A/N: I know I haven't replied to some of your reviews, but I've been a bit too busy lately, but I'll reply as soon as I can, I promise :) Also, I don't think I'll be able to update in the next couple weeks or so because of exams and everything, so I'm going to post the chapter after this one too.

Anyway, thank you so much for the reviews, the follows, the favorites, and simply for just reading. It means the world to me, you guys.

I storm out of the room, leaving Remus, James and any trace of concern behind. Setting out to find Maggie, my thoughts flare up in anger.

What right did James have to tell me who I am? Why would he insist that I'm queer when I'm clearly not? It's rubbish, really, how he acted. You can't hold someone responsible for the things they say after two bottles of Firewhiskey.

Although I do have the tendency to blurt things out while intoxicated, it's not like that behavior is set in stone. There's no actual basis to accuse me of leading Remus on. Nothing is credible reasoning once alcohol is involved.

James is being completely mental. And I'm going to prove that the way Sirius Black knows best.

"You said... you wanted… t-to … wait," she breathes out in between kisses.

I pin her down on her bed, my bare chest against her trembling torso. I swing a leg over her, straddling her hips. Leaning down, I whisper mischievously, "And you said you were going to study, but looks like things change."

Her blouse is hanging open and I press my lips against her neck. She tilts her head, allowing me more access. I grunt as she arcs up in response, grinding her hips against mine. She whimpers, wrapping her soft legs around me, hitching her skirt up.

"You're gonna get in so much trouble for letting me into your dorm," I tease huskily.

"W-what made you change your mind, though?" she practically moans out, ignoring my comment, as I reach down between her thighs.

What changed my mind? I try to search my mind for an appropriate answer only to force my thoughts blank again as only one name comes up.

"Well," I mutter a little too bitterly as I tug down her skirt. "It doesn't matter."

"Really?" she sighs and I feel her hands fumbling with my belt.

I grin at her convincingly.

"Really," I lie.

Blinking away my grogginess, the first thing I see is the ceiling of a four-poster bed and I almost let myself go back to sleep. Then, I realize that it's surrounded by blue and bronze hangings instead of my crimson ones.

I'm confused for a moment or two, until I feel something heavy and warm next to me. I turn around to see Maggie curled up naked beneath the sheets. I suddenly remember what I'm doing here and feel my heart drop.

Did I really just sleep with her after months of insisting we should wait because I needed to prove a point? I rub my temples, feeling every ounce of guilt that I blocked out a few hours ago.

Not only did I completely use her, I used her to defend my argument. And not just any argument. An argument that I pursued with full force to defend my own wellbeing and to hurt my best friend.

As frustrated as I am at Remus, he didn't deserve that. Merely hours ago, I was setting out to talk to him and make amends. But of course, the bona fide Black pride got in the way and walked all over what was left of my good intentions.

I just wish I had more control over myself. I could've just talked things out with him, the way he deserves. Just explain to him that I am definitely not queer and that it was nothing personal. It's just the way I am. Show him that that drunken night was nothing but a mistake, and that I am willing to move past it.

But instead, I yelled about how wrong his feelings are and declared that I would shag my girlfriend after shoving it in his face. How delightful of me.

I face Maggie and feel horrible. She deserves more than this. More than some shag that was only half-meant heartedly, if at all.

She mumbles unintelligibly in her sleep, with her blanket tucked beneath her chin. Her hair is splayed across the soft pillows, rustling as she shifts around. Her breathing is steady and she looks so peaceful and content.

Gods, I'm an arse.

I rub her bare shoulder and lean closer to her. "Maggie?"

She hums, nudging my hand away.

"Maggie," I repeat softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Wake up."

Groaning, she pulls the blankets tighter around her, her eyes still shut. "Sleepy. Tired."

I chuckle. "Come on, we've been sleeping for a while now and I think your roommates are back," I whisper, trying to squint through the gaps in the bed's curtains.

"Your fault. You wore me out," she mutters, but with a smile on her face this time.

I grin. "At least open your eyes when you talk to me."

She whines, "Too much effort, sweetie."

Laughing, I kiss her forehead. "I have to get back to my dorm now."

"Do you have to?"

Do I have to? Well, of course not. I could easily just spend the rest of the night here with her and wake up to her beaming face. But that feels wrong, given the circumstances. I can't bear to just continue lying here with her, pretending there was no ulterior motive to what I did with her. I don't think I can fall asleep again anyway, not with the remorse eating me slowly from the inside out.

"Yeah," I lie. "I promised James I'd help him warm up first thing tomorrow."

Then I realize how stupid that sounded. How exactly can I help James warm up when I'm not on the team and have to stay on steady ground, while warming up requires him zooming around at least thirty feet up in the air?

But I guess she's too drained to notice because she just nods against her pillow. "See you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, of course," I say, my voice shaking slightly as I retrieve my trousers from the foot of her bed.

I swing my legs over the bed and put them on. Toeing on my shoes as I reach down the floor to grab my shirt, I hear her murmur again.

"Goodnight."

Grinning, I pull the shirt on me, and, over my shoulder, say, "Goodnight, Maggie."

