Nothing Like the Sun

lone astronomer

Disclaimer: I didn't write any of the Harry Potter books, especially Order of the Phoenix, because if I had, well… Let's not go there. Characters etc. are J.K. Rowling's to abuse as she sees fit, and I'm not making any profit.

Author's notes: I've taken to wearing black and staring up at the sky waiting for another star to appear, but it hasn't happened. All lyrics are from "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby" by Counting Crows, of which band I am not a member.

Summary: Oh, help. It was supposed to be a nasty little one-shot of Remus-angst; my specialty. What have I done?

Nothing Like the Sun
One: Mourning

If dreams are like movies,
Then memories are films about ghosts.

It wasn't as if life was empty. Life was much too full of everything for me to worry about trivialities such as boredom; there was no time for loneliness. Life meant being on duty and being too busy to worry, to have regrets, to sleep. That was the entire problem, I supposed. What was life when there was no one to distract you from the tedium of it all?

The problem, I reflected morosely, was that the only person I'd known who had always seemed ridiculously teeming with life, wasn't. Outside, in the courtyard of the ancient Black estate, everything was quiet. Kreacher, the ridiculous, untrustworthy, conniving, dirty house elf had been dealt with accordingly. The waning moon rose in the sky, obscuring light from any stars but illuminating the small, dusky mound of freshly upturned earth in the backyard. It didn't hold much in the way of remains, I knew, with a twinge that nearly brought the contents of my stomach up for reviewing. The problem was that now that 'life' had become synonymous with 'alone,' I wasn't sure it was what I wanted.

A chill breeze blew, odd for July, but a welcome relief from the sweltering heat. I didn't move; my gaze was fixed on the sky above. It seemed to stare back at me, cold, calculating, mocking. The night had taken my only friend, taken him for the second time, the boy that had loved it unconditionally. The bitter irony was not lost on me. Unconditionally, I thought with more than a trace of that same bitterness. Even James had had reservations, at first, knowing about me. But not him.

Not a sigh escaped my lips as I wretchedly tried to get my mind around the fact that the brightest star had gone from my sky.


I wondered about Harry's future. Frankly, the boy was far too reckless, perhaps as much as his father and godfather combined, and likely to become more so now that they had both gone from his world. Not that I couldn't understand where he was coming from, of course; I wondered briefly about my own future before deciding that I, too, would accept when death came for me, and be reunited with my packmates when that time came. But when I could no longer avoid thinking about Sirius alone, I found I wanted nothing more than for that time to come soon.

Why hadn't it been me? I finally found myself wondering. That was the true problem- I could easily have kept Sirius out of the danger, knowing that he would be a prime target. Knowing that he would likely die before his name could be cleared. And who had more to live for than Sirius, who had misspent twelve horrible years in Azkaban, who deserved another chance at life? Who had been so filled with life for as long as I'd known him, who had made such an astonishing and complete recovery after his escape? Who had loved Harry more than he had loved his own life? It wasn't fair. It should have been me; the only thing I had to live for was him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Remus," a soft voice interrupted from behind me. I started a little; I was used to sensing people around me and I was not aware that I had spoken aloud. "You know it was his choice to go along. He would have chosen his death above yours. He would have died for you willingly."

My head dropped a bit, if only because I knew it was true, but I did not remove my eyes from where they rested. "As I should have done for him, Nymphadora Tonks." My gaze remained fixed on the moon that hovered above us, watching us silently.

I heard her come closer, the soft swish of her robes against the metal of the outdoor table as she sat upon it. "He wouldn't have given you the chance, and anyway there wasn't a chance you could take."

I couldn't hold it in any longer. "What will become of Harry?" It was the one question no one wanted to ask; I privately felt that leaving him with his mother's vile sister was absolutely the worst thing that could be done to the boy, no matter how safe.

"He'll come here to stay, if he wants, eventually, or so I suspect." There was a soft noise of exhalation. "But I don't know if he'd- I mean, the memories are- and it's so soon, Remus…"

How could she be so right? "No one your age should understand like that," I murmured. I wanted, longed, to melt under the touch of her hand on my shoulder, to pour out my grief, but something kept my spine rigid.

"These are difficult times," she replied, sweeping a hand over my shoulders and down my back before replacing it in her lap. "Most people will understand sooner or later."

"Why couldn't it have been later?"

There was a bitter laugh. "Don't be a selfish, petulant child, Remus. It could as easily have been a child who hadn't lived a full life, or Harry himself, or one of the Weasleys; even Neville Longbottom. We all suffer losses. This isn't a game." Nymphadora Tonks' harsh tones died out in the night, replaced by a few seconds of silence when I felt raw emotion and shame prickling behind my eyelids.

Then she continued, "I'm sorry, that was out of line, I-"

"It was not," I cut her off, slipping into Professor mode. That was a Sirius term. "You are quite right, Miss Tonks. It is I who should apologize for being a-" I almost smiled to myself, "selfish, petulant child. Now if you would excuse me, I find I have some important matters to think over."

I could almost hear her inner struggle. "Remus, I really don't think-"

"Thank you for your time."

"You shouldn't be alone right now," she said fiercely; impetuously. "Let me help you. Let me - let me stay with you."

The words fell heavy into the night and I would have questioned what I had heard, except for Sirius' teasing remark months ago: 'I think she fancies you, Moony…' "Please," I rasped, no longer able to control myself in her presence. I suddenly knew, with a kind of sickening knowledge that makes one want to erase his memory, that if I turned around I would likely find a rather darker-haired member of the Order than was usually Tonks' appearance. "Kindly take the hint and leave me be, Nymphadora. I will see you in the morning."

I pretended not to hear the stifled sob as she left; kept staring at the sky, hoping it would keep me calm, sane; but all it did was remind me of the past I'd left behind. It would have been comforting to see the stars- to be able to wonder if Sirius was watching down from one of them, as well. But only the moon stared back.

If you've never stared off in the distance, then your life is a shame.
And though I'll never forget your face,
sometimes I can't remember my name.

- Mrs. Potter's Lullaby, Counting Crows