Forsaken

Three
In which comparisons are made.

I was hiding in the library. Well, not hiding exactly. I was seeking solitude in the safety of the bookshelves. James and Sirius were helping Peter write an essay for Professor Krunkle, the DADA professor.

Peter was starting to open up to Sirius and James, spending as much time with them as they let him. That is, he joined them when they weren't torturing the Slytherins (or being tortured by them). Which was unsurprisingly often. Snape hadn't grown a backbone, but Rosier and Lestrange hardly needed encouragement, especially after they found out about the Halloween prank.

So I was hiding.

I sat, reading a supplementary text, to quench my thirst. Temporarily. I don't remember exactly what I had been reading, but that was unimportant.

It was the middle of December, close to the Christmas Holiday, and Hogwarts was so different than I thought it would be. I had imagined companionship, immediate companionship. Sure, I loved my classes and my books, but I did want something a little more substantial. But I didn't think I should have to go out and find it. I didn't want to open up for it. I've always been kind of a closed mind, I keep things to myself and I always have. I think it has something to do with how I was brought up and the people that brought me up. It's so hard to call them my parents. I haven't seen them since I was nine years old. But they left an everlasting effect on my soul. I hate them for hating me.

The library was closing, so I took my books and left. Regretfully as always. I had to bundle up and leave, going through empty halls to a room that felt even emptier.

Sirius and James were still helping Peter with his essay; the three barely spared me a glance as I crossed to my desk and continued reading my book.

So time continued to pass. The hols came and both James and Peter went home to their families for Christmas. Sirius didn't. 'What? Go home for a Black Christmas? Not only will my parents and Regulus be there, but also Narscissa and Bellatrix… and every other relative which I wish not to be seen with,' he said with a grin when asked. It was no secret that he was not proud to be a Black. And it was no secret that the Blacks in Slytherin, including Narscissa and Bellatrix, were planning something big to get him.

'Remus,' Sirius began from across the room. The silence was killing him and he was fishing for something to talk about. 'Tell me about yourself.'

'Pardon?' I asked, not even looking up from my reading.

'Well, we've been living together for months and I still know nothing about you.'

'And that must be driving you mad,' I commented dryly.

'Yes, er, well, we've got years and I know James and Peter, to a degree anyway, but not you.'

'Your logic astounds me.'

He sat next to me, on my bed, and pulled my book up from my hands. Closing it he continued; 'Ready then?'

'For?'

'To talk.'

'Do I have any say in this?'

'No, not really.'

I sighed and reached for my book, which he then threw to the other side of the room. I winced as it hit the floor and my bookmark fell out. 'There's nothing to know.' I made a move for my book and he stopped me.

'Please?' he looked dejected. As if not telling him about me was in someway offensive.

'I lived my life and now I'm here,' I told him.

'At least it's not growing up with the Blacks.'

'You had James,' I pointed out.

'But… The Blacks,' he emphasised as if his family name made all the difference (well, quite often it did).

'I ruined their dreams, Sirius, every single one of them.' He looked at me, shocked, and I took the chance to get my book from where it had fallen.

'I was beyond the shock of it all. Maman… Papa… Well, I didn't need them anymore than they needed me. Werewolf pups aren't good for anything. I couldn't go to Beauxbatons and I couldn't join in the rich Lupin tradition or follow my parents' legacy. I was worthless. I knew it. Sirius could complain all he liked about his horrible family and that was okay, because they were horrible, but at least his parents and his brother and his siblings knew that he existed. I wish I could have said the same.

He had nothing to say, for once. He just sat on the corner of my bed, unblinking and unmoving.

Sirius didn't say much more for the rest of the hols, but I felt his eyes on me as if he were asking me with his eyes, 'why don't you make any sense?' James came back and Peter, too, and he took he put his jumpy, hyperactive mask back on, never letting out what was on his mind.

He hadn't wanted anything more than to find some companionship in James' absence, but I had just given him something to worry about and, if the past months were any sign, that wasn't necessarily a good thing.