A/N: I do not own David Bowie's "Starman." I do own a subscription to Spotify, where I listen to "Starman" fairly regularly, but unfortunately, that does not give me ownership of the song. If you have not listened to the song, or you have and want to put yourself in the correct mindset for the first section of this chapter, I highly suggest listening to it before/while reading this, mainly during the first section of this chapter. Or don't, I do not own you!

And so began a new era in their blossoming friendship: genuine interest.

When any relationship first begins, be it romantic or friendly or complete and utter hatred, one of the first things that occur is a small, unhealthy obsession with the other. Suddenly, they are on your mind constantly, and you find yourself wondering what they might be doing at any given moment. You begin to dig deeper on them, finding out any bits of information you can, and then using it to develop a firm opinion on their character. Sometimes it's done through research. Sometimes it's done through mutual friends.

But sometimes, and most often, you find yourself learning and extracting information from the very person in question. You begin to search for answers you didn't know you were looking for, begin to live and breathe for the answers to what makes them tick. Typically, this type of craving begins the moment you meet them. And certainly, for Beth and Sirius, the initial desire to learn each other began with that first initial meeting. But as time went on and information was learned, the desire waned, and instead developed into simply conversation. "How are you today?" "What are you doing today?" "Where are you going today?" Questions that do not teach you anything about who they are, but walks you through what they do. The genuine interest that had begun their relationship had faded quickly after that first big argument, and romantic aspirations the two had for each other withered away.

Which is why when Beth found herself doodling swirls on her notebook instead of listening to her lecture, she found it surprising that Sirius was the only thing currently running through her mind. It had been almost three weeks since he'd been sharing her apartment with her, only two days away from Thanksgiving, and what she had feared would permanently tear any resemblance of friendship she had with James had instead formed into a passionate prayer to never tear any resemblance of friendship she had with Sirius. She thought of the look of intrigue he had while she was explaining her major. Any other person would have been bored to tears. He'd asked all the right questions and pressed her to tell more. He'd taken to leaving short notes for her, often stuffing one in her backpack before they both left. Sometimes they were sweet (Good luck on your test), sometimes they were teasing (Bring home pizza tonight or I will string toilet paper through every room in your apartment). They always made her smile.

And suddenly, the genuine interest was back, the slight obsession reborn, the intrigue insatiable. She had to know more.

She stifled a yawn and looked towards the clock. They'd stayed up late again talking. She hadn't meant to, seeing as they'd been garnering even more information out of each other for the past several days, and really should be working on her essay, and surely they were going to run out of things to talk about. But he'd sat down with a huff when he'd gotten back last night, which generally meant a great story about Thomas Markle running his mouth at their meeting, and she'd made up a very vague and general outline of what she wanted to write (so technically she had worked on her essay). Before she knew it, it was three in the morning and they were sitting on a branch on the tree outside of her window, and it had not been missed on her how strangely reminiscent it had been of a date they'd been on months ago.

"Do you think if I wish really hard, it'll start snowing?" she'd asked last night, pulling a side of the comforter covering the two of them tighter to her.

"Try it."

She'd scrunched up her face tight, wishing upon all hope for this one request, before slowly opening her eyes back open. She slumped down. "It didn't work."

"Did you wish on a star or just in general?" he'd asked.

She'd sat up straighter. "Do you think it would work if I wished on a star?"

"Absolutely. Here." He'd jumped off the branch, motioning for her to follow. She had, and he'd walked them to a small clearing away from the lamposts. "You see that star right there?"

She'd tried to follow the finger pointing up but had found herself simply shaking her head. "There are stars everywhere."

"No, that one," he'd moved around her, bringing his body behind hers so she could follow the direct line. "The brightest one."

Even with the comforter draped around her back, she had felt the heat from his body. She'd stepped into it slightly more, telling herself that she was doing it to better see which star he was talking about. She'd pointed up. "That one?"

"That one," he'd agreed, but hadn't stepped away. "I'll lend you that one."

"What, you think you have control of a star?"

"Have control of it? It was named after me."

Beth had laughed. "What are you talking about?"

"The star's named Sirius."

She'd turned her head, staring at him in disbelief. "You're named after a star?!"

"No, the star is named after me," he'd said with a wink. "They looked up into the heavens, saw the brightest one, and said, 'You know who that reminds me of?'"

