Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All are property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Brothers (the moochers). The title 'Frayed Ends of Sanity' belongs to Metallica. Milford Asylum For the Insane is a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance and/or similarities to any real hospitals is entirely a coincidence, I assure you.

Warning: SB/RL SLASH. AU. Mentions of abuse and murder. It gets very gruesome as we go along. Told in Sirius' POV.

Summary: Remus has been imprisoned in a mental hospital for the past decade by Sirius' mother. Finally, Sirius gets the chance to free his lover from that hell, only to find Remus isn't the same as he used to be.

Comments: Insane asylums are never very pleasant places, but in the late 19th century and the early 20th century they were especially unpleasant. I do not consider myself an expert on asylums from any period of time, and I am merely going on strange stories I've heard, mostly of the horror genre. This story is a product of my own overactive imagination. Please do not take this as insight into real asylums; doctors have found wonderful ways of treatment in the past century, and are much more humane. This is meant only to be used as entertainment, not historical fact. I don't know anything about London asylums in the 1800's, so please forgive any errors you may encounter. Thank you.

Frayed Ends of Sanity

Outskirts of London. 1880.

"Mr. Black, we're almost there."

"Thank you." I leaned back in my seat and cast another look out at the dreary, grey landscape. The road I was traveling on was far outside of London, and there was nothing of importance on it. Nothing, except for what lay at the end.

After thirty years of misery, my mother had finally died and freed me from her tyranny. I refused to mourn her, shocking my neighbours, and I did not attend her funeral. It was now a week after her passing, and I had moved on. What she did to me was beyond forgiveness. She had taken away the one person I had ever truly loved.

When I was sixteen, my parents began to pressure me into courting a certain young lady, who was a daughter of their friends. This girl was quite lovely and held high in the esteem of the community due to her family's status; but she was just as nasty as my parents and quite dim-witted to boot. I began to loathe the very sight of this beastly young lady, and I did my best to avoid her. Instead, I began admiring her servant - an orphan boy my own age, named Remus.

Remus was everything anyone would desire in a mate - intelligent, kind, interesting, loving, and beautiful. Unfortunately he was also a man, which was a huge barricade in establishing a romantic and possibly sexual relationship. Despite this I persisted after him, and he did not spurn my advances. We carried on a relationship in secret for a little over four years, being careful not to let anyone get wind of what was going on. Sadly, my mother was one of the cleverest women who ever lived, and she figured out that I was not seeing a young woman, as she had previously thought.

She planned it out carefully, using my brother and father in her scheme. They caught me with Remus in my bed one night, and my mother got her revenge.

She had my love arrested and imprisoned in a mental asylum, telling officials that Remus was clearly insane, a raving lunatic, and convinced he was a woman; surely I never would have touched him if I had known the truth. No one would listen to Remus or I when we tried to speak up - they thought Remus was insane, and that I was bewitched.

Since then, Remus had been locked away in the Milford Asylum For the Insane. I had tried to visit him several times without success (my intent being to steal him away and flee from the country), but soon found my mother had made that impossible. As long as she was alive, I would never see my love again.

A while after Remus was taken away, when I was twenty-one, I was forced into marriage to another girl, named Prudence. There is little to say about my wife. She was pretty enough, but dull and quiet, existing only to cook meals and clean the house for my mother - because even after I was wed, I was trapped in my parents' home. Prudence and I only had one child, a sickly girl named Edith. I was certain during Prudence's pregnancy that I would hate the child she bore as much as I hated its mother; but my daughter charmed me the moment I laid eyes on her. She lived for only six months before dying of influenza, along with my wife, my father, and my younger brother. After that, it was myself and my mother, alone in our cavernous mansion.

I assure you I had no hand in my mother's death. She had fallen victim to the galloping consumption, and passed away after only two months of illness. With her gone, I suddenly found myself possessed of a freedom I had not imagined existed. Suddenly, I did what I pleased, whenever I pleased. And I found that my mother's powers over the community had relaxed. I still commanded the fear connected to the Black name, but I discovered I could use it in different ways.

It also meant I could finally gain access to the asylum which entrapped my love.

"We're here, sir."

The driver's voice snapped me from my reverie. I opened the carriage door and stepped out, smoothing my dark blue coat and gazing up at the building before me. Milford Asylum For the Insane had been built in the early 1700's, making it one of the oldest remaining institutions in Britain. The gargantuan structure was constructed entirely out of grey concrete, blending in perfectly with the similarly drab landscape. Many outbuildings stood scattered around the property - a cannery, a slaughterhouse, the caretakers' quarters, sheds which housed groundskeeping equipment. A sprawling cemetery was located to the rear left side of the asylum. The only vegetation was grey, dying grass and a shabby tree which stood sentinel at the entrance of the cemetery.