Bending over to grab my jacket, I almost fall off the bed when she mumbles something so softly, I almost don't hear it.

"I love you, Sirius."

My throat goes dry and my heart starts hammering. Needles of shame and anxiety pierce my skin. I almost say that I love her too… But that would be a lie, and I've already done more than enough awful things today. I can'tdo that to her.

Still at lost for what to say, I turn back to her nervously, only to find her snoring lightly, fallen back to sleep.

I rub my eyes as if I can wipe off the tiredness and guilt, and get up. I peek through the curtains and see that her roommates are already asleep in their beds. Gingerly, I tiptoe out of the room and close the door softly behind me.

As I am out of my uniform, I don't attract that much attention, but my presence still doesn't go unnoticed. Hurrying out of their Common Room, I catch a lot of judgmental glares and curious faces following me. It doesn't trigger a scene, however, as they all just return their attention to their books and whispered conversations not long after.

I let out a sigh of relief once I'm out in the hallway. Ravenclaws are by far the most intimidating house, if I'm being honest. Sure, Gryffindors are reckless and Slytherins are rather sinister, but Ravenclaws are quiet and observant and witty. They're intelligent. The kind of intelligent that will know what to do with you (in a perfectly executed manner that you can't even begin to decipher) if you do them wrong.

Which is why I should stop screwing around with Maggie.

Groaning to myself, I shove my hands into my pockets and make my way back to the safety and familiarity of Gryffindor Tower.

Safe and familiar is not what greets me as I step into the Common Room.

It is empty except for Frank, Alice and a few fifth years who've fallen asleep on the couches. As I come closer, I realize that a couple of them are Isaac Wood and Alec Chang. Smirking to myself, I wonder how James will react when he finds out that his teammates are passing out drunk before the game tomorrow.

Yawning, I jog up the stairs to our dorm room, hoping that Peter and James are asleep to save me the inevitable interrogation. And I can't even begin to think about where Remus might be.

As I push the door open, I raise my eyebrows at the sight.

Peter certainly is asleep and snoring blissfully in his own bed, but Remus is nowhere to be seen. The bathroom door is open and I can't hear a sound that might signify that he is in there.

However, what surprises me, is seeing James and Lily on my bed, sitting cross-legged and facing each other. They're hunched over the small gap between them, whispering. It isn't until I clear my throat loudly that they notice I've walked into the room.

"Hey… there," I say slowly, eyeing them suspiciously.

I expect either a shy expression or a smug one on James' face, but I get neither. Instead, he seems concerned and tired as he looks at me. "Oh… hey."

"Am I interrupting something or…?" I prompt.

Lily shakes her head and gets up from the bed. She shoots me a dry smile and says, "No, it's okay. I was leaving anyway." She turns to James. "Good luck on the game tomorrow."

An elated look flashes in his eyes. "You're coming?"

She gives him a tiny smile. "Yeah… Well, see you tomorrow."

He nods and waves, as she exits the room, looking at me apprehensively as she passes.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing, she just wanted to talk to me about something. She couldn't sleep and..." he trails off.

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Well, you two certainly are getting cozy."

His eyes, still focused on the door, find mine, and his joyful expression fades.

"I'm not really in the mood to talk to you right now, Sirius."

"Seriously? Look, I know I was being a prick, but Remus was also –"

"Neither of you," James corrected. "I'm not in the mood to talk to either of you."

I approach him cautiously as he transfers to his own bed. "Prongs, come on, I'm sorry I acted so terrible, it's just that you don't understand –"

He holds a hand up, stopping me, as he shuffles under his sheets. "I'm not mad and I'm not fishing for an apology. I'm always gonna be here to deal with whatever drama you two have triggered again. I'm not angry because I have to be here for you guys, okay?" he says with an exhausted exhale. "It's just that... I have a game tomorrow… well, now that it's past midnight, and I'm completely knackered, I'm not up to dealing with it tonight, okay?"

I stop myself from replying and just nod. I head to my bed and curl up under the covers, facing him. "I really am sorry for snapping like that, though."

He turns to me, clutching his pillow, and sighs. "Don't apologize. I should be the last name you cross out on your list of people you have to say sorry to. You still have Remus to deal with. And if you did what I think you did, Margaret too."

I look at him sadly. "I know."

"Sometimes, I doubt that," he mutters. And with that, he grabs his wand from under his pillow and waves it to enclose his bed with the red hangings, leaving me alone with the room's taunting silence and his last remark resounding in my head.

My eyes flicker over to Remus' empty bed. I stretch my arm out to my nightstand, only to realize that the Map is gone and that he must've taken it to wherever he is sulking. He always does that whenever he needs to be alone.

I feel disappointed for a moment, but get over it quickly. After all, I wouldn't know what to do even if I did know where he is.

REMUS POV

It took a lot to get rid of James. He was fussing over me, trying to comfort me. By the time I managed to shake him off long enough to escape to the prefects' bathroom, it was already nine in the evening, since I was faced with also trying to get out of the Common Room before Frank got too persistent in his bid for me to join him and Anthony in getting drunk. I called Alice over to tell her about Frank's plans for Anthony for the night. Although that didn't stop him from downing the rum he had – along with other drinks that he claims are essential for a birthday celebration – her scolding distracted the both of them and Anthony's roommates (who also looked forced to be there) enough for me to escape. And also enough for me to nick one of the bottles, unnoticed.

