Ray
Lethe Seraph. 150 words.
It had taken a good deal of willpower to get there.
He hadn't wanted to get out of bed at all, really, much less travel to one of the few places to which one could not Apparate. And now it was six in the morning; the sun had hardly risen.
Not that he would have been able to tell if it had; the sky was bleakly overcast. The first few flurries had begun to drift down.
It had been a while since he had taught at the castle; far longer since he had attended classes there. He visited the memories with a reluctant nostalgia. It was strange, how things had ended up.
Strange that there were only two Marauders left alive.
Stranger yet that he was one of them.
Soft gold began to light the accumulating snow.
Remus Lupin looked to the sky with a small smile.
"Merry Christmas, Padfoot."