I frowned as I looked at the cemetery. It seemed overcrowded, even for a hospital that had been in use for over a hundred years. Perhaps an epidemic had plagued the patients? I could only hope Remus was not among them.

"Wait here," I instructed the driver. "I'll return as quickly as I can."

"Yes, sir."

I started up the long path leading to the door. The path was constructed of large paving slabs, now cracked, with grass growing up in the crevices. Halfway to the door, a wild, inhuman squealing made the hairs on my neck stand up; it echoed around the grounds, loud and high-pitched. It sounded like a demon, but then I heard loud thumps and the faint whining of a saw, and I understood - the butchers were slaughtering the pigs to make that night's meal. Not altogether comforted by this knowledge, I continued up the path and pushed open the building's heavy iron door.

I had just stepped into a waiting room of sorts. Pale light gleamed dully on the scratched hardwood floor. A nun in a black habit was seated at a desk against one white-plaster wall. As I approached her, I couldn't help but notice the water spots on the ceiling and the walls, and the gritty plaster dust on the floor. It seemed to have filtered down from the ceiling.

"Good morning, Sister," I said, stopping at the desk and forcing a smile for the ancient and withered nun. "I'm here to visit someone."

"Who might that be?" she croaked, opening an enormous black ledger and pushing it towards me.

"Remus Lupin," I responded, taking the pen she offered me and signing my name. Her eyebrows quirked when she read my signature; but she said nothing about it.

"He should be upstairs. I don't know what room; but it's daytime, so he'll probably be mingling with the other patients."

"Thank you." I hastened towards the staircase she was pointing to. The stairs creaked and groaned in protest as I climbed, emerging out into a small landing. More stairs continued upward, and to my left there was a door. I pushed it open.

What I saw I can only say shocked and dismayed me. I had always known this asylum was a terrible place, but until then I had never realised just how horrible.

The ceiling was stained brown from water in places. The lime-green wallpaper was shredded and hanging sadly from the wall, revealing the cracked plaster beneath. Patients wandered the halls, looking lost or confused; or else sat still against the wall, muttering to themselves. Every few feet was a drab, olive-green door set with a small window; most were open partway, offering glimpses of what was inside or snatches of noise. A faint wailing noise reached my ears, though whether it was a patient or a poor pig in the slaughterhouse I didn't know.

Gazing at the patients and filth around me, I made my way down the long hall, peeking into every room. Mostly I saw patients sleeping or staring into space; one room was quite small, about the size of a large broom cupboard,with padded walls. Strangely enough, this room housed a straight-backed metal chair with leather straps on the arms and legs. Suppressing a shudder, I peeked into the last room, which was empty. It was apparent Remus was not on this floor, so I made my way back to the stairs.

As I passed one redhaired fellow, he reached out and grabbed my arm; his wild brown eyes looked desperately into mine.

"This place is hell," he whispered, eyes bulging. "Hell, hell... listen... can't you hear them scream?"

And true enough, I could hear the same eerie scream echoing dimly throughout the building. I still couldn't decide if it was human or animal. The redhaired chap let go of my arm and slumped against the wall, a hand over his face. Unnerved, I backed out the door and resumed my climb up the stairs.

The next floor seemed somehow more sinister than the last. Most of the doors were shut and locked. I looked around uncertainly. There seemed to be no staff members here, though the locked doors and what I could hear behind them led me to believe this floor housed some of the more dangerous patients. I swallowed hard. I was afraid to look into these rooms, but I couldn't pass them by. Remus could be trapped in any one of them.

I walked slowly along the corridor, glancing into every window in every door. I saw many more patients like the ones downstairs. Some ignored me; most stared back. There was a creepy quality in their eyes I dared not dwell on, and I looked away quickly every time.

One room appeared to be empty, despite being locked; puzzled, I leaned closer to the glass to squint at the dark corners. Why would they bother locking an empty room?

And suddenly, a grinning, jabbering face filled my vision. The bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes rolled in their sockets; saliva and blood dripped from its mouth. The teeth looked very sharp, as though filed to a point; noxious breath steamed up the window. I leapt back with a shout, my heart galloping in my chest. The patient continued to gibber at me, and he raised something up to the window. It looked like a raw, bloody lump of meat. I felt sick, and turned away, shuddering. I didn't dare look up again as I fled to the safety of the staircase, where I sat clutching at my heart.