"Oh, yes, I'm sure that's exactly what happened."

Sirius had stepped away after that, and Beth had felt the wind press into her through the blanket. "The Black family has a tradition of naming their children after stars, constellations, galaxies, you name it," he'd explained, kicking a rock aside. "Helps keep the aesthetic of the 'Noble and Most Ancient House of Black' intact, I suppose."

"And it just happened to be the brightest one when it came to you?"

He'd held up his hands. "I had no say in this! It was just meant to be. Walburga had high hopes."

"Until you crushed them like a bug."

She'd thought she might have gone too far with the reply, especially because she didn't know the true reasoning behind why he'd left his parents' house, but he'd simply laughed. "Yes, but you have to admit, I did it in a rather illuminating way. Quite possibly the brightest way possible."

She'd ignored his boasting, and had glanced back up at the star. "Is it really the brightest?"

He'd nodded. "You should have seen my face in Astronomy when I learned it. I held it over James' head for weeks."

"Only weeks?"

"Okay, so maybe I still hold it over his head, sue me."

Beth had smiled, imagining the conversations that must have followed that realization. "So I can make a wish on that one then for snow?"

"I will lend it to you, yes."

"What if I need it for another wish?"

He'd stared at her inquisitively. "What else could you possibly need to wish for?"

A thought, a small, potentially dangerous thought about what she'd like to wish for had crossed her mind, but she'd quickly cast it aside. In another time, perhaps even a couple of months ago, she might have dared say it; that night, however, had not been a couple of months ago, and she'd shook her head. "Nothing. Just snow."

But her voice had been unconvincing, and she still wasn't quite sure why.

Sirius had seemed to notice it too but likewise chose to say nothing. "All right then," he'd said, nodding towards the object in the sky. "Wish away."

She'd scrunched up her face again, focusing hard on the request. "Is it snowing?" she'd asked, eyes still closed.

"Not yet."

She'd sighed dramatically and had opened her eyes. "I think your star is defective."

"Quite possibly." He'd stepped closer, and had leaned down to her ear. "Maybe you should wish on me, then."

She'd laughed and had walked off, trying to play that she was not entirely thankful to have him so close to her again. "Whatever, star man," she'd teased.

And then she'd stopped walking altogether. "Oh, my God."

"What?"

"Starman," she'd repeated.

"What about it?"

And before she'd been able to talk herself out of it, she'd thrown open her arms and sang loudly, "THERE'S A STAAAAR MAAAAN WAITING IN THE SKY."

He'd frozen but otherwise had remained calm. "If you're trying to embarrass me, it won't work."

Undeterred, she'd continued, "HE'D LIKE TO COME AND MEET US, BUT HE THINKS HE'D BLOW OUR MINDS."

She'd ran over to him and had grabbed his hand, closing it into a fist and raising it like a microphone to her mouth. "THERE'S A STAAAAR MAAAAN WAITING IN THE SKY."

She'd thrown the invisible microphone to him. He'd paused for a moment, a quiet and sincere expression briefly crossing his face, and with a small, almost nonexistent smile, he'd continued, "He's told us not to blow it."

Triumphant, she'd brought the microphone back to her. "CAUSE HE KNOWS ITS ALL WORTHWHILE, HE TOLD ME."

A voice from the top floor of the apartment interrupted her impromptu karaoke, telling her in extremely colorful and imaginative words what he thought of her singing so loudly at what was nearing four in the morning.

But in response, Sirius had raised his own "microphone" to his mouth, and now sang at the same level as her. "LET THE CHILDREN LOSE IT."

"LET THE CHILDREN USE IT," she'd continued.

"LET ALL THE CHILDREN—"

"Class is dismissed. Have a good break, everyone."

Beth's thoughts immediately shifted away, and she put up her belongings with an embarrassed smile. Oh yes, a genuine interest had certainly emerged, stronger and more persistent than any she had felt before.

James, Peter, Remus, and Sirius were sitting in her living room when she got back, food and snacks strewn about her small coffee table haphazardly.

"What do you think I am?" she questioned, interrupting their conversation. "An all-night diner?"

James immediately hopped up and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Unless you've suddenly gotten into chocolate frogs, I can assure you that all of these came from me."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Chocolate frogs?"

"To remind me of home," Sirius explained as Remus and Peter came to greet her. "Since, evidently, I'm never going to leave here."

