Okay, so, finally, after just months of complete and utter writers bloc on this chapter, I have finally finished. Took me a while (and annoyed me to death), but I am done with this chapter. Sorry for the wait. I started this chapter months ago, got about halfway through it, became terribly confused about what should happen next, and then just left it, to my utter shame.

And, with finals now over (YES! I love FREEDOM!) ... sorry about that, I'm a bit happy that my semesters now over... but now that finals are done, I have more free time (at least, I'll have more after Christmas... I've got a lot of cleaning to do...)

Okay, no more Author Notes for this thing!

But, anyways, onwards, to Remus completely horrifying James into worrying about why he can't let his son go nameless for too long.

I don't own Harry Potter. Really, I don't.

"Do you really need to try that every time we come out here Padfoot?" Remus asked dryly. And yes, he really did feel the need to ask that question each time they snuck out here.

Sirius cheerfully ignored him, rubbing two sticks together in an attempt to create a fire. "So what's on the agenda today kids?" He asked, peering down as he saw a – oh, wait, never mind, it was a beetle, not a spark. A flush of slight disappointment clouded over him.

"I had the house elves give me marshmallows if you can get that fire started Pads," James said grinning way too cheerfully.

"How 'bout gram crackers?" Sirius asked, eyeing the three marauders surrounding him. He saw Peter pull them out of his overnight bag. With that, Sirius grinned, redoubling his efforts on the fire, "excellent!" he crowed, ecstatically. "We'll have smores yet!"

"Siri," Remus put out delicately, "you need chocolate for smores…"

"I know," the boy waved his hand distractedly as he observed the sticks in his hands closely. The beetle was moving along up towards his fingers… he didn't notice James and Peter turn to get settled down and watch the show. "You have chocolate of course though, don't you?"

Moony narrowed his eyes, "What makes you think I'd give you three any?"

"Because we're best friends?" Sirius asked, mentally moving the motion of ignoring the beetle on the stick. He viciously pushed them together before stopping, horrified, to watch the beetle fall onto his lap.

Remus took no notice of his friend's terror. "Because really, I'm not about to give you chocolate just because you asked for it–" whatever else he was about to say got cut off as Sirius gave a loud, horrified scream before jumping up and out of the makeshift fire pit and jumping around as though he were on fire himself. "What on earth–"

The werewolf turned as he saw movement in his peripheral vision and noticed James shifting on the blanket. Peter stared transfixed at the sight before him. James broke the silence, "Erm… Padfoot?"

"Get it off me!" Was his answering reply, "get it off! Get it off! Get it off!"

Remus slowly walked forward, placed both of his hands on Sirius's shoulders, before quickly moving them to his elbows and holding his arms still as Sirius moved as though to whack him upside the head. Somehow managing to ignore Sirius' still frantic yells and wiggles, he surveyed the boy for any damaged for a moment before finding the beetle, and he flicked it to the ground, causing Sirius to fall silent, before squishing it.

Sirius let out an indignant squeak, "You killed it," he accused.

"And you scream like a little girl," Remus told him dryly.

Both stared at each other for all but ten seconds. "Never speak of this again?" Sirius suggested. Remus raised a brow. "I won't tell anyone that you killed a beetle and you don't tell them that I screamed." He clarified.

"Really," Moony muttered, incredulous, "I don't really care if people know that I killed a beetle."

"But aren't beetles bad luck or something?"

"Nah," James said from his position on the ground, "I think you're thinkin' of The Beatles, you know, the muggle band that's gotten pretty big lately."

"I think its crickets that you kill 'em and you get bad luck," Peter piped up; rooting through the bag for a bottle of butter beer that he'd packed. "That's what them Chinese say at least… I think… that's what me mum said."

"I'm pretty sure it was beetles… not a band…" Padfoot frowned, his brow crinkling in thought as his grey eyes stared unseeingly at the tree behind Prongs and Wormtail. "Yeah… you kill a beetle and you get bad luck…"

"Whatever," Remus said, overriding whatever the other three had in mind. He already conjured a bluebell flame, not in the mood to sit through one of Sirius' 'we can create fire like the muggle cavemen back in the day' ideas. "Let's just make some smores, tell some stories, go to sleep, and make sure to get to the Great Hall at a decent time so no one starts to look for us."