When I had caught my breath, I continued to the next floor. Here, I received another nasty shock - directly ahead of me when I opened the door was a large, rusty stain on the wall. It looked horribly like dried blood. Feeling very jumpy, I continued my search. This floor was more like the first floor - patients wandering the halls. I saw a few nuns, and it made me feel a bit better. I stopped one and asked if she knew where Remus Lupin was.

"Mr. Lupin? Oh, I just saw him, sir. He's at the end of the hall, in the game room, he is."

I thanked her and proceeded to the room at the end of the hall. The door was wide open, and I stopped on the threshold to look inside.

It was just like the rest of the asylum, with peeling wallpaper and scratched hardwood floors. A bookshelf stood against one wall, but the books were stacked up haphazardly. Loose pages were scattered around the room. A chessboard with a few chipped pieces stood in the centre of the room, flanked by two men who were moving the pieces around in some bastardized form of the game; and on the walls were some ghastly prints of flowers and horses. What made this room different was the enormous window taking up half a wall; a padded window seat stretched before it. Seated on the bench was a man, his head turned as he looked out at the grounds.

I felt a gentle tug. I turned to see a young girl, sixteen or seventeen at most, holding the end of my waist-length braid in one hand. Her blue eyes were huge in her white face, her blonde hair wispy and unkempt. She was wearing what must have been a pretty gown at one time; now it was stained and frayed. She let go of my hair and backed away, looking scared, as though she expected to be struck. An overwhelming sense of pity filled me, and I reached into my pocket and fished out a toffee.

"Here. Take it." I held it out to her, and smiled. She looked hesitant, but finally reached out with trembling fingers and accepted it. She gave me a watery smile before shuffling away. I watched her go, a part of my heart aching with sorrow for her. It wasn't right for someone so young and delicate to be in a place like this.

That reminded me of why I was there in the first place, and I looked back at the man sitting motionless by the window. I crossed the room, never taking my eyes off him. When I was about a foot away, I spoke.

"Remus."

He turned and looked at me. I had to keep from gasping as I saw the changes that had been wrought upon him. His tawny-brown hair, once so soft and neat, was straggly, about shoulder-length, and shot through with streaks of premature silver. His hazel eyes had shadows beneath them, and his skin was as white as snow. He looked thinner than I had ever seen him, dressed only in a long nightshirt. The cloth was stained, and the collar, cuffs, and hem were ragged. On his feet were old, scuffed slippers. One sleeve was rolled up to reveal a dirty bandage around his wrist. But what really hurt me was the expression on his face, an expression of complete misery, fear, and desperation.

"Oh, Remus," I whispered. He just looked back at me, silent. His eyes held memories of a horrible decade; I could see loneliness and worry in them as well. I reached for his hand. His skin was cold to the touch, and I rubbed his hand between both of mine.

"My love," I whispered to him. "My dearest. It's so good to see you again."

I would have thought he was deaf, since he made no reply; but tears welled up in his eyes. I brushed his fringe out of his eyes, and rested my hand on his cheek. "How are you, darling?" I asked him softly. "Are you all right?"

He still didn't answer, but his hand gripped mine tightly. A tear spilled down his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Remus. I never wanted to leave you. But Mum made it impossible for me to see you." I continued to look into his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I... I married. I fathered a child. But I was never in love with my wife. I only loved you." I raised his hand to my lips and kissed it. He continued to look at me, tears slowly running down his face.

"You have to understand that," I said urgently. "I still love you. I never gave up the hope that one day I could bring you home. And you can be with me now. My mother is dead. My wife is dead. I'm finally free to love you."

He still did not answer. I waited patiently, massaging his hands in mine. He took a deep breath, let it out. He started to say something, and that's when a scream shattered the silence.

I stood up and fairly dashed to the doorway to see what was wrong. To my horror, the blonde girl was the one screaming. Her dress was splashed with blood, and her wrist was bleeding. A dazed-looking man stood over her, holding a bloody knife and blinking dully at her.

I darted forward, dropping to my knees beside the girl and snatching my handkerchief from my pocket. I tied it as tight as I could around her wrist to stop the bleeding. Footsteps sounded; several nuns and a man in a long white coat were running towards us.

"Rupert, not again!" one of the sisters cried, taking the knife from the dazed man. Another nun took him by the arm and led him away as the man in the coat knelt beside the girl, whose screams had subsided to watery sniffles.

