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Sirius: Still crazy after all these years.

I met my old friend, on the street last night

He was fed up. Fed up with Grimmauld Place, with Dumbledore, with the order. Bored of being continually left out, left behind and sneered at by Snape.

That evening there'd been an opening. Mundungus had been the last to leave, and as he'd turned to check that he'd left nothing behind, his cloak had caught on the door handle. He'd sworn and tried to pull it off.

That left a large space leading into the empty and inviting street. Noone else was around. Transforming quickly into a large black dog, Sirius made his bid for freedom. Padfoot darted through the door and raced away into the night.

It reminded Sirius of the months at school when they used to join Remus as a werewolf. There was the same sense of adventure, and thrill of excitement. The same hidden fear of capture, of being found out by Dumbledore. And of course although Sirius didn't realise it there was the same innocent foolhardiness of an action that was far more serious than he thought. He didn't care though, tonight, the dog was free.

He ran through the streets, as far away from his parent's house as he could. He stopped and barked at the sky, howling at the stars; Cygnus, Regulus, Bellatrix and Sirius, he knew how to find them all. When they'd been younger their Uncle had pointed them all out.

'Padfoot?' He froze, ready to run as Remus walked out of an alley on his left. What was Remus doing wandering around London on his own? 'Padfoot, is that you?'

He seemed so glad to see me I just smiled

Remus looked tired and worn. Sirius wanted to ask what he'd been up to but he knew his friend wouldn't appreciate it and so just whined, quietly, before transforming back to a man in front of him and grinning.

Remus waved his arms wildly, 'What are you doing?' He hissed, 'Sirius, turn back, now. It's too dangerous.'

He shrugged, 'We're in the heart of Muggle London at 11pm, I doubt anyone's going to be on the lookout for escaped wizarding convicts.'

'You should be back at Grimmauld Place.' Remus said half-heartedly.

'Can't I stay out, just this once?'

Remus was silent, and Sirius wondered what he was thinking about. Somewhere in the distance another dog started barking. Remus smiled, 'You can come back to my place if you want; I was just heading home.'

We talked about the good times

And we drank ourselves some beers.'

They both had butterbeer, and Sirius kept away from the firewhiskey (even though it was right there in the cabinet in front of him) because he didn't want to see the pained expression on Remus's face. When they'd been at Hogwarts Remus had looked up to him when he downed a bottle of firewhiskey, it had been a status symbol, a bad-boy thing. Even after they'd left school he'd done no more than roll his eyes when Sirius reached for a bottle. Now though, he looked hurt, although he never said anything.

They talked and laughed, keeping the conversation away from the present and sticking to the good times, the childhood they'd spent at Hogwarts. The conversation seemed light and friendly, but Sirius could tell something between them had changed. It wasn't even about Azkaban, it had happened before that. Somewhere between their childhood and James's wedding the shutters behind Remus's amber eyes had crashed down.

It was still fun to talk though. To remember a time before the fighting, before the fear and the horror of War. Childhood seemed to be the only time of their lives when they hadn't been fighting something, and Sirius suddenly realised that even then, Remus had been fighting the wolf.

'D'you remember the time we turned Snape's hair pink?' Sirius giggled.

Remus smiled, but there was something else in the smile, and he moved the three unopened butterbeer bottles out of Sirius's reach. 'We never turned Snape's hair pink.'

'Didn't we?'

'No. You spread a rumour around that we were going to, sometime in fifth year I think, but we never actually did.' Remus looked down at his friend, 'You should get back now.'

'I don't want to go back there. You don't know where my motorbike's gone, do you?'

Still crazy after all these years

Remus laughed, 'You haven't changed.'

You have, Sirius wanted to say. You have and I don't know why. I never realised it before, there was too much going on, with The Order, with Harry, with Voldemort, but something's different about you.

'I'm still a Marauder.' Are you Remus?

'The Marauders!' Remus laughed. 'I spent twelve years trying to forget all those times, and Harry sent them all flooding back when he showed me the map.'

Sirius dropped the bottle, watching it spin away over the floor. 'You tried to forget?'

Remus turned away, 'They were quite painful memories, given that I thought you'd joined Voldemort and killed James and Peter.'

There was a rather strained silence before Sirius asked, so what have you been up to?'

I'm not the kind of man, who tend to socialise

I seem to lean on old familiar ways

Remus sighed. 'You know me. Same as usual really. Work, or lack of it, and doing my bit for the Order.'

'What bit for the Order?' Sirius asked, curious, then wished he hadn't at the hunted fear that shot through his friends face. He knew Remus was doing something with werewolves. Other werewolves.

Looking at Remus's careworn face and the dark marks under his eyes Sirius suddenly realised that over the last few months he was learning to hate Dumbledore. The man was just so convinced that what he was doing was right; it never occurred to him that maybe his wonderful plans and ideas might not work. Maybe no one had ever told him that these were people's lives he was playing with, not chess pieces.

