020/365
I feel so sorry for Remus. When Lily and James died he was alone . Sirius was gone and so was Peter. Poor guy
Cheap whiskey burned his throat and his sobs were muffled and hoarse. He was alone. The park bench felt like ice beneath him and even harder than was usual; this was their spot, where they used to come to drink. The willow tree, with its towering branches now stripped bare of its summer leaves, had their names carved into the bark, from some summers ago.
No more James.
No more Lily.
No more Peter.
And Sirius, the traitor.
He left the bottle, concealed within a brown paper bag, fall to the floor and let his head fall back, to stare through the thick branches and mourn to the moon. He was the last.
Thanks for reading.