"I'm so sorry," the doctor said to me, taking a roll of bandages and a wad of wet cotton from his bag. He untied my handkerchief and cleaned the wound; the girl yelped as he probed at the injury. I took her other hand and patted it, trying to comfort her. When the doctor was finished cleaning and bandaging the wound, he stood and brushed the dust from the knees of his grey trousers. "Take her away," he snapped at the remaining nun, who nodded. I helped the girl to her feet, and the sister took her by the elbow and led her away. She looked over her shoulder at me, and smiled again. I smiled back and watched her until the nun led her into one of the rooms.

When I returned to Remus, he was looking down at his bandaged wrist. I sat beside him, and took his hand. "Remus."

He looked up. I dried his tears on my sleeve, and pulled him into my arms. I had gone too long without feeling his body against mine, and I had to keep from weeping myself as I held him. He rested his head upon my shoulder and tightened his grip around my waist. He didn't make a sound, but held on to me for a long time. I stroked his unkempt hair and murmured to him. I can't remember what I said - it was just soothing things meant to calm him. Finally, I decided to tell Remus why I was there.

"I'm going to get you out of here, my love," I said to him. "You can come home with me."

He gazed up at me, and spoke for the first time. "I've waited so long to hear you say that." His voice was hoarse, as though he had long since lost the habit of using it. But it was like music to my ears. Though I had often heard his voice in my dreams, it paled in comparison to hearing him in person. It made me forget everything - our squalid surroundings, my dreadful family, the long years of loneliness, my ill-fated marriage... and my poor daughter, who had been the only good thing to come from such an unhappy union.

"Oh, Remus." I brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I've waited so long to say it."

"This place is hell," he whispered.

His words gave me a shock; the redheaded patient I'd met earlier had said the same thing. As I blinked at him, dumbfounded, the same eerie screech rose in the air. It was louder than before, and I shuddered involuntarily. Remus looked out the window, which I realised looked out over the cemetery. That was a nasty surprise, and I tried to laugh it off.

"Not a dreadfully exciting view," I said, trying to jest. "Not much happens out there, I'd expect."

He shook his head, which I interpreted as 'no, it doesn't'. But then he looked back at me and reached for my hand. "More happens out there than you'd expect," he whispered. "It's not a laughing matter, Siri."

"What do you mean?"

"This place is hell," he repeated. "Didn't you sense it on your way up here? The patients in here... some are harmless, but most are dangerous, both to themselves and others. Surely you saw how they act. Even keeping them locked up on the second floor doesn't help."

I remembered the patient who had frightened me, peering through the window and waving his lump of meat. I swallowed hard and nodded.

"When your mother first sent me here, I thought it was the end of me," he continued, squeezing my hand. "I was more frightened than I could ever imagine being. I found myself surrounded by lunatics, people with serious problems. I didn't belong here. Whenever I saw a staff member, I tried to tell them I was just as sane as they were, and that I had been railroaded here by a vengeful woman determined to keep me away from her son. They wouldn't listen. Even now, they still won't listen. When I talk to them, they decide I am delusional. As long as I am quiet, they leave me be."

"They shall believe you now," I said fiercely. "Even if they don't, I'm going to take you home. If I must bribe every member of staff in this hospital, I will get you out of here!"

He wiped away a tear with the sleeve of his shabby nightshirt. "I would do anything to be released from here," he said miserably. "It's even worse than you think, Siri. As I've said, the dangerous prisoners aren't safe all the time. They are allowed out of their cells for meals and exercise, always on the promise of good behaviour, but few follow through. I know you saw the horrible bloodstain on the wall near the stairs. One of the patients took a chair leg and bludgeoned another to death there. The staff didn't even try to clean the blood from the wall, since the wallpaper is in such abysmal condition. It gives me chills whenever I walk by it." He swallowed and held out his wrist. I peered critically at the dirty bandage wrapped around it. "That man... Rupert. He attacked me with a knife, and cut my wrist. The sisters stopped him from doing anything else to me, and tended to me before I could bleed too much. But Rupert keeps doing it, again and again. I cannot understand how they can be so lax as to allow him to gain access to a knife!"

I hugged him then in an attempt to cheer him. He clung to me, trembling with a mixture of fright and cold. I took off my long coat and draped it over his shoulders.

"Thank you." He held it closed around him.

"This is terrible," I said in disgust. "I cannot believe the quality of this hospital. How on earth can patients get better in a place like this? It's filthy, dangerous, and most certainly understaffed. When that poor girl was attacked in the hall, only three sisters and a doctor came to help."

