(A/N) So, I actually got the idea for this from a survey that I have posted on my profile. One of those "list ten characters, then number this does that to number some other number" ones. It was "A hurt/comfort fic with Lupin and Mrs. Weasley." I liked my idea, so I decided to write it. =D
One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
Two can be as bad as one
It's the loneliest number since the number one
No is the saddest experience you'll ever know
Yes, it's the saddest experience you'll ever know
`Cause one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
One is the loneliest number, worse than two
It's just no good anymore since she went away
Now I spend my time just making rhymes of yesterday
One is the loneliest, number one is the loneliest
Number one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
One is the loneliest, one is the loneliest
One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
It's just no good anymore since she went away
(Number) One is the loneliest
(Number) One is the loneliest
(Number) One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
(Number) One is the loneliest
(Number) One is the loneliest
(Number) One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
~Three Dog Night
My mind was reeling. I couldn't believe it. I absolutely could not believe it.
I watched as my friend, my best friend, my only friend left in the world, floated through the curtain to the afterlife, an absurd grin etched on his face.
I had only time to register a single, absurd thought in my head, "why would they have a curtain to the afterlife in the Ministry of Magic?" before Harry's distraught shout wrenched me from my musings.
"SIRIUS!" he shouted. "Sirius!"
He threw himself toward the veil. I realised what he was trying to do and threw myself towards him, flinging my arms around his chest, holding him back, holding him close to me to keep him from killing himself trying to save his Godfather.
"There's nothing you can do, Harry," I told him, my voice sounding strange even to myself.
"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!" Harry shouted at me, wriggling, trying to break free of my grip.
"It's too late, Harry-" It ripped me to pieces to admit it to myself.
"We can still reach him-"
"There's nothing you can do, Harry…nothing… He's gone."
Having to say that, having to tell the poor boy Sirius was gone… it nearly killed me. Harry, my poor nephew. He'd already lost so much. I'd already lost so much.
"He hasn't gone!" Harry shouted at me. He fought harder. "SIRIUS! SIRIUS!"
"He can't come back, Harry," I told him again, my voice breaking again from the agony of it all. He can't come back, because he's d-"
"HE-IS-NOT-DEAD!" Harry interrupted me angrily, struggling futilely against the arms wrapped around him. Arms with the strength of a werewolf.
I dragged the struggling teenager away from the curtain as quickly as possible. I stood holding the boy as he calmed down. He must have been accepting the horrible truth. Neville Longbottom appeared and spoke to him.
"Harry?" the boy's nose was bleeding slightly, and from his voice I'd deduced it was broken. I growled angrily at my mind for thinking so logically when the only good thing in my life had just been stolen from me, prematurely. We weren't even technically in our late thirties yet, being only thirty five. He was too young to go.
Harry had ceased his struggling against me, so I relaxed my grip – keeping an arm around him to provide comfort to both of us whilst also making sure he didn't start his suicidal heroic attempts again.
"Harry… I'b really sorry…" said Neville. I watched his legs dance uncontrollably and again my thoughts acted irrationally, wondering who had come up with such an idiotic spell. "Was dat man – was Sirius Black a – a friend of yours?"
I watched Harry nod. Feeling suddenly very sorry for the boy dancing in front of me, I pulled out my wand. "Here," I said softly, speaking quietly to keep my voice from breaking again. "Finite."
I summoned all of my strength, my years of practise at hiding my pain in an attempt to return to normality, at least in my voice and actions. "Let's- let's find the others. Where are they all, Neville?"
I listened only half-heartedly as Neville answered my question, not really paying attention. All of a sudden a loud bang sounded from behind the archway, followed by a yell. I watched as Bellatrix, Sirius's murderer and cousin, ran up the stairs to escape from Dumbledore. I too late realised that Harry had ripped himself from my arms.
"Harry-no!" I cried, attempting to seize him again, to keep him safe where I had failed Sirius.
