Remus woke up as he always did after a full moon; stark naked and bleeding, all alone in a place he didn't quite recognize. It was far different from the way he felt after his transformations when he'd gone to Hogwarts. In those days, his injuries were always less severe, and he opened his eyes to see his three friends standing over him, prepared to carry him back to the castle. Now, in the cold, foreign place there was no sense of relief washing over him. He never felt more alone than he did after a transformation these days. It was even worse now that he couldn't just go home and see his best friends.
James and Lily were in hiding. Peter was always off on business. And Sirius….Sirius could no longer be trusted. Remus was as alone as he had been in his childhood when the children sneered or trembled at the sight of him and his father had told him he wasn't allowed to go to school. Yet it was more difficult this time, having found out what he was missing. It's always harder to live without something you've lost than to live without something you never had.
But he kept fighting, knowing that if he did he could some day hug James and Lily again. That he could play checkers with Peter on a rainy day. That it was possible even for him to be wrong about Sirius, and everything could go back to normal.
When he was well enough, he apparated back to the Order's headquarters. It took him less than a minute to take in the grim expressions on everyone's faces.
"Who was it?" he asked, his voice surprisingly strong. Death was something he'd gotten used to over the past few years.
He looked around the room, seeing the conflicted looks everyone was exchanging. Nobody would look him in the eye.
After minutes of silence, Emmeline Vance walked up to him and hugged him, whispering, "We won the war," in his ear.
"Who was it?" he asked again, panic seeping into his tone.
He turned to meet Dumbledore's eyes, the wise old man wearing a sad smile on his face. But it was not what was on his face that alarmed Remus, it was what he held in his hands; a pair of broken, round glasses.
"No," he croaked, his voice breaking. His stomach turned and twisted into knots, his vision blurring with tears. "James…he wouldn't…."
He looked around wildly, trying to find the comfort of Sirius or Peter, but they were not there. And still nobody would meet his eyes.
"What of Lily? What of Harry?" he demanded.
"Lily died protecting her son. Her love for Harry saved the entire wizarding world, Remus. The boy lived. Voldemort, did not."
Remus stared at Dumbledore, speechless. He should feel happy. His war was over. He didn't have to fight anymore.
But he didn't feel relieved. Remus felt ragged and forlorn. He felt as though all the wind, all the determination, all the strength had been knocked out of him. He had lost the first person to truly accept him and the girl who'd helped him accept himself. But at the same time, he knew. He knew he'd do anything it took to make sure their son lived in a much better world. One in which Harry would never have to feel the way Remus felt right then.
"Where is Harry?"
"He'll be living with Lily's sister's family. The Dursleys."
Remus didn't say anything. He knew Sirius was Harry's godfather. If the boy had been sent to live with people such as the Dursleys, he knew it meant his worst suspicions about his best friend were true. Sirius Black was responsible for the deaths of James and Lily Potter.
And at that moment, his sadness turned to anger. He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth and demanded, "Does Peter know?"
"Nobody knows where Peter is. Nobody's seen him or Sirius since last night."
And even Remus knew what that meant. Peter must have been just as angry as he was; furious enough to kill even his best friend. He'd never have expected that kind of bravery from Peter, but he understood it. He himself had never been the violent type and at that moment, all he wanted was Sirius' death.
But Remus knew Sirius was a far more talented wizard than Peter. In fights against the death eaters, Peter stuttered out defensive spells timidly while Sirius inflicted major damage. He would be no match for him.
Without another word, Remus apparated back to his apartment. He stumbled forward, shell-shocked and trembling, slumping onto the floor as soon as he appeared in the small, dingy room. He sat there, motionless, staring at the same spot on the wall— the picture of them all in fourth year, James happy and healthy and alive, Peter dodging around in the background and Sirius... Sirius standing there grinning as if he had any right to. As if it could ever be okay that he had ever been so happy when he had made so many so miserable.
Remus' stomach turned and suddenly he was standing, moving toward the picture and ripping it from the wall. And then he turned and there was another picture, so he tore that one down to. And another. And another, and another, until something inside of him broke and everything he'd held back over those hard, desperate years came bubbling up and it felt like everything inside of him was tearing all at once. Soon he was screaming spells, burning or destroying anything that reminded him of his friends. He kicked the walls. He threw his meager possesions around, sobbing so violently he couldn't see. When he was done, he collapsed, falling to his knees and trying to swallow his tears. There was nothing left to destroy, he thought. There was nothing left. There was no one left.
All the people that had meant most to him were dead. They may have won the war, but he had lost almost everyone he'd been fighting to protect. And the worst of it was that somebody he'd called his friend was to blame.
There was nowhere to go from there. Nothing left to fight for.
Remus Lupin was all alone.
