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1982
Moony. Moony. Moony. They’ve given me ink and a quill and parchment scraps. It’ll do.
A month, I think. Maybe two. Three. More. Time is more. I am less.
I’m on a rock. I’m on an island. You would have sung those lines. Gods I miss your voice.
I can’t send these. You see, I’m too high-risk. A danger to myself and others. Even with just a quill. But then, I could always convince you of anything, couldn’t I?
“We should nick McGonagall’s biscuit tin.”
“Alice has the good stuff; we can raid her stash.”
“Let’s chuck some doxies into the Slytherin quidditch locker room.”
Remember Moony? When I could get by on a wink and a word?
Moony. Moony. I didn’t do it. Moony please. You know me, gods, you know, you know you know.
And it’ll kill me if you don’t. I would never.
Please, you can’t think of me that way. Not when you must know. James was my brother, and my Harry and my silly Lily and you, gods, you.
I’ll kill him, Remus. I swear it. I was so close. He took everything from me. All of it, gone. You.
And you’ll never know. And Harry. What will Harry think?
Will you tell him about me? I keep thinking about that. Whether you’ve damned me by now.
Stars are meaningless through these cell bars. I only care to see moons.
Moony Moony you were bright tonight. I basked in you before the joy was sucked away. They always take you from me.
And when I’ve gone loony I’ll think of my Moony.
And when I am loony I write to my Moony.
I’ve done no killing but am branded a villain
No moonlight tonight. I am left quite bereft.
I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it.
Do you think I did?
Did I?
I didn’t do it
I didn’t do it
I didn’t do it
I didn’t do it.
1983
Misery loves company.
Too rich, too handsome to be miserable. You always said that about me.
If you could see me now.
All alone and alone and alone and you said I’d never be.
We’d never be.
I’m not alone here though. There’s loads of voices. When I’m asleep. When I’m awake. They scream and wail and shriek and now I know Harry is still alive and Voldemort is still gone.
Harry’s alive and Voldemort’s gone and where is my Moony?
I am Sirius Black. I am Padfoot. I am Sirius I am Padfoot I am Sirius I am Padfoot I am a Marauder I am a brother I am Sirius I am Padfoot I am a cad I am a no-good mangy mutt who will only bring ruin upon us all.
I didn’t do it.
I love James and Lily and Harry and Remus.
Remus, the patchwork boy. A face and chest full of scars. I can see them now, I can trace them in the dark with my fingers.
My Moony.
I love James and Lily and Harry and Remus.
I didn’t do it I didn’t do it I didn’t do it.
1984
I have a secret, Moony. I never keep those from you.
When I’m Padfoot I am sane. I curl up in a corner and they don’t know.
And those soul-sucking guards can’t take this from me: I didn’t do it.
But I think of my Moony and his scar-streaked skin and all the times I looked and wanted and did not touch and they take that from me. They take you from me.
I remember the first time. When we’d all worked it out. When we figured out what you were. You were our Moony. My Moony. You always were.
You looked at us with shame and I loved you. Right then. I finally saw all of you and gods, if you weren’t the most perfect thing.
And remember what I said? Remember Moony?
I said if you think for one minute we’re leaving you alone then you’re far too stupid to be our friend.
I was always the stupid one. Clever, but stupid. Too stupid to understand what I felt the night I finally freed myself from my parents. When you came over and you held me and said something sage and comforting. I don’t remember what you said. I remember being home. Not at Grimmauld, not at Hogwarts, not at the Potters’, but in your arms, Moony, I was home. I was too stupid to realise what it meant.
I didn’t do it. Don’t let me lose him. Please. I didn’t do it.
1985
You were always so fussy about your tea.
Am I a ghost? I feel like one.
What are you doing? Are you safe are you happy are you still mine?
You hate me, I suspect.
1986
I’ve made a friend, Moony. You always said I was too likable for my own good.
