A/N: First, thanks to all of my friends online who continue to tell me (though few leave a review) that they enjoy my fanfics. Second, to my first reviewer I say: I'm glad you like it so far and I hope you read more of my work! Thanks again! Please at least read it (and send Reviews - enjoyment or hate).

He has not changed. He still woos the young women at Hogwarts; winking at them and flexing his muscles. He flirts with those that squeal at his very name and it is sickening. But I cannot bring myself to tell him so; instead, I let him rip out my heart and throw it against the wall. I cry at night, stricken by his betrayal of the promise he made. Occasionally, he reassures me, speaking of his reputation at school and what the Black family would do if they knew.

I was ready for the risks; otherwise, I wouldn't have told Sirius at all. My nightmares have gotten worse. I toss and turn in bed, plagued by the past and my non-existent relationship with a certain prankster. The hour is late and my body begs for sleep, but I don't close my eyes. I sit up and sigh as my gaze wanders; then, I see that James Potter is awake and staring at me. I feel uncomfortable underneath that look.

"Anything wrong, Remus?"

"Just another restless night."

"Don't lie to me!" James snaps harshly, "I hear you cry when you think everyone is asleep."

I sigh, "I'm in love."

"You should be happy then. I remember when I first saw Lily… she was so beautiful that I almost couldn't breathe."

"That's how I feel, but it isn't returned to me."

"Maybe I can talk to her?"

"Him." I amend.

"Him?" James repeats, "I had no idea you swung that way, Remus."

I battle with myself, trying to decide whether or not to tell James the truth; and then, I realize that I don't want to lie to him. After all, he had accepted me as a werewolf and this was no different – he wasn't angry, just shocked. So I reveal it to him and he looks thoughtful for a few moments; an odd expression is in his hazel eyes, which are uncovered. The glasses that he has to wear lay on the nightstand next to a mug of water.

"Well, there's one thing I can say, Remus. You deserve the love and attention of someone who can care for you properly. And that's something Sirius can't do."

I bit into my lip with a sigh and nod. I know. I think I've always known. I've always known that my love would be dashed into a million pieces if it were exposed. I've always known that loving a person such as Sirius would bring me nothing except pain in the end. Yet, I can't help loving him all the same.

"Sleep well." James says and flops back down onto the bed. Within moments, I can hear him snoring peacefully; probably dreaming about a certain redhead.

For me, it is a different story. I lay on the mattress and I stare sightlessly up at the ceiling; his face – full of laughter and cheer – is up there, as if mocking me for loving him. Before I know it, the light gray colors of morning are upon me and I haven't managed to get a wink of rest in. It is not a good thing for me to do, especially when the full moon is so close. I can't transform like this.

With a sigh, I get up and go through my routine. I wash (and shave if I need to) and then get dressed; mostly, this happens while the others are still sleeping. Usually, the Marauders catch me when breakfast is a full thirty minutes or later in. I wish I could do that, but my internal clock betrays me.

My gaze wanders over to Sirius Black's four-poster as I start to fasten the gold-and-yellow-stripped tie about my neck. I can see sweat on his brow and it occurs to me that I might not be the only one who is plagued by the darkness of slumber. I go over to him – my feelings are still there for the other young man, despite all that he's done and all that I know he will do. My heart aches for him to be mine, though I know he can never do that. He can never truly be there for me like how I planned.

As friends, he will stand by my side and fight away my evils. But as lovers… Well, let's just say it's a feeble wish for someone like me. However, my hand reaches out of its own accord and I shift a few locks of his ebony hair away from his handsome face. I take away some of the cold liquid on his forehead as well and he smiles, just slightly. That expression, that look, brings pain into me such that I've never experienced before.

"Why do you do this to me, Sirius? Why do you play with me so?" I whisper.

Ooo0ooO

Over time, I've come to accept things as they are. Even when I told him the secret I had been guarding for almost two years, I had been expecting that we would just stay friends. And now, though he has promised me the things that I desire, nothing has changed. It's the full moon and Moony – so near the surface these days – is dying to escape from me. I can feel his anger and outrage about how my relationship with Sirius hasn't… progressed.

I try to stay away from my friends because I'm always irritable around this 'time of month' and later regret what I say to them. Yet, they are attracted to me like moths attracted to a candle flame. James has been acting oddly since I told him the truth; he sends me pitying glances and shakes his head with sympathy. It is actions like these that make me wish I wasn't a Gryffindor or at least not as bound by the rules as I appear to be since it really irks me. I want to wring his neck; slam him into the floor; beat common sense into him.

That is how I feel about Sirius, too.

