Disclaimer: I am in no way anyone who owns Harry Potter and surrounding and supporting characters and universe. In fact, my sister stole my set of books, so I don't even have that.

AN: Canon until book 5, then, well, for now it is canon, but that is subject to change, depending on what happens next.

And, with no further ado,


Introspection: Sirius Black

Sirius Black was, perhaps, one of the oddest people I ever had the honor of meeting. And I mean that in a good way, really.

Sirius was the only person I ever met who could slack off all the time, bored out of his mind and never studying, and still be in the top ten of every class.

Sirius was the only person I ever met who could get slapped and kissed within the same ten minute period, daily.

He was unique in that he was the type of person who tended to get things right away – if he didn't understand it, there was a strong chance that he never would.

Betrayal was one thing he never really understood. Or, rather, he never understood why anyone would be a traitor. Perhaps that's why it hurt so much when he was thrown into Azkaban, for me. Because my true soul couldn't see how Sirius could ever be a traitor. He just wouldn't do that. Ever.

His Animagus form, the Grim, was always amusing, to me. Sirius is the Dog Star, and Sirius was a Dog Animagus. And I knew that Sirius just loved the shock factor in turning into this great, hulking, bear-sized dog.

But there was always more to his Animagus form than just that. And really, during the war, we should have taken that into consideration. I mean, Sirius was a dog. Really. He wore his emotions on his face, laughed at inopportune moments, got ravenously hungry but could then hold one meal for over a day without getting hungry. Sirius was so foolishly loyal that he couldn't comprehend betrayal, so loyal and true that there are times that I wonder why he wasn't a Hufflepuff.

Of course, then I remember how vicious he could be, and realize that he would have scared all of the Hufflepuffs to death within the first week.

It wasn't that Sirius was intentionally cruel. It was that… I don't know how to describe it, precisely. Some people would have said that Sirius was the type of person to be nice to his friends and absolutely evil to his enemies, but that wasn't completely true. When he was thinking coherently, Sirius could be quite merciful.

I personally have a theory about the Black family and inbreeding, and the connection of said inbreeding to the famous quick temper of the Black family. Sirius always had so much trouble staying in control. At times, he would seem to wake, as if from a bad dream, and completely fall apart once he realized what he had done.

I suppose Muggles would have called it a mental disorder, or something. It was almost as if there were two different people inside of one body.

When he was in control, Sirius could be a vast amount of different people, even then. He was a brilliant actor, and always had been. The only thing was, he was never lying, when he was changed personalities. Unlike true actors, once he fell into the role, he completely believed in everything he did. I think that he may have developed this multiple-personality-disorder-thing because his family wanted him to act, to think in one specific way, but he wanted to be different. Or something like that.

And yet, at the root of it all, was the Sirius that I knew both the most and a least. The Sirius who could remember things word for word, but couldn't visualize anything for the world. The Sirius who collapsed on the floor, gasping and heaving without quite sobbing, hysterical, as he attempted to explain without words just how horrified he was. The Sirius who was nearly color-blind, and had to arrange his clothing in order from darkest red to deepest black. The Sirius who could so eloquently say nothing at all, and then stumble over three words for an hour.

I feared, when he escaped from Azkaban, that some part of him, some vital part of what made Sirius into Sirius would be missing, broken. And then, seeing him in the Shrieking Shack, like a starving feral dog – all growl and ferocity with fear hidden deep within those silver-grey eyes. And those rags, hanging off of his body so badly that his ribs were easily visible…

Not to mention that tattoo that he never, never explained to anyone, the one that was a simple circle with a teardrop inside.

And we were going to free him –

But it was too late, and that traitor, Pettigrew – he had escaped.

When I next saw Sirius, I was just as appalled by his physical condition as I had been before. I could remember quite clearly, how handsome he had always been. But now… there was something raw about him, something that went beyond the physical – which was bad enough, all skin and bones.

And then, then I saw behind the walls that he had been desperately building up around himself. It was worse, and better, than I could have dreamed.

Azkaban had melded his many sides into something raw, shaky, and unstable. But it was Sirius. My Sirius. And with every day that I could hold him up, he became a little steadier, a little clearer. It was the hardest thing in the world, keeping Sirius from exploding into hundreds of tiny pieces, but it was also something that I knew was the only thing I could have done.

He looked less like a feral dog, less starved, and more like the wild, handsome, young man he had been. It lit the world, and filled my heart with joy, to see him and see Sirius again, and not a collapsing, broken man.

There were setbacks, there always were. I remember, after one Order meeting, Snape taunting Sirius about being incapable of keeping Harry safe – and something else, something I didn't catch.

Sirius' eyes had flared, in that way that they always had before his temper blew sky high, and he had said something icy and cold, his eyes like chips of ice. Snape had laughed, and then, Sirius had clenched a fist, and Snape was suffocating.

Dumbledore stopped it. He always did. And after I had guided Sirius upstairs, he fell apart, and I saw another piece fall into place, as he soaked my only shirt without patches with tears.

The way Sirius clung to Harry… Molly Weasley misunderstood it, she thought that he viewed Harry as James reborn. He didn't.

Sirius had always been rough with James, making crude jokes and whacking him on the back, shoulders, head… Harry was different.

Sirius saw Harry as his own child, he told me once, after he struggled to contain his anger at what Molly Weasley had said this time. It was painful, though, for Sirius. I could see it, but I don't think anyone else really did. How hard is it, to one day be dancing around the house to "Pockmarked Pixies," and the next day, realize that the silly toddler you were playing with is no longer little "Hay-ay," but Harry Potter, a teenager with the soul of an old and cynical man?

Sirius was always so dedicated, so fiercely loyal and faithful to Harry. I'm not sure anybody really understood just how much Sirius needed Harry. Harry was his baby, his hope, the only person he lived for. It was so simple to see, really.

Harry went back to Hogwarts, though, and Sirius was stuck in 12 Grimmauld Place, and he hated being trapped anywhere – caged wolves got mad, you know? It was that much worse, that it was his family's old house, the house that he had run from when he was fifteen.

After an Order meeting, sometime before Christmas, I was surprised to see Sirius being abnormally cold to his cousin, Nymphadora. Normally, she was one of the few who could make him cheerful, along with Harry and occasionally the Weasley Twins.

Once the house was empty once more, I tried to confront him about the way he had treated Nymphadora.

Apparently, she was flirting with me. Me, ugly old man I am. Of course, when I said that, Sirius got angry. He slapped me, and told me to shut up. Then he said that he might be colorblind, but I was fully blind.

Obviously, I was missing something.

Standing there, facing each other in the master bedroom of 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius told me what his tattoo meant.

A circle, with a tear. A tear for the pain that he felt, knowing he couldn't help me. A circle, for the full moon.

I gaped.

And then he kissed me. ME. And Merlin, I sound like a teenager, but –

Sirius kissed me.

Yes, Sirius was definitely one of the oddest people I ever had the honor of meeting.

And I love him.


AN: Bad Remus. Bad Remus. You ran away with what I wanted you to say! What ever happened to "follow the script?" Oh, well, for something that totally trailed off subject and got too caught up in the head of Remus Lupin, what do you think?

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