A few hours have passed and I've still gone uninterrupted in the prefects' bathroom.

My shaking hands clutch at the edge of the sink, as I peer into the mirror through my messy locks that have now fallen untidily onto my face.

I look dreadful. Bleak eyes, bloodshot and drained from all the pathetic crying, stare back at me. My hair is all over the place. My chin is still trembling – from anger or heartbreak, I can't exactly tell right now. Tear tracks stripe my pale cheeks.

Feeling the buzz in my veins, I cast a glance at the floor where a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey sits. I can't bring myself to feel guilty or ashamed for stealing it from Frank. You'd reckon that considering what caused all this, I'd never go near alcohol again. But I've cracked, and the heavens know I could really use anything capable of taking the edge off.

Leaning down to grab the bottle, I bring it to my mouth. I take another gulp, wincing at the burning – but definitely relieving – sensation burning a path down my throat.

This is such a bad idea.

Actually, that's an understatement. I'm getting drunk just days away from the full moon; how fantastic of me. It's like I've grown totally foreign to the mere idea of self-preservation. I feel like my IQ has diminished severely this year… Or maybe that's just the Firewhiskey.

My head already feels like a puddle. Stagnant and dampening. However, I'm not quite drunk yet. It takes way more for me to blackout than it does Sirius. Getting intoxicated has got to go to a dangerous extent for it to infiltrate my decision-making faculties, even though it does make me more impulsive. Ironically, that bothers me, because that way, I can't blame the alcohol for kissing Sirius back – kissing him as if I thought it meant something to him – without as much as a second thought.

Thoughts of the scene earlier in the dorm room start flooding my mind. The things he said…

Did I really think that he could ever love me back, anyway? After six months – Merlin, it's been half a year – of incessant fighting and tension, am I really just realizing now that the idea of him ever wanting me back is nothing but a sad delusion?

I've always known that falling in love was extremely dangerous. It makes you latch onto and intensify feelings that are already hard to deal with in the first place. But I guess I never truly grasped the full extent of its risks until I fell for my best friend.

Of course, I knew that it was a long shot. The chances of getting loved by the person you want are terrifyingly slim, regardless of all the happy endings I've read in books. But, human as I am, it's always been hard to completely rid myself of every glimmer of hope. It's a natural tendency for people to hold onto the fact that anything is possible. The thing is, although that is true, just because anything is possible, that doesn't mean that everything that is possible will happen. All this time, has there really been any hope left deposited at the back of my mind?

I sigh, knowing the answer to that. Ever since the kiss, even with all the arguments and shutting each other out, a part of me – and not even a small part of me – had hope that that drunken night's events had some trace of truth in them for Sirius. He talked about how too much femininity turns him off. He talked about wanting to try things out with blokes. He talked about wanting to try them with me. And, of course, the clincher, he kissed me out of the blue. He kissed me. Drunk or not, that's supposed to mean something.

Or at least, I thought it did.

So pathetic. My grip tightens on the bottle as I take another swig.

Hearing his conversation with James through the door was an eye-opener. It made me see just how much trust I still had in him, despite everything. With everything he said, I just grew even more furious, but not at him. It's not his fault that he can't reciprocate these feelings. No, I was enraged at myself because I've spent three years falling asleep to the thought of those silver eyes. Because I now realize that it was only when I heard their conversation that I shut out any nagging hope. Because someone as well-read and logical as me should have known better than to fall for someone. Because being a boy who knows the consequences of losing control, I should know that the pull of desire is frighteningly similar to the pull of the moon.

Because, despite everything, I'm still in love with him. And because, despite everything, later, I'll still fall asleep to the thought of those silver eyes.

How did I let this get so out of hand?

With my hands still quaking in anger at myself, I put the almost-empty bottle back on the floor and return my gaze to my beaten up reflection. I see a boy trying to get drunk because of unrequited love. I've become a cliché. Although, it's not that clichéd. After all, it's hardly every day that you come across a gay werewolf who lacks the thing he needs to keep himself together.

But then again, what do I need? Love? I'm definitely done with that. Trust? That has inflicted upon me incomprehensible amounts of irreparable scares. Sirius?

I laugh bitterly at the very thought. Sirius is definitely the last thing I need right now. Or ever.

As soon as I back up against the wall, my quivering legs give way, causing me to drop to the floor. Through the thin fabric of my shirt, I can feel the cold tiles of the wall.

Sirius is fucking me up. Surely, I don't need any of that.

Then, his face flashes through my mind and my heart does a nervous flip. Slowly, I push myself up off the floor, stumbling slightly. Fumbling for something in my pocket, I try to keep my mind from reeling.

I pull out the map and tap it, slurring out the incantation. After a quick scan, I spot the dot next to his name. Almost urgently, I make my way out to the bathroom and set out to meet him.

I don't need Sirius.

But I need to make one more mistake.

Preview:

"I don't think it would have made a difference if I was sober anyway. I would still want you."