"We told you, it's almost time," Remus said. "Dumbledore just wants you to cover those other topics—"

"Yeah, because I'm sure the most important thing to worry about during Voldemort's return is—" he looked at a card on the table— "exchange of currency."

Peter flopped back down on the couch opposite Sirius. "If Dumbledore says—"

"I know what Dumbledore says, he says, 'Oi, let's see if we can't keep Sirius away a little bit longer'."

"Is it that much of a burden to continue staying with me?" Beth asked in a mockingly hurtful tone as she stood in front of the group.

"It's your sanity I'm thinking of," he teased, sliding over on the couch to make room for her. She took it quickly, tucking her legs up to her chin. "I'm sure you're more than ready to have the flat back to yourself."

"It's not been that bad."

"Oh, not that bad. Do you hear that gents?" He looked toward each of them, a goofy grin crossing his face. "I'm 'not that bad'."

"Bit of an improvement from the tosser you've established yourself as," Remus mumbled under his breath.

"Oh, come off it, Moony. You've missed me."

"Yes, desperately," Remus deadpanned. Beth met his eye and bit back a small grin forming at the wink he threw her way.

"Oh, Lily sends her love," James interjected before Sirius could respond.

"Where is Lily?"

"Back at the flat. She wanted to come, but she hasn't been feeling well lately. She should be here for Thanksgiving though."

Beth's face twisted in confusion. "Wait, what about Thanksgiving?"

James glared at Sirius. "You didn't tell her?"

"I haven't really had the opportunity to, now have I? We decided this only three days ago."

"And somewhere during those three days, you couldn't think to tell her that we'd be coming over for Thanksgiving?"

"Blame Dumbledore, I was following his orders."

Remus met her gaze again and lifted his voice above the others'. "We're coming over for Thanksgiving if you'll have us."

"Of course she'll have us," Sirius said. "What makes you think she would say no?"

Beth took the pillow from behind her back and smacked him with it, relishing in his surprise yelp. "What's this about Thanksgiving?"

"You said your parents moved, and that you didn't have the funds to visit any other family," Remus said. "So we're adopting you and celebrating."

Beth looked at James, a wide grin on her face. "Are you really?"

"It's your favorite holiday," James replied. "Of course I'm not letting you celebrate it alone."

"James!" she squealed, and lept up off the couch, throwing herself into a tight hug. "Thank you!"

"Don't thank me," he said, though still accepted the gesture. "It was Sirius' idea."

Her arms remained enclosed around James, but her face immediately went to Sirius'. He opened up his arms and raised his eyebrows. "Do I get the same amount of thanks?"

She laughed as she quickly ran back over to him and wrapped herself tightly around his waist. "You're too good to me," she half-heartedly teased, though a surprisingly strong amount of sincerity slipped through. "Thank you."

"It's last second, we know, but we'll be able to help with whatever we can," Remus said.

"Lily said she was planning on bringing some sort of dish," Peter added. "And we can make anything you don't want to make."

"Who says she's going to be the one doing all the cooking?" Sirius joked, his arm wrapping around her shoulders to keep her from moving from her position. "The other day, she tried to make—"

"No!" Beth yelled, interrupting his story and unsuccessfully trying to squirm away from his grasp. "You promised you wouldn't say anything!"

"I said nothing of the sort."

"You said—"

"I said, 'Try to stop me'. You didn't."

"I did too try!"

"But you didn't stop me."

Beth continued to squirm, growing more and more aggravated at his tightening grip, before a moment of clarity dawned on her. Quickly, she brought her fingers down to his side and wiggled her fingers. Sirius made an inhuman noise and broke apart from her, causing her to laugh loudly.

"Oh, it's on," he declared, and moved in to exact his revenge in the same manner. She brought up her hands instinctively, trying to shield his attack.

Which was then thwarted by a pillow hitting them both in the face.

"For the love of Merlin, there are other people in this room," James groaned. "Keep those games for the bedroom."

Beth's face heated up in embarrassment, but Sirius stared straight back, his hands still touching her. "Oh, please, remember the time I came to see you before the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch match and Lily was down on her—"

"That was an entirely different situation," James argued.

"Yes," Sirius stated. "You were in a relationship, and Beth and I are obviously not."

