Disclaimer: I am not the richest woman in Great Britain. I wish.

For my Moony. Love.

Flashbacks are in bold.

It's strange and unpredictable, the times he misses Remus. Sirius laid back and took another swig of the Muggle whisky, a self bought present from a summer visit to London. Not as tasteful as Firewhisky, but no one would steal it either. He let his dark hair fall moodily into his eyes, mourning that Remus wasn't there to give him a small smile and push it back.

Dear Moony, he scrawled on the would-be Transfiguration essay, you're a bloody awful wanker for leaving. He hastily scratched out the line and began again. Dear Moony, I was fine yesterday but now I am not. Come back. Another scratch. Moony, Get your arse back here. I am deathly ill. Sirius smirked as he drew a line through that one. Dear Moony, I miss you. "Sound like a fucking girl," he muttered as he crumpled the sheet of parchment.

He couldn't write to Moony anyway, or at least send the notes he wrote. For one thing, the werewolf was in China on a field trip for Ancient Runes and any owl he sent would probably kill him when it returned. Or its wings would fall off or something equally dreadful. For another, Peter was with Remus across the goddamn continent.

"We should tell them," Moony had whispered one night as they cuddled once James and Peter were asleep.

Sirius snorted. "Why would we do that?"

"Because it's the right thing to do? They're our friends, Pads." The scarred boy had looked up at him, wide eyed and innocent.

The older boy pushed a lock of light hair behind the other boy's ear. "Once we're leaving Hogwarts, okay?" He kissed the middle of Moony's forehead. "Don't want too many people looking at you too closely."

"You sure?" Remus asked, eyes a mix of hope and regret. "It isn't killing you to tell James?"

Sirius laughed softly. "Nope. I think it'd be a tad strange for him. He'd probably run screaming into the girls' rooms."

The werewolf smiled. "So we shouldn't tell him for the sake of the birds you're no longer going after?"

"Yeah," smirked Sirius, falling into sleep.

Anything Sirius sent, Peter would ask to read. And Moony would get flustered, blushing and muttering about how it wasn't important and yes Sirius was fine and no nothing had happened and finally just 

hand it over. And that would be the end of that. And then poor Moony would have to deal with Peter all on his own. Sirius growled. That was not going to happen.

He picked up the whisky bottle again. Half left. Two more days. Four and a half bottles of whisky. No Moony. Sirius smirked. One more tonight, one in the morning to wash away the hangover, two more the next night. That way, when Remus finally returned, Sirius could do what he wanted immediately and tell the rest of the school that he was simply very drunk the next day. Sirius raised the bottle to his plan. Of course, next time, he thought idly as he drank, he might want to tell Moony about the plan first.