This is it. The end of Losing Hope. The end of Sam and Sirius. I do not own Harry Potter.

Epilogue:

Rain beats the windows of the houses along the street. A man with a fake eye and leg stamps a large stick on the ground three times. A grating sound erupts from the building as it begins to stretch apart revealing the secret address. Number 12, Grimauld Place.

Inside, a younger man by the name of Sirius Black stared out the window at the rainy street below. His long dark hair lay in tangled knots just above his shoulders; his skin marked with tattoos. His sunken expression from years of depression made him look much older than he really was. His time in Azkaban had changed him in ways nothing else could.

Papers lay scattered about the floor of the room; the bed lay unmade, and the floor could not be seen. The room was never clean. Not since he was a boy.

A knock on the door startled him from his sleepless dreaming, and a young boy with messy hair and glasses stood in the doorway. Sirius almost smiled at the sight of his, now fifteen year old, godson. The only family he had left.

"Sirius?" Harry asked when he saw the look of his Godfather's face. He often worried about his godfather's health, as Sirius spent most of his time locked away in his room. Since Harry had come to Grimauld Place a few weeks earlier, Sirius had brightened up a bit, but not enough to hide the sorrow that glinted in his eyes, replacing the once joyful gaze. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sirius said not wanting to alarm his godson. In reality, he was not okay. He never was okay. Not since it happened. "What are you doing up here?"

Harry seemed to blush. "I wanted to ask you a question," he said finally. "A—about a girl." Sirius's expression softened, and he did laugh now. Harry, so unlike his father, became very shy and quiet when it came to girls.

Sitting in one of the two chairs in the room, he motioned for Harry to take the other. "Tell me about this girl," he said. "Anyone I know?" Harry quickly shook his head refusing to tell who this mystery girl was.

"She's a sixth year," he admitted looking at the ground. Sirius chuckled.

"After the older women are you then?" he teased. "What's her name?"

After a long pause, Harry finally whispered, "Cho." Sirius nodded.

"Does she like you?" he asked. Harry shrugged.

"She was going out with Cedric," he mumbled.

"I see," Sirius said. "Well, you've gotta be better than he was. Show her what a great guy you are." Harry looked confused.

"How?" he asked. Sirius stared at him.

"How?" he repeated. "You're Harry Potter! The boy who lived! He was Cedric, the boy in Hufflepuff who was killed by Voldemort. He's got nothing over you." Harry seemed to consider this a moment.

"Sirius?" he asked again. "Was there ever a girl in your life? I mean, a special girl?" Harry, like many others, had heard of Sirius's player habits.

Sirius sighed thinking back to the day he hated remembering. Slowly, he began to nod. "Yes," he half whispered. "There was—once."

"What was her name?" Harry asked curiously.

Sirius smiled as memories rushed through his mind. "Sam. Her name was Sam." Standing, he walked over to the small desk in the room and opened the drawer he'd kept locked ever since that night. He removed the picture, gazing at it momentarily before handing it to his godson.

Harry stared at the picture for a while. "What was she like?" he asked. Sirius laughed.

"She was perfect. She was funny, sweet, and beautiful. My best friend even before your dad," he said. He handed him another picture. His favorite of all the ones he kept. "That's her." He pointed to one of the six figures in the picture.

"She was really pretty," Harry, said, "Is that you?" He pointed to the younger version of Sirius holding Sam tightly in his arms. Sirius nodded.

"That's your parents," he said pointing again. Harry smiled.

"Who's that?" he asked pointing to the girl Remus held. "With Remus."

"Kaelin. If you want to know more about her, ask Remus," Sirius said. "Just be careful. He's touchy about the subject." Harry nodded still watching the picture.

"What happened to Sam?" he asked. Sirius sighed. He knew the question would come eventually.

"Well," he began.

*Flashback Sirius's POV

Burning ash covered the remains of the ruined house. I could hear screams coming from Sam as she dashed into the wreckage. I watched, shocked at the scene before me. People ran out of their homes desperate to see what had happened. I needed no information. The skull poised above the rubble gave me all my answers. Peter.

