Disclaimer: Can be found in the prologue.

There were times, especially of late, that he despaired, wondering if his life would ever get any easier. He'd never been a social extrovert by nature; socially inept was closer to the truth. He had always left the grandstanding and playing to the crowd to James and Sirius. It worked out well for all of them that way, James gaining the attention from Lily, Sirius gaining attention that had been lacking in his home life, Remus and Peter in the background, safe from notice. It was just a real bite in the arse that Peter used the unobtrusiveness to betray them all.

For himself, it had been a case of having something to hide. His lycanthropy was a dirty secret, ensuring that he was isolated as a child. He hadn't wanted people to learn of his affliction, feeling shame at the lack of judgment that resulted in him becoming a werewolf in the first place. He didn't want to hear others clucking over what a burden he was to his parents, how stoic they were to continue to care for him despite his disease. He didn't need to be reminded, he all ready knew these facts, not that his parents ever saw him as anything less than their child. Remus had contented himself with his parent's love in his early years, and it had been enough, at least until school.

No, he had never had many true friends, but those he'd had, he clung to. It seemed ironic that he could look back now, view the uncertainty of his youth and think of it as the best years of his life. At the time, he'd been eager to grow up, figuring that life didn't start until one was an adult, but he was wrong. Life for him had started when he was accepted to Hogwarts.

He poured himself a healthy three fingers of scotch from the tackiest cut crystal decanter that he'd ever seen, mulling over the event that had changed his life for the better. His parents were both of the Wizarding world, his mum full blooded and his dad half blood. Before he'd been bitten, they'd do magic around the house, regale him with tales of dragons, vampires and schools that taught magic, embellished stories from their childhood. After his 'accident', all such talk ceased. He and his family had moved to an isolated residence, and he'd learned to fill his time with books and whatever domestic chores his mother would task him with.

He did remember, with some bitterness, being required to appear at the Ministry of Magic on one of the first full moons that he transformed. It was common practice for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to photograph each registered werewolf during the full moon for identification purposes in case there was ever a need to hunt said werewolf down for capture. And so he was registered as a dangerous creature, and that was precisely how the personnel had treated him, instead of as an eight-year-old boy who was about to undergo an extremely painful change.

Even after being registered, someone always showed up on the night of a full moon to ensure that he was properly restrained and hadn't killed his parents prior to moonrise. Few parents would have allowed their children to associate with him, knowing what he was. So it became something that was not talked about, his parents becoming protective in order to shield him from unkindness. He knew that they did it out of love, and at the same time, he felt that it had stifled his growth as a person. One could only learn so much about life from books before yearning to do something, become someone.

When he received his letter to Hogwarts, his parents had quickly dismissed it, believing it too great a risk for him to be exposed to so many other children. What would happen if it became common knowledge that he was a werewolf? They had thought it was a sick joke of sorts; surely the Ministry had notified the schools in Europe that their son suffered from lycanthropy, sparing them the embarrassment of having to decline the offers.

For a brief moment, he had hoped that he would get to do something more, wished to meet people, make new friends, but it was quashed even as his eyes had started to light with excitement. No more was said about it for weeks. And then the day that Albus Dumbledore had come to the door, wishing to speak to his parents. The man was tall, and looked old, but his eyes were kind and twinkling, and he greeted Remus most cordially for all that Remus was merely eleven years old. What was said behind the closed doors of the study that afternoon, he never rightly knew, but the results were more than he'd ever hoped for.

He was going to Hogwarts! Provisions had been made, and his absence every 28 days would be explained away with a multitude of excuses, his school supplies purchased, and he was sporting a new eleven-inch wand of oak with a dragon heartstring core. His things packed in his father's old trunk; he was deposited on Platform 9&3/4 to attend school under the new headmaster of Hogwarts.

As he drank his scotch, Remus could recall his first trip on the Hogwarts Express. He had been filled with nervous anticipation, being away from his parents for the first time ever, excitement and fear dueling till his belly was a mass of raw nerves. He'd read as much of Hogwarts, A History as he could, trying to learn as much about the school as possible. He was alone in his compartment at first, but two hours into the journey, he was awakened from a nap by the door opening and slamming shut.

