This is a short piece about the death of Remus Lupin's mother and his feelings about it. Originally written for the tumblr Marauder-era RP group Innocence Lost.
It was sunny the day Hope Lupin was buried.
There were very few mourners, as she and her husband had discouraged friends in an effort to protect their son from accidental discovery - not that they had had much time to make friends, being on the move so often. The pitiful little gathering by the graveside thus consisted of a handful of Lyall's colleagues who had managed to keep in touch and Remus's few close friends, all of them wrapped up against the unseasonally chilly breeze. Lyall himself stood at the foot of the grave, more careworn than he had ever been, but trying to put on a brave face as he rested one arm around his son's shoulders.
Remus himself was silent, almost blank-faced as he listened to the official's speech. He barely reacted when nudged gently and asked if he wanted to say a few words, only giving a slight shake of his head. This earned him a little squeeze from his father, and sympathetic looks from the rest. Of course, he's always been a sensitive lad, very close to his mother, such a terrible shock for him…
He didn't dare speak because he knew if he did he was going to break down. It wasn't just grief that clogged his throat and made his eyes burn; guilt and heartache were twisting inside him like a knife.
Hope had been a bright, imaginative woman, who had deeply loved her son even with his terrifying affliction. He remembered the mornings as a little boy where, after the torment of his transformations, his mother would hold him close and reassure him that it was all over now, a whole twenty-eight days until he had to worry again, and he could stay and cuddle her as long as he wanted. When she said that, he trusted her, and curled up in her arms while his father treated his injuries.
It wasn't until he was older that Remus began to understand how much it took out of her each month. It broke her heart every time - not only to be afraid of her own son, but to know that he was suffering, that he was all alone, and that she could do nothing to help him. He couldn't look her in the eye any more when he staggered out of the room after each full moon; knowing that he was the cause of all her anxiety only ever made him feel worse, despite her insistence that it wasn't his fault. Every time he came home from school her hair was greyer, her face more lined, and she was a little more frail.
And now this. She'd literally worried herself to death, and it was his fault for being the cause.
A general shuffling from the group pulled his awareness back to the world around him. The funeral service was over, and all he could do was watch as his mother's coffin disappeared beneath the earth.
It wasn't fair. Remus was struck by the sudden thought that he would never get another hug from her. No more kisses on the cheek as she waved him off to see his friends, no more last-minute fussing over how tidy he looked while he groaned and made faces… nothing was left of the woman whose love had surrounded him even at his very worst times, except an empty shell locked in a wooden cell underground.
He couldn't hold himself back any longer, and with a choked sob he buried his face in his father's shoulder, not caring who could see them, and let himself cry.