She wasn't sure why she felt a small pang at his declaration, but it caused her to break away anyway. She rested her head in one hand, looking towards Remus to shield her from any further embarrassment. He simply rolled his eyes and smiled as James and Sirius continued to bicker about the compromising position Sirius had found them in. Remus' casual, carefree demeanor caused her to relax, and she felt whatever pang had suddenly appeared slowly flutter away.

"As we were saying," Remus finally interrupted the small argument. "Let us know whatever it is you need us to bring."

"Or if you need any help," Peter offered, eyes flickering to Sirius and then back to her. "We would hate for either of you to be left alone."

Beth stopped at his statement, wondering about the implications that surrounded it. There was a sneaking amount of suspicion in his tone that she was certain would keep her up wondering tonight. She looked towards Sirius, wondering what his reaction to it was, but his face remained the same.

"Are you going to be able to be there, Moony?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, yeah," Remus assured. "The full moon isn't until that next Monday, I'll be fine."

And then suddenly, everyone froze.

Remus' face flashed quickly over to hers, the sense of carefreeness that had been there only moments before suddenly replaced with dread and horror. James was staring at Remus, eyes wide, while Peter and Sirius' gaze was stuck on different inanimate objects.

"What does the full moon have to do with anything?" Beth asked uneasily.

Everyone remained where they were for several long moments. Beth felt the same amount of concern she'd felt during that first initial hard conversation, and she knew immediately that there was something else she didn't know, something that hadn't meant to be given out. Eventually, Remus emitted a long sigh and stood up, crossing over to her. He held out his hand.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" he asked, eyes pleading and full of dread.

Beth had no choice but to take it and follow him.

James sighed as the door closed, bringing his hand up to cover his face. "I guess she knows everything now, doesn't she?"

"I think that's the last big one, yeah," Sirius said.

"Maybe I shouldn't have invited her to the wedding," James said, picking at the pillow on his lap. "Could have spared a lot of drama for her."

"And miss the chance to see her and Sirius practically falling over each other?" Peter quipped.

Sirius made to respond, but James cut him off. "Yeah, what was that?"

"What was what?"

"You practically shagging her over there."

If Sirius had had a drink, he would have choked on it. "Teasing around suddenly equates sex?"

"For you, it usually does," Peter pointed out.

"Have you slept with her?"

Sirius let out a brazenly loud laugh at James' blunt question. "Do you honestly believe that's all I do? Shag every female I'm friends with?"

"Don't act like it's an impossible scenario," James said. "You've already done it."

"Against better advice," Peter mumbled.

Sirius scoffed and shook his head. "No," he said definitively. "I am not sleeping with Beth."

"You like her, though?"

"Well yeah," Sirius shrugged. "Everyone likes her. The whole reason we even know her is because you like her."

"Lily doesn't like her."

Confusion and disbelief hit Sirius hard at Peter's words. James, in turn, rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Wormtail, for throwing my wife under the bus."

"Lily doesn't like her?" Sirius questioned.

James sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "She thinks she's leading you on. Giving you false hope."

"Why would she think that?"

"Well, to be honest, I didn't understand it either," James said. "But now that I'm paying attention to it, she makes some good arguments."

"You can't be serious."

"I'm not, you are."

Sirius rolled his eyes at the old joke, but his attention was focused on anything but that. There had been nothing going on between them, that much he knew for certain. She'd gone on that first date, hadn't she? What could be more obvious that she was not interested in him than that?

Though, of course, she hadn't gone on another one since that one. And she'd been going out with friends less than before. And they'd spent the past several days staying up until ungodly hours talking. And there was, of course, the issue that old feelings for her were starting to become anew, stronger and fiercer and greater than they had this summer. But that didn't mean—

"Listen, forget I said anything," James replied, shaking his hands as if to erase it all. "Obviously, nothing's going on."

"Wait, obviously?" Peter asked. "Obviously something's happening."

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek to keep from lashing out. "No," he murmured. "Nothing's happening."

"Good, because you already know how incredibly stupid it would be to reopen all of that again. Especially now that we've got her involved in the Order. Might as well paint a target on her forehead."

Sirius sighed and glared at Peter. "Well then, I guess it's a good thing nothing's happening, isn't it?"

Peter tried to match the eye contact, but his gaze quickly shifted away. "A very good thing," he mumbled.

"I'll talk to Dumbledore," James offered, motioning to the paper on the table. "I can't imagine there's much more that will need to be done after this last list. I'm sure you'll be home soon."

