AN: I wrote this ages ago, as I sat in class doodling I came up with a very pretty gravestone inscription. Clearly I haven't included it in all it's pencilly goodness here, instead going for italics. You get the idea.
Disclaimer: Take a look, does it seem the same?
James Potter, Lilly Potter, Requiescat.
"Is that it?" drawled the tourist, snapping his obligatory photo. "Aye, tis all t'other bloke could pay for." Responded the guide. Then, with a look of doing his duty, "He's over there, on that bench."
The tourist glanced over. A lump of clothes was huddled there and gleaming fully out of it one eye, watching them.
"You mean that's him?" he said, suddenly intent, "Can I go and talk to him?" the guide shrugged, "He won't talk to you, but you can try." He turned and pulled up a weed.
The tourist nodded eagerly, put away his camera and strolled over. The man shifted moodily, and then sat up. "Aye?" he growled. The tourist stepped closer, "What are you doing here, if I may ask. You're one of the best known soldiers around. They gave you a VC. You're still alive. Why are you here, Sir Lupin?"
Remus sighed. This man, muggle as marked, thought, like many others, the war was over/