Disclaimer: No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Furthermore, this was written in accordance to the Ministry of Magick's Public Fiction Code Article X and brings no harm or hex to the reader before, after or during the reading of the piece. However, it was not written in accordance with the Ministry of Magick's Public Fiction Code ILII which states that, beyond holding hands, relationships between two men or two women are strictly forbidden. i cannot own Oscar Wilde as he is dead. tear

Pairings: sb(plus)rl, rianxquin

Summary: Saint Valentine's Day, Lupercalia and then Fourth Year ends.

It's finals review week, which is why this is the third chapter out. Funny, that. i just found out that my dates are a few years off, that will be fixed when i do a final review, but that is not now. JKR said that Marauder's year one was 1971 and i said it was 1968. i was close… which is awesome. Ha! i told you that Sirius was early-to-mid thirties in PoA! He was, according to JKR, 34. Dances

The poem is the third stanza of "Endymion", by Oscar Wilde. Talking about the Romans made me remember the poem and it seemed fitting.

Sorry for the quotes. I blame history. On second thought, I'm not sorry for them.

Oh. I like archaic spellings. Like 'magick' and 'vampyre'.

audi

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Seventeen
In which uncertainty reigns.

I was always amazed at how easily Sirius and James did things. I mean, everyone considered me to be the smart, studious Gryffindor. And I was. I spent as much time as I could just studying. I loved supplementary texts and irrelevant texts and Muggle novels, basically whatever I could get my hands on. I absorbed everything like a sponge. But James and Sirius never studied and never paid attention in class. They copied notes and did their homework at the last minute. Yet they were still at the top of the class. It was rare that three Gryffindors were ahead of the Ravenclaws of their year. They either knew everything or were amazingly good at cheating.

'I'll be glad to get rid of Potions,' Peter whined.

'Me, too,' I smiled. 'But there's all of Fifth Year to go yet, as well as the OWLs.'

'You just have to keep reminding me,' he groaned.

'Lucky prats, I've got Potions until I die,' Sirius replied.

'Or until Seventh Year.'

'That's your own fault for wanting to be Aurors,' I reminded them.

'Gee, thanks, Moony.'

'Well, one more term until we're Fifth Years,' Sirius grinned. The comment seemed to come from nowhere and the three of us whipped our heads to him. 'Well, one of us will be a prefect.' He replied, as if it made sense. 'See, our marauding has been, well, lacking.'

'That's your fault, Sear.'

'How so?'

'Sear, you've been dating.'

'I was actually going to blame our friend Filtch.'

'The solution to whom I'm working on,' I piped. I told them about a map I had been working on, here and there. It was modified from the one that Sirius and I nicked the year before. 'It won't be ready for a while. But when it is… It'll tell us who's where when and why.' I shrugged. 'But I haven't quite gotten the Charm down… and I the map itself isn't quite complete.'

'How do you mean?'

'I don't know… it just kind of stops at places. I'll keep working at it, though.'

'Ah, the joy of extracurricular projects,' Sirius laughed. James and Peter joined in and I did, too, though weakly. They shared a glance, one that I missed the significance of and the moment was over.

Lily was right, I found. It was 14 February. Sirius was smiling wolfishly. Well, er, you know what I mean. We were in the Great Hall during our study period, mail came in. And there was a whole flock of owls flying around Sirius' head. He had a few boxes of candy open and was eating from them alternatively. He picked through the letters, notes and confessions and read aloud the poetry. He was on, as Muggles say, Cloud Nine. I sat, watching, taking the whole scene in. James and Peter, at one point, started going through his letters and helping themselves to some Every Flavour Beans.

'Moony?' Sirius poked my side, 'have some chocolate; I won't be able to eat it all.' He held to me an unopened, heart-shaped box of chocolates.

'Thanks, but no,' I shook my head, gathered my books and left the room. I felt his eyes on me as I left but I didn't think anything about it.

