July 2

This morning when I woke up, I could feel Sirius's warm breath on my neck and his shoulder under my arm. He was still asleep and I watched him for a while. When he sleeps, it's like nothing has changed from when we were teenagers; his even breathing is the same and so is the way his body rises and falls. I know the look of him sleeping so well, even after all this time.

His eyelids fluttered open. "Hello."

"Hello." I leaned in and kissed him. "Today's Sunday. I don't have to go into work."

"Great."

"You know, I don't even feel like getting out of this bed all day. I just want to stay here with you."

"So, what's stopping you?"

"Nothing."

He rested his head on my chest and I began to stroke his hair. However, this romantic gesture was interrupted by a rather annoying clump of snarls.

"You know what? I'm going to cut your hair."

"I'd like that."

"Not too much, just enough to get some of these knots out. Here, you go wait in the bathroom while I go and get a pair of scissors."

When I returned, I washed his hair over the sink, letting my fingers massage his scalp for longer than was necessary. A small, contented smile played on his face. However, the smile vanished when my comb began to attack the snarls.

"What are you trying to do, rip my scalp off?!"

"Sorry, but I'm trying to cut as little as possible. If you'd hold still, it wouldn't hurt so much." I tugged again with the comb.

"OWWW!"

"Sorry, I'm trying to be gentle."

"I know you are. But it still hurts!"

When I could no longer work out any knots, we went back into the bedroom and I began to cut his hair. When I was done, it fell to the bottom of his shoulder blades. I handed him the mirror.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Very fetching."

"Really?"

"No, Sirius, I'm lying to you. Stop fishing for compliments, you know it's gorgeous. Your hair is always gorgeous."

"So is yours."

"No it isn't, it's going gray."

"Stop fishing for compliments," he teased, his eyes alive and sparkling.

"Oh, shut up," I teased back.

"Make me."

"I will," I said, pressing my mouth against his. We kissed for a while longer, until he pulled away.

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"You can always ask me anything you want."

"When you said you'd slept with a lot of people…about how many is that?"

I sighed and lay back on the bed. "Are you sure you want to know that?"

"Yes."

"You're going to think I'm a slut."

He pressed one hand over my mouth, hard, and looked me right in the eye. "I never want to hear that again, do you understand me?" he whispered intensely. "You are not a slut. You're my Moony and I love you." His hand moved away again.

I was silent for a while. Then I said, with a heavy sigh, "Twenty-eight."

He took my hand.

"It was stupid, I know, so don't tell me."

His hand squeezed mine.

"I was…I was confused. You were gone and I was desperately looking for someone, anyone, to fill that space. I'm just lucky I didn't end up catching anything."

"Yes, you are. Very lucky."

We lay in silence for a while. Then he said, "Did you love any of them?"

"Well… there was one man I had some very strong feelings for. It was very passionate between us. You don't mind me telling you this, do you?"

"No, it's all right."

"I think I loved him, but I don't think I was in love with him." Pause. "I'm in love with you."

"I know." He slid on top of me and traced my face with one fingertip. "It doesn't matter what happened before, all right? That's over with now. You don't need to feel guilty or ashamed."

"I love you," I whispered.

He kissed me and this time it was different then it had been before. Our mouths moved as if we were trying to devour each other and I could feel his erection pressing against my inner thigh. I moaned and slid one had up under his robe, moving past his waist and up towards his chest. Once I reached my destination, I began to caress his nipple. He groaned and kissed me harder, one hand stroking my neck.

"That feels so good," I murmured.

Unfortunately, at that moment, Albus Dumbledore's head appeared in my fireplace.

"AHHHHH!" Sirius and I screamed in unison. Dumbledore blushed.

"Er, if this is a bad time…"

"No, that's all right," said Sirius, climbing off of me. "As long as you're here now, you might as well say what you wanted to say."

"First of all, Minerva owes me ten Galleons."

"What?"

"We've had a bet going for quite some time now about whether you two would end up together. I win."

Sirius and I looked at each other, gaped, and looked back at Dumbledore. "You had a BET?"

"Yes, we did. Since a few days after your Sorting."

"After the SORTING?"

"Yes, the Sorting Hat and I had a little chat. He's quite the matchmaker, that hat is."

From there, the conversation moved to the old crowd and our plans. In case this journal should ever be discovered, I will not record what we said.

Sirius and Dumbledore had to fill me in on all the events that had happened since I left Hogwarts. Cedric Diggory is dead.

