The morning after Sirius received the letter, he was completely okay. At least, to everyone else he seemed perfectly okay. He dissected what he called his parents' "ridiculous ramblings" with James and, at the end of the conversation, jokingly asked him if he had a spare room for his oldest and best friend because he wasn't sure if he was still allowed at number twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Of course I do; my parents love you, remember?"

"Who doesn't?" Sirius asked.

"But they're gone over the holidays, so we're both stuck here."

"No problem," Sirius said, a lazy grin on his face. "I always spend Christmas here."

"I'll go write them right now."

James stood up to leave the table, leaving Sirius and Remus alone with Peter, who was focused intently on the fried sausage he was currently devouring.

"Did you see, there's a Hogsmeade trip in a few days, last one before break," Remus declared.

"Yeah, I did," Sirius answered. "I was thinking of buying one of those letters that bursts into flames that smell like farts from Zonko's and sending one to the parents." His eyes gleamed as he added, "and one to dear old McGonagall, of course."

"Do you want her to take more points from Gryffindor?"

"How would she know it was me?"

"Come on, Sirius," Remus said with a small, fond smile. "That has you or James written all over it."

"No it does not!" Sirius said, indignation clear in his voice. "It could be anyone."

"Really, Sirius," Remus said. "You both lack subtlety, and the fart thing would be a dead giveaway."

"Oh, and you have subtlety?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"Well then, Remus Lupin," Sirius said with one of his playful grins that made his dimples appear. "I might need to employ your assistance for my next mischievous endeavor."

"Impressive vocabulary, Sirius," Remus said, eyes sparkling. "And, to reward you for the use of big words, I would love to help."

"Knew you would," Sirius said, eyes sparkling as he surveyed the smile Remus tried to fight off his face. "What would you do if you'd never met us, Rem?"

"Oh, I'd probably be much better off."

"Would not, and you know it."

Remus threw a greasy sausage at Sirius, who ducked and retaliated with a half-chewed piece of bacon. They both grinned at each other, and Remus was glad that they were still friends. The conversation from the night before was still tucked into his memory, but he knew that Sirius was determined to ignore it. Whatever it took, he would bring it up again and make his friend feel better, because he could see the red rings around Sirius' sparkling grey eyes and the unusual pallid tone to his skin. Despite all of his relief that they were still close, Remus couldn't help but feel an aching in his chest for his friend.

…

The day of the Hogsmeade trip dawned clear and bright, the ceiling of the great hall was a sheet of pearly grey clouds that glowed with the sunlight peaking through them. Sirius and Remus were some of the first in the queue at the front door. Filch eyed them suspiciously and had a scowl on his face as he allowed them to pass, his beady and suspicious eyes followed them as they avoided the piles of snow on their walk towards the gate.

Sirius got a gleam in his eye as he watched Remus, staring around at the evergreen coated in snow, a small smile on his face, which was pink from the cold. He turned to the side of the dirt path, where snow was piled at least a foot high, and scooped some of the powder into his hands. He carefully formed a snowball and threw it at the side of Remus' face.

It hit his cheek with a smack and slid down, now partially liquid, onto his shoulder. Remus turned to glare at Sirius, one side of his face now entirely pink from cold, and half of his hair matted to his head with freezing water. His cheeks heated up in embarrassment and Sirius began to laugh, clutching his stomach and doubling over with glee.

"You're face –," he cut off and gasped to catch his breath between giggles. "Is priceless!"

Remus narrowed his eyes and shoved Sirius' shoulders. He quickly lost his balance and tumbled into the pile of snow behind him, arms and legs flailing, a half-surprised, half-betrayed look on his handsome face. Remus grinned and stuck his pink tongue out at Sirius.

"You git!" He stood up, shaking the snow off his back in a move oddly reminiscent of his dog counterpart.

"You started it," Remus taunted.

"Oh you are going down," Sirius threatened, looking at his soaked and freezing cloak. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but you are going to get it."

"I'm sure you'll forget about it tomorrow," Remus said mildly as they advanced towards the collection of snow-covered shops and houses that was Hogsmeade.

