The only good thing about being back here is the memories that come, for they are all that keep me company as I stay here in forced hiding. Not that being stuck in this old house is enjoyable, it's tolerable at best.

Lying here on this uncomfortable sofa located in my mother's old bedroom, (I think I just heart another spring snap underneath me) I am overcome by a strong sense of nostalgia and a strange urge to smile.


We were sitting in the Gryffindor common room doing nothing, the four of us. Which of course, in Marauder terms, meant scheming. But for lack of good ideas, we had all gone to our own silent musings for the time being.

I was spread out on one of the scarlet couches with my hands behind my head. I was in one of my moods again and feeling rather reclusive. I looked over to Moony, who was revising our attempts at a good prank, scratching his chin with the end of his quill.

He was always doing that, altering our plans in order to make them plausible. Moony was the Marauders' spellotape, he was always there to fix what needed fixing and sometimes what didn't. He always knew what to say, perhaps because he had always needed the same words of solace and understanding he gave, to be said to him in return.

Remus looked over to me with a funny look on his face.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"Why because," I said with a seductive tone to my voice, moving from my spot on the couch toward Remus, "you are just so handsome," I said with flourish, throwing myself into his lap. Out of which I was flung unceremoniously to the floor.

Remus looked down at me. "But you know I'm madly in love with Prongs," he joked, moving over to James's position in an armchair close to the merrily burning fire and planting a huge kiss on his cheek.

The latter had been staring at Lily Evans, his true love who ironically enough hated him beyond all reason, and was therefore completely unaware of the approaching public display of affection.

"Moony," he yelped, shooting out of his seat, to the laughter of many fellow Gryffindors.

"Ooh, Potter trying to make me jealous," challenged Evans from across the room.

"Is it working," he recovered quickly, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I laughed at Prongs, but not his bad luck with Evans. I laughed because I knew that was just like him, never embarrassed and always recovering. Always showing off, I reminded myself as James brought out the snitch.

I rolled my eyes at Peter's squealing of excitement at James's showcasing of his reflexes. But all in vain really, I truly saw James as my brother and the carrier of the Marauders as well. It had been he who convinced Moony we didn't care he was a werewolf, and it had also been James who convinced Wormtail that his animagus form being a rat wasn't really a bad thing at all.

Peter looked positively frightening as he rolled over the floor, though Evans had long since insulted Prongs.

Peter was kind of adopted by us out of pity. We kept him safe, and he kept us entertained. Though he never had quite as many friends as Prongs or me, he was actually quite funny; it was just the fact that he was always being compared to us.

Us, including me. I'm not sure what was to the Marauders. I suppose I kept the mood light, considering I wasn't the one bringing it down. I definitely wasn't tolerant, no I was the one always snapping at my best friends. Perhaps I was just the raging teenager of our family.

Yes that sounds right; I was the rebel, kept in balance by my brothers. I was the one behind our craziest schemes, and I was the one who would lie alone for hours tortured by insane musings.

But the Marauders pulled me away from those thoughts and kept me at bay from myself. They brought out the joking, fanciable Sirius that everyone else saw.

And I never thanked them.


I can hear James's voice now, "You can't be like that. Snap out of it Black."

And I know that I have to do that, I can't let the fact that I'm here again keep me in this state of depression. I know that I must, but I can't bring myself to do it.

The patronus of a phoenix just left a slightly smoking letter on my lap.

"Oh, he speaks," I mutter bitterly of Dumbledore, breaking the seal with my borrowed wand.

Harry will be arriving soon.

I feel my sadness creeping back into its corner, for there is no one else I would rather see. Seeing Harry is the closest I'll come to ever seeing James again.

I reluctantly smile as I stand up at the screeching of my mother's godforsaken portrait.

A/N: Ooh, aren't I being dark and gloomy today! Alright, somewhat of a character study of Sirius, but I decided to post it anyway. I hope I did alright with the verbs and you weren't confused…I think I triple checked this thing for mistakes because I've reread some of my stuff and realized how much silly grammar mistakes distract from the mood created.

Besides my attempts to reason, I ask that you review. I appreciate these so much, whether they are concrit or just a short line telling me whether you liked it or not.