Sirius stared down at his hands, thinking of how he would even begin to address the idea of going back home to Beth. "It would be nice to sleep in a bed again rather than this sofa," he said, ignoring the fact that he'd gotten quite used to the sofa and the occasional note telling him what she had sitting for him in the refrigerator if he was hungry. Or the late-night ice cream runs that had become a new favorite of theirs. Or the early morning karaoke sessions while staring at the stars.

Yes, if he ignored every single beautiful, wonderful moment he'd been having since he'd arrived here, he would get used to being home very quickly.

Remus and Beth came back in over an hour later, her eyes red and arm interlocked with his. Remus didn't acknowledge that any of the conversation had occurred, instead quickly joining in on the discussion they were having about whether or not McGonagall had started wearing her customary hat when she was a teenager. Beth stayed behind, slipping off her coat slowly and quietly, and Sirius did his best to look discretely at her, craning his neck for her face. After a moment, she turned, looking directly at him.

"Are you okay?" he mouthed immediately.

She gave him a soft, unsure smile. "Later," she mouthed back.

Remus, Peter, and James stayed for a couple of more hours, bringing them up to speed on all of the gossip circulating their group. Beth was sitting across from him this time, directly next to Remus. Her eyes were still heavy, and while she would occasionally chime in with the group of them, she spent most of her time leaning against him, occasionally patting his arm. Sirius wondered what all he had told her to have her so unresponsive and distant, imagining that he'd given her answers to all the questions she might have had.

When everyone made to leave, Remus pulled him aside.

"Is she all right?" Sirius asked, their voices hushed as they talked outside her door.

"She will be," Remus conceded, shuffling on his coat. "She asked a lot of questions. I think the one that got her as sad as she is now was 'how did this happen?'"

"Ah, that one's a tear-jerker." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "She took it all right, though?"

Remus nodded. "Significantly better than the wizardry drop. We actually didn't spend that much time talking about it all, our conversation shifted around quite a bit. It just landed on a heavy topic."

"We didn't give away any more secrets, did we?" Sirius joked.

"Nothing important. I told her about Snape."

Sirius scoffed. "What did Snivellus have to do with anything?"

"I don't know." Remus shrugged. "Pranks came up. She talked about some, I talked about some. Talked about regretting them, too."

"I think you're alone on regrets."

Remus shook his head, eyes squinted slightly. "No, I don't think I'm alone in that one. I think you know that, too."

Sirius said nothing.

When James and Peter finally came out and the good wishes were sent, Sirius walked back inside. Beth was clearing the coffee table off, and he immediately went to help her. When they were finished, they made their way back to the two couches, each flopping on their own one.

"It was good to see them."

"Yes," she responded. "It's exciting, them coming up for Thanksgiving. Thank you for thinking of that."

"Of course."

She nodded her head once, and an uncomfortable silence drafted between the two. He coughed once, straightening himself back in his position, trying to think of a subtle way to bring up the issue addressed. He glanced up at her, finding her eyes focused on the wall behind him, intently staring in the same unresponsive manner she'd been displaying since she'd returned. It was so unlike the person he'd gotten to know in the past couple of weeks, and the continued silence made him worry about how the next conversation would go.

All of his doubts scurried away, though, when Beth simply said, "So Remus is a werewolf."

He couldn't help it. He laughed. "So he is."

Beth was smiling too, but it didn't reach much further than her mouth. She absentmindedly picked up a chunk of hair, twirling it around her finger aimlessly. "I don't know how many more of these surprises I'm going to be able to take," she confessed.

"That should be the last one."

She raised her eyebrows. "Should be?"

Sirius shrugged in response. "Maybe Peter has some dark hidden secret he hasn't told anyone about," he joked.

Again, Beth attempted to smile. Again, it did not hold the same amount of happiness he was used to. "He's not—" Beth hesitated, shifting in her seat. "I mean, whenever he's a… he's not dangerous, is he?"

His heart tightened at her question and the trepidation that filled it. "Beth, have you ever felt unsafe around Remus?"

"Well, no—"

"Have you ever felt uncomfortable around Remus?"

"No."

"Have you ever been afraid around Remus?"

"Of course not."

"Then do not try to find a reason to be."