I followed Sam slowly, we climbed the stairs in silence, both terrified of what we would find. I saw it before she did. The body of my best friend sprawled across the landing. An expression of terror and anger still masked his face. His glassy eyes stared up at the sky. James.

"No!" I yelled flinging myself past Sam, refusing to believe my best friend was dead. I'd seen him just six months ago, at my wedding. He couldn't be gone! How? Peter couldn't betray us! He couldn't!

I heard Sam's strangled cry from the room to the left. Harry's nursery. Wiping tears from my eyes, I made my way past his body and found Sam clinging to Lily's fragile corpse. The fear in her green eyes now frozen forever.

A small cry from across the room alerted us the small boy in the crib. Wailing, one-year-old Harry watched his mother lying unmoving on the ground. Sam picked him up and rocked him gently calming him down. I heard Hagrid's loud voice booming through the house.

"Is anyone there?" he called.

"We're here!" I said, my voice sounding strangled. Hagrid climbed the steps taking in the scene around him.

"Dumbledore sent me for Harry," he said. "We're going to take him to his Aunt and Uncle's." Sam gasped.

"What about us?" she begged. "We'll take him!" Hagrid shook his head.

"I'm afraid Dumbledore ordered it," he said. "Said you guys had your own business to take care of." I stepped forward.

"Take the bike," I said. My motorcycle, charmed to fly, and most prized possession. "I don't need it." Hagrid nodded, and Sam reluctantly handed over the screaming child.

Within moments, they were gone, and Sam and I simply stood in the wreckage. "I have to go," I said. Sam looked frightened.

"Go where?" she gasped. "Peter. Peter was the secret keeper. Wasn't he?" I nodded. She burst into tears.

"I I remember now!" she cried. "He he was a traitor. He was there when I was captured. He gave me the memory modifier."

"I should have known he was a traitor," I hissed. She continued to cry.

"This is all my fault!" she cried. I grabbed her and hugged her tightly. I kissed her softly.

"It's no one's fault except his own. I'm going after him. You go home," I said. She shook her head.

"I'm coming with you," she said. The fire in her eyes told me there was no changing her mind. As much as I wanted to keep her safe, she's come whether I said yes or not.

"All right," I said.

Two hours later, we had him cornered. The little rat had his wand out, hundreds of muggles in plain view. "I'm going to kill you Peter. How could you betray them like this? Betray all of us?" I said.

"You killed them Peter!" Sam skrieked. "You killed Lily and James. You killed Kaelin! You almost killed me! Why? Why would you do that?"

I knew what he was going to do instantly, the moment he raised his wand, and there was nothing I could do. Before I could move a fraction of an inch, the explosion went off. Throwing me backwards, I lost sight of Sam.

"Sam!" I screamed desperate to find her. Why did I let her come? Why? "Sam!" I pushed through the rubble and found her lying on the ground, blood pouring onto the pavement. Her eyes were closed, and she didn't move. Screaming, I tore the rocks away from her body. I tried everything. Everything. It was no use. She was dead, and I couldn't save her.

They came. Oh they came. Hundreds of them. Dragging me to the prison I spent the next twelve years rotting inside. I was blamed for the murder of Sam, for Lily and James. Even for Peter.

I was told I would scream every night, making people think I'd gone insane. Maybe I had. After I lost Sam, the moment when I knew she wasn't coming back, something broke inside of me. Something that can never be repaired.

Sirius finished his story, and Harry simply listened. When he was done, Harry looked knowingly at his Godfather. "You're not a murderer," he said quietly. "Sam wouldn't want you to think that."

With that, he left Sirius alone in the room. Sirius simply sat slumped in the chair for hours as each moment of that night replayed over and over again in his head. It had haunted his dreams each night since it happened. He relived it thousands of times while in Azkaban. Each time he closed his eyes; all he could see was Sam's mangled body underneath the rubble.

Her last words still rang in his mind. The words he'd left out of the story. The words he'd never repeat again to another living soul. "I love you."