This is kind of a Jily fic, but this is going to grow into a short one-shot series, so I've separated it. I'm going to centre it around the senses (it sounds weird, stay with me).
Disclaimer: Not mine. You know this.
James was always touchy. Always fidgeting, always moving.
His hands were perpetually in his hair, his knees bounced endlessly in every class, his fingers always twitching. He touched his fingertips together over and over to "practice his agility," he twirled quills, tossed ink pots or anything even remotely catchable between his hands.
His body hummed with ceaseless energy. You saw it on the quidditch pitch, in his penchant for troublemaking, in his unwavering, intense dedication, determination, and focus. His energy powered him, made him unstoppable.
He was all over his friends, too. He ruffled their hair, tucked their heads under his arm and walked down the corridor. He slung his arm over their shoulders or his legs over their laps in class, in the Great Hall, in the corridor, in the common room. His hugs were legendary - he would grab them at random, any time, any where, and squeeze them, sometimes individually or sometimes altogether. He would shout about how much he loved them, rapidly whisper encouraging or comforting words, or say nothing at all. Sometimes the hug was enough.
He made his friends feel safe, feel loved. He reminded them that it was okay, no, more than okay, to be affectionate. For Remus and Sirius, raised to think the world created a vast, uncrossable divide between you and everyone else, James' affection was something of a saving grace.
He kept his distance from Lily until they became friends. He was always extra twitchy when she was around and the Marauders knew it was killing him. But James wasn't about to violate her. So his hands shook, his knee bounced, his hair was practically torn from the root, but he didn't dare touch her until he knew she'd be okay with it.
When he and Lily started dating, it was like the floodgates opened. His fingers danced across her skin, her hand was always clasped in his. His arm was around her shoulders, his hands knotted in her hair, his lips pressed to her neck, cheek, forehead, mouth, shoulder. People were used to James being all over the people he loved, but sometimes they wondered how Lily could stand having James draped over her all the time.
He electrified her and she loved it. Lily, too, loved being affectionate, and together she and James were a mess of hands and whispered oaths.
When Harry was born, it was like they were, all of them, made anew. They tickled his feet until he screamed with laughter, brushed their fingers across his forehead to move his thick mop of hair (trying to tame Harry's hair was, already, the bane of Lily's existence) out of his eyes. James would toss Harry up into the air, his shrieks of delight echoing around them. Sirius transformed and let Harry ride on his back for hours, Remus cradled Harry in his arms and read Babbitty Rabbitty until neither of them could keep their eyes open.
And still, always, there were hugs. James and Lily had passed on their love of hugging and Harry, as soon as he could walk, would come screaming from wherever he was and wrap his little body around you. He would plant kisses on your face and shout "I LOVE YOU UNCLE MOONY! I LOVE YOU UNCLE PADS!" until their poor cat ran into hiding.
There was love, so much love, that they were all bursting with it.
Remus stood, now, alone.
It was lightly drizzling, but it could have been pouring and he wouldn't have noticed. The rain had soaked through his coat hours ago, but he couldn't bring himself to move.
They were in there. Those boxes. That hole.
Remus swiped at his face, but he couldn't tell if he was wiping away tears or rain or both. Probably both.
He couldn't quite reconcile his profound emptiness with the intense, ever-increasing sadness that coursed through him. Sadness wasn't even the right word for it. He felt numb and cold, but also like there was a gaping hole in his chest that was making him collapse into nothing, into madness, into something that he couldn't quite describe but was making it impossible to see why he needed to carry on.
He was nothing and every horrific thing all at once.
They would hate it if they knew they were in there now. Contained. Separated. He'd thought they could at least be buried together, but he hadn't found the words to propose it. Every ounce of fight had been crushed out of him and now...
James was never still, and now, Remus pulled out his handkerchief, he would never move again. He wouldn't strut around the cottage, twirling his wand between his fingers, wouldn't grab Lily and swirl her around the kitchen until her laughter caught like flames and had them all in hysterics. He wouldn't grin that broad, toothy grin and pull Remus into a crushing hug.
And Harry.
Remus didn't know much about Harry's aunt and uncle, but he knew Lily hated them (well, as much as she hated anyone) and he knew there was no way they could give him what Lily and James had given him.
And Harry wouldn't even remember them. Wouldn't remember any of it. Not the way Lily would dance with him around their house, the way James would grab him in a hug every time he caught the toy snitch. He wouldn't remember the way Remus had held him, the way… Black… Remus shook his head and wiped more tears from his eyes.
Remus took a deep, steadying breath and squared his shoulders. He took his wand out of his pocket, his hands trembling, and moved it in a slow circle. He conjured a wreath, all he could think to do, covered in lilies, and set it at the base of their headstone.
He stood there a moment longer, wrapped his arms around himself, and turned on the spot.
Until next time xx