Lily

I sit myself near to James, with the hope that his natural strength would rebuild my own. At a normal family gathering, I would sit near to you. You would tease me about being redheaded. I would punch you in the nose, just to watch it morph into something different. This isn't a normal gathering, though, and so, I sit by James and his new bride, Katherine Wood.

You, normally, would have made gagging faces every time James said something particularly prissy. I would remind you that you quip the same sentimental mush to your wife. My heart burns at these thoughts, and I shift anxiously in my chair.

My father and Uncle Ron are shaking hands with the Malfoy family. I know they get along because you wanted your grandmother's family to be a part of your family. I admire that. Rose is tucked neatly into Scorpius' side, and, for a moment, I wish I hadn't ditched my last boyfriend, as it would be nice to have someone other than family to hold me together.

I close my eyes and hope that is isn't real, that you are still here, and that all of the Auror's office desks are still filled. I shudder at the mental picture of your body crumpling from the terribly unjust attack. I force myself to reopen my eyes.

I see that Scorpius' grandmother, Narcissa, looks distraught. Your grandmother passed away just months ago, and I remember how shaken everyone was at the funeral, except for you. You always had a knack for staying strong in times of tragedy, and I am sure that this loss pains Narcissa just as much as the loss of her sister did.

Minister Shacklebolt arrives, accompanied by a large group of officials. Their faces all hold the same solemn, regretful expression that my father has donned all week. He blames himself, saying that, as Head Auror and your godfather, he should have discouraged you from taking the mission or even, assigned you to another one. Dad has always been like that though, you know that; you tried to convince him that your parents' deaths were not his fault once. That, unfortunately, did not work.

James turns and gives the group of Aurors a nod of recognition. A few have brought their families; most came alone. My heart plummets as I notice your friend and fellow Auror, Joseph Towler, sitting on the edge of the group, staring down at his hands. I have an urge to comfort him, but with the tears I am fighting back and an ache coming from somewhere in my stomach, I feel too hallow, too drained to help right now. I know you would have wanted me to at least try, so for that, I am sorry.

Albus slouches into the seat next to me sloppily, carrying with him the potent smell of Firewhiskey and the appearance that he just got off of a wild broomstick ride. You know that Albus isn't too keen on sharing his emotions, and these are probably the only signs of sadness Albus will give. I lay my head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around me. The gesture moves me almost to tears. Being reminded that I have two brothers that are here to consol me only makes me think of the brother that I have lost.

That is what you were to me: a brother. Not the cousin-in-law/god-brother that you technically were because a cousin-in-law/god-brother would not entertain a silly little girl every Wednesday afternoon for two years because her older brothers were away at school. A cousin-in-law/god-brother would not send lilies to someone on random days and sign the card: Just because you're a flower. A cousin-in-law/god-brother would not sneak trays of treacle tart to a moody teenager's room because she broke her mother's vase and got grounded.

A brother would; you would.

Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey are the last of the aunts and uncles to arrive. (Which is odd) Lucy leads them to the row behind Uncle George. Molly and Dominique are quietly sobbing in the seats following Fred and his fiancee, Colleen Finnigan (Do you remember her? She had a crush on you before she realized you were married.), and Roxanne is whispering with Hugo directly behind me. Normally, I would comment on the ever-expanding nature of our family tree, but today, any jokes seem to have lost their hilarity. You would have made me laugh again.

I notice that heads are starting to turn and any speaking ceases. Your ever-graceful and gorgeous Victoire is walking toward the gathering in the cemetery, her hair pulled elegantly back and her robes a silky black. She balances Nicholas, your handsome, turquoise-haired, two year old boy on her hip and a large black bag on her shoulder. Her belly protrudes noticeably, and I find myself calculating how far-along she is. You would have proudly told me her due date with ease.

Aunt Fleur immediately begins to sob. She loved you, Teddy, because you were good to her daughter, and you always complimented her cooking (even though we all know it's dreadful). Victoire looks so calm, peaceful, even. She apologizes for being tardy, stating that Nicholas insisted on lunch before they left. Uncle Bill dismisses this with a wave of his hand and a kiss to her forehead. You should be there with her; no one should have to be a widow at twenty-four.

James gently pulls Nicholas from Victoire's arms and settles him down in his own lap. I am glad you chose James to be Nicholas' godfather. He takes the position very seriously. He skivvied off work all week to spend time with Nicholas. I know that Nicholas is very confused by all of this, but as soon as he sees James, he happily changes his appearance from your carbon copy to the mussied Potter male hair. I notice that James' smile at little Nick doesn't quite reach his eyes as it normally does, and I choke down another round of sobs at the thought of a younger version of my brother who would follow you around relentlessly. Did that ever bother you? I never thought to ask.

There are many exchanges of sympathy to Victoire who politely shakes hands and mutters words I either cannot hear or don't listen to. There are many people here that I don't recognize, that you probably don't even remember, just as there had been at James' wedding.

