I've always been terrified to write harry potter fanfiction. It's such an important series for me, and I'm so scared that I won't do the characters justice. But I love the friendship of these two, especially once they reunited in Prisoner of Azkaban. So, don't flame me, but let me know what you think?

It's Sirius who notices the scars first.

"What happened?"

Remus looks up at him. The moon hasn't quite risen, but there's already a wolfish darkness to his features-a shadow along his jaw, a gleam in his eyes. "I've transformed before," he whispers, "in places I shouldn't have."

The wind hollows across the grounds, and Remus stiffens, raising his head.

"Well," James says finally, "You're in the right place this time."

When the moon rises and Remus starts to scream, Sirius shifts into his dog-self and presses his coat to his friend's. The stag and the rat watch from a distance, while the wolf and the dog howl at the moon.

James playfully suggests, one full moon when they're running through Hogsmead, adrenaline spiking through their bodies, electrifying their minds, the wind slicing the breath from their lunes, that Sirius should make his shape permanent.

Sirius growls at him, but Remus lets out a yelp that they've come to recognize as a laugh of agreement.

Because his condition is permanent.

So Sirius stays a dog a little longer than the others, sitting with Remus in the Forbidden Forest until he shifts back into a boy, because he doesn't want him to be alone.

Sirius doesn't know when they became best friends.

It's not something that either of them really acknowledged or discussed. One day, James referred to Sirius as his mate, and then the next week they were best friends. Remus says it a little differently.

They're lying on their backs in the Forbidden Forest, late at night. It's not a full moon, Sirius was just tired of studying and wandered out of the dormitory as a dog, and Remus had followed him. It's cold, cold enough that Sirius can see his breath when he says, "Do you ever think about dying?"

Remus looks at him startled. "Why?"

Sirius shrugs, uncomfortable. "I don't know. It's just, you know, my family makes me want to die, sometimes...I just wondered what you-"

Remus smiles bitterly. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Sirius turns his head against the ground, leaves crunch up against his ears. "Sure."

The other boy whispers, "I want to die every full moon."

When they're older, and he's been through Azkaban-twelve years of cold prisons and hell-Remus finds him on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.

Harry's been holding him down, threatening to kill him, and all Sirius can do is stare because the boy is so much like James it aches.

But then Remus throws open the door, wand held in front of him, eyes wolfish and dangerous, and Sirius wonders how many more scars his friend's gotten since they parted, and if he's going to kill him.

They stare at each other, and Sirius jokes a bit about madness within and werewolves, and Remus smiles-

And then his friend's hand is in his, and he's being pulled up, and Remus's arms are around him. For half a second Sirius just melts, just collapses in the embrace and whispers, "Peter,it- it wasn't me, I didn't-"

Two words stop his nervous flow and calm the sharp tension in his muscles, "I know."

When Sirius moves back into that horrible, wretched house, the house where it all began-the madness and the anger and the hatred towards his family-Remus goes with him.

They're both old now, and stepping onto the breaking threshold and listening to the screams of his mother's portrait, Sirius has never felt older.

"I never thought I'd come back to this place," He says.

Remus steps up behind him and puts a hand on his shoulder. There are are scars there, scars from broken glass and punches and kicks. "It's different now," He says, "you are different."

Sirius looks at him. "I don't want to be here, Remus," his voice croaks and claws out of his throat-hoarse and unlike his own.

His old friend smiles sadly. "We all want things we can't have, Padfoot."

They still call each other by their nicknames.

Not really in the company of the other members of the Order, but once, the first full moon in the house, Sirius had gone to Remus's room as a dog.

His old friend had looked at him and laughed aloud. He'd taken his potion, but there is still a wolfish glint in his eyes and a rigidness about his body. "Just like old times, Padfoot?"

Another time, when they'd been cleaning out the house, cleaning out Sirius's old memories and scars, he'd said, "Moony, how are we living like this?"

Lupin had looked at him, known exactly what he meant. "It wasn't ever supposed to be like this, Padfoot, was it?"

In the echoing silence, Sirius can almost hear James's remark about how serious they were being. It made him smile.

Remus saw, and said, "He would have been such a good father to Harry."

That is another scar, Sirius thinks, now. The scar, the burn that he hadn't been able to protect and raise his godson.

One night, they sneak out of the house.

It's dangerous and stupid and rash, but Sirius aches for danger now. Being caged up like a criminal in that house is almost worse than azkaban. The memories here are nearly enough to drive him closer to madness.

Sirius runs as a dog, with Remus jogging beside him. It's not full moon yet, but his friend's human shape is still fast enough to keep up relatively well. They're both older than they like to admit, and stop, panting.

Remus kneels down beside him, slinging an arm around Sirius's heaving shoulder blades. Curls his fingers into dark fur. Sirius leans into his friend, and sighs.

Lupin traces a scar on Sirius's face, barely visible against his dark fur. "We're both so scarred, Padfoot, aren't we?"

Sirius whines a little, to say he knows.

Remus throws his head back, and doesn't say anything for a long time. He doesn't need too.

They sit in the rain-washed streets and watch the stars together.