Cedric Diggory. I can't believe it. He was always one of my favorite students: kind, courteous, helpful towards others. The day that I resigned, Cedric came to give me his best wishes shortly before Harry arrived in my office to say goodbye. It was a gesture that few people would have thought of, and I have always remembered it. He was the kind of student that I expected great things from, and I had always felt assured that he would be successful in whatever career he chose to pursue. And now he's dead.

Death has always played an important role in my life but each new death never fails to come as a shock.

When Dumbledore had left, Sirius and I lay in bed together for a while longer, not speaking. His eyes were closed tight, as if he was trying to block out everything. Then he said, "We should have killed Peter when we had the chance."

"What?"

"If we had, Cedric would be alive and Voldemort would still be a miserable failed wretch. You've got to admit, it's nothing short of what he deserves."

"That's not up to us to decide, Sirius."

"What in the hell are you talking about? He killed James and Lily, Remus! He killed an innocent boy who did nothing but be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Without him, Voldemort could be dead by now! Are you honestly trying to tell me you think he deserves mercy?"

The furious man I had met in the Shrieking Shack had returned, and it frightened me. Sirius's eyes reflected nothing but pure hatred and violence. I jumped out of bed, startled.

"What are you doing?"

"You're not my Sirius," I said, my hands shaking. "You're scaring me."

He opened his mouth as if to roar at me but then shut it again. "You're right," he said, his voice trembling. "I don't know what's the matter with me." He turned away from me and curled up in a fetal position.

I came back over to the bed and sat next to him. "It's all right," I said softly, caressing his shoulder. "I know what it's like to feel so much rage. But you can't give into hatred, love. Voldemort operates with hatred, and you can't fight fire with fire."

He bit his lip and nodded. "It's not only Peter I'm angry at," he said. "It's myself. There isn't one day that goes by that I don't think, 'Why did I convince then to make Peter the Secret-Keeper?' There isn't one day where I don't wish that I could go back in time and –"

"But you can't," I said firmly. "You can't, and there's no good in wishing for something that can't happen. If I could go back in time I'd do many things differently, but I don't dwell on it because it can't happen. We all make mistakes, Padfoot. But it's an even bigger mistake not to learn from them." I paused. "Now, all this philosophical talk is making me hungry. Let's go get something to eat."

~~*~~

After lunch, we went upstairs to the attic because I wanted to find him some extra robes he could wear. As I was digging through a box, he examined a series of photographs that I kept on an old bureau.

"Hey, look at this one," he said.

I recognized the picture immediately, for I myself had taken it. It was a picture of Sirius and Harry, taken about two weeks after Harry had been born. The little Harry in the photograph appeared to be wailing at the top of his lungs, and the photo-Sirius was wincing.

"Noisiest baby I ever saw," I said. "Remember how we had a party for Lily and James when he finally started sleeping through the night?"

Sirius nodded, smiling.

"I think they'd want us to remember them," I said abruptly. "I don't think they'd want us to get sad every time we mentioned their names."

"I think you're right. They never wanted anyone to suffer. You know, James was always after to me to tell you how I felt."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Used to drive me mad, he did."

I smiled and picked up the next picture.

It was one of my grandfather, taken about two years before he died. In the picture, he was snoring. "Jean Lupin," I said. "That's where I got my middle name from."

"I didn't know your middle name was Jean."

"Well, it is. My father moved from France to Britain when he was little boy."

"My middle name was almost Orion, but then my parents realized my initials would be S.O.B."

I laughed. "Your parents and those astronomy names."

"Yeah, naming kids Polaris and Sirius…you know, I haven't heard a thing about my brother Polaris in years."

"I have," I said. "He lives in Wales last I heard."

"You heard about him?!" he exclaimed. "Do you know anything more?"

"Well, the last time I saw him was shortly after you escaped. The Daily Prophet had us both brought down to their offices, but we refused to give them any comments…let me think. He's not married, I remember that. I think he mentioned something about sharing a house with a friend of his. Lysis or something."

"Lyrio?!" Sirius yelped. "Was it Lyrio Sapphirius?"

"You know, I think it was. I take it you knew him?"

"Yes, I did. In fact, he was the first man I ever fancied. Gorgeous chap, he was."

"You're making me jealous," I said with a smile on my face.

"You would have thought he was handsome too, I guarantee it. Remus…does Polaris think I'm guilty?"

I thought. "I don't know for sure, but I don't think he does. I have a feeling that's why he wouldn't comment to the press."

"I'd like to see him again. Lyrio too."

"We'll see if we can arrange it," I said.