The wave of relief that had washed over him after his confession was unfortunately short-lived. He'd been mistaken in thinking that some kind of weight would be lifted from him and he would be renewed. Instead, it had been almost impossible to speak to his dorm-mates that evening. It was as though he'd been stripped naked for everyone to see, or that his secret was written on his forehead. He had mumbled excuses and goodnights before snapping the curtains closed and feigning sleep - barely hearing the muffled conversations around him.

As he lay there in the dark, the worry grew. He could feel it winding, winding, from the sprout in his stomach, up his chest, squeezing his ribs, up his neck and threatening his face. He felt hot and itchy, unable to close his eyes, his thoughts on an endless hamster wheel.

She'll tell, and then I'm done. She'll tell, and then it'll all come to an end. No one will speak to me, my friends will be frightened of me. Parents will write to the headmaster to complain, he'll have to go to the Ministry, he'll be sacked. I'll be sent home, and I'll be hated. My parents will be disappointed. My dad will lose his job. She'll tell and-

He couldn't bear it. The fear of the unknown, the uncontrollable variable, it was all too much. The sense of impending doom, the uncertainty that things would continue as always, or his life would fall apart without warning. He couldn't bear it.

And it continued, night after night. He'd lie awake, trying to anticipate and come to terms with the end of his life as he knew it, alone with his vines and creeping worry and itchy thoughts, hidden behind the curtains. He'd sit up, lie down, toss and turn. He'd get up, creep past his dorm-mates to the bathroom and stare into the mirror, having a strong word with himself. He'd stand under the shower and try to distract himself with the water. He'd sit in the common room and look into the dying fire, try to read or try to sleep on one of the sofas.

Eventually the sky would lighten, the Tower would come to life, and his fears would recede into a niggling worry. He would be swept up in the movement of his friends, following them down to the Hall and picking at his breakfast - trying hard not to meet the gaze of Lily Evans. He would follow them from class to class, resolutely sitting beside Peter to avoid the possibility of having to pair up with her. It was too much to bear.

Thankful for something to distract him for the evening, he had agreed to help Peter with some transfiguration. They sat in the corner of the common room, Remus having tucked himself safely into the shadows, with a textbook and several handfuls of pretty stones on the table before them. Running Peter through the theory of the spell and correcting his attempts, seeing them get closer and closer to accuracy was maybe the only thing that week that had been able to take his mind off his predicament. What a relief.

Finally, after many attempts, Peter tapped the small jade stone and it transformed into a tiny castle turret. Delighted, they both punched the air and grinned at each other.

"Nice," Remus complimented, picking up the little statue to inspect it. "I like the detail-"

Peter hugged him abruptly, earning a surprised squeak from Remus before he looked down at Peter's beaming face. His blue eyes were bordering on veneration.

"Remus, you're a legend! That's the best one I've ever done!" He took the statue from his friend and inspected it himself. "Not even, like, that spell. I mean the best transfiguration I've ever done!"

Remus hoped his blush looked less hot than it felt. It certainly was good. Even in the tiny turret window was the figure of a person waving out. The whole thing was no bigger than a man's thumb.

"Well then, I suppose we'll do the next one?"

18th December

Hi Mam and Dad,

Sorry it's been a little while. Things have been going good. I've got some friends, and I'm okay in class. Remus has been helping me with transfiguration (he's my friend, he's in Gryffendor with me) cos that's the hardest one. I'm pretty good at charms, though!

It's getting Christmassey here now! They're putting the trees up and all that, so even though it's getting really cold, it looks pretty with all the lights and that. I think I even saw a fairy in a tree too. Are they more like bugs, or what? Cos they look a bit like people but then it seems bad that they've got them as decorations.

I'm really looking forward to seeing you both at Christmas. What have Liam and Pat been saying? Don't tell them I was asking, though, okay?

I've been working really hard on a good Christmas present, I hope you all like it.

Lots of love from Peter.

"Okay, Goose, listen carefully." Peter sealed his letter and tied it to his pet owl. It stared at him blankly. "You don't look like you're listening…" Peter rolled his eyes and picked it up, walking over to the Tower window.

"It's not the same address you went to last time, alright? They've gone to Granny's for the holidays so you need to make sure you go to Granny's okay, even though it says Mam and Dad. You got it?"

The owl looked slowly from the cold night outside to its young owner's encouraging face. Peter didn't feel confident that there was a single thought in its head, despite the little chirp before it took off into the sky.