There’s a little mouse who likes sleeping in my fur. It’s winter, I think. It’s nice for something not to be repulsed by me.
Sometimes I think about you hating me and I want to fucking die.
I can see their cottage blown to bits. I close my eyes and it’s wreckage and smoke and in the midst of all that destruction, Hagrid has sweet, perfect Harry in his arms. A fucking orphan.
And Peter did that he did that he did that I didn’t do it. I’ll kill him. I’LL KILL HIM.
I missed something. I must have missed something. What did we miss, Moony? How didn’t we see? He was our Peter, our Wormy.
Gods, he used to distract McGonagall so we could sneak out of detention. He’d write his mother to bake us our favorites for birthdays. He turned himself into a fucking rat for you.
When did we lose him?
The little mouse has gone now. It’s warmer weather and he no longer needs me.
Do you need me? My darling, gentle Moony.
1987
There was a rat in my cell.
It would have been quicker as Padfoot. But I wanted to wring its neck with my own two hands.
So I did.
1988
Somewhere, in some time, there’s a James and a Lily and a Harry. They have us over for tea every other day. When you hold Harry in your careful, safe hands, so afraid you’re going to hurt him, I’m more desperate for you than ever.
Lily corners me in the kitchen and tells me to remove my head from my arse and make a move on you already.
James warns you to be gentle with me. I was always the more breakable one.
What we could have had, what we could have been.
I didn’t do it. You are home and I want to go home.
1989
There were too many clouds tonight, I only caught a glimpse of you.
You always hated it. You resented it for making you into a monster. Never, for one second, did I see you as one.
You were always at your most beautiful the mornings after. You’d come to, huddled in on yourself, and your eyes would be wild. Then you’d see us and your whole face would light up and your eyes would clear and I’ve never seen a person so thrilled with their own humanity.
Don’t hate me for associating you with the moon. Don’t hate me for taking comfort in it.
Don’t hate me Don’t hate me Don’t hate me Don’t hate me Don’t hate me
1990
I didn’t do it. I’ll prove it. I’ll kill him.
1993
I saw him. Moony, he’s at Hogwarts. HE’S AT HOGWARTS.
He’s at Hogwarts He’s at Hogwarts He’s at Hogwarts He’s at Hogwarts He’s at Hogwarts
I have a plan, Moony.
I’m picturing the look you give me whenever I’d say this. It’s long-suffering and gorgeous and everything I miss. James would approve. That probably wouldn’t help my case with you.
Anyway, this plan. It’s a good one. I solemnly swear it.
He’s at Hogwarts He’s at Hogwarts He’s at Hogwarts He’s at Hogwarts He’s at Hogwarts
If this is the last time I get to write you, then I won’t mince words. There were these big, great stretches of darkness, of suffocating nothing. I’d rock myself to sleep in a dank corner and wish for death. I’d stare into voids and wonder at the unfairness of it all.
Then, moonlight.
You always thought yourself the quiet, unassuming intellectual. And you were that, you consummate swot. But you didn’t see and I never told you. Moony, you lit up everything and everyone around you. My universe was always lunar-centric.
I’m coming home.
June 14, 1994
Dearest Moony,
I’m a bit flummoxed to be honest. All those years I spent trying to
I don’t know, I’m sorry. I had all those years in my head with my own scattered thoughts and now I
And now I have no idea what to write. Because you’ll actually read this one. You’ll hold it in your hands and read it.
We never get to say goodbye, do we?
I have twelve years’ worth of things to say to you, but it could all be summed up thusly: Remus John Lupin, you inhabit my entire soul. Thankfully, I am still in possession of one.
Take care of Harry for me, won’t you?
That brave, beautiful boy. Can you believe him? Abuses a time-turner and frees a wanted criminal. He’s 13 and already showing us up.
I’ve failed him. And you, I’ve failed you. I’m so sorry, old friend.
I’m somewhere safe now. I’m free and safe and apart from you again.
