Taa daaa... the present again... :P Enjoy ;)

This was the last place he could be. I'd searched everywhere already, everywhere I could think of in the time I had at least. My mind was a farrago of fear, hope, longing. I wanted find him. So much. But the smell that was receding from my old flat was simply rancid – as if something had died in it and then something else had pissed on that. I slipped my wand from my pocket and pointed it at the lock.

"Alohomora"

The door clicked and rolled open a little, ringing against bottles and bottles of rum, whiskey, vodka, beer. I clambered over them, trying to get deeper into the sea of dirt, the stench growing ever stronger. Remus lay festering in a puddle of his own vomit, a bottle of Southern Comfort hanging limply from one hand and the other with a heap of mouldy sandwich resting in its palm, growing up his arm. He looked dead. His body so lifeless, eyes perfectly closed and lips slightly parted, like an angel. If he was dead, he'd probably got alcohol poisoning or choked in his sleep, peaceful ways to go. And, as bad as this may sound, a small part of me smiled for him. Not because I was glad he was dead, but because maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that he was somewhere better than this, with a new life, without a monster like me to ruin it for him. I knelt beside him and kissed a scar I'd never seen before on his forehead, his face still warm. Maybe there was still some hope. Maybe he'd be able to pull back to me. I sighed, closing my eyes.

"Oh, Rems, what have you done to yourself? You're just... so stupid... How long have you know me and you still think I'm a good example to follow."

His head rolled to the side into a pool of sick, getting chucks of god-knows-what stuck in that that appeared to be a developing beard.

"Ugh, c'mon, pull yourself together, man. Rennervate."

He body violently shifted, but then resumed its unresponsive position, groaning a little, the only sign of life.

"For God's sake... and what is this?"

I lifted his hand and reached for a bottle to push the mass of mould that was trying to become one with his hand and possibly the rest of his body.

"Schhhh... schtop..." he dribbled.

I proceeded to jab at the green lump.

"Noooo... iiii... iiiiit's m-my mould faaaaarm!"

His head began to shake, rolling in and out of the sick, splattering orange liquid across the room.

"Stop it, Remus! It's a lump of mould..."

"But it's my lump of mould... my lump of mould..." He began to cry "He's alive and I talk to him. He's my friend. I called him Sirius! Don't take Sirius away, James! Don't take him away!"

"I'm not James, I'm Sirius!" I growled. He was annoying when he was drunk.

"I know you are, my furry little friend." His free hand reached out and stroked the sandwich. "See, James, he talks, he talks!" Then he giggled "And he looks like Sirius as well. That bit's his beard and that one's his nose and that piece of tomato can be his lips... but only if you move it in your head." He scrunched up his face. "Has it moved yet, James? Has it moved?"

I got the bottle and flicked the heap of mould across the room.

"Yep, it's moved."

I was not going to be compared to something green and furry, thank you very much.

He opened his eyes and stared in awe at his now empty hand.

"Where'd Sirius go? Did he run away again? Oh, he left me." He started to cry once more. "He ran off with Snape another time, didn't he? The bastard, he should just rot in a hole!"

"Excuse me, I'm here! I'm not a mouldy sandwich! I'm not eloping with Snape! Get a grip!"

"Oh, hey Siri! I'm supposed to hate you, aren't I?"

I smirked and shook my head.

"Whatever floats your boat, honey, whatever floats your boat. Now, we need to clean you up, don't we?"

Taking his hand and levering him out of his sick onto my shoulder, I lead him to the bathroom and dropped him in the bath. He attempted to scramble out as soon as I aguamentied some water over where he was sitting, giving me quite a struggle while I tried to remove what horror was stuck to the back he'd been lying on for what must have been days, if not weeks. In the end, I settled to handing him a family sized bar of chocolate I'd found in one of the many shopping bags littered across the floor, which he quietly ate as I cleaned the rest of him off and gave his hair a good scrubbing.

I lay him down onto the old, moth-eaten bed that we hadn't used in at least 12 years, planting a sweet kiss on his forehead. Today had been long, hard: I'd cleaned the house back into something that could be lived in and Remus back into something that was almost alive. I wasn't sure if he'd remember I was there or how I'd helped him. But it didn't really matter, because now I knew that at least he was safe, or as safe as he could be for the moment. I stood in the doorway and smiled back at his sleeping body.

"Sweet dreams, Rems. I won't be back for quite a while – I have one promise left and I don't want to break it."

The door creaked to a close behind me. I heard a murmur of sound.

"Wait... Sirius"

I turned and pushed the door open a little, to make sure I wasn't thinking things.

"Why are you going?" he said, voice small, quiet, a little burble of sound as he stared at me with his glowing blue eyes.

"You said I should be nicer to Harry and at the moment he's not in the best of places. He needs my support."

His eyes bulged and he pouted.

"But I need your support."

"You're a grown man, Rems. Don't drink yourself to death." I laughed to hide my genuine fear. "I love you, I'll be back sometime in the next month to check on you. Stay well."

I closed the door on him and walked away. Maybe there was a chance he'd remember me.