Hello everybody. It is I once more. I wrote some more angsty Remus/Sirius if you're interested... it's un-beta-ed, so there's propably spelling and grammer errors glalore. Just ignore them, or better yet, tell me about them so i can fix them *hint hint*.

I'm sad. My last peice with Sirius and Remus got over two-hundred hits, but not a single review. *Long-suffering and clearly obnoxious sigh* Hopefully this will get a better reception. *hint hint*

No, this is not in any way, shape, or form connected to The Padfoot Tragedies, so you really don't need to be familiar with them (but go read them anyway!*another hint hint*). Speaking of the Padffot Tragedies...there is a poll on my profile page on which one of those fics is the best. Go take it.


The Most Perfect Memory

He couldn't remember the last time he felt this kind of peace. It seemed like a lifetime of more ago. It was the kind of peace that sunk right down into his bones and saturated each and every muscle. It was a peace filled with perfect contentment…filled with perfect bliss.

A horrible green light blasted through the air…toward the one person he loved more than life, and Sirius didn't notice, so intent on his duel with his evil cousin Bellatrix and her ilk.

"SIRIUS!" he screamed. He wanted to push him out the way or jump infront of the spell to save his heart, but there were too many of the masked enemy between them.

The terrible life-ending spell just barely missed, and only because the stunner he sent at his lover made it first.

It was very early morning and no one else had yet risen to ruin his perfect moment of tranquility. No one else had risen…especially the reason for his happiness. Still sound asleep and tangled in the sheets beside him was the incarnation of his heart, looking like an angel rather than the miscreant he was.

"Don't you touch me!" Sirius shrieked hysterical. "Don't touch me! Get away!"

"Padfoot—"he began, reaching for Sirius's arm. He never meant for Sirius to find out this way.

"No! I trusted you! How could you? Wasn't I enough?" Pearly tears caught in Sirius' too-long eyelashes and a few spilt down his cheek. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and looked at him with the deepest sorrow in his eyes as his shoulders hunched and he hugged one arm across his chest to protect himself, and the other hand clutched his wand desperately.

A soft smile graced his lips as he watched his love slumber. Sirius was a sight when he was animate with passionate grey eyes and flushed cheeks, but nothing came close to the loveliness Sirius was when he slept. The innocence he embodied in his sleep was enough to fool even the devout, but he was anything but innocent. Sirius was a rebel. He was a jaded youth with a tragic past and a terrible family.

"You're just like them! Just another Black!" he screamed in rage, uncaring to how much hurt this made the other boy feel. He was blind to everything but his own rage.

And he was utterly lovely. His face broke hearts. He was the very quintessence of androgynous beauty. He was an art that even the great Raphael or Botticelli could never have hoped to immortalized in a fashion that would do Sirius justice. There was an aura around him, whether he was awake or sleeping, that could never be fabricated…a presence of magic and fairytale otherworldliness.

"Moony, Snape knows. Padfoot—he told Snape how to get past the willow," the sorrow filled voice of James whispered, but the words echoed around the Hospital Wing as though he had shouted them.

Almost too calmly, he asked, "Did he say why?"

"He said he thought it would be funny," the other boy sneers, completely disgusted.

So deeply tired was Sirius that he didn't even so much as move as he ran his fingers through Sirius' fine midnight-dark hair. A warmth grew inside him with the pleasing knowledge that he was the reason Sirius slept so deep. He breathed deeply, taking in as much of the comforting scent of Sirius as he could. The perfume of scents that made the unique smell of Sirius—the scent of the gentle and teasing breeze through the willows of the park near his home, the gentle coastal wafts of late midnight, and that of the warm summer nights—and the scent of their copulation brought to his lips a smile.

His eyes scanned the note quickly and he felt his heart skip a beat. How could Sirius even contemplate something so stupid as that?

He ran off the stop him, but the note slipped from his hand without his knowing. It was picked up later by one Lily Evans, who was shocked to find out that the great Sirius Black had a heart, and it was breaking.

When he found Sirius, the other boy was standing at the edge of the pinnacle of the Astronomy Tower, the stars serving as a fitting back-drop to the scene.

"Sirius, get down," he whispered.

"Would you miss me if I jumped?"

He was determined the no one else should get to see this vision. It was for his eyes only, and this was one thing he was not willing to share. Not even the all-important James had ever gotten to see this, and James especially never would.

"What? Are you jealous, Remus?" James taunted.

"Of what?" he snarled. It was close to the full moon, and he was short of patience. James had been deliberately cruel all day long since he had found them tangled together behind closed curtains. He knew James was only jealous that he now had more of Sirius than James did, but he could only tell himself that for so long…

"I kissed him first, last year when he ran away. You know—"

Whatever else James was going to say was halted by a fist to his jaw backed by the super-natural strength of the werewolf.

Gently he brushed his lips against the soft and smooth skin of Sirius's cheek. He had been given the most perfect of gifts only hours before—the gift of Sirius' purity. It was so hard to believe that the charming and irresistible Sirius had saved himself, but he had, and now Sirius belonged to him. He didn't intend to ever lose him.

He had never before or ever since felt so happy. He hated himself for it. He should hate him, too, but he couldn't. When he would down for the unconscious world of dreams, the guilt would gnaw at him. But he couldn't worry about that now.

Grasping every detail of the happy memory in his mind and filtering away the horrors brought one by the dark thing, he stepped between the children who had invaded his compartment and the monstrous dementor that was on the hunt for his once beloved.

"Expecto patronum!' he commanded, and from his wand leaped a silver dog of bear-like proportions. . .