Two dark haired boys, slightly out of breath had joined him. The taller of the two had introduced himself as Sirius before slumping carelessly into the seat across from him. The other pushed his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose before extending his hand, "James Potter."

And he had taken it, shaking the boy's hand briefly before stammering out, "R-Remus Lupin." Silence settled over the three of them as he studied each boy in turn, noting the differences between the two. James was a bit thinner and shorter; his eyes were hazel brown and his black hair unruly, sticking up in patches. Sirius possessed a fuller face, well groomed hair, was taller by a couple inches and had dark gray eyes that seemed to be taking his measure. At the time, he'd figured that he was imagining the penetrating stare, but in the future, he would see Sirius use it on a number of people before dismissing or accepting them into his acquaintance.

For the second time on that journey, the door banged open, this time a much larger form filled the portal. This boy was huskier, taller and older. He was all ready dressed in black robes; a shiny badge pinned on the left breast under an embroidered shield, which Remus assumed denoted a house affiliation. The new intruder's glare fixed on the raven-haired boys, ignoring him altogether.

"You two, you're to come with me immediately."

Sirius and James had glanced at each other, exchanging a quick nervous look. "Whatever for?" Sirius had asked, straightening in the seat and meeting the older boy's blue eyes.

"Because I'm a prefect," the unnamed boy replied, "and you were seen running from a compartment where, strangely enough, several dungbombs had been set off. You will come with me so that we can settle the matter of punishment when we arrive at Hogwarts." He looked down his stubby nose at the younger boys, clearly waiting for them to comply with his command.

James gulped, obviously uncomfortable with the idea that he was in trouble, perhaps fearing what his parents would say if he were sent home before he even began his education. Remus noted that Sirius still sat unmoving, seemingly unruffled at the possibility of being in trouble.

"That's impossible." All eyes turned toward him the moment the words escaped his mouth. He almost winced at their regard, wondering if he was making a mistake. But he tried to copy Sirius's demeanor, sitting straight and training his eyes on the knot in the prefect's tie, unable to meet his eye, but giving the appearance of doing so. "James and Sirius," he motioned to his companions sitting opposite him, "have been here since we left Platform 9&3/4. They couldn't have done what you're accusing them of since they've been right here talking about our summer and wondering what house we'll be sorted into."

He finished in a soft voice, almost hoarse from the effort of telling a lie, a practice completely foreign to him. The boy considered him for a moment before nodding. Either he was convincing enough, or the prefect really wasn't willing to make a scene by arguing the point. He nodded again briefly and left with a, "See that you stay out of trouble then," and was gone.

Silence settled over the group again, this time more companionable and much less tense. Then they all started talking at once.

"Thanks for covering for us," from James.

"Brilliant! Can't believe we got away with that!" was Sirius's contribution.

"Did you really set off dungbombs on the train?" Remus questioned.

The confusing tangle of words ended in laughter, and as simply as that, he had friends. Time and deeds would make them the best of friends, and they fully believed that nothing would change or destroy the bond forged between them over the years.

They had changed his life drastically. His friendship with James and Sirius had always pushed him to be more, not different or other than he was, just better, making him rise to the occasion and believe he could be more, not just define himself as a werewolf. They'd egg him into participating in practical jokes, cajole him into helping research charms and spells which resulted in the creation of the Marauder's map, strategize more and more complex pranks, help him when it became apparent that he was mediocre at best in potions.

With them, life had ceased being an endless cycle of getting through the full moon every month, recovering from the self inflicted wounds only to start dreading the next time he'd transform. It became fun, a matter of fitting as much excitement and experience in between each lunar occurrence, making his excuses, then waiting to get out of the hospital wing as soon as possible to rejoin his friends and their escapades.

When they'd confronted him in second year, he'd been scared that they'd stop associating with him, but also relieved that they knew. He hated the subterfuge and lies every month to cover his noticeable absence. Any lingering doubts he'd had about the strength of their friendship disappeared in light of their acceptance, particularly after fielding a barrage of questions ranging from where he went every month to change to how long the actual transformation took, and even a few uncomfortably pointed questions about his scars and physical attributes while in his wolf form.

