The sun set through the window of the miniscule flat in London as Lana Bowers, a young girl of twenty, hummed to herself. The brunette sat on a full bed that had been shoved against the only window the space had. Her hands moved deftly as she glued photographs and wrote notes into the large blue book in front of her. Her humming was a bit off-key but she didn't mind as the space had a permanent charm that didn't allow people outside of the apartment to hear what happened inside. It was a charm that had been put on the space for more... recreational reasons but had become more utilitarian as the world become a more worrisome place.

She turned pages in the book and, using a blue pen, she continued to write, needing these words to be perfect. After she finished humming the tune of Billy Joel's 'Only the Good Die Young' she moved on to 'Vienna." While she had The Stranger on vinyl, she was too engrossed in her project to stop to turn on the record player even though she could do it with a few flicks of a wand. Still she had no doubt the player would be blaring the latest rock music in no time. Later in the evening, after a few small bouts of coercion, the mellow sounds of Billy Joel or Elton John would replace the heavy guitars. It would be an evening dance of wills and laughter that had occurred every night that Lana had lived in small space.

It was a dance that she loved so dearly, that she felt the tears prickle her eyes. All that was left was the reminder that such evenings in the tiny place would soon be a thing of the past.

In less than two weeks, she would be moving. Certainly that move would be for the best. She'd be much safer. Her work easier. The additional space, a multiple room house as opposed to the one room flat, would be a welcome benefit in the coming months. It would be a big change.

But she would miss it here. Home.

Lana didn't have to raise her head from her project to know what she'd see. One room that overflowed with books and records. Clothes haphazardly stuffed into a broken dresser.

She wasn't a slob, but such tight quarters and long hours at work had taken their toll on her priorities. If she'd been back at Hogwarts, she could just hear the lecture that Lily Evans nee Potter, would have given her. Lily, once a roommate and forever one of her closest friends, was a firm believer that every item had its place. After so many years of needing to keep perfect order, Lana found that she thrived in messy chaos.

Lily loved her anyway.

Nearly done, she shifted her attention back to the front of the book, the beginning, as it was, to everything. 

The picture was simple. It was a picture of Lana's very first night at Hogwarts, a group of First Year students at the end of the Gryffindor table. Her nose looked particularly big, as her face hadn't quite grown into it yet, and her hair, which had been braided to keep it neat, began to show signs of slipping, most obviously by the brown curls that fell over her new black robes. Her smile was tentative, shy, and showed just the edges of being relaxed. Moving pictures told a thousand words though, and her hands anxiously wringing on the table top in front of her barely touched plate told the story of a little girl who wasn't sure at all of the future before her. 

Her anxiety, however was mirrored in the taller, dark haired boy to her right, closer to the camera. His face was smoother, and not a hint of awkwardness was seen in his countenance. He was, in fact, grinning broadly at the camera, chin raised in arrogant confidence. This boy's eyes gave him away though. Gray eyes, as tumultuous and daunting as the clouds just before a storme stared out at her from the picture, and the fear in them caused her heart to physically hurt. 

Rubbing her hand across her chest, as if to ease the ache, she shifted her focus and let out a small giggle at the other boys before her. On her left, another boy with hair the color of deep chocolate and rectangular glasses, was throwing his arm around her shoulders and making a silly face. Directly across from him, a smaller boy on the stockier side, had his mouth full of food and was desperately trying to swallow so that he could get at least one good look at the camera. Beside him, a sandy-haired boy with scars on his face, had a soft smile, looking at all four of them as if he couldn't believe that they'd all willingly sat with him. 

As lost as she was in memories, Lana wasn't prepared for the thick, calloused hand to wrap around her neck, but she didn't protest when it slid upward, tilting her chin back to look into the same eyes from the picture, still the color of storms, but no pain to be found. She especially didn't protest when warm lips met her own in an upside-down kiss.

"What have you got there, My Sun?" the rich and soothing voice invaded her consciousness, causing goosebumps to tingle straight down her spine. The warmth that had pooled her stomach with the kiss burned low and hot. A wide smile bloomed on her lips even as she carefully moved the book to cover the letter she'd written, and intended to merge into the front pages. Through it all she kept her head tilted back, his hand at her neck, feeling the rhythm of her heart beat under his firm touch. 

Instead of responding right away, she raised her own hands and pulled his face down for another kiss. So she consumed and was consumed by the other half of her soul, in this simple, innocuous moment in time. The beauty of banality was not to be missed by her, especially as she prepared for the possibility that it would all end. 

So, these moments were to be cherished deep in her heart for the rest of her life.

And after. 

When the figure eventually raised his face for air, he couldn't resist his laugh. He smiled as if she'd just given him the entire world in her kiss. 

"Well, My Sunny Girl, that was quite the welcome. Perhaps I should surprise you more often?" 

"No surprise needed," Lana answered. "Just you, Sirius Black. Only you." 