"He's not a doctor," Remus said, shivering. "Don't even honour him with that word. He's as mad as the rest of the people here. I can't begin to imagine what goes on inside his head. I'm amazed he isn't locked in a room on the second floor. He uses the title of 'Doctor' to preform horrible experiments on patients." He looked over his shoulder at the cemetery. "Didn't you wonder why the graveyard is so crowded?"

"I thought some kind of sickness was to blame," I said softly.

He shook his head. "Only if you mean sickness in the head," he said bitterly. "The doctor tries experiments on hundreds of patients. He injects water into their brains, hooks electrodes to certain areas of the body, preforms all manner of unnecessary and bloody surgeries. I don't know what else. I don't care to know." He shuddered. "My first week here, I inadvertently wandered into the morgue. I... I was horrified by what I saw. Bodies... just stacked up. Piled like... like firewood. It reminded me of a book I once read on the Black Plague. Oh, Siri... I was sick... so sick. The doctor found me outside the door. I had vomited. He didn't even try to do anything to comfort me. He dragged me upstairs and locked me in a terrible room. It's only the size of a broom cupboard. Inside is a metal chair. He strapped me in it... and left. He left me there in the dark. I was there almost two days, I think. I couldn't trust my own reckoning by the end, since I was so hungry and scared and ill. When he finally let me out... I vowed never to do anything that would cause me to be locked in there ever again."

I hugged him tighter, rocking back and forth with him. The uneasiness I had felt when first entering the asylum had swiftly become a full-fledged horror. The loathing I had for my mother also increased tenfold. She must have known what an awful place Milford was, or else she wouldn't have bothered sending Remus here. There were plenty of mental institutions within London's city limits.

"The nurses kill patients, too," he whispered against my neck. "Not the nuns you've seen. They are mainly for show, so that visitors think their relatives or friends are in the care of these sweet, motherly sisters. But it couldn't be further from the truth. There are male nurses here, huge, hulking brutes. They live in quarters on one of the basement sublevels, where visitors are forbidden to go. But once visiting hours are over, they are allowed to mingle with the patients, 'correcting' us as they see fit. This usually involves beating the patient into submission. That is another reason why the graveyard is so full.

"Like the doctor, the nurses are cruel and sadistic. In my opinion, they should be locked up as well!" He fidgeted. "When they let us outside for exercise... which isn't as often as they should... they herd us along these underground tunnels like cows. Generations of workers here have painted all kinds of gruesome graffiti on the tunnel walls. Horrible things... even Satanic symbols and phrases. Worst of all, a mural of the Grim Reaper with 'All will die tonight' written underneath it. I don't know if half the patients here can read well enough to be scared by most of the graffiti on the walls, but that mural gets through to them.

"Worse, I think it's haunted." He was still shivering.

"I wouldn't be surprised at all if it was," I murmured. "All those poor, tortured souls... they couldn't possibly rest while their tormentors remain, subjecting others to the horrible things they went through."

"It's hell," Remus insisted. "Hell. I've never been so scared in my life. It gets worse and worse every day."

"Not anymore," I reassured him. "For once, the power and prestige of the Black name comes in handy. I will use everything I have to get you out of here. With my family dead, no one will contest your release."

"Thank you, my love," he whispered. "Thank you so much."

His voice throbbed with gratitude and relief. I hugged him even tighter and kissed his forehead. "You won't have to worry anymore," I muttered. "Not anymore." I kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose. I stopped and looked at him, gazing into his eyes. He gazed back, tears glistening on his cheeks. My heart ached for him, for the pain and terror he had been through, for the years we had been apart. I wanted badly to comfort him, but at the same time, I couldn't speak. Instead, I tilted his chin up and kissed him softly on the lips.

It was the first real kiss we'd shared all day, the first kiss we'd shared for a decade. It seemed to last forever, and yet it also seemed to be over in a second. When we parted, we just looked at each other. For a moment, we could ignore our surroundings and imagine we were someplace miles away.

The same eerie scream that so often sounded was what broke us from our trance. Almost automatically, we both turned toward the window. The slaughterhouse was just visible in the distance.

"You get used to it, after awhile," Remus said. "It's a horrible noise. Sometimes at night I can hear the pigs screaming. But then, it could be patients being tortured in the doctor's 'operating room'. I put my fingers in my ears and do my best not to hear it."

I squeezed his hand and fished my pocketwatch out of my waistcoat. I had been here almost two hours. I snapped the watch shut and kissed Remus again, quickly. "I'm going to go back to London now," I said softly. "I'm going to the hospital board to have you released."

