A/N: I just started writing this when I was really bored and reading Dance, Recover, Repeat (aka Sushi Central) kind of inspired me to finish this chapter. But let me say something before I start getting my ass ripped open because some fan is crazed on keeping characters IC. This is a journal. In a journal, you can be whoever you want to be and you can write whatever you want to write. There is more to Remus Lupin than just books and big words. He's a teenager, just like us. He cusses and lusts and obsesses like the rest of us. If you can't handle Remus OOCness, please don't read my story, even if I was bored when writing it. -/rant-

Warnings or whatever: AU in case you haven't guessed already. Some of these places are real and some have the same name as real places. I personally apologize to Cleveland Heights High School for making you guys sound cool. XD I probably would think you are, but since I'm not there…leave me to my assumptions. I also apologize in advance for any racial slurs. I was raised to say very racial and (unintentionally) offending things. Hey, I'm black. We talk about every one and every thing. See? Case and point. Rated M for safety's sake. I haven't really planned this out. Homosexual thoughts and activities.

Disclaimer: I only own the plot. J.K. Rowling (the 7th book better be good, bitch! I am not happy with you) owns the characters that you recognize. Others you don't, I own. And I'll just give Harry the gun and see what he does with it. –evil grin-

Now that my bitch fest is over – on with the story!


(Mon.) August 23, 2006 – (12 midnight) Today was my first day as a junior. Nothing too exciting about that, to say the least. But when I woke up this morning, I had the strangest feeling that something was going to change. I was a little disappointed; we had the same introduction to the rules and what not, and today was more or less a personal day for the students (the upperclassmen at any rate). Absolutely no one paid attention. I mean, God, who would? We're juniors. We're the VPs of the school. The seniors may be the figureheads, but no one knows we hold the real power. Like Zaphod Beeblebrox. The seniors equal Zaphod. We equal the hidden power, the actual runners of the show. But I digress.

As I was saying, normal first day. Everyone (mainly the girls) was more excited about what they're going to wear to Homecoming at the end of the NEXT. DAMN. MONTH. Ugh. Every once and a while I wonder why I despise girls. Listening to their mindless…chatter made me realize why. They're just too damn…fuck it; they're too damn girly. Okay, I know there's a better reason than that, but that's the only one I have. Maybe I'll think of a better one tomorrow. I'm going to bed.

(Tues.) August 24, 2006 – (10:13pm) Maybe today I won't pass out over my journal. SMDD. (Same Monotony, Different Day) But, there were two very good points to my day. The system put me into a regular English class by mistake, so I was moved to Honors English. (Pretty quick for this system.) That was the first good point. Small, ineffective, yes. But it made my day. …Partially. Anyway! Second good point: I have seen the hottest guy in the history of hot men. Or gorgeous. One of the most gorgeous guys in the history of gorgeous men. Nah, it just doesn't ring quite as well. But, in all seriousness, there is no other way to describe this guy other than majestic. Or maybe elegant. Like, he's a dragonfly in the middle of a bunch of flies. God, I sound so much like Virginia Woolf when she wrote that one story. Ew. I hated that story. But listen to me, 'elegant,' 'majestic.' How 'elegant' and 'majestic' can someone look wearing a shirt that said you sold your mind on ebay? I'm crazy. I promised myself I wouldn't do this again. Not after Michael.

But, hey, I can dream right?

Moving on, I have to describe my new eye candy (I feel strangely dirty saying that…) for future reference. He's one of those I'm-so-cool-I-can-get-away-with-this kind of person that wears their hair long and instead of looking like a Beatle, he looks dead sexy. It's straight and smooth looking and he wears it in a ponytail. I want to run my fingers through it so badly… And he's got the most beautiful blue-gray eyes I will ever see in my life – alright, I've got to stop. Curse you, Ms. Thompson, placing us across the room from one another. Goddess though you are, you can be a very cruel deity. Just so I won't dwell on his looks anymore, I'll just sum it up. He's kind of pale, though not sickly. More like he was just born with paper white skin. Maybe ivory. I don't sit close enough to be able to tell. He wears eyeliner and black nail polish; anyone with vision can see that. For some reason, I like guys with makeup. But, shh, even if I'm writing on paper, someone can still read this. (Hello, if you are.) So that's as far as I may go with that. Maybe another day.

I just realized – I have nothing else better to do with my time other than write in this damn journal and drool over guys that will more than likely not spare me a second glance. Like my obsession. Yeah, I like that. Obsession. That'll be my name for him until I find out for real. Yeah, I kind of spaced during class so I wasn't listening… But, yes. All I can do is pine over Obsession and nothing more. Oh my damn, I need to go somewhere.

I'm calling Nicky. Maybe she'll know something we can do. Hell, I'm even willing to get high. Won't count on it, though. I'm too scared of losing what brain cells I have remaining. It's amazing in itself that I have brain cells at all, all the times I've been knocked around…

(Thurs.) August 24, 2006 – (1:24am) I don't want to talk about yesterday.

At all.

I'd rather block it from my mind.

That's why I didn't update yesterday. I don't want to relive it. But I'll talk about the night before last.

I called Nicky and she invited me to some party. I had some problems with that since it was a school night, but what little homework I had was done, why not? I left a note in case mom woke up from her nightly coma and wondered where I was. I pulled on my jacket and left the house. I felt pretty happy that she lived at the end of the block; it made 'I need my best friend ever' travel easier. Skipping past the innuendo best friends usually say to each other, we got to the party and were separated almost immediately. Great. So I wander some stranger's living room in an attempt to find the stereo and when I find it, who should be there but Obsession. Naturally. God only wants this vision of loveliness to know every. Single. Flaw. I. Have. Including the one where I go to a party, screw with the stereo and get trashed.

Like, I said. Great.

Atleast I learned his name. It's Sirius Black. Beautiful goddamn name.

You know that one kid that always seems jaded, even though you know it's an act? With Sirius, it's not an act. He's tired. He's bored. And God damnit, if he wasn't going to go down without a fight! As he said, anyway. We talk and drink most of the night. He's pretty funny for a Marilyn Manson fan. (You know the stereotype: all Marilyn fans are creepy Goths that tore out the muscles in their jaws that helped them smile.) Sweet and charming. Not bad company. Not bad at all. I enjoyed trying to talk to him over the loud music.

Around 2am, Nicky took me home and I collapse into my bed. All I dream about is Sirius and the sound of his voice.

(Fri.) August 25, 2006 – (5:43pm) God. God, God, God. If I ever go beyond drinking and start using, someone shoot me. Or slap me. Something. Please. In fact, I'll pay you to kill me if I start using.

Nicky 's been at it for about a month now.

She just came by, high as a damn kite. She scared the shit out of me. She wouldn't stop giggling at the 'pink mice' by my feet whenever she blinked. Apparently, they were tricky bastards and would tear out your innards. So I'd better be careful, Remmy. Yes, Nick, I'll be careful.

But you're the one that should be careful, hon.