It came out harsher than he meant it to, and she immediately went to her defense. "I wasn't trying—"

"He's still the same person," he cut her off.

"I know that," she said, exasperation growing in her voice. "But when he's a werewolf, is he dangerous?"

He thought about sugar-coating it, thought about not letting her fret about the truth. But he'd lied to her too much already. "Extremely," he said grimly, and the harsh reality made Beth's eyes drop away from his. "But that doesn't change who he is as a person."

"Of course not," she said quietly.

"Then don't change around him," he challenged softly. "The fact that he chose to tell you should tell you a lot about what he thinks of you. He's nothing to be afraid of."

Beth nodded, eyes still downcast as she continued to fiddle with her hair. He could see her mind racing, trying to make sense of it all, and wondered how tired she must be from keeping up with them. He cleared his throat and stood, walking over to the kitchen for a fresh pot of tea. "Out of curiosity," he asked as he filled up the kettle, "what are you afraid of?"

"That's very personal."

His back was to her, but he smiled at her witty response nonetheless. "We're very personal."

"Just because you know lots of details about me and my life, you think we're on a personal level?"

There was the Beth he had come to know. "How stupid of me to assume," he retorted, turning the water off and reaching for the cabinet. She went silent as he busied himself before she finally mumbled a response. "Come again?" he asked.

"Failing."

Sirius froze, not anticipating such an intense answer. He looked at the kettle. Maybe something stronger was in order. "Care to elaborate on that?"

"No."

Yep, he thought, and immediately dumped out the water, grabbing two glasses and the bottle of wine in her fridge before walking back.

She took the glass thankfully and held it out for him to fill. "I'm scared," she said as slowly and quietly as she was moving earlier, "of getting my degree after years and years of hard work and not finding a job. I'm scared of something slipping up and not passing one of my classes this semester. I'm scared of working hard and nothing coming out of it and just… failing."

He nodded, topping off her glass before filling his own. "That makes a lot of sense."

"What does?"

"Why you're so over-cautious over everything."

She scoffed. "I am not—"

"Yes, you are." He set the bottle down and sat in the couch opposite her. "Over everything."

"All right then, Mr. Personal," she taunted, settling her chin in her hand. "What are you afraid of?"

"The dark."

She rolled her eyes but wasn't able to keep a grin from creeping up on her. "Come on, I told you. What is the 'Noble and Most Ancient' Sirius Black afraid of?"

He once again thought about lying to her, of hiding the truth that he'd expertly hidden from ever seeing the light of day again. He thought about the jokes they'd shared since he'd been back, and the progress they'd made in slowly growing closer together. He thought of how easily she smiled with him now, how long they'd talked the past several nights, and how much he was going to miss her when he was finally taken back home. And suddenly, all of his attempts at hiding reality—not just from her, but from himself—seemed inefficient and exhausting, and he realized at that moment that the same person he'd refused to trust was safe during her internship suddenly had every ounce of trust he had in his body.

And so he regarded her, slowly, quietly, intimately, before finally asking, "Do you really want to know?"

She didn't hesitate, even amidst his serious demeanor. "Yes."

He sighed, taking in a long drink. "There's a bit of a story to it."

"I like stories," she offered. "And I have nothing to do."

"I thought you had that paper for—"

"Okay, I have nothing I want to do."

She was leaning forward slightly, seemingly anxious to learn, though for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.

"You're not going to look at me the same way."

"Remus is a werewolf."

He laughed loudly and took another gulp of his drink. "Point taken." When he looked back up at her, she was still leaning forward. Sighing, he crossed his legs, bouncing a foot up and down. "So, my parents hate me."

It was Beth's turn to laugh. "Wow," she exclaimed, tucking her feet up under her. "We're starting deep."

"I told you, it's a bit of a story."

"I know, I just wasn't expecting it to start with— I'm sorry." She waved her hand dismissively. "Continue. Your parents hate you."

"My parents hate me," he repeated, smiling despite the bitter tang that settled in his mouth at the words. He cleared his throat, willing his voice to stay strong as he recounted the tale. "They have for most of my life. I distinctly remember the only time Walburga told me she loved me." His mouth twitched slightly. "It was at a piano concert. I was seven. I practiced and practiced her favorite piece of music and surprised her at the recital and that was the only—the only time."

He looked up at Beth, whose smile had dissolved. She sat quietly.

