Disclaimer: Do I really have to tell you who owns this stuff? Well, for one thing it aint me.

 The house belonging to Remus J Lupin was a typical suburban building, even for a wizarding village, with well-manicured gardens, a footpath leading to the door and a letterbox emblazoned with small bronze letters spelling out 'Lupin' and a number 5. Inside it was just as normal. The rooms were cozy and welcoming, brightly lit through large windows. Flowers bloomed in the garden beds, clumps of scattered color mixed with countless greens. Sirius Black stood at the front gate, gazing at his friend's home, and his for as long as he needed. It was now two years since his escape and He was still a fugitive, forced to hide in his canine disguise outside of Lupin's house. As far as the neighbors were concerned, he was simply Lupin's new pet. The only thing they feared or were suspicious of were his teeth.

As he stood at the gate, pondering this and looking at the welcoming scene before him, Sirius briefly wondered how a worthless person such as himself had come to live here, in such a nice place to be cared for by a friend such a person did not deserve.

With a sigh, he trotted up the path and, checking that no one was about, shed his canine appearance and slipped inside. He could hear Moony humming to himself in the kitchen as he prepared dinner. Not hungry, Sirius hung up his cloak and started climbing the stairs to his room.

"Padfoot, that you?" Remus emerged from the kitchen and looked up at his friend.

"Sorry I'm late, got sidetracked by a fire hydrant," Sirius replied, one corner of his mouth turning up in the slightest of smiles. Remus chuckled at the joke, glad to see a glimmer of the old Padfoot shine through this new solemn exterior.

"You hungry? Dinner's almost ready."

"No thanks Moony." Without waiting for a reply, Sirius turned and continued up the stairs. He entered his own large bedroom and picked up the box of matches on the desk. He lit the candles placed around the room, and slumped onto his bed. The candlelight was comforting, chasing the darkness into the corners and casting dancing shadows on the walls.  Sitting up, Sirius pulled back his sleeve to reveal the pale flesh of his wrist. Thin white scars marred his wrist and forearm, a reminder of the abuse he had inflicted upon himself since his escape. He remembered the abuse well. It had been barely a year ago. He was living at Moony's as he was now, and he remembered how he had relished the pain, a physical distraction from the mental anguish he still endured.

He ran a finger over the white lines.

Remus had found him kneeling in the back garden, his left arm soaked with blood and the knife on the grass to his right.

Sirius sighed, almost cringing at the memory.

Remus had dragged him inside like a disobedient teenager, taking the knife from him. He had bathed the wounds and bandaged them, unable to do much else as his knowledge of healing spells was limited to mosquito bites and cat scratches. Then Moony locked away all sharp objects and even went so far as to refuse to even let Sirius spread jam on toast unless he was nearby. When Remus was not there, he put locks on the cutlery drawer and the garden shed that could not be opened unless Remus asked them. He had even insisted that Buckbeak be sent away until Sirius could be trusted around such a dangerous creature, no matter how much of a bond they had formed.

Sirius grimaced and rolled his sleeve back down, once more covering the scars. Remus had been so angry with him for cutting himself. He recalled the harsh words and threats he'd received. That was why he had stopped. He could not stand to see that look on Moony's face again; that mixed look of hurt, anger and confusion.

Today had not been a good day, even compared to the other bad days he had suffered in the past. Recalling how much he had hurt his only remaining friend made him hate himself all the more. He lay back down and watched the shadows flicker in the candlelight, mentally abusing himself and despising everything that was Sirius Black. How long he lay there, drowning in the depths of his depression and self-hatred he did not know. Eventually he drifted into a restless sleep filled with troubled dreams.

Remus climbed the stairs with the slightest pangs of worry tugging at his mind. He had not heard a sound from Sirius's room for over an hour. And dinner was ready. He pushed open the door and stepped into the gloomy room. There was Sirius, curled up on his bed, shivering in the cold wind that blew in through the window. Or was it from some unseen terror in his own nightmare? Remus watched for a moment, waiting for his anxiety to settle as he listened to his friend breathe and finding relief in the simple fact that Sirius was still alive. Quietly, he tiptoed over to the window and pulled it closed. He gently laid a blanket over Sirius's shivering form. The man's body relaxed and the trembling stilled. Remus sighed and felt a lump rise in his throat as he looked at his sleeping friend.

The candlelight flickered over Sirius's face, highlighting lines far too numerous for a man in his mid thirties and the dark rings beneath sunken eyes. That face was thin and pale and rarely smiling, so different from the Padfoot he had known. He knew Padfoot the marauder was dead, smothered by the darkness of a mind that would not let him move on from past losses.

 In his heart, Remus knew that Sirius would never be the same, would never overcome this depression, but he prayed and hoped to anyone up there who would listen, that this depression would not destroy him.

With the wave of a wand, the candles flickered and died, plunging the room into darkness. Remus stepped out and closed the door behind him. Unable to fight it any longer, he lent on the door and slid to the floor, letting silent tears slide down his face. Every day it was becoming harder to believe that Sirius would see the end of the one that followed. And no matter what he did, Remus could feel his friend slipping further and further away from him.

A/N: More Sirius angst. Do I ever write anything else? Oh well. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Constructive criticism only, of course. Flames will be laughed at before being used to burn my report card before my parents see it and ground me for life.