Remus remembers war, he remembers death.

He remembers colours; flashes of green and red overlaying their screams. He remembers the first battle; he remembers Sirius' face, pale against the dark of his hair.

But most of all he remembers flowers. He would never forget the smell of flowers.

Daisies, lilies, poppies.

He couldn't forget the daisies. For Remus poppies had never been the flower of war.

Remus could never forget the smell of flowers.

How many coffins had there been surrounded by petals? How many coffins lined with the smell of flowers?


Written for OccAmy Phyre's First Memory Challenge.