So yes. Remus/person-of-your-choice. I kind of imagined it to be Sirius as I was writing it but made no mention of his name, so decided it to be any-ship-friendly yay.

My close friends already know that my grandfather did pass away a week today. While this story was slightly inspired by that, I would like to let everyone know that this is not based on their life or their personalities in any way. (Or mine or anyone I know THIS IS NOT A TRUE STORY GUYS THANK YOU). This is just simply an idea that stemmed from funeral planning.

Please enjoy this tiny thing.


Remus hates that his grandmother has to be so contained. Hates that little apartment she had been forced into after her husband died, and knows she hates it too. She used to go for walks in the woods sometimes, claiming that they, at least, gave her some free air to breath in. That was when she was still young, before she was too old and frail to do anything except sit in the small rocking chair in the corner of the lounge.

Remus wanted to help her, wanted to do anything he could; he could clean her apartment, he promised, could cook her meals and wash her dishes and make her bed and brush her hair. Anything for her. I can use magic. It will be easy. You don't have to suffer.

Then she'd fix him with disapproving eyes, shake her head. I am still strong. I do not need help to die the same way my husband did.

So there would be no more discussion, and instead Remus would sit back and read to her, anything that caught either of their attention. The newspaper (not the Daily Prophet, she despised it), books, essays he had written for school… The list went on.

Other times he would just talk. About his life, his school, his friends. Sometimes Remus told himself that with his grandmother listening, everything he had ever thought could easily pour out of his mouth. And he always let it; there was nothing he would hide from her.

My friends know I'm a werewolf. They're going to hate me.

I'm scared about the war.

I don't understand my Ancient Runes homework.

My grades aren't as good as I hoped.

The last full moon was bad. My friends are trying to help me, but they won't succeed.

I'm in love, but they don't love me back.

His grandmother would smile, pat his arm with a weak hand and whisper words of comfort. Do not worry, lovely Remus. These things come in time. And Remus would smile and whisper his thanks.


She passed away in his seventh year, resting at last, away from the small apartment, free once again. Remus's friends came to the funeral and, although he cried, he was finally able to rest his head on the shoulder of the one he loved.


Can we appreciate how much my English teacher would cry if she saw this story. Terrible grammar, really. Sorry about that.

Please review!