This chapter contains some extremely mild slash. If you choose to read it anyway and are offended, get a life you freak. And WHEEE! I have reviewers!

Sunny Moonlight: Yes, yes, yes! You win a cookie! You got all the chars right. And her full name is Arabella Figg, in case you care—although she's not really gonna show up much. She was only in that one scene. You'll learn more about the pregnant woman in this chapter. And this is a 'Sirius and Remus raise Harry' story. Whoo!

Becky Silver Black: I'm glad you liked it! Here's your update! And look! You get a character named after you! Err… not really. Aidan's actually one of my RP characters who's getting a nod here. And in 'real life,' he teaches Muggle Studies rather than being a lawyer. Thank heavens.

Thanks to the sublime Reyna for naming the abusive hubby! And quick, someone get me a thesaurus so I can come up with more superlatives for her. :P

Chapter edited for a mistake.

In the cottage on the moor, a sunbeam crept stealthily across the floor. Motes of dust dancing in the shaft of light gave it a hazy golden look as it inched its way across the battered old couch. Then, at precisely forty two minutes after nine, it stabbed the eyes of the blanket-obscured form on the sofa, eliciting a groan and a mumbled curse. Blinking honey-colored eyes turned away from the sunbeam, focusing inevitably on a picture perched on the end table.

For the fifty-second time in the past four years, Remus Lupin wondered why he still kept that picture. For the fifty-second time, he considered throwing it into the fire or out the window. And, for the fifty-second time, he found himself unable to do so, although he wasn't sure whether it was the pain and exhaustion of his transformation that held him back, or the reluctance to give up the memories. It had become a ritual over the years, to stare at that picture while he tried to find strength to get up and treat his self-inflicted injuries. Injuries so painful that, combined with the weariness of transformation, always seemed to prevent him from making it to the bed after a full moon. So he slept on the couch, and awoke to the photograph that reminded him of everything he'd lost.

From left to right… Peter, dead. James, dead. Lily, dead. Sirius, dead to Remus… At this point in the litany, an annoying little mental voice always whispered 'but he's not dead. And you don't really think he did it, do you?' That voice spoke to Remus often. It was very hard to ignore… But back to the repeitition. The mantra of a lonely werewolf. Peter, dead. James, dead. Lily, dead. Sirius, traitor, should be dead. Aurora, married with children and better things to do than worry about some depressed loser she went to school with, even if she had asked him to be the godfather to the twins. The nagging voice chimed in again—'Rory wouldn't abandon you. You know there's something wrong if she hasn't been answering your owls.' Remus ignored the voice again, with some effort and went back to his study of the picture. Only one person left. In the center, sitting on a miniature broomstick. Harry, living with muggles, because no sane person would give a child into the custody of a bachelor werewolf.

The familiar feeling of self-loathing gave him the strength to roll over and stare at the faded pattern of the couch's upholstery rather than the painful photograph. Four years ago, on a morning like this, he'd wake up in bed, bandaged and cared for, held safe and warm in the arms of his beloved. Remus closed his eyes against the prickling of tears, pushing away the thoughts of blame and guilt, and relived the memory.

Waking slowly, only weariness and a few stinging scratches to remind him of the previous night. The feeling of being cradled against a strong chest, inhaling the aromas of vanilla, spice, and the sharp musky scent of an athletic man. Opening his eyes to see fair skin decorated with a lacework of black silk hair, looking up to perfect smiling lips, further up to tarnished silver eyes. Such easy eyes to drown in. No one knew better than Remus, who had been lost in them since they'd first met. The perfect lips opened, and…

Remus screamed as he reached out to touch his vision and discovered a broken left wrist. Gasping in pain, he sat slowly, cradling his arm to him. Good thing it was his left one, or he'd have been forced to go to St. Mungo's to get it mended. Rory used to come by and check on him after the full moon, but about a year ago she'd stopped coming, sending excuses by owl at first, and then none at all. She'd even stopped answering his owls. Sighing, Remus stood and went off to find his wand and some bandages.