He smiled. It was a small, trembling smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Thank you."

I stood. He shrugged off my coat and held it out to me.

"Love, you'll be cold," I protested. "Keep it."

"I'll survive," he said. "I've been cold before. You need every advantage you can get with the hospital board, and I won't have you showing up before them looking untidy and half-dressed."

"If you insist." I pulled on my coat and buttoned it, then leaned down and kissed him once more. "Stay here," I whispered to him. "Don't leave for anything. I don't want you getting hurt by one of these... maniacs... before I can get you out of here."

He nodded. I squeezed his hand. "I love you," I said quietly.

"I love you, too," he responded. "With all my heart."

I didn't want to leave him, but I couldn't get him released if I didn't. I crossed the room, and paused in the doorway to look back at him. He offered me a reassuring smile as I glanced at him, and I smiled back. Then I forced myself to leave, picking my way through the patients wandering the hall.

The withered nun at the desk looked up at me when I emerged back onto the ground floor. I eyed a set of metal doors across the room as I crossed the scarred floor. Were those the doors that led to the chambers of the horrific nurses, and the torture chambers of the evil doctor? I didn't want to know.

"Leaving so soon, Mr. Black?" the withered nun croaked.

I could hardly stand to look at her. She certainly must know what horrors were perpetrated on these grounds, and yet she continued to serve as stage dressing to cover the terrible treatment of the patients. She was a monster, not worthy of the habit and crucifix she wore. But I managed a small smile. "Not for long, sister. I'll be back in a short while."

She smiled back, and I hastened out the door and down the cracked, weedy path. The driver was reading a newspaper in his seat, and looked up as I approached.

"Blimey, sir! You're as white as a ghost, you are. What happened in there?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "We must return to London, posthaste. I must meet with the hospital board as soon as possible."

"Certainly," he said, looking bemused as he folded up his paper and tucked it inside his coat. I climbed inside the carriage, and we were off.

All the way back to London, I chewed nervously on my thumbnail, my mind back at the asylum with Remus. I prayed he'd be all right. As long as he stayed by the window, I was sure he would. But doubt gnawed at the back of my mind. I popped open my pocketwatch once more. It was nearly lunchtime; I remembered what Remus had said about even the most dangerous patients being let out for meals. I could only pray they wouldn't go after my love.

And as soon as Remus was safely at home with me, I was going to start making improvements at that hospital. The blonde girl haunted my thoughts, and I swallowed hard. Even if it was just so that one girl would have a better life, I was going to expose everything going on at that detestable place, and I would give as much money as I could to be sure things would be improved.

"We're here, sir," the driver called. I stepped out of the carriage, straightening my coat.

"Wait, please," I commanded, and he nodded, fishing the paper from his coat. I pushed open the heavy door of the hospital board's building.

A smiling secretary was seated behind a large oak desk, wearing a high-necked, deep-purple dress. Her smooth brown hair shone in the light of the gas lamp over her desk. "Good afternoon, Mr. Black," she greeted me. "May I help you?"

"I certainly hope so," I replied, flashing my most charming smile. Though I loved only Remus, I had found this flirtatious smile worked wonders on all of the women and many of the men I met. This girl was no exception; her face lit up. "I need to know where I must go to have a patient released from Milford," I continued.

"That would be Dr. Hook's office," she said instantly. "Right up the stairs, and it is the second door on your left."

"Thank you very much," I said courteously, and headed the way she had indicated. My heart was pounding with nervousness as I climbed the dark, dusty staircase. Dr. Hook's office was right where the secretary promised, his name printed neatly on the frosted glass. I rapped on it.

"Come in," a deep voice called. I pushed open the door to find a sunny office with bookshelves on the walls. Seated at a desk before the windows was an enormous man with muttonchop sideburns and a handlebar moustache. He peered up at me through the tiny spectacles perched on his nose and smiled.

"Mr. Sirius Black, I believe?" he asked, as we shook hands. "Please, have a seat. I've never had the honour to meet you before, sir, but I knew your parents, I did. Quite well. Terribly sorry for the death of your mother."

"Thank you, Doctor," I responded politely, not bothering to tell him that I hated my mother and was, in fact, glad she was dead . "Actually, the business I am here to deal with today has something to do with my mother."

He leaned forward expectantly. "Really? What is it?"

I took a deep breath. "Well, Doctor. About ten years ago, my mother had a patient committed to Milford Asylum For the Insane. A Remus J. Lupin."

"Yes, I remember," Dr. Hook nodded. "As I recall, they said the boy was a lunatic. He certainly seemed sane enough to me, but I thought your mother had good reason to want him committed."