"Don't bet on it."

"Oh, I am," Remus said with a smile. "Let's go get a butterbeer and dry off before we decide what your prank is going to be."

"You mean our prank," Sirius corrected.

"No, I mean yours."

Remus pushed the door to the Three Broomsticks open and they were greeted by a rush of warm air and the chatter of happy customers. The bell over the door tinkled as they walked in.

"Hey, you're helping me with this," Sirius said. "It's ours."

"No." Remus spoke as if he was talking to an extremely slow individual. "It's yours, with a bit of help from me. I'm not getting too mixed up with this."

He walked up to the shining mahogany bar, Sirius behind him with a frown on his face, and ordered two butterbeers from Madame Rosmerta. Once he'd paid and they'd found seats at a small table bathed in dusty light from the window, they sat and began to discuss their plans.

"So what was wrong with the exploding-fart letter idea?"

"I've already told you, Sirius. It has you or James written all over it."

"Since when are you so interested in the success of my pranks, Rem?" Sirius gazed at his friend curiously over the rim of his mug of foaming butterbeer.

"Since your pranks may lose points for Gryffindor," Remus snapped.

"So, you're not the least bit concerned for my well being?" Sirius pouted at him.

"Of course I am, you idiot," he said, kicking Sirius beneath the table. A smile spread across his face as they leaned in closer, discussing in hushed whispers their plans for Sirius' holiday prank.

…

James was much later for breakfast than his companions had been that morning. Four days later, he was still mulling over what Lilly had said.

Had he really been responsible for the destruction of that many of her relationships? Was he the one responsible for making her lonely, unhappy, and not all the other boyfriends she'd had, as he'd previously thought? Could she possibly be as lonely as he was?

The thoughts plagued him like mosquitoes buzzing around in his head; he swatted them away, but they kept coming back, until he eventually gave up and let them attack the insides of his brain. He paid attention to nothing he was eating, and he was about to accidentally drink a bottle of ketchup instead of the coffee in front of him when he spotted Lilly walking into the room.

Her red hair glinted in the late morning sun. She looked happier than she had that night in the common room, but she still didn't look his way as she walked past him to sit with her friends. James instantly put the ketchup bottle down, not wondering why it was in his hands, and slid down to where she was sitting.

"Good morning, my flower," he said with a grin, plucking a piece of bacon off her plate.

"Potter," she said indifferently.

"Look, love, I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other night," he said.

"Don't call me 'love'," she said with an exhausted sigh. She picked at the scrambled eggs on her plate, staring at them and refusing to look at James.

"Well, darling, I can't help it if you really are my love."

"Just can it Potter."

She stood up and walked away to join the queue at the tall oak doorways of the great hall, leaving a plate full of food. James watched her go sadly, ignoring her friends' confused and angry glares, and picked a few more pieces of bacon off her plate before sliding back down the bench to where he had been sitting before.

In Hogsmeade Lilly was easily found at a table in the Three Broomsticks, but James wasn't in the mood to be rejected twice in the same morning, so he took a table with Peter and moaned to him about all of his woes.

"She just won't give me a chance!" he whined.

"She would like you if she did."

"I know! Everyone else does."

"See, I think that's the kind of attitude that she doesn't like," Peter said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"All I'm saying is that you should try and be a little humble."

"Geez, someone's channeling their inner-Remus today," James said with a laugh.

"After years of listening to Remus tell you the same thing, it's not exactly too hard."

"Eureka!" James shot into the air, a broad smile back on his face. "I know what I'll do."

He dashed out of the warm pub and into the frozen streets, nearly slipping on the ice outside. Peter was left alone. He finished his butterbeer and then shuffled off to find Remus and Sirius.

Since when had those two spent so much time together, anyways?

…

The common room was full of people, with their faces pink from the cold and their pockets overflowing with sweets from Honeyduke's. Remus, Sirius, James, and Peter had met up again at their spot by the warm fire, each was exhausted from the trip, and each said almost nothing because of their exhaustion.

