HERE IS THE PROLOGUE FOR Y'ALL! I LOVE THIS SERIES, AND EVERYTHING TO DO WITH IT. I'M TOTALLY OBSESSED. ANYWAY...

I DECIDED ON THE WAY THIS STORY STARTS BECAUSE I WANT TO EXPLORE HOW HAVING A DAUGHTER AFFECTED SIRIUS IN AZKABAN, HOW HAVING A SURROGATE DAUGHTER WOULD AFFECT REMUS. AND THAT'S WHY I WROTE THIS.

AND BECAUSE I WANTED TO TRY A HAND AT WRITING FROM REMUS AND SIRIUS' POINT OF VIEW, AND ALL THAT. SO HERE'S AN ANGSTY START TO A (HOPEFULLY) NOT TOO ANGSTY STORY!

HOPE YOU ENJOY!

GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY

~LF221

The three and a half year old child, now asleep in the spare bedroom at her godfather's flat, had no idea what had happened to put her there. She would never remember her biological father's arrest, wouldn't remember the screams and the desperate pleading as the Dementors dragged the innocent man to Azkaban.

Remus Lupin, the new caretaker of the child, would consider this a blessing as he sat before a calming fire, Butterbeer in hand. He would not want the girl he was to raise to be haunted by that day. But he remembered it clearly, would always remember it. And, even though he was scared, confused beyond belief, and reeling from that fateful Halloween night, he would raise the child, treat her like her own. He owed it to the memory of what Sirius had once been to him; the greatest of friends. He would, naturally, be a little daunted at times with the care of a child, especially given what happened once a month. He knew that one slip-up, one careless mistake, and the girl could be dead, or worse (in Remus' opinion) turned into a full werewolf. Remus clutched his Butterbeer tighter, knuckles white as he shook his head. No.

He would do everything to protect her, ensure she never even knew about the lycanthropy until she was old enough to understand, to see that he was not just a werewolf, that there was really a man behind the beast. Remus knew he couldn't keep the secret forever. But surely that moment, the terrible moment of truth in their relationship, would not be for several years. For now, however, he would enjoy the little, dreamy smile on his god-daughter's face as she slept peacefully. Her bag of clothes and a few toys, left behind by Sirius, was still at the foot of the bed where Black had left them when he'd scared the stuffing out of Remus by Apparating directly into Remus' flat and reminding the startled man of the Unbreakable Vow the pair had made (with James as the third person) as he thrust his daughter in Remus' hands, a mere moment or two before the Dementors had arrived. Remus would never have refused, anyway. Traitorous father or not, the girl did not deserve to be placed in an orphanage, with numerous questions and an uncertain future, when she could have a home, albeit a poor one, with someone who genuinely cared about her. And Remus did care for her, even loved her, from the first time he had babysat her. Back when everything was certain and, although the world was dark, uncertain and foreboding, the quartet of Marauders knew where allegiances lay. Or they thought they did. And now they had paid the price of blind trust...

Poor Jenny was gone, Peter, too, as well as James and Lily. Sirius...might as well be.

Remus, however, was left alive by some cruel twist of fate, alone in this dark, cruel world. He would endure, the last Marauder, with the memory of what had happened, and the questions he could never ask, as the people he wanted to talk to were either dead or somewhere he was sure he couldn't get to with his condition. Not that he'd willingly step into Azkaban.

But as Remus pondered what had happened, he found that were several blank spaces in his knowledge. For instance...when had Black turned over? When had Peter and Jenny found out? Why would Sirius slaughter his own wife, when he had constantly protected her from the Death-Eaters? The man Remus had known would never do what Sirius had just done. Everything was messed up and wrong. Everything was up-side down. Nothing made sense about that Halloween night.

In moments of weakness, Remus considered that, perhaps...there was a chance...that Black was not, in fact, the spy. But that was preposterous. Sirius was made Secret-Keeper. He alone could have led the Dark Lord to the Potters. He alone could have handed the Potters, his best friends, over to the Dark Lord. But why would he?

Remus may never know. He refused to set foot in Azkaban. His condition made it impossible, anyway. Besides, he didn't want to hear the story of Sirius' betrayal, and certainly not from the mouth of the traitor himself. That would make it too real. Too irreversible. Too...undeniable.

And so Remus resigned himself to his questions, his bewilderment, his anger at his one-time friend. And he never once started to pity Sirius, except in lonely hours in the dead of night when nightmares of what could happen at the full moon plagued him. He would sit in his armchair with a Butterbeer in hand, or a glass of Fire whiskey, and wonder what Sirius was going through. It must be so much worse than Remus' petty nightmares. Remus wondered...if Black ever revisited the past, alone in his cell. If Sirius ever remembered the good times they had shared under full moons, not a care in the world.

Remus wondered if Sirius felt remorse at his actions.

But he could never really forgive Black. Never. Regardless of the lack of trail, regardless of his slowly leaking sanity, regardless of anything, Remus would never forgive Sirius Black for what he had done. The only thing he would ever do for his one-time friend is raise his child, teach her the man Black used to be. Not what he is now, not until she would understand. That was a promise.

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No one listened as Sirius Black sobbed at night, mourning his turn of life. His best mate, the one Black had gone through very dangerous magic in order to help, would hate him, probably leading his own daughter to hate him, as well. Rosemary would never remember the times late at night when Sirius would hold her in his arms before a roaring fire, tell her everything would be alright, that he would do anything to keep her and Jenny (God rest her soul) safe. Jenny...the love of his life. His wife and best friend...was dead. Peter had been ruthless in his attack, masterful in executing it. Because of that filthy, no good rat, no one doubted that Sirius was responsible for the vicious murders he had been falsely accused of. Black knew Remus would be assured of it because his friend had never known of the switch in Secret-Keepers. He had never known of the awful mistake Sirius had made. He had never known—would never know—that Sirius had spent many a night, wondering if he had made the right decision to convince James and Lily to make Peter (curse him) their Secret-Keeper. Sirius had thought it the perfect way to ensure his friends' safety. It was so simple, it seemed perfect.