But they were gone now, leaving him alone again. Yet another one of life's unexpected twists, Peter, the traitor, being the last to join the group was the first to leave it, though they didn't know it at the time, too busy wondering about each other due to the rat's lies and misdirection. Lily and James, by all rights a couple who had the most to live for were the first to die, and survived only by little Harry, who had just started walking not two months before.

And then there was Sirius, whom the entire Wizarding world had condemned, falsely, as it turned out. Life had given him a temporary reprieve from loneliness three years ago by giving his friend back. Granted, he'd been altered from the carefree teen he used to be, but the charismatic personality was still there, buried in his skin. It would pop up at the oddest moments, much like his barking laugh, particularly when he'd had some sort of contact via floo or owl from Harry.

Losing Sirius a second time was a blow right to the midsection. He wasn't sure if, when, or how to recover from this new hole in his life. Before, his friend had been alive at Azkaban, but now he was dead, and there was no coming back from that. Sometimes he really wondered if life was worth it. He wasn't supposed to be the last one standing, the only one to carry on the memory. He felt as though someone on a cosmic level was getting a great laugh at his expense, and he really didn't like it.

Remus sighed, looking at the calendar. One week until the full moon. Life was full circle; he was back to merely getting through one full moon at a time. Snape would be bringing by the wolfsbane potion starting tomorrow per Dumbledore's order. It would signal a new depth to his misery, a few sarcastic remarks on his pathetic state and continued reliance on the headmaster's good will. And then he'd go through the torturous change, keeping his wits so that he could stew in his memories, alone, on the eve of the murder of the Potters. The pain of their absence had dulled over the years, but he suspected that this year was going to be particularly rough.

And then, the unexpected happened. There was tapping at the window, which was becoming much more insistent the longer he paused. The fact that there was tapping in the first place had thrown him for a bit of a loop, or perhaps that was the scotch he'd been drinking. He wasn't due for an owl from Hermione quite yet. She typically waited until after the full moon to send some sort of greeting, checking up after him, sending the occasional bar of chocolate as a joke since he'd spent a good portion of his time parting out Honeyduke's bars after students encountered the dementors.

Albus typically used the floo network, preferring a conversation in place of written word, occasionally stopping by for a cup of tea as time permitted. And anyone else who cared to speak to him waited for an order meeting to make his or her excuses for not staying in touch. In many ways, he preferred the depressing solitude to seeing pity in Molly and Arthur's eyes, enduring the stilted conversation from Tonks or Kingsley, or any offers of help that seemed too close to charity for him to feel comfortable in accepting.

The tapping was now punctuated by indignant squawks and hoots from the owl. Realizing that he had been wool gathering, he rushed to the window, lifting it open to allow the avian inside. The owl that settled on the back of his chair was none other than Harry's pet, Hedwig. If birds could glare, this one would be shooting daggers at him for making her wait. She extended her leg in a manner he would have deemed haughty, and was nipped on the finger before being allowed to untie the letter.

He scrabbled around, coming up with a stale biscuit to make his amends, then turned to the parchment in his hand. He quickly noted that the seal and writing were not Hermione's. Remus broke the wax and unfolded the note, seating himself back in his chair, eyes drinking in the words.

His first reaction was to smile, noticing the false start that had been crossed out. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Harry had chosen not to begin anew on fresh paper because it would have wasted nine inches of usable parchment, something Lily would have abhorred, or if he was in too much of a hurry to be put to the bother of hunting down a spare page, as was James's habit. Not for the first time did he see hints of Harry's parents in the Boy-Who-Lived, an interesting mix of both James and Lily.

Reaching the bottom of the note, he frowned thoughtfully. Whatever he might have been expecting, it hadn't been this. It was oddly touching, the sentiment more sincere in his eyes than all the murmured condolences of the past months combined. Not that there had been many due to the fact that most people still believed Sirius guilty, and those who knew of his death figured that he got what had been coming to him. It was a bitter tribute to a wronged man.

He reread the last lines, unable to shake the feeling that perhaps Harry was seeking his forgiveness, a benediction for his past rashness, as if he would or could hold the boy accountable for the events that night. He looked at the owl, "You mind waiting around for a reply?" He felt foolish talking to an owl, but figured it was courtesy if she was instructed to return directly. Hedwig hooted a response, dipping her head before ruffling up her feathers and pulling her head down to sleep.

