seven; heinous.

sirius.

Liar, liar, liar. I'm a bloody fucking liar. I remember the exact reason for Remus' attempt and, to this day, cannot believe that someone could be so stupid when it comes to friendship.

Of course we had already figured out what he was – excuses of visiting sick parents or grandparents when, in reality, he was confining himself to the hospital wing. We can be absolute prats sometimes but we're not stupid.

Not in the same way he is, I mean.

How he could have possibly thought that we would abandon him once we found out he was a werewolf is beyond me. It truly is. And second year was—well, to say the least, the most nightmarish year of my life to this day.

"Where the fuck could he be?"

"I don't fucking know, check the Marauder's Map!"

"I am, he's not in the castle!"

"We should have waited until the next full moon to confront him…" I pressed my hands to my temples in a vague effort to block out the previous conversation with Remus. He had screamed at us, telling us that he hadn't wanted us to know about his 'condition'.

"We waited a month as it was," James said logically, "We couldn't hold off, Padfoot. You know that."

I nodded silently.

"Guys?"

We turned to Peter in unison; his face had taken on a pallor that I'd never seen before. "What's wrong, Wormtail?"

His finger, trembling insanely, landed on the parchment with a thud.

James and I peeked over his shoulder; our jaws dropped open at the same time when we saw the inked dot that read 'Remus Lupin'. It was in the Shrieking Shack. And—

"…why is it red?"

I push my head further into my hands, pretending to pore over the DADA book on the table in front of me; the common room isn't as noisy as it could be if everyone was inside instead of out in the lake or on the grounds.

But my mind drifts back to the memory; I know if I don't continue to relive it, it'll just haunt my dreams anyway…

James shoved the floor boards away; he climbed out of the tunnel that led underneath the Shrieking Shack and held out a hand to small Peter, pulling him up. I pushed myself out of the tunnel.

"Sirius and Peter, search this floor. I'm going upstairs," James bravely squared his shoulders and carefully climbed up the rickety wooden steps.

I swiveled away, pushing open the first door to my right. Peter did the same on the opposite side of the hallway; he tentatively stepped inside.

I frowned, glancing around the empty room. Nothing. Not a damn thing.

Stepping outside, I closed the door again. I touched the knob of the next door; it creaked a bit, already open a crack. My stomach flipped over, cramping uncomfortably.

"Nothing up here!" James called over the banister.

My hand was still frozen over the knob; at length, I pushed the door open warily.

Sound seemed to have dropped from existence; conveniently, the only noise was the beating of my heart. Bump, bump, bump. The only picture that swam in front of my line of vision was one of horror; familiar robes, bundled on the wooden floor.

This must be a bathroom, I thought blankly.

Blood was on the floor. A small river of it, twisting away from the pile of robes in different directions. The pile was bathed in a puddle of the thick, sticky, crimson liquid.

I took a step forward, realization setting in. The pile of robes was really a body; a body with a familiar face. An ashen face, eyes closed, blood smeared across one cheek.

"Sirius, where are you? Peter didn't find anything, did you?" James' voice sounded distant; everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.

And suddenly, someone decided to hit the play button.

One deep breath, no words, just sound. Screaming; all I could do was scream. I screamed.

"Sirius!"

Skidding feet and gasps.

I whirled around to face them, finding a voice again, "GO GET SOME FUCKING HELP, GO, NOW!"

They disappeared; I could hear them yelling at one another, diving through the floorboards.

I dropped to my knees beside Remus, searching for the source of hemorrhage. It didn't take long to find it; three long slits on the inside of each arm. Bleeding profusely.

Desperately, I pressed my palms down to slow the blood flow. I dug my nails into the opposite side of his arms, pushing frantically against the crimson skin. I could feel my own nails breaking the skin of the front of his arms but I didn't dare to loosen my grip.

I felt tears slide down my cheeks; I removed one hand quickly, swiping deftly at the stinging salt. Blood was smeared across my face as well now.

