So. Here I am, writing the first Lupin fic of my life. I was listening to my Les Miserables soundtrack and when this song came on, I thought "Hey, this would be perfect for Lupin", and thus this fic was born. It's not a song-fic, though (I can't write them).

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I would be rich and wouldn't have to do my damn HSC. Same goes for Les Mis, all belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables There's grief that can't be spoken

As the pain goes on and on

Empty chairs at empty tables

Now my friends are dead and gone

James had always fancied himself as a bit of a singer, at least in jest. Down by the lake he would often be seen serenading the current object of his affection, his hand on his heart, his voice quavering with mock emotion. Often these romantic interludes would be greeted by giggles, more often than not blushing. Remus remembered.

He was not much of a singer himself, he never had been. Sirius had a slightly above average voice in his youth, and so he used to join James in singing drinking songs at their study table in the common room. Remus could see them now, sprawled in their chairs, butterbeers held triumphantly in their fists as the singing increased in volume. They would be singing now. Late in the evening, when the fire was crackling in the hearth and the merriment and laughter had reached it's height, that would be the time for them to sing.

But there was no fire crackling in the hearth, no merriment and certainly no laughter. It was late at night, yes, but there was something- someone- missing. Remus studied the surface of the table intently, positive that for a moment, he would raise his head and there they would be, the singers, the trouble-makers. But as much as he tried, there was never anyone there, just three empty chairs at places that were not set.

But anything could be imagined if you concentrated hard enough. There was James, his lanky legs swinging carelessly over the arm of his chair. There too was Sirius, his head thrown back as he laughed at some joke James had made. Sitting across from him was Peter, eternally nervous, his rapid giggle contrasting strongly against Sirius's self confident guffaw. And there was he, Remus, at the head of the table, neither laughing nor giggling, merely observing.

How ironic that he, the observer, would be the one to survive. Peter was still alive, but for how much longer? Even if You Know Who didn't eventually kill him, one of the Order would. One of the Order… Remus cracked his knuckles.

He shook his head, and his friends disappeared at quickly as they had come. Once again Remus was left with nothing but some dusty, empty chairs. And yet… All he had to do was close his eyes, and he would see them again. He wanted to close his eyes forever so that he was no longer alone in the world. Ghosts may walk the halls of Hogwarts, but Remus had a haunting of a different sort. Try as he might, his friends would be nothing more than ghosts of his past.

He opened his eyes… Another empty table, with some empty chairs and one wretched, lonely man who wouldn't- couldn't let go. And still Remus sat there, at the head of the bare table, hoping, wishing that one day, he would open his eyes and find them sitting there, the dead, the lonely, the abandoned. He needed them to be there so he wouldn't see ghosts at night, so he wouldn't turn around suddenly because he thought he saw James, so he wouldn't knock on Sirius's door only to remember that Sirius wasn't there anymore. He needed them because without them, there was nothing left.

He needed them to sing again.