To put it simply, everything had gone fast. Far too fast. But as a longer descriptor, however, the Battle of the Department of Mysteries was one of those unique events where Remus could feel the time dragging on, but in his head everything was just bang, bang, bang, a bit like he was two parts and the first part of him was being sucked into a black hole while the other part was watching from a distance. The first part felt the immediate effect-it was torn apart, molecule by molecule, in the blink of an eye-while the other wasn't so lucky. It was like Remus was watching his other part being swallowed by the black hole and feeling the emotional pain of never being able to be whole again was overwhelming him. In some ways, though, watching Sirius go through that Veil, though that black hole, was worse, like a majority of Remus' soul was being taken with him.
One moment he had been there, watching Sirius out of the corner of his eye while taking on an opponent of his own. The next he was restraining Harry from chasing his Godfather as he oh-so-slowly, so painfully, but almost beautifully, drifted through the Veil. He himself was light-headed and looking through blurred vision, his knees weak as he attempted to push away the suggestion of a panicked feeling under his chest, where his heart was, almost identical to being happily excited. Under the circumstances, the tickling sensation his heart felt forced his breath to become shallow, thereby making the feeling more intense and making this all seem so surreal to him. How could this have happened?
But then Harry had gone, left Remus' grasp. For a second, Remus thought he would run for the Veil, but instead, he chased after Bellatrix. Rumor had it that Harry had Crucified her for a short period, but by that time a party of Aurors had arrived. Bellatrix and Voldemort had fled. But the eleven others had been arrested, thank God. However, the thought that Voldemort had plenty other followers and he would undoubtedly be back, presumably with more force.
As the Order disapparated back to Headquarters, him along with them, Remus couldn't help but mentally kick himself for not chaining Sirius to the fence as the rest of them went to help. Yes, maybe he, Remus, would end up with a black eye afterwards, but his best and only friend would still me here and the atmosphere wouldn't be so tense. He wouldn't feel so hollow.
The inside number of 12 Grimmauld Place was filled with chatter. Not the cheerful kind found in house parties. No, this chatter was different. This chatter was hushed and hesitant like the entire Order was all scared that someone else's life would be taken that night, or like all the sorrow they felt was suppressed by the silence and anything above a whisper would force everyone into hysterics. Tired of the volume and tone of the conversation, Remus walked up to a window and looked outside. No moon was visible, so without it to grab his attention he found his gaze gravitating towards the brightest star in the sky.
This wasn't how Sirius would want to be remembered. He would want everyone to be rocking out to some Muggle musician or band like AC/DC or Michael Jackson or Queen. Hearing a few piano chords, Remus leaned forward to lay his forehead on the cool window, rolling his head to see the piano in the right corner of the room. Molly was playing Mozart's Lacrimosa. He closed his eyes. This was so wrong. He wanted to yell at her to stop and play Smooth Criminal instead.
Tonks stood in the cool night air and scanned the heavens, willing herself not to gaze at the star her late cousin had been named after, nor the constellation that made up his middle name. She kept telling herself to find Delphinus or Betelgeuse or Arcturus, but she kept finding the Dog Star, Sirius; and the Archer, Orion. Eventually, she focused on a nearby shrub, giving up stargazing, which had always been a favourite pastime of hers because for the first time ever it caused her pain. She stayed there, eyes not wandering from the shrub, until everyone had bidden each other goodnight, each of them giving her a pitiful look and told her, "Sirius always said you were his favourite cousin." Even though she had heard this a thousand and two times before, each time she gave a small smile and replied with a quiet, "Really?" to which they would nod and say goodnight.
On a normal day, she would've hexed them into oblivion; receiving pity was one of the only things she hated with a passion, second only to being called that stupid first name of hers. This night was far from normal. This night, her favourite cousin had been murdered by her aunt. This night was wrong, so wrong, in every way imaginable.
She was jolted out of her thoughts when she saw a figure blocking the path of light in the corner of her eye. Still shaken by the earlier battle, Tonks stood, grabbing her wand from the inside of her robes and turned around to face the figure. When she saw the man's face, she mumbled an apology and allowed her arm to fall to her side slowly, like a feather.
"Heading home then, Remus?" She asked quietly, watching her hand pocket the wand.
"Not yet," he murmured somewhat absent-mindedly, looking up above him. Pointing heavenwards, he said, "New moon."
Tonks nodded, following his gaze. They stood like that for what felt like a long time, staring at the dark patch where the moon would have been. Remus finally spoke, thought it was softly, and almost to himself.
"This is only the beginning, isn't it?"
"The beginning?"
He turned his gaze to Tonks. "Of the war, of the deaths. There'll be more of them, won't there?"
"It seems so."
Another round of silence worked its way between them. Tonks sighed and went to sit on the steps of the back porch again, once more staring at the shrub in the corner of the yard. Remus stood in the same spot at the top of the porch, looking down at Tonks and shifted his weight to one foot, brushing the other along the grain of the wooden planks beneath him. A few seconds later, he sat down beside her. Tonks tensed at first, and Remus wondered if he had made her uncomfortable. He was proved wrong when she gradually relaxed and snuggled against his torso. He put his arm around her. Both of them hoped the other wouldn't notice silent tears running down their faces. At the same time, the didn't care in the slightest. They had one thing in common, one had to admit that.
As much as it pained them, they both knew the death of Sirius Black wasn't really a loss. He was still there, his teenage ego and everlasting humour still shining through the darkness ahead.