"Anyway," he continued, "after I got sorted into Gryffindor and started questioning morals and ideals and values that I'd be instilled with, her opinion of me began to diminish. She let me know about it immediately. It wasn't until the summer before my third year that she began throwing unforgivable curses at me. There's three of them, mind control, torture, and death. She used the torture one the most. The Imperiu—mind control one, she'd use at events and parties for the lavishly wealthy, upper-class purebloods. It only took a couple of times of me publicly defying her to begin trying to keep me under control." A memory of him filling a room with dung bombs crossed his mind, and he smiled despite himself. "A laborious effort on her part, I do have to give her credit for never ceasing trying.

"The year before I left to live with James, it got…" He cleared his throat. Perhaps he could spare her one lie. "Pretty bad," he finally decided. "Not as bad as the next year, obviously, when she actually threw Avada at me, but pretty bad."

"Avada?"

He met her eyes, nodding once. "The killing curse."

Her hand went up to cover her mouth.

"One day during that summer, after she'd finished, I went into my room and just completely broke down. Just sobbing, weeping. And I didn't tell anyone about it. Didn't tell James, or Remus, or Peter, no one.

"About, oh, three months later, we were back in school. And one day, James was off with Quidditch practice, Peter was visiting his sick grandmother, and Remus was about to transform, so all of them were gone." He shifted from his position and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I was sitting in the Great Hall with every other student that attended Hogwarts. Regulus got a Howler, which screams the contents of the letter at you, from his mother, but it was shouting how proud of him she was for some—for something, I don't know. Then I got one." He smiled sadly and met her eyes briefly. "Wasn't as nice. And keep in mind, almost everyone is sitting in that hall with me, except the three people I needed most, so everyone hears it.

"For whatever reason, probably hormones honestly, it got to me that time. I got up and I left. Regulus followed me and asked if I was okay, and I just started screaming. Took out everything on him, didn't care. Said things I regret to this day." He clenched his fist tightly, enjoying the small bit of pain he felt before letting it go. "He listened and he let me, and then he said, 'Glad to see your balls finally dropped so you don't have to cry about it anymore,' which in hindsight is one of the funniest things I think he's ever said." He chuckled. "Definitely my brother. I think I threw a hex at him then, I honestly don't remember, but I left him and collapsed onto this pillar. Started crying again. Lots of—" he cleared his throat— "lots of crying in this story.

"That's when Snape showed up." He took in a deep breath, willing his nerves to be still, refusing to break in front of one of the few people whose comfort he would willingly accept. "And because he'd heard that I had cried and was currently witnessing me doing it, he proceeded to live up to his reputation and just relentlessly taunted me. And yeah, after all of the pranks we pulled on him, I probably deserved it. But then I suddenly just stopped, and I remember looking up at him and feeling absolutely nothing. Absolutely nothing."

He looked at Beth, who hadn't moved her hand from her mouth. Her eyes were shining slightly, full of sorrow and pity, and her breath was hitched. She did not say anything, only waited.

He obliged her. "I stood up and said, 'All right, Snivellus. Let's finish this once and for all. Come to the Whomping Willow, press this knob, and it'll open a secret passageway to this abandoned shack. Meet me there, unless you're too much of a coward.'"

"But wasn't the shack where—"

He nodded, solemnly, regretfully, and she stopped.

"And I didn't care," he whispered as the realization settled on him. "I sent him there, hoping that he'd get hurt, or worse. I didn't feel anything, though, Beth. Nothing for Snape, nothing for Remus, nothing for me. I went back to my dorm, and I sat on my bed, and I just felt nothing. It must have been hours that I just sat there like that, because then James came in, and his face was dirty and fuming, and he punched me clear across my face. Started screaming at me, asking what the hell I was thinking, how he found Snape desperately trying to run away from Remus and how he'd had to save him, and that he'd just kept yelling, 'It was Sirius, it was Sirius.'

"And then it happened again. I just started sobbing. It was the first time I told James just how bad it really was at home, and I showed him all of the bruises that I had been covering up and what Walburga had been doing and everything that I'd been hiding I just finally let out. That was—" he groaned slightly, running his hands all over his face, through his hair, trying to scrub out the memory— "that was the longest night of my life. Reliving everything all over again. That was the night he made me promise to move in with him if things ever got too bad."

