A/N I know that some of the dates are a bit dodgy but please bear with me. I wrote this at 2am one Thursday morning
The only saving grace was that the rubble had been cleared away by the time of the funeral. It would otherwise have served as a devastating reminder of what had happened that night. Sat in the tiny church, it was easier to convince oneself that their deaths had been more comfortable, less horrific than what they really had to face.
The congregation wasn't enormous but it was large enough for someone to be able to hide if they didn't want to be spotted, which is exactly what Remus Lupin was thankful for. He knew most of the people there, at least by sight, but he had made a pact with himself that he wasn't going to talk to any of them.
The second of November 1981 was stormy and the light was dwindling in the churchyard by the time that the funeral got under way. Remus sat in a dimly lit corner with his long black coat wrapped tightly around himself and a scarf wrapped around the bottom half of his face. His arms were folded across his stomach, almost as though he was trying to hold himself together, that he was scared he was going to fall apart if he let go. For all he knew, he would. It did feel as though at any moment his insides were just going to fall out, there was something so much stronger and bigger inside of him now.
The funeral was simple; just a few tributes paid by the people who had known James and Lily best. He had snorted bitterly when he was handed the order of service and saw that written. The people who knew James and Lily best were, one could say, unavailable. One was a betrayer, the worst kind of person who had sold out his best friends as fast as he could guarantee that he would make a quick buck off them, one was dead and the other was sat at the back of the church, having not slept for three days since he first heard the news and barely capable of standing up straight, let alone making a tribute. He'd been sat in a bar for the most part, downing Firewhisky after Firewhisky, only stopping long enough to throw up in the dirty toilet at the back of the pub. At one point he had taken himself as far as the mainland nearest Azkaban and watched for a while as he made out the smudges of Dementors floating around the island. He didn't really know why he was there or what he was planning on doing but it was perversely comforting to know that Sirius was only that far away, waiting for the trial that would almost certainly condemn him to life in the prison until he went mad or died, whichever came first, and neither punishment enough for what he had done.
Remus cursed himself as he picked up snippets of the speeches, snippets which cut deeper into his consciousness and his heart as they struck a very painful chord. "Loyal", "brave", "the most fantastic parents" were all true but he hated that no one could really say what James and Lily were. If he had felt able, he would have stood up and explained that they, Peter, even the bastard Sirius had accepted him when all his life he had been treated like the freak. They had made him believe again in the goodness of humanity when, at the tender age of eleven, he had decided that the world was full of the worst kinds of people-people who judged and excluded before they even spoke to him, people who taunted and mocked just because they could. No one could ever put into words how exceptional they were, not even him and no one could ever feel more guilty about not telling them what they meant than he did right now. He'd never told them that he truly believed they saved his life and now he would never get the chance.
After the service, it was time to commit the bodies to the ground. As he waited for most of the people to file out, he kept his eyes to the floor but the one time he raised them, he found himself accidentally catching the eye of Albus Dumbledore. Remus looked away hurriedly until he realised that Dumbledore wasn't going to force him into anything. All the Headmaster did was bow his head in respect as he carried on past, guiding a weeping Minerva McGonagall by the elbow. When the rest had gone, Remus tailed the group, pulling his collar up around his neck as the wind and the rain battered him both at once.
The coffins were magically lowered into the grave and as the priest read the sermon, another curate walked sedately round the group, handing out small roses to throw into the grave as they filed past. Remus took the healthy, blood red rose from the man and when the chance came to drop it onto the coffins, he held the petals to his mouth and kissed them, so that a part of him was physically down there with them, to go with the part of his soul that they had taken beyond the veil with them. He did not cry. He was yet to cry.
When at last the grave was filled and the other attendees had paid their individual respects, Remus checked that he was entirely on his own and approached the gravestones which simply read
James Potter; born 10th March 1960, died 31st October 1981
Lily Potter; born 13th January 1960, died 31st October 1981
And the line that Dumbledore had chosen,
The last enemy that shall be defeated is death
With no idea whether it was seeing it written down or just finally allowing the shock that had been numbing him to go for a while, Remus collapsed to his knees in the mud in front of the grave and finally allowed the tears to come. And they did. He held his head in his hands as he choked on the bitterness and the grief that he had so far kept under control with alcohol and denial. The weather, bad as it was already, seemed to take pity on the man on his knees and joined in with his sadness-the rain fell harder until he could feel it rolling under his scarf and down his back. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes as he pulled out his wand to conjure a wreath-the grave just looked so bare with nothing on it and he knew how Lily loved colour and beauty. In order to honour his lovely bride, at their wedding, James insisted that he, Sirius, Remus and Peter should all wear lilies and it was obvious what flowers the wreath he was conjuring up should be made of. It appeared in front of him and he placed it gently on the mound of sodden brown earth, being careful not to let flecks of mud dirty the flowers. The petals began to droop a little in the rain but to Remus that looked right-the flowers shouldn't be so fresh and alive when they were mourning the loss of another.
Remus struggled to his feet and placed one hand on the gravestone, trying to find the words to say what he needed to.
"I'm going to miss you both so much," he whispered, suddenly self conscious but knowing that he must carry on, "And if you can hear me somewhere, I'm so sorry. I should have known that something was wrong. I was just so…stupid and I won't rest until I know that he is suffering for what he did to you."
He took a deep breath and carried on.
"I'll do what I can to look out for Harry, I promise you that and I just want you to know that I love you both so much. Rest in peace now."
The breath caught in his throat as he finally succumbed to a fresh wave of tears. He shoved his hands deep in his pocket and his head bowed low as he turned away from his friends.
"Rest in peace."