James' wedding-- my eyes water at the thought. I remember with a jolt you were joking about everything from Victoire not allowing you to name your impending child Harry because "Uncle Harry has namesakes sprouting up from everywhere and hardly needs another" to how awkward Albus' stride is. I lose myself in this memory, thinking of the extraordinarily easy way that you laughed. Dad used to tell us that you could get along with anyone, pointing out the time when you were eight and you charmed the notoriously disagreeable Lucius Malfoy into giving yourself and Victoire biscuits.

Perhaps this is why James always emulated you.

People are shifting around now, realigning themselves and seating accordingly. My mother is whispering directions in my ear, though none of them are being processed properly. I feel empty. Albus kindly guides me from one seat to another, settling me down with a final squeeze of my hand. I end up sitting between Uncle Charlie and Headmaster McGonagall, an rather odd combination, but I suppose I have seen more obscure arraignments. Like the time you told me you were spending the afternoon with Uncle Percy and Luna Lovegood.

"Good afternoon," a deep voice sounds. I look up to see the Minister himself presiding over your funeral (I guess you really were as important at the ministry as you cockily stated so many times), and then, I spot your casket suddenly, and though I suppose I had seen it in the background before, I can't help but let out a loud, rolling sob. Uncle Charlie swiftly holds out a handkerchief, but I ignore it. I think that you would have held me or something equally as kind; you never were the type to say that showing emotion is weak.

"We are gathered here today to mourn the untimely death of an extremely admirable, brave man." He pauses, and overwhelming sounds of despair fill my ears. Aunt Fleur is beside herself, sobbing heavily into Uncle Bill's chest, and he seems to be torn between comforting his wife and helping Victoire. Louis is stroking Dominique's hair from her face while Molly tries to placate her. Hagrid's tears are starting a small puddle of mud at his feet. Grandmum is wiping at her eyes and clutching Grandfather's hand like it is a lifeline. The Malfoys are the most quiet but not lacking sorrow on their faces, and even the ministry officials seem on the verge of tears. These people loved you, Teddy, and I loved you, too.

And in the midst of all of this obvious sadness, Victoire is looking pleasantly at the Minister, as if waiting for him to finish telling a story about a leisurely game of Gobstones.

I'm confused by this; you would have understood.

"Theodore Remus Lupin changed the ideas of good and hope in people just as effortlessly as he changed his appearance. His birth during a wartime brought a sense of prevailing triumph in a fearful, anxious atmosphere. His parents' tragic deaths regrettably made him a poster child for families affected by the war."

I notice some heads turn toward Uncle George, who despite being earless and twinless, his love for life matches probably only yours. Mum says he draws his strength from his family and knowing that Uncle Fred would have wanted him to live on and keep their legacy alive.

I wish I could have met him.

My heart beats painfully again as I remember that you once cried to my father that same wish about your parents and that Nicholas and the baby Victoire is carrying (is it a girl? I hope it is.) will wish that same thing about his or her father. I choke on my own tears. I know you would have wanted to be here to raise your children.

"But while we were feeling sorry for Teddy, we forgot that he needed not our sympathy. Teddy ignited spirit in every soul that he touched, and his strength and his courage will never be forgotten again. Teddy wanted, demanded even, that the people around him loved and lived as brilliantly as he did. So today, I remind you to never feel sorry for Teddy's short life because he lived every moment as if it were his last. I remind you to learn from Teddy and follow his example of endless heart and bravery in every aspect of your life. Most, I remind you to remember Teddy always.

Teddy Lupin: You will be missed."

Truer words may have never been spoken.

Your casket is magically lowered into the grave, and moments later, Albus is helping me out of the chair and guiding me out of the Godric's Hallow cemetery, the same place that my father's parents are buried, the same place that your parents are buried.

I cry again, Teddy. I sob in Albus' arms. I wanted him to Apparate me home so that I wouldn't have to pass your house, the one in which you would have shared a lifetime with Victoire and your children, but I suppose, with the emotional state everyone is in, Apparation could mean splinching. We shuffle past your house and travel the few blocks to our own house. It's not as hard as I thought it might be, because I remember immediately the time you moved; you paid me two Galleons to help bin and move your stuff. I never asked, but I always had a suspicion that Dad had paid you those two Galleons to keep me out of the house and away from James's obnoxiously large ego.

Albus tries to feed me something; I think that may have been Dad's advice, too. He had tried to get me to eat breakfast, but I couldn't. I'm just not hungry. You wouldn't like that either. You probably would have brought me over something I couldn't resist (shepherd's pie, you know it's my favorite.) But you aren't here, so I go to bed at two in the afternoon and only wake because of a startling nightmare right before sunrise.

And in that brief moment at five in the morning, I wonder: was this just a dream?

Then, I see the picture frame of you on my beside table; It's empty, and I know it wasn't.