A/N: This story is in Remus's POV and he's talking to Sirius. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like to dig into their minds every once in a while. Don't sue, I have nothing but a laptop and a bit of inspiration.

I remember the last time I saw you. Before I saw you in the papers, which declared with absolute sincerity that you had betrayed everyone. I had almost told you how I felt. I don't know how it would have changed things – if it would have changed anything at all. I still haven't decided if I should have, or not. Maybe you would have spat at me and given yourself away right before the big finish. Or maybe you would have pretended to return the feelings, and I would have believed you, because I never had a reason not to. Or maybe you would have calmly rejected me, so that I wouldn't ruin your plan.

I suppose there's no reason to care anymore. What was done was done, and you would remain in Azkaban until the dementors wore the life out of you. I still can't admit that it would be no more than you deserve.

You should have had a trial. I thought, even with all the madness, that the Ministry would give you that right. I would have at least liked to hear your case, even if you didn't have one. Because I wanted to believe that you had a reason. Or that you'd simply lost your mind, or were under the Imperius curse.

It scares me that I still want to love you. That I can't force myself to move on, to realize that you never could have loved me with everything you had kept secret all those years. Does that make me as much in the wrong as you? I'd like to believe that I was just deceived by your ever-evident charms, and that I was simply a typical fool that fell for those charms. Yet I still wonder if you corrupted me from the inside out, and I am no better than you. Even if I had no idea of the evils you were capable of, now that I know the extent, I still won't believe it.

I don't hate you for what you have done, and I hate myself for it.

When I found out you had escaped, my heart contracted in pain and some emotion that I haven't quite identified. Few people think enough about your escape, the reasons behind it, but it's all I can focus on these days. You couldn't have simply left the place. Even the most powerful wizards lose all sense of reality once they've been in Azkaban for a month. You've been there twelve years. How could you have formulated a plan of any sort, with the hundreds of dementors that accompanied you daily? There was something at the root of it, something that no one knew. It haunts me to think what it could be.

Seeing Harry this year at Hogwarts has been the most painful experience of my life. He reminds me so much of James at his age, and with that comes the inevitability of thinking of you at thirteen. Third year, when the three of you had first discovered I was a werewolf. When we'd all come so incredibly close. The closeness that led to your transfigurations, and to the creation of the Marauder's Map. How I longed for those days back. The blissful ignorance of a younger age, spent with you, James, and…

Peter?

No, that can't be right. I pick up the map and hold it right in front of my face. There are the three dots marking Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and with them, closest to Ron, are the words "Peter Pettigrew." I clear off the map quickly, and bring it back up again. No, he's still there. How is this possible? And then, I watch in horror as another dot appears, advancing toward the group faster than is humanly possible.

You.

I don't stop to think about what I'm doing, or even why I'm doing it. But I grab my wand, seeing you head for the Whomping Willow with Peter and Ron, and leave for the Shrieking Shack.

I've never run so hard in my life. I search blindly for a branch in front of the tree, find one, and freeze it. The tunnel is as aware of me as I am of it as I head toward you, toward Harry, toward Peter, and toward answers.

I hear Hermione yell out in desperation, for my help. Sometime in the numb trip to this point, I have made the connection. You aren't trying to kill Harry, you're trying to kill Peter. For revealing your betrayal and sending you to Azkaban.

I focus as much energy as I can muster into forcing the door open, and there you are. You don't look anything like your old self, but it is unmistakably you. My heart bursts at seeing you now, after everything that's happened. It's not fair. Why couldn't you have died in Azkaban?

I look around at my students, who stare back at me, scared. I strongly disarm them. I need some answers now, and you're going to give them to me before anything else can happen.

"Where is he, Sirius?" My voice is rough with a mix of heartbreak, confusion, and something else, and sounds unnatural even to myself.

You stare back at me for the longest time, slowly torturing me with your existence. Then you raise your arm, extend a finger, and point. I don't look away; I know you're pointing at Ron, and my mind has also at some point brought back to memory that Ron has a pet rat. Of course, you must not have killed him properly the first time. The world spins, and yet you remain clear and stable, returning my gaze with a suppressed intensity. A thought occurs to me, solid and graspable, and it's the only one I can hold on to.

"But then…why hasn't he shown himself before now?" Some emotion passes across your face in an instant, and the gears in my head grind to a halt, clicking into place for the first time. I have a strong foothold on the ground, and the world is still present all around me, only now I can really see it for the first time. I don't bother to suppress my shock, as I proclaim the truth as I now know it. "Unless – unless he was the one … unless you switched … without telling me?"

A small speck of doubt enters my mind as you stare back at me, not answering. Then I realize your head is slowly moving up and down in an act of response. And your eyes convince me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are telling the truth.

Suddenly, the world makes sense.

-fin-

A/N: Feedback is appreciated more than you know – it's the only way I know what anyone thinks of my stories. I never like them. So please review, even if it's just a "good job," or some form of constructive criticism. Just don't flame me, please.