"I've never met a thick owl before," said James, sounding more interested than derisive. "Didn't it take two weeks to get back to you last time, too?"

Peter closed the window. "I don't even think he's stupid, to be honest, it's like… it's like he's not even interested or something. Maybe he just wasn't meant to be a post owl." He shrugged and kicked off his shoes before getting changed out of his uniform for the evening. "It's not like they get to choose, right?" His voice was muffled as he fought his way out of his tshirt. "What if he just wanted to be a normal owl and now he has to carry my stupid letters around."

James laughed. "Yeah, like maybe he had a whole life before you bought him and made him your post servant."

Peter snorted. "Yeah, that'll be why it takes him so bloody long. Gone to check in on his owl girlfriend or whatever."

James peeked around the poster of his bed impishly, clearly trying to keep a straight face.

"Yoo-hoo!" He hooted at Peter before he lost it, cackling at himself.

Peter was trying to hide the snot that he accidentally snorted out in laughter when he noticed Sirius at the dormitory doorway. His eyebrows were raised incredulously. James spotted Sirius and the hysterics mounted even higher - he was clearly laughing at his own joke before he'd even started speaking. Peter watched as his goofiest dorm-mate wrapped himself in the red hangings of his four-poster like a caterpillar in a chrysalis. He could still hear his muffled giggles from behind the fabric.

"Hey - hey Sirius!" James managed to force out past the giggling. He abruptly spread his arms, holding a fistful of curtain in each hand giving the impression of spreading his wings.

"Yoo-hoo!"

"They've got the giggles." Explained Remus, appearing behind Sirius in the doorway. That much was obvious. Caught up in the nonsense, James and Peter were red in the face, hooting at each other whenever they managed to get enough breath between hysterics.

Sirius kept quiet. While Remus couldn't help but smile at the antics, Sirius' face was blank. He walked over to his trunk and put his books away from his bag before getting changed himself. Eventually the silliness died down enough for James to catch on that his best friend wasn't quite soaking up the energy.

"You alright?" he whispered over to Sirius who was folding his uniform neatly. He looked up at James. He was still pink-cheeked, his hair frizzy from playing in the curtains, and only half-dressed. No socks, school trousers, unbuttoned pyjama top. For the first time since they had met, the sight of his care-free friend made his stomach flip uncomfortably.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I'm fine."

James' smile dropped just a touch. "You seem a bit sad." He said it quietly for Sirius' benefit, but he still flinched at the directness. Luckily Remus and Peter were in the attached bathroom brushing their teeth.

"I'm not sad." It wasn't an assurance, or particularly defensive. Sirius' face was impassive and he looked past James. Something was different here. He just wasn't… right. He wasn't the safe person to confide in here. He wouldn't understand.

So Sirius wished him goodnight and closed his curtains so he didn't have to look at James' sad, brown puppy eyes.

Then he waited.

James must have been sobered somewhat by their quiet interaction. Peter was still playful when he returned from the bathroom and seemed a little lost by James' muted responses. Sirius could hear his friend pottering about around his bed, moving books and opening and closing his trunk. On the other side of the room, Peter could be heard chatting to Remus. He hoped they wouldn't take too long.

He waited. Staring at the canopy above him, listening. Listening and thinking.

Did he even want to ask? He considered this. It had seemed the thing to do to confide in someone, but perhaps that was his best friend rubbing off on him. Of course James would. But he wasn't James. He wasn't a Potter. Perhaps keeping matters to himself was the more sensible choice.

And what would anyone else have to add? Peter was pure blood, yes, but it was different. It was easy for Sirius to see the similarity in the way he interacted with their environment that he shared a sort of muggle-ness that Remus sometimes exhibited. He wouldn't understand.

And what about Remus? Well, he was difficult. After all, he knew he wasn't pure blood. And he is more than happy to go home, he thought, a little bitterly.

But he can respect a secret.

Yes. That was the real issue. He needed a certain confidence that perhaps his quieter friend could offer.

He sighed. It was risky, though. He didn't know Remus like he knew James. They slept in the same room, attended the same classes, ate breakfast, lunch and dinner sat together and worked on homework in the vicinity of each other. But they weren't close.

It's the cloak, he mused. That's what makes it different. James had shared something special and secret with him. And sure, the cloak, physically, was an amazing thing to use and their night time wanderings were fun, but there was something more than that. He'd been chosen. Entrusted as an accomplice, as a worthy partner to share a secret world with.

He heard, as he had for the last few nights, the sound of bedsprings and quiet feet across the wooden dormitory floor. And there was the soft click of the door and the rustle of fabric as Remus left the room.

