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Forever Twenty One

Note: Just a quick little thing I dashed off when I noticed that Lily and James were twenty one when they died. Not edited.

October 31, 1995

"What could possibly be taking you so long?"

There was a grunt and a small thud. "Ow," said a voice from behind the bathroom door.

Remus crossed his arms and stared at the door. "We're going to be late."

"I hope you weren't very attached to this mug," the voice said sheepishly, completely ignoring him. "It seems to have developed a tiny little crack."

"Has it."

"Very tiny, though. Miniscule, really. You probably wouldn't have ever found out if I hadn't told you."

Remus took a deep breath. "Sirius, by Merlin's great bloody – "

The voice behind the door adopted a singsong tone. "Patience, dear Moony, is a virtue."

"The tongue speaks of what the head knows not," Remus muttered under his breath. In a louder voice, he announced, "You come out of there in two seconds or I'm leaving without you."

"And all these years I thought my mother was dead," Sirius lamented. "I sincerely hope that her spirit, may it rot in hell, hasn't discovered the ability to possess you yet."

Remus sighed and turned around. "Leaving."

"Wait!" Sirius cried. Remus paused. "One last touch – wait – "

"It's not as if we're going to a bar," Remus said impatiently.

"Oh, hold your hippogriffs," Sirius said flippantly as the door finally swung open. Remus glanced over his shoulder; Sirius was standing in the doorway, beaming at him.

"You haven't even done anything to yourself," Remus said incredulously, looking him up and down.

Sirius looked indignant. "I don't know what you're so miffed about," he sniffed. "We're not on a bloody time schedule. It's not like they'll be going anywhere anytime soon."

It was a somber thing to say, and despite the grin on his face, Sirius knew it. Remus nodded toward the door, and they said nothing more as Remus led the way out onto the doorstep. He looked up and down the dark, deserted street. They had both agreed it would be safer to go in the cover of night.

"Clear," he said. There was a small swishing sound, and a big black dog came padding out of the hallway. It sat on his haunches beside him and gave a soft woof. Remus sighed and put his hand on the dog's head.

––––––––––

They Apparated right into the cemetery, beneath the great willow tree. Another swishing sound, and Sirius was standing beside him again. The small sliver of moon offered little illumination, but they neither needed nor wanted light.

Sirius pulled out his wand and flicked it, and a large bouquet of flowers appeared in his hand. "He wouldn't want these flimsy little things," he said, studying them. "You know he only kept those flowers all over the place because of Lily."

Remus shook his head as he conjured his own bouquet, consisting solely of white lilies. "Just put them down," he said, kneeling before Lily's grave. He gently placed the flowers in front of the marker, covering the epitaph and the dates, letting only her name show through the white, fragile petals. To his left, Sirius did the same.

They stayed that way for a while, letting the night and the quiet sink into them.

"Fifteen years," Sirius said quietly, shifting so that he could sit down on the cold ground in between the two markers. "Fifteen bloody years, Moony."

Remus brushed dirt off his knees and sat down beside him. "I know."

"You remember what he made us promise?"

Remus swallowed against a lump in his throat. "He made us promise a lot of things, Padfoot."

"Not the stupid ones," Sirius said, crossing his arms. "The one at his wedding."

Remus remembered. "He said we'd all grow old together," he said, leaning his head back to look at the black sky.

"He did not," Sirius said with a snort, turning to him, sounding disgusted. "That's bloody despicable, Moony, Marauders do not grow old."

"Oh?" A small smile flickered on his face. "Then what exactly did he make us promise?"

Sirius was quiet for a while as he stared out into the darkness. "He said…we'd all live until we were two-hundred-and-three."

Remus smiled; a real smile, this time. "Until we had beards longer than Dumbledore's."

"Until we were so blind we'd have to hire beautiful women to lead us everywhere," Sirius laughed. "Including the loo."

"Until we lost all our teeth and we'd only be able to eat pudding."

"Until we were so senile we couldn't tell Quidditch from Quodpot."

They were both half-laughing, remembering. But the laughter faded, because laughter had no place here. All the promises had been broken, and this one was no different.

"Promises," Sirius sighed as he stood up. He looked down and brushed his hand over the top of James' grave. "Only the good die young," he murmured.

Remus brushed the dirt off his pants as he got back to his feet. "Then what does that make us?"

"Bloody fools," Sirius replied.

Remus watched him trace his fingers through the engravings, a wistful expression on his face. A chill wind blew through the cemetery, and he shivered.

"I'm glad you're here, Padfoot," Remus said softly, turning around and shoving his hands in his pockets. "It was… All those years, coming here – I was…"

Sirius took a step sideways, closer to him, and put his arm around his shoulder. Remus sighed and let his shoulders slump.

"Come on, Moony," Sirius said, turning around. "Let's go."

They would go home now; or what was as close to home as could possibly be. They would go back, facing day after day of fighting and waiting and wishing, cradling broken hearts and piecing together broken dreams, growing older and wearier and more cynical day after day while James and Lily rested in their graves, forever young; forever twenty-one.