Seriousness entered his eyes then, assessing her words, and pushing down the part that didn't quite believe them. He ignored that part, because long ago he'd realized that the person who spoke these words of love, had never lied. Those who'd implanted the idea that he was unlovable? They'd lied often. 

"I've missed you," he admitted. 

She'd been out for days at a time, tending to different patients and helping them evade capture. Her charts had made her job easier, allowing her to get to them quickly if they were in need, but it also posed a major security problem. A problem she couldn't afford to have, especially after what had happened to Dorcas. Dorcas Meadows had been her partner in her practice. Together, they'd defied the Dark Lord. They'd defied the Death Eaters. They'd created a medical system for Muggle Borns so that they wouldn't have to risk capture at Saint Mungo's. They'd saved hundreds and hundreds of people. 

Voldemort himself had come for Dorcas. She'd been tortured for the information, and eventually murdered, but she'd not given anything up. Not that she could have, if she'd wanted to. Lana had it all. 

Lana had to be prepared. If Voldemort came for her, he couldn't get his hands on the locations of her patients. 

So it was that Lana Bowers came up with a plan. It helped that she'd been meaning to make the scrapbook anyway. Now it would serve dual purpose in saving the world and compiling her happiest memories. She honestly felt that, with how dark the world had gotten, they could use any scrap of a reminder of what had been and what could be again.

And she'd leave it all to Sirius. 

It made the most sense after all, for the man holding her within his arms was both her past and her future. 

"I've missed you too," she admitted. 

"Come," she twisted her torso, and grabbed both of his hands in hers, pulling him down. It took just a moment for Sirius to crawl into the bed behind her. He stretched out so that she sat between his legs and her back was to his chest. "Join me down memory lane."

"Is that what we're doing? Taking a stroll?"

"Yes." 

They settled down, and Lana went to open the book. Before she could do so, her lover captured her right hand and raised it up to the light. A freshly healed scar stretched across the back of the appendage, deep and painful looking. It hadn't been there two days ago when he'd last seen her. When he'd told her goodbye while she went to tend patients and he went on a mission for The Order of the Phoenix, the resistance group that they were both members of. 

"You didn't tell me you were hurt," his voice was low, husky and filled with pain. "Was your location compromised?" 

"No, she assured him. "Wrong place at the wrong time. I was picking up supplies and popped into a store. Didn't look where I was going. Got away in a flash with just this scratch." 

Sirius was kind enough not to mention that, between her healing talent and the look of the scar, he knew that it had been much more than a scratch. She could have lost her hand. Her wand hand. 

"Do you think they know that you-"

"No," Lana protested. "They don't know I'm the Secret Keeper. If they did, then it would have been more than one Death Eater, and...I wouldn't be here." 

That was the truth. They were safe only because the Death Eaters didn't know who had James and Lily's location. If the truth were to be revealed, that Lana had the Secrets of the Universe, then she would be as good as dead. 

Sirius held her tighter, his hands wrapped around her waist, he buried his head momentarily into her neck and breathed her in. The scent of mint and bergamot soothed him, as it had since he had begun to associate it with Her. 

"Lana...please don't talk like that." His voice was pained in its pleading.

"Sirius I can't," she told him gently, before she admitted something she struggled in vain to hide from him. "I'm scared."

If Sirius Black had thought, for a single moment, that Lana Bowers might have changed Secret Keepers, then he'd have demanded her to that very moment. He'd have ranted and raved, screamed until his voice was hoarse and then eventually gone, and if that happened then he'd have written in all capitol letters demanding her to stop. He'd have begged her, again and again, to give the burden to him.

But they'd already had that argument and despite any fear she admitted, she would not yield. 

So, instead, he assured her that she was not alone. She'd never be alone if he could help it. 

"I am too."

"What if I fail them?" Tears prickled her eyes at the thought, but she didn't let them fall. "I love them so much. What if I fail them?"

"You could never," his voice was muffled against her skin, and just so, he kissed her neck. "You would never fail them, Lana. Never."

"I know I wouldn't willingly. But what if-"

"It won't happen," Sirius's voice hardened and he raised his head just enough to speak right in her ear, broking no disagreement. "Nothing is going to happen to you. To any of you. I'll die first. Understand me? I'll go first because there's no possible universe where I exist without you."

She let the silence hang between them for a moment at his words, knowing how he meant them, but hoping that, somehow, were she to die, he would find a way to move on. But, again, that was another argument that the small London flat had already seen. So, instead, she snuggled deeper into his cheast.

"I love you. So much."

"And I love you. More than myself. I couldn't possibly love someone more."

She let out a choking laugh. "Except for maybe James."

"Nah. The order is you. Then James. Then Prongslet." Lana's heart warmed at the thought of their Prongslet, little Harry Potter. The infant son of their best friends was a darling to behold. 

"I'll be sure to tell Peter and Remus where they stand in your devotions." She said the words lightly, but she felt his body stiffen, bristling at the mention of their other two friends. Their best friends.

"It's not our brothers Sirius," she objected his unspoken insidious thoughts. "The traitor in the Order...it's not him. Not...not Remus."