Inwardly he blamed Dumbledore for James's death as well, but that was only because he didn't want to blame himself.

'Have you redecorated?' He asked, in a desperate attempt at changing the subject, 'Your flat looks different.'

'The big table's gone.' Remus said casually, trying to imply that he'd simply grown tired of the large mahogany table and decided to get rid of it. Sirius wondered if he'd been forced to sell it.

He took another swig of the butterbeer. 'Harry's got a girlfriend, you know.'

And I ain't no fool for love songs

That whisper in my ears

Remus nodded. 'Seems about time. What's she like?'

'Called Cho-Chang.' Sirius reached across the table for another butterbeer.

'Ah Yes.' Remus said, watching Sirius's hand as it curled around the neck of another dusty bottle. 'She's in Ravenclaw, I remember her. Quite pretty.'

Sirius grinned, 'Is she worth our Harry?'

Remus shrugged. Sirius's grin grew even wider, 'What about you then?'

'What about me?' Remus looked down at the table, pretty sure where this was going.

'There must be a girl out there for you.'

He raised an eyebrow, 'Yes, I'm a middle-aged poverty-stricken werewolf; the girls just can't wait to get hold of me.'

Sirius tilted his head back, downing half the bottle in a few gulps, 'Seriously mate, do you have your eye on anyone.'

Remus thought briefly of Tonks. 'No, not really.'

'You'll find someone someday.'

Remus shook his head, 'I'm a werewolf Sirius, it wouldn't be fair on her.'

Gulp, gulp. The bottle was finished.

Still crazy after all these years

'I never did find out where my motorcycle went.'

'Well you should've kept better care of it shouldn't you.'

'I leant it to Hagrid to get Harry to his uncle and aunt. Hah, that was a mistake wasn't it. I should've taken Harry, gone straight to Dumbledore and told him I was innocent.'

Remus grabbed the last butterbeer, Sirius was already looking pretty unsteady 'Why didn't you.'

'I didn't think, did I. There were only four people who knew I was innocent and two of them were dead while the other was a traitor. I didn't think Dumbledore would believe me.'

Remus shook his head, 'I would never have thought it of Peter.'

'He was always a bit of a rat.' Sirius sighed, 'What went wrong Remus. At Hogwarts we were all friends, and now…' His voice trailed off. Now James was dead, Peter was a traitor and Remus…Remus had retreated into himself somehow.

'You should get home.' Remus said quietly. Sirius nodded.

Four in the morning

Clapped out

Yawning

Longing my life away

'Sirius?'

'Whadisit?'

'You're still here? You should've headed back ages ago!'

'Whasit?'

Remus bit his lip, and pulled his friend upright, trying not to look at the accusatory gaping hole in the cabinet. He'd seen Sirius out the door and gone up to bed, to be awakened some time later by a loud crash, 'You left for home four hours ago.'

'Came back' Sirius mumbled.

'What! Why?'

'You're mybest frien Remus. Noone cares bout me except you.'

'Come on.' Remus lifted him up. Sirius stared at him through the haze, but he wasn't looking pained, or even upset. Just blank and resigned, the way he'd always looked since…since when?

He tried to remember, as Remus wrapped a cloak around him and bundled him out the door. They staggered down the street and Remus whispered 'I'm going to try side-along apparition, alright?'

'Righ' fine.' He muttered. Had it been seventh year? It had, hadn't it. Oh sweet Merlin it had been ever since he'd played the werewolf prank on Snape, the one that had seemed such a hilariously good idea at ten o'clock at night after winning the Quidditch cup. After several butterbeers too. Not just butterbeer either.

They apparated, Sirius gasped and threw up as soon as they arrived, apparating when drunk was not pleasant. And, how typical, there was Dumbledore, standing right outside Grimmauld place with a disapproving expression on his face.

I never worry,

Why should I

Dumbledore was speaking, but Sirius wasn't really listening. Instead he was thinking back, trying to remember what had happened, not the night he'd tried to scare Snape rigid by putting him face to face with an angry werewolf, but the next morning. Dumbledore had talked at him in that calmly angry, slightly disapproving voice, (much as he was doing now) and James had shouted at him, even though the night he'd gone to tell Snape James had been in agreement too.

Or in as much agreement anyone can be when they're having trouble walking in a straight line.

After that he'd gone straight up to apologise to Remus. And Remus had listened to him and said it was fine, don't worry Sirius, no one was hurt.

And he hadn't worried about it. As far as Sirius was concerned it was over. It had been a stupid game, a dangerous game, but a game nevertheless.

He hadn't noticed the shutters close behind Remus's eyes, hadn't seen the inner struggle of a boy who'd suddenly decided that the only way to survive was not to let himself get hurt. Not to let anything hurt him, and to keep what remained of Remus Lupin locked away inside his head.