"SHE KILLED HIM!" Harry shouted, already beginning to run after the asinine woman. "SHE KILLED HIM- I'LL KILL HER!" He ran after the woman, out of the room and out of sight.
I helped the rest of the Order fight the leftover Death Eaters. My curses were shouted and aimed only half-heartedly. I no longer cared if I lived or died. I had no one left.
Only after we finished rounding up the opposition did we realise that the children were nowhere to be found. Nor was Dumbledore, for that matter. Molly worried about the children's' safety, but I figured that Dumbledore was with them, and that meant they were probably safe for the time being.
James would be so proud, I thought irrationally. His son, and his son's friends, breaking into the Ministry! I can hear him laughing now. I can hear Lily too, telling Harry he shouldn't do thing so dangerous, relief in her voice. James and Sirius would be laughing so hard.
The thoughts choked me.
Eventually Kingsley came down to us and told us Albus had sent Harry back to Hogwarts and spoken briefly with Fudge. He informed us that Albus was having a talk with Harry as we spoke, and that he had asked us to send the other children back to school. Neville took us to the place where the others were assembled. Luna Lovegood was helping Ginny Weasley to her feet, Ginny's face set in a grimace. The way the young redhead was holding herself made me think she had broken her ankle, which she confirmed as she comforted her worried mother.
"Honestly, Mum, I've only broken my ankle! I'm not going to die!" Hearing that word clogged my windpipe, making it nearly impossible to breathe. It was as if "die" or "death" was a curse designed to strangle.
Hermione Granger was unconscious. Arthur and Hestia gently moved her to the Portkey we were setting up. Ron was giggling girlishly, and now Molly threw herself at him. Eventually she asked Neville what had happened to him, glaring at me as though I should have already done so, but I had no interest in anything and wasn't really listening as Neville explained the brains to her.
The rest of the afternoon flew by in a blur. I somehow found myself sitting in front of the fire at Number Twelve. It felt so wrong to me, sitting in Sirius's house, knowing he wouldn't ever have the chance to come back. I supposed he'd probably be glad of that.
I groaned in pain, a pain that I had felt only once before. The night I'd lost everything.
It was cruel that life had given me one of my lost friends back, only to take him away from me again so soon. I felt it must be torturing me on purpose. I groaned again.
"Remus?" a voice – Tonks – asked quietly. "Are you alright?"
I looked up at her, bleary-eyed and miserable. "No, Tonks. I'm not alright." I turned away. Suddenly, I felt her arms around me. Her warmth, the sweet perfume of her skin, usually so alluring, repulsed me now. I pulled away, the beginnings of nausea pulling at my stomach.
"Oh Remus," she whispered, the pain and pity evident in her voice.
"I need to be alone," I told her stiffly.
She pulled away, hurt etched across her face. I found I didn't much care at the moment. I felt that this uncaring attitude should worry me, should make me fear for my mental health. I despised hurting people, and I usually put others before myself. But I found myself unable to feel anything but the pain. I heard her leave, and soon found myself sobbing uncontrollably into my hands. I craved firewhisky to numb my pain, but I knew that I should stay away. I had nearly killed myself with the stuff after that Halloween in 1981.
"Remus?" a quiet voice asked. I turned, ready to snap at Tonks for bothering me again, and instead found myself looking into the concerned face of Molly Weasley. I looked back down, hiding my tear-stained face, shame creeping through me, less strong than normal, but still present.
"Minerva tells me that Harry's doing okay," Molly said lightly, sitting down next to me. "He's visibly upset, of course, but she feels he'll be alright."
I nodded, finding that I was somewhat comforted by her words. I hadn't realised I was worried about him. "He's strong," I reminded her. "He'll be fine. And he's got his friends."
She took a deep breath, her voice shaking with unshed tears. "Why does he have to lose everything?" she asked suddenly, angrily. "Every good thing that ever happens to him is dashed out from under him. Why? He deserves to be happy. For once in his life, he deserves happiness!" Tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes, and I realised for the first time that she really did think of the fifteen year old as her son.