Ah, young love

It makes me puke.

Well, it made the wolf puke at any rate. I think it has to do with what Quin told me, about werewolves' mating behaviours. Wolves mate for life. There is no screwing around. There is courting and there is mating. Sirius wasn't courting. He was no alpha fending off all the potential mates; he was a silly pup playing with the other pups' emotions. He was a silly pup that had been all but claimed by me. He swelled up and he growled. Why did people hate werewolves when the wolf inside made everything so much more simple? Wolves were protective of their family, their pack and their mate. They were social. Wolves all knew their place. Werewolves just didn't eat humans. Something that smells that bad can't be tasty! Eck! Probably all stringy and tasteless. I had no family. And, while I loved my pack, Quin and Rian, they couldn't help me from England. And my chosen mate was playing stupid, meaningless human games.

If there was one day that I hated more than Saint Valentine's Day it was the following day, Lupercalia, 15 February. Lupercalia. The celebration of Romulus and Remus by the Romans. It was not associated with any specific god. The Romans believed, due to the story of the founders, Romulus and Remus, that Lupercalia was the day that wolves choose their mates. And they were just about spot on. Natural wolves may choose their mates on Lupercalia, and I know (though I wasn't sure then) that werewolves don't have to mate on that day, either. Nonetheless, I always feel fuzzy and well, randy, on that day. Of course, I have the extreme misfortune to see that day fall, more often than not, on a school day. One that I spent very close to Sirius. I couldn't spend the day in the infirmary, either. Although I should have been counting my blessings for that. Lupercalia was, that year, in the middle of the moon-cycle which meant that the wolf's hold over me was not particularly strong and I would probably be able to fight him. Blast it all anyway!

I was sitting on the bench by the window, my Wilde collection sitting open on my lap.

The falling dew is cold and chill,
And no bird sings in Arcady,
The little fauns have left the hill,
Even the tired daffodil
Has closed its gilded doors, and still
My lover comes not back to me.
False moon! False moon! O waning moon!
Where is my own true lover gone,
Where are the lips vermilion,
The shepherd's crook, the purple shoon?
Why spread that silver pavilion,
Why wear that veil of drifting mist?
Ah! thou hast young Endymion
Thou hast the lips that should be kissed!

'Damn you anyway.' I closed the book and leaned by head against the window pane.

'Damn who?' my book was lifted up and put aside, Sirius sat down on the bench by me, leaning against my folded legs. 'Moony,' he said, softly, and I raised my head to meet his eyes. 'Are you mad at me?' I shook my head. 'Are you sure? It's just, you left and…'

'It's just what I am.'

'A genius?' I shook my head. 'A werewolf?' he sighed, 'how does being a werewolf have anything to do with it?'

'Just never mind, Siri, I'm not mad at you.'

'Moony…' he whined.

'You can't make it better.'

'I can try?'

I shook my head, 'you don't want to,' I half-whispered.

'Still friends?' he rested his head against my knees.

'Yeah, still friends.' Always. If only it could be more.

We sat there, for a while, not saying much of anything. We didn't really need to. Words weren't always needed between close friends. James and Sirius talked all that they could, but Sirius and I never needed that. After a time I heard his breathing slow, deepen. He fell asleep. I snaked up a hand to rest it in his hair. It was as soft as I thought. I felt my tears escape, cascading down my cheek in streams.

I went through the rest of the year in a daze. And I'm not just saying that to skip time. This is a memoir and man's memory works in the strangest ways. I love Sirius. I hate Sirius. I want to see him and forgive him. I want him to be locked away forever. He is evil. He is wonderful. I miss him.

I found myself becoming quite the Quidditch fan. James was an amazing Seeker, and Sirius was one of the best Chasers in Gryffindor history. We won the Cup that year. We also won the House Cup, the professors just couldn't seem to catch us, but they managed to catch the Slytherins. And the poor Hufflepuffs! They were part of a disaster involving the Greenhouse and Wonder Grow. It cost them a tonne of points.

