define me or justify greed)
This greed that we just can't resist! (Resist!)

And we're all to blame,
We've gone too far,
From pride to shame,
We're trying so hard,
We're dying in vain,
We're hopelessly blissful and blind
To all we are,
We want it all.
Everyone wants it all with no sacrifice!"

"I don't suppose you've ever thought that things could be different?"

These were the words that Remus had used when talking to countless werewolves. Werewolves just like him. They were confused and lost. But mostly, they were sick and tired of being treated like the scum of society and were willing to follow a madman just to get a shot at life.

Remus knew that he was the only man for the job. But he just wished that he had more to argue with. Because each and every werewolf he had talked to all knew the hardships of being an outcast just like Remus. Sometimes he had to catch himself before he agreed with them.

Now he sat huddled underneath a tree in a park somewhere watching the snow fall and wondering why he was even trying to change their minds. Sure, they were fighting for evil. But it gave them something to fight for. It gave them hope.

Hope.

That was something Remus had been in need of for a while. He hadn't been in touch with the Order for several weeks now and he thought about what it would be like if he never did. He could just leave. Go far away and take leave of this mess that was his life forever. But whenever this thought occurred to Remus, three distinct faces popped into his mind. Faces that had stood by him even when he thought they would flee in terror. Faces that would stand by him no matter what.

Remus drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

"Some friends they are," he muttered.

Bitterness tended to be a common side effect of working for the Order.

"Tell me now, what have we done? We don't know.
I can't allow what has begun to tear me down,
Believe me now, we have no choice left with our
Backs against the wall!

And we're all to blame,
We've gone too far,
From pride to shame,
We're trying so hard,
We're dying in vain,
We're hopelessly blissful and blind
To all we are,
We want it all.
Everyone wants it all with no sacrifice!"

A man with elbow length dirty black hair sat huddled against a cell wall. His feet were bare and his small frame shuddered with each breath. A brisk salty wind managed to snake its way into the cell making him wrap his arms around himself in an attempt to ward off the chilling air. Screams echoed around him but he was nearly silent. The clouds of visible air from his barely moving mouth were the only indication that he was saying anything at all.

"Innocent, innocent, innocent, innocent…"

In a house nestled in the countryside of England, there was a small rat. Though there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary with the animal, it behaved quite oddly at certain times. At the moment, the moon was out along with countless stars, and all of the house's occupants were asleep. All except for the rat that is.

As soon as the red-headed boy he lived with fell asleep, the rat used its paws to undo the lock on its cage and scurry onto the window sill. On the window sill, the rat never moved. It never blinked. Its eyes took on a look of desperation, and longing, and if one looked hard enough, guilt. The eyes were far too human for any rat.

And far too haunted for any human.

A man sat hunched over in a chair in a barely lit room. There was a small bottle of whiskey in his right hand. His left hand was over his eyes. His clothes were ragged and patched and there was a barely usable suitcase bearing the name Remus J. Lupin that appeared to have been thrown into the corner of the room.

The man at the table took a swig from the whiskey bottle and stared at it for a few seconds. He had always told himself he would never drink.They had always convinced him. But after his third failed job interview that week, the man didn't see any point in anything anymore.

He solemnly raised the bottle with an odd look in his eyes.

"To the Marauders"

"And now we're all to blame,
We've gone too far,
From pride to shame,
We're hopelessly blissful and blind
When all we need
Is something true
To believe,
Don't we all?
Everyone, everyone,
We will fall.

'Cause we're all to blame
We've gone too far,
From pride to shame,
We're trying so hard,
We're dying in vain,
We want it all,
Everyone, don't we all?"

Author's Note: So what everyone think? It's my first fic so I hope it wasn't too horrible. And in case anyone was wondering why Remus was drinking whiskey instead of firewhiskey, I figured it was a lot easier for him to be seen around muggles because they don't know what he is, instead of wizards. Please Review! Just a word is great!