Remus relaxed lazily in a seat he'd pulled up by the fire, sitting crooked with his feet hanging over the armrest, a large leather bound book resting on his knees and his glasses flashing in the firelight.

"What're you reading?" Sirius asked curiously. He squinted at the golden text stamped into the book cover. "The Obscure Ways of Werewolves?" He asked, surprise coloring his tone. "Why would you want to read something like that?"

There was a pause in which James spotted Lilly standing up, yawning, and retreating to the girl's dormitories.

"Well, I'm off," James said before Remus could answer, leaping up and pulling Peter with him. "Peter and I have something to do, right?"

"Um, sure?"

"Of course we do. G'night."

The trotted off, up to the dorms, and Sirius wrinkled his eyebrows questioningly at James' back.

"I'm reading it because I want to find at least one werewolf that was good, one that history hasn't remembered as inherently evil and worthless. I'm on page 713 and I still have nothing." Remus gave a delayed answer to the question, a defeated tone in his voice.

You'll find someone good.

Who cares? Historians are all ass holes. Everyone looks bad from their perspective.

You're good. That's all that matters.

These were all things Sirius wanted to say, but instead he straightened up and said:

"Well, good luck with that. I'm off to the shower."

"I'm right behind you," Remus answered. "As soon as I finish this chapter."

Sirius glanced at the page and saw the chapter heading at the top: Elmer the Evil: The Beginning of the Werewolf Purist Age.

After reading two and a half more pages about how Elmer the Evil hated everyone but his werewolf clan, Remus came to the dark end of the chapter, which was the tale of Elmer's slaying by a powerful good wizard. He marked his page and snapped the book shut, his eyes and mind tired. Tomorrow was the beginning of the Winter Holidays and he was staying at Hogwarts with James, Sirius, and Peter. He was determined to lay the book aside until after Christmas, because the holidays were for fun, not for brooding on your inherent and inescapable wickedness.

Upstairs, he walked into the dorms where James and Peter looked as if they were actually doing something important. They were sitting across from each other on James' bed, sealing a letter with wax. James had a gleeful grin on his face, Peter looked skeptical.

"What're you two doing?" Remus asked curiously after James giggled.

"I'm only winning Lilly's heart, for real this time."

"That's what you said last time, mate." He was skeptical at best.

"Your pessimism will not bring me down!" James declared.

"Whatever you say, James."

Remus gathered his things and headed for the showers at the very top of the tower containing the boy's dorms, a fluffy towel and a bar of soap in his hands. He could hear the showers going, and knew that Sirius would be in there. He just hoped that Sirius wouldn't do his rendition of Celestina Warbeck while Remus was trying to enjoy some peace.

"Hey," he said as he pushed the door open and walked in.

Sirius nodded to him, he was concealed from the knee up and from the shoulder down in a shower stall. Remus began to undress and hang his clothes on a hook outside a stall three doors down from Sirius', unaware of the curious grey eyes on him.

Sirius almost always inspected Remus whenever he could, not because Remus was so attractive (which he was, Sirius admitted to himself) but because he was always watching for new scars, new bruises, and new signs that the werewolf in Remus was still getting the better of him. Tonight, there was nothing new but the already present raised scar tissue on his pale torso and back. One sickeningly deep line ran from his shoulder blade, around his body, to rest just below his naval. Sirius shuddered.

"Water cold?" Remus asked.

"What? Um, no," Sirius said, caught off guard. He ripped his eyes off Remus.

Thoughts were entering his head at a mile a minute because, as he uncontrollably sought discreet glances at a completely naked Remus, he came to a revelation that had been hiding in the back of his mind for some time, a tiny inkling that on this night had exploded into a full fledged feeling. His mind reeled with the idea that he found Remus Lupin attractive.

He always had. This was his second mind numbing revelation. He'd always noticed the way Remus' hair shone, the way his thin body was still toned, the way his skin was smooth and soft save for the disfigurements running down it, the way his brown eyes weren't really brown, but a light, warm gold. It was also the way he curled up to read, the way his eyes expressed everything running through his head, the way his pink mouth curled into a dreamy smile at the sappiest Celestina Warbeck songs.

