Okay, people, this is my first story. Or, well, the first beginning of a story for me. It's not exactly finished, but I figured I'd see what sort of response I got from the general public before I took it too much farther. Please, review if you're up to it.

Also, I don't own any of this. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, the wonderful woman that she is.

One last thing, this is written in Sirius's point of view.

"Sirius, what's wrong?"

I jerk my head in the direction of the question, unable to identify the voice from which it came. That's the shame about summers, if you don't see someone for a straight two months, voices and faces can become drastically squashed together in your mind. And since I have neither seen nor heard James, Remus, or Peter all summer, I was unsure as to who had questioned me. "What?" I repeat, acting as if the missed question was entirely my inattentiveness' fault.

"I asked what's wrong. You've been quieter than Remus the whole trip," James replies. He stares at me strangely, as if he's attempting to see what is going on inside my head. If that were to happen, I'd probably take a long walk off a short pier. I don't think I could bear all of my friends' understanding and pity.

So, in response to James, I shrug. "I'm just a little tired," I say, shrugging again. If that were the truth it would be no big deal, but the truth and I don't get along well while I'm dealing with my friends. I've often had to lie to them to protect some odd thing that happened in my family, usually dealing with elf beheadings and "proper punishment" for children. At that thought, I shivered, cursing myself the second afterwards. Now I've got all eyes on me. Wonderful.

James opens his mouth again, but ever perceptive Remus cuts him off before any words have left his mouth. "So, did anyone else find the assigned reading for Defense Against the Dark Arts interesting?" He asks, bringing up one of his best classes as a subject change. Sometimes I wonder what makes that boy tick. In all honesty, I could never get myself half as focused on school work as Remus is when he's barely paying attention.

"Yeah," Peter says excitedly, obviously happy to be included in the conversation. "I even read ahead!" He's practically bouncing, so happy to have something to say. I smile at it, realizing how much I had missed his occasionally irritating eagerness over the summer.

James rolls his eyes, and I feel like glaring, but I refrain, not wanting to cause a fight of sorts. It is, sadly, rather hard to defend Peter when the boy does nothing to defend himself. But, I'm pulled from my thoughts again as James says, "It's rather pointless to assign us any summer work in that subject, seeing as how the position is cursed."

"But, we have to do some schoolwork over the summer or we'll never make it through the entire assigned curriculum!" Remus says, always defending everything to do with the D.A.D.A. position. I almost laugh, I forgot that when Remus gets passionate about something, he's voice rises in pitch just a little, and his cheeks always flush afterwards. Poor boy, I think he's hitting puberty harder and earlier than the rest of us.

"Okay, Remus, settle," James says, smiling. "I did find some parts of the reading interesting. Did you guys read the section of werewolves?"

I nod, Peter nods with a passion, and Remus barely moves his head. His face has gone white, bypassing pale, as well as go, and failing to collect the two-hundred dollars. I raise and eyebrow at his peculiar actions, but I say nothing. I don't want to embarrass him if he's hiding something. If I point it out, whatever the secret is will become the topic of the hour. So, I bite my tongue, literally.