Prompts: "Goodbyes are always tough - especially if you think there's still a lot to be said before parting." - Rachel Summers (X-Men), hide, dandelions, so thoughtless, so careless, and damaged.
It shouldn't be sunny, he thought. The weather was all wrong. It should be raining and miserable and dark from all the storm-clouds, because that's what life was now. Dark.
And the worst thing was that it wasn't just the weather that was too cheerful. Everyone was happy; everyone was celebrating. Celebrating death and destruction and the downfall of a dark wizard. When he'd walked through Diagon Alley that morning, he hadn't seen a single face without a smile. Everyone was happy that Voldemort was gone.
Everyone except him, that is. Because he'd rather have the terror and the darkness and the fear back again, if it meant that things could go back to normal. No one seemed to remember the price paid for Voldemort's defeat. No one except him. They smiled and walked on by, content with the fact that they were safe. So thoughtless, so careless. They forgot that three innocent people had died on the same night that Voldemort did.
He could never forget.
He stared down at the ruins of the house that had once belonged to Lily and James. And Harry. Baby Harry, left orphaned. He'd know the price too, Remus thought; he'd grow up with that price and live with it all his life. His parents dead, his godfather in Azkaban.
Remus wondered how everything had gone so wrong. How had his life become so damaged beyond repair?
Remus kicked at the long, overgrown grass in front of the house, dotted with dandelions and daisies. Lily had been on at James to mow it for weeks before they'd died. They're argued about it the last time he'd been to visit. One of those couple-arguments, where they're so comfortable with each other that it's not even a fight. It's just a discussion; it's just words.
How were they to know that James would never mow that garden again?
A sob built at the back of his throat and he had to hide his face in his hands. It was too much; he could still picture James standing in front of him, smiling and laughing. Two days ago, everything had been normal.
How had it all gone wrong so quickly? He never got a chance to say thank-you, for everything they'd done for him. He'd never got to tell them what good friends they were, and how grateful he was.
They were thing he couldn't say now. He was looking at their house, but it was just a house. It wasn't them.
He'd never be able to speak to them again.
"I wondered when you might come here." The sudden voice made him jump; after years of living with an impending war, Remus's hand shot immediately to his wand. When he saw who it was, he relaxed.
"Sorry Professor," he said. "You startled me."
"Please, Remus, I'm no longer your headmaster," Dumbledore replied. He turned away from Remus to gaze at the damaged house. "It's hard to see so many people celebrate it, isn't it?"
"They…" Remus's voice was choked. "They didn't lose anything. They know James and Lily and Peter died, but it doesn't mean anything to them."
"Goodbyes are always tough - especially if you think there's still a lot to be said before parting," Dumbledore said.
"There was," Remus said. "But I can't say any of it now."
There was silence for a few moments.
"Sirius Black has been arrested, of course," Dumbledore said. "He's being sent to Azkaban without trial."
Remus jerked; he'd heard that was happening. It had been the Ministry's new method of dealing with Death Eaters. He'd never imagined that it would ever be something that would apply to one of his friends. "Good," he said harshly.
"I heard he's asking after you," Dumbledore said, not commenting on Remus's judgement.
Remus laughed bitterly. "I would have thought he'd know better by now. They wouldn't allow the likes of me to speak to a prisoner, even if I wanted to."
Dumbledore watched him carefully. "I can arrange it," he said carefully. "If you'd like to speak to him, I can get you in there. You being a werewolf won't stop you."
Remus was quiet for so long it appeared he wasn't going to answer. When he spoke, his voice was low. "I don't want to speak to him."
"If you're sure," Dumbledore said amiably.
They stared at the house in silence for a while longer.
"Have… have you spoken to him?" Remus asked hesitantly.
"No," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "The Ministry are reluctant to loosen their hold on him for fear he'll escape, and I have no pressing matters to discuss with him. I believe his actions have said enough."
"Oh," Remus said. "I thought…" But he couldn't seem to say what he'd thought.
"You thought I'd want to know why," Dumbledore finishes for him.
"They were his friends," Remus whispers. "All of us were. And Pete… Pete never did anything! He could never have defeated Sirius! He knew that, and Sirius knew that! And those muggles… and James…."
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to speak to him?" Dumbledore asked, his voice gentle.
Remus shook his head almost violently. "I can't," he whispered hoarsely. "It's too hard. I just… I don't understand why. I can't help thinking that I could have stopped this, if only I'd known… if only I'd seen…"
"I don't believe anything you could have done would have stopped this from happening," Dumbledore said sadly. "James and Lily trusted in the wrong person, but I don't think anyone could have predicted this. It does no good to contemplate the 'what if's."
"It's easier than saying goodbye," Remus said.
"But much less rewarding," Dumbledore said. Suddenly, his voice was brisk. "So, if you won't take me up on that offer, I'd best be off."
"Oh, alright," Remus said, startled. "Thank you, Headmaster." He wasn't quite sure what he was thanking Dumbledore for, but it seemed appropriate.
"That's quite alright." He turned and walked several feet before disappearing with a crack.
Remus stood there for a long time before following suit.