Hello all. I actually have to admit that I don't curse, so for the singular curse word there, I had to check, and make sure I spelled it right.

Now in my mind Remus didn't find out about the war being over until a couple of months later when he couldn't do anything about it. So that's what I wrote here. I wrote this centering around Lily, and James, and not Peter, because Peter hasn't had a funeral yet, so Remus can still say goodbye. Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I mean anything in this story. It all belongs to J. K. Rowling.


It was below freezing, and snowing. It was December, and just now Remus Lupin was aware that the war was over. He hadn't heard for two months, because when you were living with the werewolf colonies news didn't travel fast.

He stood in the graveyard where James and Lily were buried. He'd missed the funeral. He was staring at the gravestone in shock. Part of him withering inside, withering and dying, because Lily, and James, James, and Lily, Prongs, and Evans, Evans, and Prongs were dead. Dead!

He didn't want to believe. He wanted to turn back to when everyone was alive, and fine. Peter's dead, also. His brain reminded him, and Sirius is the traitor. That broke through the shock.

And tears started to slide down his face, freezing into long tracks of ice. It hurt, but he didn't care, because suddenly he was sobbing, and he couldn't stand up anymore. He sank to his knees, and then had to put an ungloved hand down in the snow.

"Fuck," he whispered, then louder, "Fuck."

And then he started screaming, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!"

He lifted one hand to his head, and moaned. He had hoped this was some elaborate prank, that any second now Lily, and James would pop up behind the gravestones, and yell something. Probably SURPRISE!

He began to rock back and forth, bent over holding his stomach. Tears streamed down his face, his breath hitched, releasing a white cloud into the air. He could barely see the gravestones.

He wanted this to end. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare. He didn't want them to be dead.

"Dead." the word tasted foul in his mouth. Like when you walk into the attic at your grandma's and you breathe a mouth full of dust in. Why couldn't this be a joke, some part of his mind told him. Because they are dead, dead, and gone, and turning…. Turning to- he was shaking now, it wasn't from the cold.

He wished that he could go back to when Lily, and James were alive, and Peter was in one piece, and Sirius wasn't the traitor, and Harry was living with his parents not his aunt. Trembles ran through him, his throat started to close.

He couldn't breath, he couldn't breath. He couldn't breath! He wanted to die, no he wanted Sirius dead, he just wanted his friends back. He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of what he wanted.

His hands gripped his hair, digging tightly into his scalp, Lily…. James….. Where do you go?

He couldn't do this, not alone. He couldn't carry on without them. Everyone he cared about was gone or dead. Potters, Peter, Sirius, Mum, Longbottoms, The Order's disbanded.

He tipped on his side, and stared up at the stones that told an ugly, ugly truth. One he couldn't bare. Maybe he should die right here. Stop moving, and let the cold take him. He began to still, he was no longer crying, and he could breath now.

He lay like that for a long time, the snow gently falling. Finally, finally his blank mind started working again. It almost sounded like James' voice, Remus, if you lay here and die that would be dishonoring their memories. You have to go on.

He climbed to his feet shakily, and wiped the last tears away. He had Peter's funeral tomorrow, and then he'd need to look for a job, and then…. And then he'd need to survive.

The werewolf placed a hand on the gravestone, brushing off the snow, "I'm sorry."

He turned and left, shivering slightly in the wind. At the gate he glanced back, and then up, closing his eyes.

At last he left, and few steps away he apparated.


Please drop a review!

~Andy