Peter's parents were taking him to Paris for a few weeks over the hols, and I asked him, timidly, if he wouldn't mind picking me up some French philosophy. (Quin had recommended reading some French books to keep my French fresh.) James was to spend some time with his father, learning about the Ministry – even though Harold Potter knew that James wanted to be an Auror, he felt that James ought to learn how the Ministry worked. That made perfect sense to me. That left Sirius at home with his dreadful family. I made a mental note to ask Quin and Rian if he could come visit for a week-or-so. I knew that was just asking for trouble, but I couldn't just leave him with the Blacks for that long time. I heard Peter whisper something about spending time at James', but it wasn't directed to me. Were the three of them meeting without me? Forlorn, I pushed the though aside.

And so came the train, the infamous Hogwarts Express. We were quiet on the trip. None of us ever thought about it as 'going home'. After his culture shock, Peter admitted that he liked the wizarding world well enough, and he didn't get along well with any of the other kids in his neighbourhood anyway (that and his parents were absorbed in their work, I think they were solicitors). Sirius preferred Hogwarts for obvious reasons. James and I were the only ones with real homes to return to. But James had to amuse himself, as his father was big in the Ministry. And so the train was a melancholy trip for us.

Quin was there when we got off the train, and we went home. Rian made dinner. It was then that I broached the subject of Sirius coming over to visit.

Rian shared a cautious glance with Quin, 'I don't think that would be a problem… at least not for us.'

'But what will you do?'

'Keep him away from the Blacks?'

'No,' Quin clarified, 'I meant, how are you going to take it? Or, more specifically, the wolf?'

I shrugged. 'That which does not kill me, makes me stronger.'

'Nietzsche?' Quin raised an eyebrow. 'But, to quote Voltaire, "a witty saying proves nothing".'

'Maybe you should lay off the philosophy for a while?'

'I've actually been reading up on some histories, Rian.'

'Funny, Remus, real funny.'

'If you can persuade the Blacks to let him come over, he can stay for a week or two. Not during the moon, though. I don't care how he acts during school; I don't want to deal with the wolf and his chosen.'

I nodded happily and wrote Sirius a letter after dinner. The letter I sent via James, since James' owl didn't get stopped, the Blacks really had no desire to start a feud with the Potters.

Moony,

Blimey! Did you have to write that letter like it'd be sheer torture for me to come and visit you? Of course I will! I mean… I have to win over mum and dad, but that shouldn't be too hard. They're convinced your guardian is a blood-sucking vampyre. I said the name 'Quinton Holloway' and they wilted on the spot. Of course, they hope that he'll drain me out, me being the horrible influence to the Black name and all. How do the first two weeks of August sound? That should be right after the moon. I… thank you, Moony, you really are the best mate a bloke could ask for, you know that, right? Well, not that I've been the best friend of late. I blame puberty.

In your debt always,
Sirius

I relayed the contents of the letter to my guardians with mixed feelings.

'A "blood-sucking vampyre" am I?' Quin grinned, 'I think that's a step up from what they used to call me. Of course, my reputation precedes me,' he added in a semblance of woe, 'they still haven't forgiven me for disgracing the French, pure-blooded Lupins. How dare I?'

I smiled, overflowing with happiness. Quin, Rian and I made arrangements from the over-stuffed chair. I had grown a little since the previous summer, but not enough to make it uncomfortable for us. It was cosy. Cosy and reassuring.

'Maybe inviting him wasn't such a good idea,' I considered when we were almost finished.

Rian shook his head, 'it will be as good for you as it will be for him, lad. And you never know what may come of it all.'

'Besides, the only thing that's certain in life, Remus, is uncertainty,' Quin paused, 'and even that's not always certain.'

Unable to think of anything to say, I just cuddled into their collective arms and fell asleep, pretending that the inviting warmth was Sirius'.