"It wasn't a good reason," I contradicted him. "She had Remus committed because she discovered I was carrying on a romantic relationship with him."

Hook pushed his spectacles up his nose and cleared his throat. "You were?"

"Yes," I said calmly. "Remus is as sane as you or I. So I have come to demand his release."

He sighed, his moustache rippling. "I see," he said finally. "You do realise few people will - ah - take kindly to a man who is - well - romantically involved with a mental patient?"

I said nothing, just affixed him with the cold, steely gaze that the Blacks had always been famous for. He began to fidget uncomfortably under my look, and cleared his throat nervously. He leaned over and pulled open a desk drawer, extracting a folder and some papers. Silence reigned as Hook scribbled away at the paper, pausing every once and again to glance at the folder. Finally, he stood. I stood as well as he waddled around the desk.

"Here. Mr. Lupin's release. Just bring it to the secretary and have her notarize it before you go."

"Thank you, Doctor," I said, taking the paper and shaking his hand. He smiled at me, and I turned to go.

The smiling secretary notarized the release for me, and I folded it neatly and tucked it inside my coat as I stepped out into the grey day. "Back to Milford, please," I called to the driver. "And hurry."

He nodded, and in minutes we were off. I reached inside my coat and fingered the paper. I was nervous and sweating lightly; I prayed desperately that Remus was okay. The carriage had barely rolled to a stop outside the hospital before I fairly flew out the door and up the path.

The withered nun's head jerked up in surprise as I banged through the door and strode up to her desk. I slapped the release on her desk. "I'm here to demand the release of Remus Lupin," I said firmly. "I have here a notarized statement of release from the hospital board."

The sister took the paper and skimmed it. Then she laid it on the desk and stood. "Pardon me a moment."

I watched her as she disappeared behind the metal doors I had seen earlier. I drummed my fingers impatiently on her desk, trying to resist the urge to run upstairs and snatch Remus, stealing him away while the nun was gone. Finally, the nun returned. Behind her was the white-coated 'doctor'.

"Greetings, Mr. Black," he said smoothly. "I am Doctor Peters." I glared at him, hating everything about him, from his greasy black moustache to his shiny black shoes. There were spots of blood on his coat, and some sort of sharp tool in his pocket. He didn't seem to mind my lack of response, but pushed past me to read the release paper which was still sitting on the desk. He read it, and then looked up and offered me a greasy smile. "This seems to be in order."

"Then let me have Remus," I demanded.

"Ah, but he is - busy right now, Mr. Black. You can have him when I'm done."

My heart plummeted to my shoes. I turned sharply on my heel and raced across the room to the metal doors, pushing them open. I found myself hurtling down a grey hallway, calling Remus' name over and over. I paid no heed to the slowly darkening tunnels or the suspicious emptiness; I rushed from corridor to corridor, going lower and lower below the asylum. It wasn't long before I found myself in the very tunnels Remus had described. I slowed to a walk, looking around uncertainly, my heart pounding in my chest.

Where was I? It was no surprise the doctor hadn't chased me. He must have known I would get myself lost. Who knew what he was doing to my love in the meantime.

Faintly, I heard footsteps. They were coming from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. I could hear grunting and muttering; quite clearly I heard someone say, "The doctor wants him dead. He knows."

Surely they were talking about me; I slipped through the nearest door silently.

I had to keep from screaming when I saw where I was. It was the morgue, and it was a hundred times worse than Remus had described. Bodies, in various states of decay, were piled around the room in heaps. All ten drawers of the storage compartments were closed. The stench was incredible; I had to stuff my sleeve under my nose. "Good Lord," I said, sick.

A pounding noise made me jump. I looked around wildly; one of the drawers was vibrating. The noises were coming from inside.

"Remus!" I called, rapping on the door.

"Sirius!" I heard him scream. I wrenched the drawer open. Remus sat upright, his eyes wide and terrified. I grabbed him by the waist and lifted him out of the drawer. He fell against me, gasping and weeping. I swept my coat off and draped it over him once more, and put my hand over his mouth.

"Shh," I whispered. "I think the guards are trying to find me. The doctor isn't going to let us leave here alive. I need you to tell me how we can escape."

He nodded, trying to speak. He pointed at a door opposite the one I had entered, and I pulled it open. A dark tunnel was all that lay behind it. I looked at Remus. He nodded, and I pulled him through the door, tugging it closed behind us. It was pitch-black inside, and held some of the smell from the morgue. Ignoring this, we made our way slowly down the tunnel.

