AN: My second ever one-shot, and first Harry Potter fanfiction! Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (unfortunately). The amazingly talented J.K. Rowling has that pleasure. I merely steal her characters for my writing.
Remus Lupin is running, and the sky is burning. A thousand fires are lit up above his head, but Remus runs on because what can he do? People will burn tonight, he knows, and he accepts this, because this is war and what is war without casualities?
Remus wonders if that's what he will end up as. A casualty in the fiercest battle Hogwarts has ever known. In his mind he sees a sheet of parchment covered in names and details. The fallen.
Remus John Lupin, werewolf. There would be not much else to say.
But of course, he has family now. He has been alone so long that sometimes he slips and it is all for himself and to hell with the rest. But how could he forget Tonks and her bubblegum pink hair, and Teddy. Teddy, his little miracle, his sweet, sweet child.
Remus John Lupin, married, with one son. There. That was his life on a page.
Remus runs on and listens. He hears shouts and screams and cries, the sort of noises that should never been heard in school. The place where he always felt safe. Where everyone should feel safe. Remus Lupin had been a lost boy and Hogwarts had found him.
A figure hurtles into his path. He must stop running or he will crash into them, and he cannot see, yet, whether they are friend or foe. He must stop running anyway, because it is his intention to do some good. He will avenge the burned, the fallen. The names on the page.
He recognises the figure in front of him, who is coughing and spluttering. Antonin Dolohov. He is enemy, and Remus tiredly raises his wand. He must duel and he must win. For Teddy.
Antonin Dolohov, Death Eater.
The man is skilled, if not prodigiously, then at least quite remarkably. Their wands twirl and dance and the sparks that shoot out of the end are deadly. They are not children playing with toys, they are men dancing with death.
Remus John Lupin, warrior.
Remus shoots a curse under the man's outstretched hand, but Dolohov deflects with a sharp, slashing movement. The dance begins again. It is far too pretty, the swirling lights. A circus, a charade. They are men duelling and death is their intention.
He must win, though. For Teddy. For Tonks. For his beautiful family, and the good of the world.
But good, he knows, rarely ever triumphs. Evil is pushed away and beaten back and hidden in the depths of men's minds and their innermost desires but it will never truly disappear. And good will never truly win. This pretty dance will never stop.
Remus John Lupin, pessimist.
Remus is tired, he has duelled too many times tonight. He and his opponent do not speak except to shout curses. Dolohov is good, he is fast. He is better than Remus and Remus knows it, but luck is a tricky thing and one must never give up hope.
Dolohov's face is pointed, all straight lines and sharp angles, but the hands holding the wand are fluid, liquid. Remus shoots a curse straight between his eyes and Dolohov's shield charm is only just conjured in time.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Dolohov does not bother to perform a non-verbal spell. He has no need. The curse is perfectly aimed and soars, almost in slow motion, to hit Remus squarely in the chest.
Remus is falling and Remus is flying. Death is impatient and wants him for his own. The last thoughts in his mind are of his wife and son, and Remus is in agony.
Remus John Lupin, werewolf. Married with one son. Warrior. Pessimist. Father.
Hope you enjoyed! Please R & R! Flames accepted.