Remus had once been brilliant with kitchen spells, able to whip up snacks out of practically nothing, turning out gourmet meals from the simplest of ingredients.
Now he stood in the muggle market, in the frozen foods aisle. He stared at the single serving dinners and tried to figure out which one would last him longest. He had to stretch out his food now, not with magic, but with the few pennies in his pocket.
He put an avocado in his cart, a rare luxury, then removed it when he remembered eating guacamole for the first time with Sirius. He walked past the apples and tried to push out of his mind the fall where James had eaten nothing but apples for breakfast, on some kind of quidditch related diet. He stopped at the candy aisle, and stared the chocolate, deliberately not remembering the boxes of sweets that Peter's mum used to send the four boys at Christmas time. He did his grocery shopping and tried not to think.
He desperately avoided picturing the last time he'd done the shopping with Sirius, three days before Halloween. The store had smelled like spices and candy corn, and Sirius had bought two bottles of wine and a pumpkin pie, while Remus worked his way methodically down their list. Sirius had kissed him under the fluorescent lights, and yes, there had been suspicions, and yes, there had been death, and yes, there was enough sadness to go around. But that night, that last grocery store run, Remus had stood with a carton of eggs in his hand as Sirius kissed him, and felt like he could face anything in the world with Padfoot at his side.
Those eggs had gone bad a week later, sitting in their fridge.