The day seems to pass quickly and I think, for the first time, I've not paid the least bit of attention in any of my classes; of course, this has occasionally happened before. My eyes are diverted to other more pleasing things than a Professor droning on about Potion-making or Goblin Rebellions. But I realize, as I head toward dinner, that I don't have any notes. Forget about notes, I don't even remember what homework was assigned!

Perhaps, I am infatuated; more so than I knew, I mean. It feels more pronounced than ever; maybe the full moon is having an influence over me. Or should I say Moony? Either way, it's hard and unbearable. A small part of me – the one that the wolf is slowly taking over and growing every minute – wants to drop this charade. If I could only be straightforward and blunt, then I could kiss him and get it over with. My thoughts would be clear and I could go on as though nothing happened; Sirius, too, could return to his old ways, never having to worry about pleasing me.

"How is it tonight, Moony?" Sirius asks.

"The same as always, Padfoot."

"I was thinking," James cuts in suddenly, "that we could explore. Maybe find other secret passages for our little 'project.' What do y'all think?"

I shrug and sigh, "Whatever you want. I don't care."

The project James speaks of is, of course, the Marauder's Map. We're still trying to perfect it, but for several full moons now we have been exploring the castle. I hate it, but I don't say anything because I know – deep down – Moony enjoys it at least and so do my friends. We've found a lot of hidden corridors in the school, including ones that lead out into Hogsmeade, the wizard community not too far away. I really don't worry about someone finding us (even if they did know where the concealed paths were, James and Sirius are large animals that will be able to keep Moony at bay).

However, sometimes, when I look at Headmaster Dumbledore or sense that his eyes are boring right into my soul, I feel like I'm betraying him somehow. After all, I did lead my friends to become illegal Animagi. I always manage to shake my head at the last moment though and laugh at thinking that someone can see inside my head.

I feel a shudder ripple through my thin frame and I look up into the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. The colors of the setting sun still play against the few clouds in the sky so I have a bit of time left before I need to retreat to the Shrieking Shack. Peter Pettigrew – who's sitting right beside me – must have felt that shudder because I catch his worried glance and then another more meaningful one at the others.

There's something about Peter that I dislike or it could be Moony that doesn't enjoy his presence; either way, the small lump of a man sends my hairs on end. It causes my skin to quiver and breakout in tiny goose bumps; luckily, the other Marauders don't seem to ever notice this reaction. Sometimes, I'm overcome with the desire to tell them that there's something wrong with Peter, yet I know not how to properly word it or what to base these beliefs on. So I stay silent.

Sirius speaks, interrupting my thoughts, "We should go. Don't want to be late."

His canine-like laughter rings in my ears and, after a few seconds more, the others join with him. I'm glad they find such amusement in my transformations. I almost growl in frustration, but hold it at bay. Every full moon, it's the same. The two stronger ones of our foursome come over to help me up and guide me out. It is as though I've suddenly turned blind; I've tried often to shake them from me, though they always refuse.

Now I simply relent to them. I find my nose close to Sirius – smelling his delicious scents of harsh metals and tropical undertones. He wears the cologne that I had got him for his birthday and it surprises me for a moment. The trip across the grounds is uneventful as was the short walk down the stooping path protected by the Whomping Willow. Dumbledore and the Professor of Herbology (whose name eludes me) planted it when I arrived.

By the time we're in the Shrieking Shack my muscles are screaming and sending spasms through me. Both James and Sirius look worried; Peter, on the other hand, looks out-right frightened. I wonder – before my mind is taken by the darkness and pushed aside – if it is because of what I am or if it is because I turn to Moony.

I wake up in the Hospital Wing, Sirius Black is the only person near me, and his hand is lying on my own. His touch is both pleasant and electrical. It looks as though he has fallen asleep in the chair and I can't remember all of what had happened the night before. Just flashes of events that mingle together, which confuse more than help me.

"Sirius?" I croak.

He stirs in the seat, opens his eyes with a grateful expression residing inside, and asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"It was a rough night." He agrees, "I dunno what's gotten into Moony."

I'm almost tempted to tell him, but I stay silent. It is then that I notice his hand is stroking my own in a friendly-type manner. I smile and relax; my bones are still aching and my muscles protest to the slightest movement I make. I suppose it's safe to say this has been one of the worst changes I had ever gone through, minus the first few.

"Sirius, I-"

"Shh. Remus, it's okay. James talked to me."

I raise a brow, "What did he tell you?"

"Several things that I'm too blind to see, apparently." He replies with a bitterness that I've never heard before.

It's as though he's trying to apologize, yet he can't bring himself to say sorry. Instead, I'm shocked and caught off-guard when he leans down, brushing his lips against my forehead. They are soft, just like I imagined them to be.