"Um, okay, bye then."

Sirius leapt out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his hips as quickly as he could, shaking out his shaggy mane of wet hair and barely drying the moisture from his skin before leaping into his pajamas. He was out the door, a slightly confused werewolf left in his wake.

"Okay then."

Remus rolled his eyes and continued showering.

…

James had the letter that Remus had been curiously inspecting clutched so tightly in his hands that he was leaving wrinkles in the thick, yellow, parchment. He'd dragged Peter up to the owlery for moral support and the younger boy babbled and bounced from foot to foot, trying to ward off the cold, as he picked one of the small, fast owls from the top of the tower.

"Deliver this to Lilly Evans tonight, in the Gryffindor Tower, girl's dormitories," he said to the owl, even though the address was written on the outside of the parchment in his untidy scrawl. The small owls were never exactly intelligent, and he wanted to ensure that the letter got to its destination that night. The owl hooted, its hoot sounded more like the chirp of a tiny bird, but James took this to mean that it understood. A few seconds later it took off into the night and he watched it go wistfully until it curved around the side of the castle, on its way to Gryffindor tower.

He was suddenly overtaken by a fit of nerves.

"Are you sure the letter was okay?"

"You need to talk to Remus about those kinds of things," Peter muttered. "It seemed okay, but you know I'm a dunce."

James grimaced momentarily at Peter.

"That you are. Come on, I want to get back before that letter gets to her."

He sprinted out of the owlery, leaving a blinking and surprised Peter behind. Peter eventually gathered his senses and waddled after him, out of the freezing owlery that smelled like bird poop, and into the equally as cold corridor.

…

The lights of candles glowed in the Gryffindor girl's dormitories. Lilly sat on her bed, throwing away her pictures of Justin, frames and all. She'd decided that, Potter or not, Justin was a jerk. The dorm around her smelled overwhelmingly of perfume and scented candles. No one else had come to bed yet, and she was all alone.

An owl swooped noisily in, tiny wings fluttering, and with loud hoots that sounded more like the chirps of tiny birds than an actual owl.

"Hey, little guy," she said fondly as he landed on her bed and stuck out his leg. She patted his soft head. "Are you sure you have the right person?"

She checked his leg and, sure enough, the note was to her. It was written in untidy scrawl that she was sure was James'. It just looked like him; messy, rushed, and pompous. She didn't question how a person's handwriting could look pompous.

"Oh, I guess it is for me. Well, thank you."

She took the note, dumped it on her bed, took the tiny owl on her arm, and stood up. She walked barefoot across the cold stone floor and released him through the open window. She half considered throwing the letter away, but instead she found herself sliding her finger under the wax seal to break it open.

"Dearest Lilly," it read.

"I love you. I know that you know this already, but I thought you should hear it without me making a scene and embarrassing you. Secondly, I thought that you should know that I'm an idiot and I'm sorry for all the grief I've caused you (I'm sure you were already aware of the former). Thirdly and lastly, I want you to know that I'm not giving up on you, even if I have to chase you until we're both a hundred.

"Forever yours,

"James"

In the corner of the note was a clumsily drawn rose that James had obviously put a lot of effort into. There was an arrow pointing to it and the words "I forgot to buy you a rose in Hogsmeade. Here's a drawing of one instead." were written above it.

Lilly folded the note and threw it away.

She fell back onto her pillow, extinguished her candle, and crossed her arms angrily over her chest. She would not be pathetic and cave after reading a short note, even though it made her heart melt and her guts twist. Besides, that gut twisting feeling was probably from eating a bad piece of tuna casserole at dinner.

She sat straight up, pulled the note from the waste bin, and stowed it in a drawer her bedside table. She slammed the drawer shut angrily.

She wasn't saving the note. She was just saving parchment.

A/N:

I. Am. So. Tired.

I have about a million storie to update on here and on fictionpress. I'm taking them in cycles, so please don't hurt me for updating slowly. I only checked this once because, once again, I'm lazy and my eyes hurt.

Review. Because I'm a review whore and if you don't I probably won't bother uploading the next chapters, whenever I finish them.