Okay, this one is different, straight off the bat. The writing style is different, Sirius is different, Marauder friendship is *nervous laugh* very different. But, I was in a very different state of mind writing this than what I usually am. I still hope it's not too bad, though :")

This came about because one thing I've always seen with fics that deal with betrayal or breaking of trust is the fact that the offenders are very easily forgiven, or just it's a given that they'll be forgiven and I wanted to contest that because to me, betrayal or breaking someone's trust in a friendship is the worst thing one can do. So I wanted to write something about that and this was something that always nagged me about Remus so hey, two birds with one stone!

Constructive is always welcomed and appreciated (and even somewhat needed in fics like this if I'm being honest)

I was basically listening to Angus and Julia Stone's album 'Down the Way', which is a recent discovery and one that I'm very grateful for, while writing this so yeah, you can listen to that while reading this :)

Word Count: 1677

'It was a mistake, you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.'

David Levithan

"I didn't have a choice," were the first words a recently freed, and pardoned, Sirius Black heard when he sat down in a small cafe towards the end of Diagon Alley.

He didn't look up at once, no. He didn't startle, nor show any visible reaction. He merely placed his cup of tea down on the counter. If you looked closely, however, you could see his fingers trembling; something he would attribute to the half decade he spent in Azkaban, and you could see the beads of sweat covering his forehead; something he would pass off as the extreme heat of regular world after the Arctic cold in Azkaban. He had a habit of doing that, passing everything off as a consequence of his time in Azkaban. And maybe he was justified in doing so too, he could certainly say he was.

"You need to understand how it was then, Pad-Sirius," the sandy haired man, still standing, spoke. His slightly trembling voice was nervous and shaky, like he didn't quite know how to talk, or treat this man in front of him. This man who was once like a-no, who was a brother to him, but was now nothing more than the shadow of a loved one.

"Oh?" Sirius' voice was silky and smooth, no discernible tremble, an even tone. Perhaps that should have been an indicator. Sirius Black's voice was never even. It was either very loud or very low, shaking with anger, or repressed with emotions. It was either the calm before the thunderstorm or the thunderstorm itself. Never the peace afterward.

The sandy haired man, Remus Lupin as he was called, however, did not notice. He had grown weary and tired over the years, burdened by misery and loss, shaped by war. He had forgotten what it was like to be in the company of Sirius Black.

He merely continued, hands wringing together, voice stuttering; pleading, "I-I, James, and Lily were dead and I didn't know where Harry was and people were celebrating the death of Vo-Vo-V-You-Know-Who and it was a mess, Sirius. I wasn't in the right frame of mind."

Sirius raised one silent hand. Despite not being in his company for years, Remus immediately quietened, remembering the frostiness with which Sirius could act should he choose to.

"Was your mind more fucked than the orphan who had just lost both his parents to a madman obsessed with immortality?" His voice was soft.

Remus opened his mouth to say something, anything not knowing what but wanting to defend himself, wanting to assuage his guilt but Sirius continued, seemingly not noticing his attempts to speak.

"Was your mind more fucked than the Auror who lost their whole family, and yet kept fighting?" It was deceptive, like the serpent that slithered silently into your house.

"Was your mind more fucked than the couple who had gone through so many bouts of the Cruciatus, their mind quite literally cracked to the point of permanent insanity?" It slithered until it was ready to attack, poised and stiff.

"Was your mind more fucked than the framed convict who had to step over his brother's dead body"- here, his voice cracked, just a tiny bit- past his wife's similar corpse, pick up his crying godson and then promptly hand him over to someone? The convict who merely wanted to ask him why he did it, and why we were never enough but instead got caught under the accusation of killing muggles and betraying my own family? The convict who lost his identity, his conscience, his mind trapped in a tiny cell surrounded by creatures that sucked everything out of you, leaving you to be just a shell, a whisper of your self? The convict who was finally released because his cousin was the first person to look at his case? The cousin who hated his very existence and had wanted nothing to do with him?"

And like a deadly serpent, he struck. His words like fangs, the truth being venom that spread through the other man's body, forcing him to face the reality. It was like he had fire running through his veins, itching and clawing to get out, trying to punish him.