Remus then turned his attention toward hunting up some paper in order to pen a response to Harry.

To Young Harry,

Your letter was an unexpected surprise when it arrived this evening. A pleasant one despite the
obvious distress you are suffering from. Like you, I too find that I am having difficulty with our
mutual loss of Sirius.

He paused, tapping his pen while trying to puzzle out his next thoughts to write. He didn't want to come across as formal and unapproachable, fearing that if he continued along in this direction, Harry would think him nothing less than an old man with a stick up his arse. He chuckled at the image, and then stopped in surprise. He hadn't had a reason to laugh in some time, and it sounded odd to his ears, which were accustom to silence when he was alone.

You will have to extend my thanks to Hermione for her 'enthusiastic' encouragement that you write
to me. I find that it has all ready helped in reminding me that I am not alone. I invite you to write as
often as you like, without fear that I would fail to reply. I will, however, stipulate that you forego the
title of 'Professor' as I am no longer teaching. And I will dissuade you from using Mr. Lupin as I am
hardly a graybeard in my dotage whose only pleasure lies in taking upstart youngsters to task for their
lack of proper formality. I leave that job to your Professor Snape. Remus will be fine, or Moony if you
can bear to use it.

That was a bit better, he thought, surveying the paragraph, he'd even managed to get in a slight against Snape. He mentally had to hand it to Hermione for being observant as well as compassionate enough to realize he needed contact with Harry in some form, and likely recognized that her friend needed him as well. She was a very astute witch, to say the least.

Please do not take this the wrong way Harry, but your guilt over Sirius is misplaced. Your godfather
made his choices that fatal night, choosing action instead of waiting as he was advised to do, so
that others might bring you safely back to Grimmauld and to him. He did not know what would
happen that evening, any more than the others who were present, myself included, but he died
protecting you, the same as he would have done for your parents or me if the need arose. These words
may not help the feelings you have, but in time, I hope you will see the truth in them.

Sirius was always a man of action, and his choice that night was true to his character. The fact that you
went to the ministry to save him, meant quite a lot to him, and if nothing else, he knew that you cared
for him before he died. I truly believe that both he, and your parents would have been proud of the
loyalty and courage you had shown that night, willing to risk yourself for someone you loved. Of course,
there would also be a stern lecture on your fool heartiness, but they would expect nothing less from
a Gryffindor.

There was a connection between the two of you, you didn't imagine it, and it isn't weird for you to have
felt close to him. When a witch or wizard agrees to be a godparent, documents are signed which connect
the child and adult both legally and magically. Sirius took his duty and honor as your godfather quite
seriously. James had often joked that it was the one thing he had not tried to skive off or be late for
in his life. (Remind me to tell you about the wedding sometime, it's an amusing story, but it's place is
not in this letter)

Never doubt the depths of the affection you held for him, nor his for you. Remember, the ones we care
about are never truly gone as long as we remember them with love.

Yours in Friendship,

Remus

AN: As always, thanks to the brilliant BrennaM, who stayed up far too late to post chapter 36 of her story. I appreciate the encouragement you keep giving me, as well as the maniacal laughter that never ceases to put a cheesy smile on my face, all the while cringing at your latest devilish plot twists…

As always, thanks to the brilliant , who stayed up far too late to post chapter 36 of her story. I appreciate the encouragement you keep giving me, as well as the maniacal laughter that never ceases to put a cheesy smile on my face, all the while cringing at your latest devilish plot twists…

Thanks also to Ashibabi for checking the story out, I hope that you continue to enjoy it!
Thanks to Rane2920072 I'm glad that you love it, I hope I don't disappoint. In answer to your question about Sirius: When Hermione gets around to figuring out the mystery of the Veil. Not much of an answer, I know, but it will happen in good time, Hermione's got a road to travel in order to find Sirius.
Thanks also to all the readers, even if you don't review. I hope that you think the story is worth the time to read it.

First topic for the "Get BrennaM for her Evil Cliffies" fan club: Would wet noodle beatings be a sufficient motivator to get BrennaM to post faster?