They hadn't spent much time with Remus after that. Not because of it, although indirectly it was because of it as it put an end to all their night time ramblings as Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. The map had been finished, and James was already growing too old for jokes, spending more time with Lilly and practising Quidditch. There were the NEWT's coming up too, and Remus was finding it hard to keep up with all his work. Spending two nights a month as a man-eating monster was taking its toll.

It's all gonna fade

He was back in his room now, which was spinning around him. He drank to forget, because there was so much pain and it was nice to watch it fade into the bottom of a glass. Dumbledore disapproved, but Dumbledore wasn't stuck in a house he hated. Remus was hurt, but Remus was allowed out, to run with wolves.

Sirius knew it was unfair to think that, but inwardly he couldn't help but get angry at the sheer irony of it all. That Remus, who wanted nothing but a safe life, was out doing the most dangerous job possible, spying on werewolves, while he, Sirius, who loved the thrill and the rushing excitement of danger, was stuck inside.

Now I sit by my window

And I watch the cars go by

There were two views from Grimmauld Place, the one that looked out onto the street and the one that overlooked the garden. Of the two, he preferred the street, the garden held too many memories. The street was full of movement, people, bikes, noisy muggle traffic, and on the days he knew they were coming he could watch out for the Order members, hurrying around with furtive expressions.

They were quite easy to spot. The only exception, to his great annoyance, was Snape, who strolled up to the door as if he were a normal muggle on everyday business, before casually sloping in. Probably his muggle upbringing, Sirius thought with an inward sneer.

But it was lonely. And so boring. When he got fed up with staring out the window he'd use up some time mooching angrily around the house, like a sulky black shadow. Every room, every ornament, every crack in the wall held a memory; here was the bend in the corridor where him and Regulus would crouch, listening to his parents arguing; this was the lamp stand that Bellatrix had knocked over when she'd been ten, there was still a slight crack down the side where his mother had imperfectly tried to mend it.

Sometimes he would go into the hallway, smash the troll umbrella stand against the floor and spend an enjoyable few hours shouting back at his mother's portrait, saying all the things he'd never quite dared to say while he was alive. But Dumbledore had stopped him doing that as well, in his anger he tended to let things slip, things that Dumbledore didn't want Kreature to hear.

I fear I'll do some damage

One fine day

How long would he have to stay here? He lay back on the bed, sinking into a fit of melancholy depression that he knew from experience might last several hours. It helped pass the time, which was what his life seemed to have become nowadays, and endless series of ways to use up time.

Was this really a life? Here he was, lying back, trying to make his life pass by as quickly as possible, but why? There didn't seem to be any purpose to it. The only thing he could hope for was that someday somebody would capture Pettigrew; Peter was his only ticket to freedom.

He spiralled downwards, deeper into the lethargic blackness. What if they didn't? What if Pettigrew died before he could be captured? Would he have to stay at Grimmauld Place his entire life? There would only be Dumbledore's word against a large number of witnesses. He would have to spend the rest of his life watching his life flash past him. Useless, wasted.

He couldn't do it. He wasn't even sure how much longer he could last like this. How long before he just walked out the door, to take his own chances in the muggle world. He could get Mundungus to pawn all the silver floating around the house (he didn't like it anyway, he was always worried Moony might touch some by accident) and buy a ticket to France. Hitchhike through Europe, he'd keep his wand with him encase anything went wrong. Maybe he could find the motorbike again.

Would he ever be allowed out? If Harry was in trouble (and he seemed to have plenty of enemies this year), would that count as an adequate reason for him to leave the house?

Still I would not be convicted

By a jury of my peers

Sirius decided that it would. After all, the whole point was to keep Harry safe, that was what they were all working for. It was his duty as both as Godfather and as a member of the Order of the Phoenix to ensure Harry's continuing survival.

Snape would complain, but Remus would support him. Sirius mentally ran through a list of Order members. Moody would probably support him too, and he could always count on Mundungus. McGonnagle, maybe. Molly Weasley, defiantly, anything to protect her precious Harry. Kingsley, probably. All in all he reckoned he'd have quite a good chance of getting away with it, if Harry really needed the help.

Still crazy, after all these years

He sunk into gloom again, after all the problem was not so much going to help Harry, as finding out whether Harry was in trouble in the first place. The boy was like James, never willing to ask for help if he thought he could manage alone. Snape called it stubborn pride, but to Sirius it was a mark of independence and bravery.

He'd keep a close watch on the floo network, and try to contact the boy more often. He'd have to badger Dumbledore for news too.

He brightened up a bit at the thought. After all, Harry had managed to get into spectacular and dangerous trouble pretty much on a yearly basis since he'd come to Hogwarts. And whatever he managed this year, Sirius would be there. Helping him, fighting with him, Black and Potter, magical mischief makers once more.

Oh, still crazy

Still crazy

Still crazy after all these years.