"It's so dark," I whispered. "How do you know where we're going?"

"Shh." he didn't explain, but finally said triumphantly, "Seven hundred and ten."

"I beg your pardon?" I was mystified.

"This is one of the tunnels they use to transport us," he whispered. "Though they usually don't take us through the morgue. It's the awful tunnel I told you about, with the Grim Reaper painted on the wall. To avoid looking at it, I always stare at the ground and count to myself as I walk this way. It's exactly seven hundred and ten steps from one end to the other. Reach out, and you should feel a door handle."

I did as he asked. Sure enough, the cold metal of a knob met my fingers. I seized it and turned. Light spilled down through the opening, making us blink. A damp stone staircase spiraled above us.

Faintly, I heard the door at the other end bang open. A voice echoed throughout the tunnel: "They're at the other end."

"Go!" I grabbed Remus' wrist and pulled him up the stairs, paying no heed to the slippery stone. Behind us came the sounds of several large men giving pursuit. Remus was terrified; he kept looking back. I pulled him harder. "Where does this go?" I panted.

"Out near the cemetery," he answered.

"Be prepared to run faster than you ever have in your life," I growled, as we reached a landing with a door. I smashed it open with my shoulder, and we found ourselves outside.

We raced through the tall grass, winding around tombstones. At one point, Remus tripped over a fallen stone hidden by the grass, and we tumbled to the ground, yelling in surprise. We had no time to pause. This was life or death. I hauled my lover to his feet and ran raster, panting like a dog. The shouts of the pursuing men reached my ears.

"We - have - to get - around - to the front," Remus panted. "If your driver - is out there - they won't chase us -"

I pulled him along faster. We raced around the building to where my carriage was waiting. The driver looked up and stared as we darted towards him.

"Go!" I hissed at him, pushing Remus into the carriage.

"Good Lord, sir, what -"

"Just GO!" I shouted, climbing inside the carriage. "As fast as you can!"

The driver must have been spooked; he whipped the horses until they were in a frenzy, trying desperately to do their best in order to stop the whipping. I settled back into the seat and let out a long breath. Remus climbed into my lap and hugged me, trembling. We held each other until we reached my house. I quickly paid the driver, with a generous tip included, and put my arm around Remus, leading him into the house. I locked the door and made it into the nearest chair before my knees gave out. Remus approached me slowly.

"I'm sorry, Siri," he said, dropping to his knees beside my chair. "I'm so sorry."

I put my arms around him. "Why?" I murmured.

"We could have been killed... all because of me." He buried his face in my shirt.

"Oh, love." I forced him to look up at me. "It's not your fault. It's all my mother's doing. She was the one who sent you there. And I came to rescue you. There's no need to be sorry. If anything, I'm the one who should be sorry. I should have come to rescue you a long time ago."

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, my darling." I kissed him softly and pulled him into my arms. We cried together for a long time.

I had always thought the day Remus returned to me would be a joyous one; but the rest of our day was spent in silence. We held each other and just relished the feel of being in each other's arms again. Finally, I summoned the servants to draw Remus a bath and cook him a hot meal. By the time we slid into my bed that night, Remus looked much better than he had - his hair was washed and cut short again, his skin clean and smelling of soap. The cook had changed the bandage on his arm for a clean one. We slept in each other's arms that night, lying as close together as we possibly could.

Much has changed since then. For the past six years, Remus and I have lived in a large house in a secluded area of Kent, isolated from society. I run my business entirely from my home. The only person allowed to come inside the house is our housekeeper, Mrs. MacGregor. The authorities have been informed of every awful deed which took place at the asylum. I have spent a great deal of money and influence in order to improve the conditions of Milford, using Dr. Hook as my go-between. He tells me that Dr. Peters and his awful nurses have been fired and sent to prison; the hospital is undergoing tremendous restoration and expansion; and the patients are getting the help they so badly need. The young blond girl, whose name is Eloise, writes to me every now and then, telling me how her life has improved. I sent her a beautiful blue gown on her eighteenth birthday. Her doctors have told me, through Dr. Hook, that Eloise is recovering rapidly. I'm pleased to say she will be returning home to her family in June.

As I write this, I can look up to see my lover curled up in an armchair, reading a book as the warm sunlight slants through the high windows. Remus has not fully recovered from the memories of his horrific stay at the beastly hospital. But every day he reverts further to his old self, to the sweet, happy young man I fell in love with. We are only thirty-six. There is plenty of time ahead of us, plenty of time for love to heal our wounds.

The End