"Is your mind more fucked than all these people...Moony?" The use of his childhood nickname brought back memories that were as cherished as they were haunting. They brought back memories of a time when trust was paramount to everything they held dear in their lives; breaking a fellow Marauder's trust was equal to sacrilege. They brought back memories of a carefree time, a time barely shadowed by the War, a time when Slytherins were the enemy and losing the House Cup seemed like the worst thing ever.

It brought back memories of a time that could never be regained again. It could only dangle hope in front of him, hope that would only cripple him and would always be out of his reach.

When he heard this word slipping past the lips of a man who was once his closest confidante, he could little more than breaking down completely, falling to his knees in front of Sirius. His hands were gripping his straw-thin hair, tears rolling down his cheeks. His mouth was working furiously but somehow, no words were escaping. It was almost as if a Silencing Charm had been cast on him.

Sirius Black, with his now cold tea, trembling hands, and slightly quivering lips, was doing a sterling effort to not let this affect him. Yes, the years in Azkaban had hardened him. Yes, he was naturally predisposed to cruelty due to his Black upbringing; something he had religiously suppressed during his youth but now had no inclination to do so. All the people who cared, or whom he cared about, were either physically dead, or just dead in his eyes.

Why must he try anymore?

But, just a tiny sliver of what he used to feel towards this man who was kneeling in front of him with a bowed head and folded hands was enough to make him hesitate. To make him not immediately kick him away and walk out of there. He tried, oh he did, but it isn't quite as easy to break relationships that were forged out of childish dreams and not so childish struggles. Relationships that were forged out of midnight talks between teens who didn't quite feel their age, who always felt like they were just slightly more jaded than others around them. Relationships that was based on illusions and secrecy to outsiders but was home to them.

Sirius knew they could never get back to what they were. He also knew he didn't want to try, either. While he did feel something, it was not enough to make him forget the sting of betrayal that still tickled the back of his throat and left a nasty aftertaste.

"You can apologize, Remus. I'm afraid it won't do much," he stated after taking just a minute to compose himself. He released the tight grip he had on his tea mug, pushed it away from him slightly as if it now contained all the bitter memories of the past hour and thus became indigestible for him.

Remus had stopped crying, his lips had stopped moving but his eyes were squeezed shut as if praying. But for whom? He had lost all faith five years ago. He was never much religious, being bitten by a werewolf at the age of five could breed extreme cynicism in a person. But when he met the three boys who would later call themselves the Marauders, he had allowed himself to believe, to have faith. It shattered, shattered into tiny pieces the on that one fateful Halloween that seemed to be a personal nightmare for him.

But now, he was praying with all his might for any merciful deity out there to hear him, to help him. It was not to be, however. Maybe in another universe, Sirius could've broken out of Azkaban and, when Remus accused him of betrayal, begged for his forgiveness and explained everything to him. Maybe in such a scenario they could've rebuilt their friendship, worked on it, built their trust again but today, here? He knew, in his heart, it was not possible. And yet it was the memory of a tiny boy who hadn't even hit puberty yet poring through books and books on becoming illegal animagi for his friend with a 'harmless furry little problem' that didn't allow him to give up as easily as he had five years ago.

Yes, he was more exhausted now and yes, he knew he didn't deserve it, but he didn't think he could quite live with himself if he did not try for all he was worth that day.

He slowly got off the floor, back straightening almost painfully and looked up at Sirius's face and into his eyes for the first time in five years.

Amber eyes met and grey orbs and neither could hide the swirling whirlwind of emotions that were present in each of them.

In that moment, they recognized that what they had was broken beyond repair. That they couldn't get it back anymore. It hurt, it was like someone had torn their chests open and pulled their heart out. It was agonizing but it had to be done, there was no other way, no other option.

Sirius didn't say anything, he just bowed his head in acknowledgment and walked away. If his hand was clutching his wand a little more tightly than required, no one mentioned it.

Remus, however, seemed to lose all energy in his body, a feat considering his previous state and just slumped onto the table. He seemed to lose the will to live along with his energy too.

Neither of them knew quite what to do with themselves anymore.

Trust was a bitch, it could do...things to people.

Muggle Art, Task 1.