"Take all the fun out of everything Loony Loopy Lupin," James said with a pout. "The risk of getting caught is half the fun." Of course, James also said that watching the persons face once the prank is directed at them was the rest of the fun – which is why James was starting to plan how to teach Peeves the 'loony loopy lupin' chant, so that Peeves could annoy Remus for him – it was a win-win situation.

"Yeah," Remus said, unaware of his friend's evil thoughts, "you tell that to me once you're in the dungeons scrubbing cauldrons for detention."

"Don't act like you won't be there with us all high and mighty over there," Sirius overrode, jumping out of the fire pit he made and virtually leaped over toward James, Sirius swatted Peters offending hand away before shoving his own hand into the bag in order to grab a marshmallow for himself. "If we go down, we're dragging you down with us."

"Wow," the werewolf muttered, settling in across from them, making sure that the fire pit still separated them and the bluebell flame grew slightly larger, as if to fend them away, "thanks for worrying about my well being guys."

"That's what we're here for," Peter put in, finally managing to snatch a marshmallow out for himself.

Sirius took out another and tossed it to Remus, "Like, without me," he said brightly as the werewolf caught the little white puffball, "you wouldn't have a marshmallow, would you?"

Remus rolled his eyes, "Nice argument."

The mutt shrugged, "I try."

"We know," James said, having come back with several sticks. The other three in his company blinked, wondering when he had disappeared. He shoved a marshmallow on his stick before tossing another stick to Remus and Peter respectively and dropping the last two onto Padfoot, "Here."

"Hey!" The outraged cry was ignored as Remus set upon the task of sliding his marshmallow onto his stick. James didn't say a word as he brought his own stick down onto Sirius head and proceeded to put a marshmallow on it.

Sirius rubbed his head, a hurt expression on his face that quickly evaporated once he dug into the marshmallow bag once again.

"So…" Remus, surprised, blew onto his flaming ball of sugar as he pulled his stick out of the fire. He gave the charred food a sad look before peeling the black skin off of it, the center was still fluffy, warm, and marshmallowey, "What now?"

James shrugged, watching as Padfoot pulled out a perfectly tanned marshmallow, and he looked desperately at his own burnt piece of wood. His marshmallow fell off…

Peter had taken to eating them plain, less of a mess that way, "How 'bout a story?" Pete asked, looking around at the three of them.

Padfoot perked up at the mention of a story, "Alright, how 'bout this, there was a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar–"

"Anyway," Remus overrode the hyped up dog amongst the laughter from Prongs and Wormtail, "I've got a good one."

"A good troll?" James asked, giving Sirius an evil smirk.

Padfoot pouted.

"Shut your trap," Moony said simply, "You know that ghost in that bathroom?"

"Moaning Myrtle?" Sirius piped in quickly, "I heard that she was called Moaning for a completely different reas–"

"And ignoring the idiot," Prongs said with a laugh chucking a marshmallow at said idiot's head. Sirius caught it quickly, shoving into his mouth and reaching for another to put onto his stick. "Yes, we know of Moaning Myrtle, what about her?"

Remus glanced over at James as he began to rummage through his robes for something. Apparently he found said something and threw a piece of it at Padfoot once it looked as though he was about to open his mouth.

Chocolate was good for many things as Moony would be quick to tell you.

"She had a bout of bad luck all her life I heard," he said finally, after a moments wait. He chewed thoughtfully on his own piece of chocolate before a stick collided with his face.

Moony blinked, bewildered, before glancing over at his three friends, the bluebell flames' light playing with shadows across their faces. It all looked rather morbid.

Maybe not as morbid as his friends faces though.

It took him a moment to figure out what they wanted. And so, it was with a sad sort of smile on his face as he broke off another two pieces of chocolate and threw them both to Prongs and Wormtail respectably. He added in Padfoot to the mix as well once he saw the kicked puppy look on the animagus' face.