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The small boy had been awakened at dawn by screeching and hammering at his door. Crawling out of the cupboard, he was set to watching the bacon for breakfast while his aunt went to wake her son, far more gently than she had roused Harry, the unwanted nephew. It was awkward having to stand on a chair to reach the stove, but the boy managed. He always managed.

After plating up the bacon and toast, he smiled to himself. Tomorrow was Monday, and his class was taking a trip to the London Zoo. Nervously, the boy tried to flatten his hair, not wanting his aunt and uncle to find a reason to call off the much-anticipated trip. He just had to be perfect for this one day…

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The pregnant woman collapsed heavily onto a bench across the street from the Leaky Cauldron. Hard to believe it wasn't even noon. Her swollen ankles throbbed, and every movement sent lances of pain through her lower back. And she was convinced her abdomen was bruised from the inside out by the angry punches and kicks coming from her womb. Not to mention the two pathetically weary little boys leaning against her, too tired to even whine anymore.

It had been worthwhile, though. A visit to St. Mungo's revealed that she'd been under the confundus charm for the better part of three years, probably refreshed on a weekly basis by one Mr. Talbot Silvanus. The bastard. Then a quick trip to Gringotts barred him from access to her bank vault, and the very nice goblin she talked to—Griphook, his name was—gave her his word that he'd make sure it was enforced. It was rounded off with a visit to her father's old lawyer, Aidan Silver, to begin divorce proceedings. And to get her name changed back to her maiden name. Aurora Grey.

The one problem was where to go now. She really didn't want to see Talbot again, which cut out home and the Leaky Cauldron. There had to be somewhere for the boys to sleep. Well… somewhere better than the bench. Rome was already asleep, nestled close to her, and Raul's head was nodding. Wrapping an arm around each of them, Rory leaned back, closing her eyes and trying to think. Unbidden, a vision came up of the first day her friends had met Talbot.

Talbot had left to go to work. Harry wasn't feeling well so James and Lily had taken him home. Peter hadn't shown at all, just sent an owl saying his mum was ill. Rory had been tidying up from dinner, only to turn around and find Sirius and Remus looking at her solemnly, standing in identical stubborn poses. "What? I haven't seen you two looking so grim since you made the decision to come out of the closet."

They exchanged one of those looks. The looks that Rory had labeled 'married couple' looks, because a simple glance could somehow convey volumes of information. Remus nodded slightly, and his lover turned to frown at Rory. "What the hell do you see in that prick?"

Rory scowled at the taller of the two men, tarnished silver eyes meeting tarnished silver. "Sirius Black. Just because you're my cousin—Second cousin, at that. Twice removed, no less—Doesn't give you the right to dictate who I will and will not date."

"We're not… dammit, Rory, he just gives me a bad vibe. And you're the closest thing to a little sister I have…" Sirius's hands opened and closed, as if he was groping for the words to express his thoughts. Remus laid a scarred hand on one of the long elegant ones and picked up the train of thought. "There's just something about him that doesn't ring true, and we don't want you to be hurt. We're not going to tell you no, because that never works, just… remember that our door is always open if you need us, okay?"

The pleading expression in Remus's honey-gold eyes had stuck with her, although she'd never expected to take him up on that offer. Gathering up the twins and her bag, Rory walked over to the public floo, paying a knut for Floo powder and calling out an address before stepping into the leaping green flames.

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On the island, surrounded by dementors, Sirius Black laughed.

Ah, another chapter. Aren't you all thrilled? What will happen next? Will Remus find his wand? Will Harry get to go to the zoo? Where is Rory going? And will Sirius ever do anything besides laugh? Only the Wyrm knows. Oh, and the Shadow. Because he knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men.

And don't worry, Sirius fans. I promise he won't be in Azkaban forever.