Maybe this is my cloak.

He kept still, just in case - for the first time in over a week - the other two would be roused from their dead-sleep by Remus' night-time comings and goings.

The room was still.

He slipped out of bed and stood in the darkness. How many times before had he done this? He couldn't even count. Sneaking about that huge house looking for one person to share a secret with. James couldn't have known that he'd chosen the best man for the job when it came to stalking around in the shadows at night.

There he was. Sirius stood at the bottom of the boys' staircase, looking into the quiet common room. The fire was low in the hearth, glowing red and inky black. If he wasn't so observant, he could have missed Remus. The armchair was facing away from Sirius, looking into the fire, and it almost engulfed the first year who was curled up in it, arms around his legs, sandy head on his knees, staring blankly at the embers.

He made sure to make some noise as he entered the room proper. He wasn't trying to scare him off. Nevertheless, Remus' head jolted up.

"Sirius?" His voice was high and tight and in the low light his eyes looked bruised against his pale face.

Sirius could sense a hint of panic that he didn't understand. It wasn't a crime to sit in the common room, after all.

He made himself comfortable on the sofa beside the armchair and looked pointedly into the fire. There was an air of frightened animal about Remus and so he thought it best not to stare at him.

"Is this where you come every night?" He asked softly. From the corner of his eye he could see Remus staring at him like a wary cat. It was a while before he replied.

"You heard?"

"Well, yeah." How could he not? After all, who wouldn't jolt awake at the sound of unexpected footsteps and opening doors while they were sleeping.

Well, Peter and James, I suppose.

"I don't think the others noticed, though." Sirius offered, trying to comfort him. Had he ever tried to comfort a friend before?

He heard Remus sigh lightly and turn back towards the fire.

"So, what're you doing down here as well, then? Couldn't sleep?"

"Mmmm… Something like that."

Would he ask? He felt a mysterious pressure building, like some kind of invisible clock was ticking down.

"Are you going home for Christmas?"

Well, he couldn't take it back now. He braved a look at Remus and was met with a benignly confused expression.

"Er… Yeah. Everyone is, I think."

"Oh."

It hung in the air between them, twisting the atmosphere like something spoiling. Sirius felt regret rushing towards him, but it was too late to escape the wave.

"Were you… were you going to stay?"

He was relieved that there was no pity in Remus' voice, at least. He didn't need that.

"I thought… maybe…" His cheeks flushed a little at his stammering. "I thought it would be nice here, at Christmas." That was lame.

Remus glanced away from Sirius to take in the holly around the hearth. He had heard in a few days there would be a Christmas tree in the common room.

"I suppose. But don't you want to see your family?"

"Not particularly," Sirius mumbled, then blushed again. That was the little shard of James Potter that seemed to live in him these days. He began to backtrack. "Well, that's not true, I do miss my brother, a bit, but well, I don't know how much you know about… about these kinds of families… but it's not really… fun."

Remus considered him carefully. His face was soft and his tired eyes were kind.

"How old is your brother?"

Sirius was thankful that he hadn't picked up the unsavoury details he'd carelessly spilled. Not that he was foolish enough to think he hadn't noticed.

"He's just turned 10."

He tried not to think about Regulus too much. Mainly to ward off the guilt. They had always been each other's best company in the lonely old house. He was glad to be the older brother. It must have been miserable to be left behind.

He wouldn't know, of course.

He hadn't written.

"Well, I imagine it must have been lonely," Remus said. "I don't know what your parents are like, but I won't lie and say I've never heard of your family name. It must be hard, being in one of those families. Since I've been here, seeing some of the pure blood families like the Malfoys… I'm thankful to be out of that whole world."

Sirius didn't reply. There was that pit of guilt growing inside him and he couldn't ignore it any longer. How cruel of him. What kind of big brother would leave their first ally behind like that? How selfish.

His mother had always said he was selfish.

The night crawled on and they sat in companionable silence. Eventually, Remus' head began to droop and he dozed off in the armchair. Sirius took the opportunity to look at him openly.

How different he was to James. It was a strange thing that he had become so attached to the Potter heir so easily. He supposed if anyone had to make a guess, they would be the more likely pair.

Remus' hands were clasped in the well of his crossed legs. The pyjamas were too short.

Sirius saved the unusual sight of his mangled left ankle and missing fingernail for future inquiry.

I gotta do a shoutout to James Birdsong who seems to have come back to this fic after the 3 year gap - you legend.

~BS