"He'll find it, someday," I reassured us both. "I'm sure he will."
She looked at me for a long while. "But will you?" she asked after a long silence. I didn't answer.
"I know how you feel," Molly said quietly. I opened my mouth to assure her that no, she certainly did not know how I felt, when she continued.
"I'm not trying to say I know exactly how you feel," she told me. "But I've lost loved ones too. I remember how it felt when I lost Gideon and Fabien…" she broke off, her voice tight with emotion.
"You had people to help you get through," I reminded her. "I've got no one."
"Do you really believe that?" she asked me, still quiet. "Do you honestly believe that you have no one left?"
"Yes," I told her simply.
"You've got plenty of people left!" she told me almost indignantly. "You've got the Order, you've got Arthur and I, you have Tonks…"
"Nothing is going to happen between the two of us," I told Molly firmly. "She deserves better."
Molly decided not to get into this argument with me again. "You have one other person, Remus, and I think he needs you as much as you need him."
"Who?" I asked, feeling no curiosity, just trying to be polite.
"Harry," she told me. "You are all he has left of his parents. You're the only one left who knew them well, Remus, and he needs to hear about them, and more than just those little things everyone tells him, about how much he looks like them, how talented and good they were. He needs to hear stories. Funny ones, sad ones, happy ones. He needs you to help him know the two most important people in his life, two he never got to meet."
"But you said I need him as well," I reminded her, feeling selfish for no reason. My emotions were writhing out of control.
"You need him as a reminder that we are never alone," she said quietly. "Even when it seems that we have lost everything, we have someone there who can help us and be there for us, even when the world seems dark and friendless."
She stood at that moment, resting a hand on my shoulder before leaving me to my thoughts.
I thought about many things. I thought about November 1st, the day I learned all that had transpired the night before, of the Potters deaths and the death of Peter Pettigrew at the hands of Sirius. That day I had nearly killed myself when I drank far more alcohol than my body could handle, trying to drown my sorrows. I thought about the day I met Harry on the train. I thought about the day he told me what he experienced when he got near a Dementor. It had taken quite a bit of self control not to react to that statement, and I had not been able to remain completely composed when the 13 year old had heard James's last moments on earth a short while later. I thought about Peter Pettigrew showing up on our map, about the way I'd come to stop trusting one of my closest friends, believing instead one of them who was, as I remembered, more of a follower than a member of the group, as much as we loved him. I thought about the day I'd ruined everything, changing into my wolf form as we went to set Sirius free. I thought about the late night talks with Sirius, just like old times, except that the topics were more serious than they had been. This thought made me remember Sirius's favourite pun, his name and the word serious.
"You can't be serious!"
"That's right, he can't. I'm Sirius!"
*groan*
I thought about Sirius's death. How it would affect me and my life. I thought about my relationship – if you could call it that – with Nymphadora Tonks, a woman I loved but did not want to condemn to a life of shame and ridicule. I thought again of Harry, my honorary nephew. About how he was feeling, really feeling, not just the emotions he was showing to the world. I wondered if he would be okay.
I wondered if I would be okay.
I stood, stretched, and made my way to the guest bedroom Sirius had set up for me. I lay down, not bothering to change into something more comfortable, and fell into a fitful sleep, laced with nightmares about blame, abandonment, and separation. I awoke at three in the morning, sobbing rather loudly into my pillow. Tonks came in to sit next to me in my bed. I hid my face in the pillow, ashamed to show her my tears. She laced her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck, stroking me comfortingly.
"Shhh…" she whispered quietly, lying down next to me and snuggling in close. "You'll be okay. We'll be okay…"
She continued to whisper to me for some time, until we both fell asleep.
I continued to get better over the next few days. I spoke with Tonks and a few others, but mostly with Molly. She helped me to sort out my feelings, to heal.
I would never be the same.
But I would be okay.