If only he had thought it through more carefully, followed the little inner voice that told him not to trust Peter with something this important. And now, because of Sirius, his two best friends were dead, and the only one that was left hated him. His own daughter probably cursed his name, hated his guts. He was, therefore, not at all surprised, but not unhurt, when Remus never showed up with Rosemary to visit, to demand to hear Sirius' reason for what he did. He was not even shocked when no one came to see him but Fudge, when he was inspecting the prison. Everyone hated him, wanted him to relive his visit to Godric's Hollow that night, when he'd seen the result of what he had done. Even Sirius himself felt he deserved nothing less than what he got. With a jolt, Black realized that Harry probably hated him, as well. But a small part of Sirius hoped that maybe, just maybe, Harry would be spared the story somehow until Sirius could get out (he didn't know how he would do it yet, but he would, sod it all!) and explain it all to his godson.

But no. He knew, somehow, that Harry would not be spared the lies everyone had been told. And so he sobbed at night, and no one, not even the fellow prisoners, cared.

The Dementors were happy to simply feed off his misery and leave him hardly able to think straight, save for one obsessive, over-riding thought.

Well, two.

One, that he was innocent. Two, that he must get back to his little girl, whom he had held so dearly and loved so much in the three or so years since her birth before running after Pettigrew.

He had to break free. But how? One night, it came to him, after who knows how long (twelve years, to be precise, but Sirius could hardly keep track of his sanity, much less the dates and years) in that awful prison. He awoke in a cold sweat, as usual, after a nightmare (fueled by nearby patrolling Dementors, no doubt) about his daughter and Harry dying at the hands of Peter Pettigrew, his reedy, awful laughter ringing in Black's ears long after the nightmare had faded. The green light stayed before his eyes as he was jolted awake.

But this one—this one was more vivid than any other. The laughter pierced through his ears and straight to his heart, even the scenery around it was sharper. Peter was in the Forbidden Forest, that much was certain. At least three other people were running forward to stop Pettigrew, but it was too late. The deed had been done. The scene haunted Sirius' day. Then, he saw the paper later that afternoon, when Fudge came by and stopped to talk to him. And nearly screamed in shock. The date on it said sometime in August, 1994, but that wasn't the surprising thing. Oh, no...

It was the very small rat on a scrawny, fiery-haired young man's shoulder in the midst of a rather large family. It was only a small article, hardly worth noticing, but to Sirius Black, it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he was all of a sudden thunderstruck. That rat was someone he hadn't seen in years, but would never fail to recognize. Peter Pettigrew. The moment Sirius laid eyes on his treacherous former friend, the haze the Dementors always left him in lifted, and he was suddenly aware of how to escape.

It took so much longer than normal for Sirius to get his emotions under control again, he nearly missed his chance. He was waiting, in dog form, for the Dementors to give him his dinner. It had been a day since Fudge had been easily manipulated into giving Sirius the newspaper. That's the barest minimum Sirius could wait.

Now, he silently slid out of his cell as Padfoot, and out to the water surrounding the prison without tipping either a prisoner or a Dementor off. He swam back to the shore and shook himself off, suddenly allowing himself a dog-like smile, but forced his happiness down for the moment.

It. Had. Worked! He, Sirius Black, the black sheep of the his family, had just done the impossible. He had escaped from Azkaban, the most secure wizard prison in the world.

Hang on, Rosemary. Daddy's coming. I'll protect you and Harry from now on. I swear. Sirius thought as he ran along a road to the nearest town. We'll be a proper family. I know it. Hang in there, Rosie. He added, using a nickname he had made for his little girl a long time ago, unsure of who he was comforting, himself or Rosemary. He had no real idea where he was, where Harry and Rosemary were right now. He needed to find out everything he could about what had happened in his long absence. And for that, he'd need to get to Hogsmeade, and then make his way to Hogwarts somehow. He knew they'd be there eventually, Harry and Rosemary. He needed to find King's Cross station. And he needed to find Harry. He knew Rosemary would be safe with Remus watching her. But Harry...living with some Muggle relations of his...wouldn't be if Pettigrew was there and on the loose.

Sirius suddenly remembered something Albus had once said, on one of the few occasions the Headmaster had visited him in prison.

"Rosemary is riding her first broomstick, did you know?" Sirius had been forced to contain his pride and joy from the Dementors. Of course his little girl (not so little not, though. Eleven years old!) would be on a broom. Her mother had once played on the House Team. Sirius, too, which is how the pair started their relationship, flying high over the Quittitch pitch, stealing kisses before beating Bludgers away from the Seeker. They had been the Beaters of the team, with James as the Keeper and Remus and Peter in the stands, cheering wildly at every saved pass. "Of course, Harry, in with his aunt and uncle in Privet Drive, hasn't even heard of a flying broomstick, I'm afraid." He had said this with an apologetic air, heaving a sigh.

Sirius' excitement grew. He knew where Harry was. He might even be able to meet Harry before school. But he would not reveal himself before Harry knew the truth unless it became apparent that Peter was going to make his move.

And Sirius would be there to make sure Pettigrew never harmed one hair in either his daughter or his godson's head. That he swore.