"Lana," he growled in frustration, "you have to see that-"

She suddenly became desperate, her heart beating so hard that she heard it in her ears. Needing him to remember how much Remus meant to her. How much he meant to them. She needed Sirius to hold fast before the war not only took their innocence, but took them from each other. She needed them together, not just her and Sirius, but them with all of their friends, more than she needed her next breath.

Who was she without these four boys who were her everything?

"No! I'll not see. My first friend in the world, Sirius, would never harm me. He wouldn't harm us. He's incapable of it." 

"We haven't seen him in months, Lana," his voice was softer, but unyielding. "He's been living with the werewolves for months. Who knows what they've planted into his ear? Voldemort uses werewolves to do his bidding. They are an equal part of his army, which is more than can be said for most of wizarding society. It would be logical for Remus to see this and...sympathize." 

She turned in his arms, needing to look him in the eye as she defended her very first friend in the world. 

"Fenrir Greyback, Voldemort's favorite werewolf, is the one who attacked him, Sirius. Hope was a muggle, and she was Remus's favorite person in the world. He'd never support the people who caused his family so much pain. Never." 

Sirius shook his head, neither agreeing nor refuting her points. After a long stare down, Sirius let out a sigh, and without words, acknowledged their need to move forward. 

Sirius didn't want to believe that the traitor was Remus, but it was easy to say it was when the man himself was accusing Sirius. He'd accused him of being the traitor because of his last name. Because before he'd been a Potter, Sirius has been the Heir of the House of Black.

It was as if both young men had forgotten how broken they had been by their burdens before they'd almost healed from them. Sirius had forgotten how tormented Remus was spending the full moon alone and in pain...before they'd become animagi to help him. Remus had forgotten Sirius's bruises and cruel letters from home before the Potters had taken him in.

Their friendship, while not broken, was slowly cracking in places...and it might have broken...if not for Lana.

But Lana Bowers was there.

She spoke reason to Sirius.

She calmed the panic of Remus.

She kept them from completely turning on each other. 

"Here," she brought his attention to what she'd been looking at before he'd come in. "Look at this picture."

He laughed loudly, allowing himself to be distracted so easily because he hated fighting with her, but he loved laughing with her. The choice to spend their time laughing was an easy one. 

"Is that from First Year? However did you get this?"

"I got a copy from Stirling Spellman. He was in Hufflepuff remember? Before..." she trailed off, remembering his name listed among the dead in the newspaper months before. "But he took pictures of everyone. He had dozens of us and our other friends that he was more than willing to share. I got them, maybe, two weeks before graduation? Yeah, that sounds right."

"I remember him," Sirius smiled a bit sadly. "Good bloke. He'd just gotten promoted in the Muggle Relations Department at the Ministry, didn't he?"

"Yeah. That's him," she shook her head, pushing away the sadness that came with most memories of their schoolmates. So many had been killed. So many had gone missing. So many had become people their younger selves wouldn't recognize. It was a sad time for them all.

"He had a good eye. I mean, look. Even at eleven I was spectacular to behold!"

"Sometimes I wonder that your animagus isn't a peacock for how much you preen."

"Oh, hush your face," he rebuked teasingly. "There you are, looking as anxious as ever." 

"Of course," she agreed, "but right next to you." 

His smile softened, allowing the love he felt for her to come through in his words. "Right where you belong." 

"Right where I want to be," she snuggled farther into his chest, "for the rest of our lives." 

The next day, Lana would take a test when she was home alone. The next day, Peter Pettigrew would show up, and he'd hear news. The next day, Peter Pettigrew would make a decision that would destroy everything that Lana Bowers had been and take from her all that she could be. 

"Do you remember this?" Sirius laughed and pointed at the next page. "When James ran his broom straight through the bedroom window? I thought Euphemia would loose her mind at the mess he made. But, as usual, she had a cool head."

Lana chuckled at the memory, "She made him scrub the entire house."

"And we had to help him," Sirius sighed dramatically, causing her to give him a light smack 

"If by helping, you mean you threw mud every time he finished a spot."

"Deserved it though. He ruined my magazine."

In three weeks, Lana Bowers would be buried in the ground.

In just over a month, Sirius Black would be locked in Azkaban, and the cozy flat would be abandoned, a time capsule to this time that disappeared into a flash of green light. 

Tomorrow their world would end.

But that day, they remembered. 

Greetings Readers! Well, I've finally made it. Welcome to my first ever sequel! (Well, prequel technically, but sequel as far as writing order.)

Please Comment, Vote and Add to Reading Lists. 

If you haven't, please read The Haunting of Peter Pettigrew before you read this book. Although this is technically a prequel, I think there's something to be gained by reading Haunting first. Kind of like how the Prequels in Star Wars meant more because you were still rooting for that perfect ending, despite knowing what would eventually happen. 

But I digress. Happy Reading my Loves! (And if you haven't, check out my other books too.)