If you have a mind to, come find me soon. There’s much I want to say (and do) that no mere letter can contain.
Yours,
Padfoot
Dear Padfoot,
I see prison didn’t dull your flair for melodrama. Nor your ability to make me reckless. Gods, all it took was seeing your bloody name on that map and I lost all sense. I will berate myself every day for not taking my potion before chasing after everyone. What a foolish thing to do.
And now I’ve lost you again. If anyone has failed here, it’s me. Forgive me, please.
As for Harry, I will do my best, but as I am no longer employed by Hogwarts that will prove more difficult. He is safest at his aunt and uncle’s, and Arabella Figg keeps an eye out, according to Dumbledore.
Knowing you are somewhere in this world alive and free will inspire every Patronus I cast from this day forth.
Stay safe, please. For Harry. For me.
Yours,
Moony
Dearest Moony,
Remember that cloudless night on the roof of headquarters? Alice shared her bounty for once and we were off our heads stargazing and Marlene had her Muggle music going and you held my hand. We were flat on our backs and you just took my hand.
I thought about it then. More than I ever had before. All those times I didn’t just reach for you, didn’t grab you and pull you to me.
I should have rolled on top of you and done any one of the hundred wicked things my depraved mind wanted. But the moment was too peaceful and your touch too pure. And I loved you all the more for it.
Yours in pining,
Padfoot
Dear Padfoot,
You’re a terrible flirt, you know that? So many years of no correspondence and you choose to write absolute nonsense. No, ‘Remus, what have you been doing? Fill me in on your life, dear friend,’ just pushing my buttons with your specific brand of foolishness. Don’t know what I expected, to be honest.
Yours in exasperation,
Moony
Dearest Moony,
Let me speak plainly, since you seem keen to deflect.
Remus, that was only one of so many wasted opportunities when I should have kissed you senseless. And not just in the quiet moments. So many, many times when you were mid-lecture, when you were tetchy enough to start a row with me, that I’d just stare at your mouth and never follow through.
I bet I could snog the disappointment and irritation right off your face. I bet your hands are gentle and your kisses are rough.
You’ll let me find out, won’t you? Fantasies are nice and all, but I’d rather the real thing. I’m a tactile learner.
Yours in wanting,
Padfoot
For the love of
You cannot write such things to me. Prison really did addle your brains, if you had any to begin with.
Oh I can’t?
I can’t tell you how I dream of taking you in my mouth, how I long to feel yours around me? You always said I was too mouthy, wouldn’t you love to shut me up yourself?
I’d give just about anything to see your face reading this letter. And if you don’t think I mean every word of it Remus, I’ll gladly give an oral demonstration the next time we reunite.
But perhaps I’ve overstepped (a habit of mine, I’m sure you’re aware) and if you’d prefer I cease all passionate declarations I’ll listen. Maybe.
You deserve to know that you are desired. Rabidly.
Foaming at the mouth (but not in the rabies way),
Padfoot
Rabidly. I swear to
Fine. I hope your smug arse enjoys my forthcoming unravelling.
You were drunk, I don’t expect you to remember, but it was the night we learned about Gideon and Fabian dying. We passed the Firewhiskey back and forth for hours.
Your hand was on my knee and your head on my shoulder. You said, “How many more, Remus? How many more are we going to lose?” And you kissed the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, then my neck. Then you said, “I can’t lose my Moony,” and fell dead asleep on my shoulder.
I stroked your hair and dreamed of a future where we were celebrating instead of mourning. Where I was brave enough to turn my head and indulge that kiss. Where I carried you to bed and we woke up in each other’s arms. Where we decided then and there to never be parted.
Padfoot, if you don’t think I’ve been half in love with you for our entire relationship then you’re a damned fool.
If this is more of your “make Moony blush” game, then yes, please stop.
If, however, this is real and earnest as I wish it to be, then find a way to get me to you.
Yours in insanity,
Moony
Coordinates as follows.
Come home, Moony.