He nodded his head once and downed the rest of his wine in one gulp. He thought momentarily that maybe he should have gone with something slightly stronger, something to help clear his mind. Instead, he looked up. "So there, Beth, there's what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of becoming that person again and not feeling anything and making some ridiculous, impulsive decision that affects the well being of someone." A memory crossed his mind, of a ruined date due to inebriation, due to a friend's death, and his eyes screwed shut. "And when I think that I did it to you, too, I just—" His words choked, and he didn't have the bravery to try again. So instead he looked down, staring at anything but the person in front of him, and sighed.

"I'm afraid of me."

All those thoughts, all those feelings, all those emotions, all boiled down to four unforgiving words. He wondered absently if he'd ever said them before, even in his mind. Because he was brave, he was daring, but even brave and daring people could be broken, and the only people who had ever tried to piece him back together were in England. Who are you supposed to fight when the biggest villain is yourself?

There was a dip in the cushion next to him, and before he could manage to look up, warm, inviting arms wrapped around him, and a head was leaning on his shoulder. The contact was exactly the same as what she'd done only hours before, teasing and thanking him for a moment yet to come. Now, though, they came of her own free will, and it was only moments before Sirius reached around and pulled her desperately to him, craving this kind of unprompted, unsolicited contact. Her grip on him tightened, and she held him close to her, running a hand down his back comfortingly.

"I'm sorry."

Sirius made to move away. "No," he demanded, "don't pity me—"

—because I'm weak.

—because I don't deserve it.

—because you deserve more.

"No," she demanded in return, and her forehead was resting now on his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for blaming you for everything. I'm sorry I couldn't see past—" He heard her choke in a sob. "None of this is your fault, and I was selfish, and Sirius, I had no idea—"

"No one does. It's a well-protected secret." His thumb stroked down her skin. "You know all of mine, though. I am officially an open book to you."

She pulled back slightly but kept her arms around him. "I'm sorry I made you tell me."

"I'm sorry it took so long."

She looked at him then, and Sirius absentmindedly thought that sorrowful look she was giving him was strangely one of the most entrancing sights he'd ever seen.

"Thank you for letting me read it."

He smiled gently, stroking her skin again before his face pulled up in confusion. "Wait, what?"

She paused. "Because you said you were an open book."

He looked at her and regarded her sincerely, feeling pain ebb away as he considered her words. "That is one of the most cliché and embarrassing things I think you've ever said."

"What are you talking about?"

"'Thank you for letting me read it'. What am I supposed to do with that?"

"I thought it would be cute!"

"No, what's cute is you hugging me and saying you're sorry. That was something else entirely."

"You know what?" she asked, dropping her arms dramatically before picking up the bottle. "I'm confiscating this wine."

"Oi, I bought it!"

"And then you insulted me, you absolute monster."

She threw her head back, downing a large gulp straight from the bottle. He had been wrong earlier. This was the most entrancing sights he'd ever seen. Quickly, he pounced on her, and her eyes went wide as she scooted out of his reach. She darted towards the table, and he chased after her, determined to win his victory. She made to move one way, but he was quicker, cutting her off with a hand on her wrist and his other hand reaching out.

"Give it to me," he said, trying to take a step in to reach it easier, bringing their bodies close together, and once again, the proximity was different. First, it had been playful; then it had been comforting; but now, with her pupils slightly darkened and her eyes darting down to his lips, it felt like something else entirely. Something like genuine interest.

He felt her go to argue with him, felt the words "make me" starting to creep onto her lips, and visions of how this could continue began to play in his head.

But instead, she looked deep into his eyes, and he watched as they slowly regained their color while she slowly reached the bottle back into his grasp. The play was over. "Promise me something," she said.

"Anything." He meant it.

"Promise me if it gets like that again and no one else is around, that you'll come to me. No matter what's going on, no matter what I have to do, promise me you'll come to me."

Something else entirely.

Genuine interest.

"I promise."

A/N: Phew. That one was rough to write. Check up on the ones you consider strong, friends. They are often the ones who need the most support. If you ever need an anonymous person to talk to, please feel free to message me.

On a lighter note, how stoked are we to see them slowly but surely regaining their trust in each other?!

Nimblescrivener, thank you for keeping me calm when I thought everything had been deleted (we are all very lucky, folks, that it was not).

Readers, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you. Keep the reviews coming, they make my classes go by much quicker!