But before Remus could continue on with his story, Wormtail piped in with, "Of course she had a bout of bad luck – she's dead."

"Way to put that bluntly," Prongs told him, a tint of amusement in his voice.

At the same time, Padfoot snickered and said, quickly, "I think you're channeling Prongs."

"Yeah I–" Prongs blinked, "Hey!"

"But do you know why she had that bout of bad luck," Remus persisted. "It couldn't have come from just nowhere."

"I don't know," Sirius said with a shrug, reaching for (yet another) marshmallow, "Karma?"

"She obviously did something horrible in a previous life and has to make up for it now," James was nothing but quick to retaliate with his own theory.

Peter just shrugged.

"But wouldn't that still be considered Karm–"

"Who cares about Karma?" Remus asked, put out.

"Wow, way to be rude."

"Just cut across us like that."

"You asked us the question."

"So mean."

"Can't believe we call him our friend."

"Outrageous."

"Are you two quite done," the boy asked before Sirius could continue on after James' comment.

Both the boys stared at the werewolf rather defiantly before slowly nodding.

"Good."

The fire crackled slowly and flared slightly as Peter threw a dried up twig in there. The small, discolored, cracked over leaves blurred and faded in the fire as a small smell invaded Remus' nose. He crinkled said nose. It didn't smell too good. Or sound too good.

But he sighed, took another bite of his chocolate (Honeydukes finest chocolate – he managed to swipe some from Sirius while the mutt wasn't looking, the boy didn't even expect that it was everyone's favorite werewolf that took them, he wouldn't talk to James for nearly a day once he realized that they were gone).

"What I heard," he continued, the flames still crackling merrily between them, "was that he bad luck started early, it wasn't something that she did, or anything like that – it just seemed as though it appeared from out of nowhere, but that is impossible, it had to of come from somewhere. And it all comes back to the day that she was born.

"Now, magic has a mind of its own. And names, names are important. They're more than just sounds that are put together for the sake of being put together, ever wonder why wizards and witches always have the child's names selected and picked out months before the child is even born?"

"I though muggles did that too…?" Sirius half asked, pulling Peter's backpack over to him while the sandy-haired (slightly pudgy) wizard was distracted. He rummaged through it.

"Anyway," Remus continued, ignoring the interruption, "I heard that her parents couldn't decide on a name. It took them so long that, by the time that they had come home, they still couldn't decide on a name, and thus, they began calling the child a 'little alien' for nearly a month." At that point Sirius snickered. "It was around a month later that they finally decided on a name. Myrtle. But by then, the damage was done."

"What damage?"

"You're not making any sense."

James, strangely enough, didn't say a word as he stared at Remus as if he'd never seen him before as both Sirius and Peter voiced their opinions aloud.

Then again, Remus went along with what he usually did and ignored them.

"During that time, her own magic, still barely there, but still impressionable, had taken her as a nameless being. She was a nobody. She didn't have a name. She, theoretically, didn't exist."

"Wouldn't the sorting hat have known that then?"

Remus (once again) continued on as if he hadn't heard Sirius speak. "So once this nameless person began to respond to the name Myrtle, her magic still did not. It was not engrained in her magic. It began to rebel. Thus her series of bad luck began. It started out with little things, accidental magic popping up erratically–"

"–doesn't it always?"

"–magic screwing with her emotions and actions, making her prone to inane drabble and sobs and teasing. And then, finally, after a life of misery, dead, all because she spent one month without a name."

There was silence for a few moments; none of them said a word as they stared at each other over the bluebell flames. Then, finally, Sirius blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked back at Remus. "That," he said slowly, deliberately, "was the worst horror story I've ever heard. And I've heard some bad horror stories. Ever watch Scream?"

Peter though, took a different view on things, and snorted. "Kind of funny actually," he said, "in a sad, sad way."

James didn't say a thing.

Remus snorted. "I made that up on the spot, don't mock me, I'd like you guys to come up with something better."

"I accept that challenge," Sirius said with finality, "and the story will start as so: there was a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar–"

Remus laughed at him.