Placing my hand back against Remus' arm, crying openly, I whispered, "…why would you want to leave us?"

I swallow hard, pushing a sob down. A solitary, hushed tear falls crossways down my face but I let it go; it's only one.

He had been sent to St. Mungo's, raising questions of his disappearance back at school. We had visited him every possible chance we had until he awoke; and then still, until he returned home to our dormitory. The other members of Gryffindor had interrogated him intently; eventually, he had grown frustrated and announced, "I made a stupid mistake that almost got me killed. My best friends saved my life. Please, I beg of you, let it go."

So they did.

Ainslee had realized, of course, when we were sitting underneath the oak tree.

"That was why…that was what he meant. When he said he made a stupid mistake."

"Yeah, Ains. That's what he meant."

A shiver takes my body and lets it go in a split second; I sigh. "You're too bloody smart for your own good," I say brusquely to the figure in the chair by the window.

She's been sleeping, of course. After our conversation, we came back up to the common room, with the same excuse: homework.

I found, though, that she hasn't been getting much sleep lately. So when she drifted off – after about an hour of homework – I let her sleep.

"Uh, hi."

I glance up from the book – which is currently open to the same page as it was when Ainslee had first fallen asleep – and find myself staring into a pair of familiar blue eyes. "Oh, hey Remus." I shut the book. "What's going on?"

He stretches, collapsing on the couch beside me. "I'm exhausted – I couldn't sleep last night."

"You too?" I laugh wryly and point to Ainslee.

His face flushes promptly. "I didn't even see her there."

"She aims for that, I've noticed."

"Or rather, you haven't noticed."

I grin guiltily. "No…she's always been too hard for me to miss."

Remus nods politely but I feel as if I've suddenly hit a bump in our steady flow of conversation. It is…unfortunate…but I know I have to tell him that Ainslee knows the truth. If I don't, and he finds out on his own that I've told her, the consequences would most certainly be dire. "Second year seems to be coming up a lot lately," I note aloud, "Don't you think?"

I can feel his muscles seizing up beside me and I don't look at him; I simply close my eyes and lay my head back against the couch cushions.

"Are you trying to spit something out, Padfoot? You might as well say it, you're much too suspenseful for your own good."

My mouth yanks downward. "You must tell me beforehand that you're not going to be angry with me."

"What have you done this time?" His manner is teasing but I hear an edge of fear in his voice.

"I'm serious. Promise me that you're not going to be angry," I repeat, looking extremely solemn.

After a moment's hesitation, he says, "I promise."

I inhale greatly, wringing my hands. "Well, uh…I'm incredibly sorry, mate, but I…told Ainslee…about what you did back in second year…" Silence answers me and I grow nervous; I do all I can to keep my eyes closed.

"So she knows that I tried to kill myself."

He says this with such ease that I flinch and open my eyes to inspect his face. He's completely rid of expression, blank and unnerving. "I—well, yes."

"That's all right, Padfoot, old boy."

This time, I can tell that his aforementioned 'effortlessness' is very forced. "Obviously not."

"Does she know why?"

I swing around, shock registering clearly on my face. "I know I let you down by telling her about it, but do you think I'd go as far as telling her that?"

He studies me with practiced void. Then – "Yeah. I-I know, Sirius." He frowns, looking rather regretful. "Who knows, I might have ended up telling her myself anyway."

"About your condition?" I ask in surprise.

"No, you dolt, about second year," he laughs tentatively.

I nod; yes, that makes a bit more sense.

His bitter voice comes again, then, quite suddenly. "I could never tell her about my condition. You, of all people, should know that by now, Sirius."

author's note; indeed, this took way too long. terribly sorry (blushes), i haven't had many opportunities to get on this computer, i've been playing loads of sonic adventure for dreamcast, i've been out and about…and to be completely honest, i hate this chapter. i hate it passionately. it did not turn out the way i wanted whatsoever and i'm just glad it's over. i'll put forth more effort for the next chapter.