Author's Note: Harry Potter has sort of been consuming my every waking thought lately. Can't get the stupid ideas from jumping onto the page. Hope you enjoy! I don't own Harry Potter. Durr.

Requiem for Remus

"Some days, I'm so angry with you that I can't breathe," Harry Potter said.

He didn't even know who he was talking to.

The room was empty. If he strained his ears, he could hear Ginny and the kids out back, blowing bubbles and laughing in the warm Spring air.

Harry Potter sat inside. Alone. He knew he should feel lucky, and happy. All the time.

After all, what losses had he really suffered? Ron and Hermione made it out alive. Ginny was okay. The scar on his forehead never hurt him anymore, and he could walk down the streets without fear.

But he had three kids. Three. James, Lily, and little baby Albus. He didn't have four kids. He didn't have four kids. It wasn't fair.

Remus. Lupin.

"Sometimes, I miss you more than anyone else," Harry Potter said.

Which, of course, made very little sense at all, when you looked at the death tally.

His mother and father were not even memories, but they still itched at the back of his throat unexpectedly, at the most random of times. James would make some snide sort of comment, and even having never known his father, Harry was positive that his baby was taking after him to a T.

Sometimes, when Ron and Hermione were over, little Hugo would push Lily over, and she would flare up, Ginny's bright orange hair aflame on top of that soft baby skull of hers, and Harry would remember the scene in the Pensieve. His mother had been full of fire, just like his child.

Even with Al's middle name, it was Lily that reminded Harry of Snape the very most.

Snape, the man that had loved his mother. Snape, a despicably cruel man. Snape, the real hero. Because Harry didn't miss Snape. Not at all. He grieved for him every day.

Then, there was Fred. Ron wore a shadow over his face at all times nowadays. It was impossible not to remain close to the Weasleys. After all, he was married to their youngest, and Ron was his best mate. Mrs. Weasley bustled around the kitchen with as much vigor as ever, but anyone could tell that she felt empty.

Bill held Fleur to him as tight as he could, always afraid that if he looked away, she' be gone. Charlie and Arthur drew inward, refusing to acknowledge. Ginny woke up in the middle of the night sometimes and rushed to check on the kids, positive that she had heard some noise. Sometimes she woke up with Fred's name on her lips. Percy had been inconsolable for weeks after it happened, but once the shock had worn off, he grieved just like everyone else.

George? For a long time, George was gone. But time actually does heal wounds, and he came back, so that his little sister could hold him and say that she missed him, so that his mother could fret and worry and examine for injuries, inside and out. So that Percy could burst into tears and shut himself up in his room for twenty four hours, because somehow everyone had forgotten how identical they were.

So. Lily, James, Snape, Fred. There were other losses, too. Potent ones.

Moody. Sure, Harry hadn't know the actual Moody for a terribly long time, but his gruff personality had imparted a very permanent impression on the world. It seemed inconceivable that he could be gone. The same could be said, oddly enough, for Hedwig. Hedwig had been with him since his first year at Hogwarts, and the idea that she could be gone was difficult for Harry to handle at first.

He eventually got a new owl, but his first snowy white would always hold a place in his heart. Ginny knew it. That was enough.

There were never constants, in Harry's life. His aunt and uncle were cruel to him. He had no parents. As far as parental figures went, Harry had the Weasleys, and that was all. But it wasn't fair to take away Molly and Arthur from their own gaggle of kids. They had enough love to spare, but what Harry wanted more than anything was Lily and James. He knew, right from the beginning of his life, that they were good people.

Maybe that's why Sirius had been so good for Harry. Or so bad, depending on how you looked at it. It seemed impossible that the reality of his death would ever fade in the slightest, at first. The pain, the alternating numbness, the disbelief, the crushing thought of living in a world where he couldn't write Sirius a letter and get a response.

Because Sirius had been his dad's best mate. Sirius had known.

Dumbledore had been a whole other walk in the park, because while Harry had grieved him most when he had died, it wasn't until after the old man was long buried that Harry had learned anything about him at all. And it was only after his death that Harry understood anything of what Dumbledore had said to him during his lifetime. He probably planned it that way.

Dobby. For some reason, Harry had had a particularly hard time with this one, because even though almost all of these deaths had been in some way his fault, Dobby's death could only be called a direct result of Harry's actions. The thing was, though, Harry was absolutely positive that of all the ways to go, Dobby would have wanted to be taken out in Harry's line of fire.

Smaller losses burned against his tongue, too. Colin Creevey. The kid with the camera, always so eager to help. Crabbe. Because sure, he was on the other team, but Harry had never once spoken to him, and wondered now if he was missing anything. Wormtail. A right foul git, the reason his parents were dead… but he had hesitated, if only for a moment. Tonks. Harry hadn't known her for long, but she had been the light in times of darkness, and had brightened even the most gloomy of scenes with her bubblegum colored hair.

Which brought him to the reason he was sitting in an empty kitchen talking to himself in the first place.

"It doesn't make sense. How hard did you even try, Remus?" Harry wondered aloud. He also wondered how hard it had been for him. How forgotten he must have felt. He spent the majority of his adult life thinking that all the most important people were lost to him – James and Peter dead, Sirius a traitor. And then, only a for a span of a few short years, he got one of his best friends back, only to have him ripped from him again.

Poor Remus Lupin. But still. "Did you think that just because you knew Teddy had a Godfather – just because you knew he'd be cared for… Did you think it would be okay to leave him here?"

Teddy was a happy boy, and Harry knew he had been a good dad to him. It didn't change the fact that Remus was the boy's father.

"My dad would have been so proud of you, you know. I know you thought about that stuff. Sirius, too. And Dumbledore. All of them would have been so incredibly proud to see you in the end."

Harry paused. And paused. And wondered. "Do you get to see them? My mum and Dad? Sirius? How are they? Good?"

He wasn't expecting an answer or anything, but it was comforting to ask. "What about Snape? Don't give him a hard time, okay? He saved my life, a thousand times over. Saved everyone else's lives too."

"Did you mean to leave?"

Silence.

"Because if you did, I don't forgive you."

"Harry? Who're you talking to?" A voice asked from the doorway.

"Hermione!" Harry said, standing up and crossing the room to hug her. "What are you doing here?"

"Rose insisted on a play date with Lil, so Ron and I brought the kids over. I hope that's okay?"

"You know you don't need to ask. Ron's outside with Ginny?"

Hermione nodded, and the frowned. "So… who were you talking to, exactly?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"Already do," Hermione smirked.

"I was talking to… Remus. I was asking…"

But Hermione was nodding in understanding. "I talk to… I talk to Fred, sometimes."

"Really?"

"Yeah. To tell him how rotten I think it was of him to leave us."

Harry laughed. "He didn't choose to go, Hermione. You know that. He wouldn't have gone if he had the choice."

"Oh, I know," Hermione said. Harry gulped, because she suddenly had that look in her eyes that she got when she seemed to be reading his mind.

"And you know it, too."

Harry sighed and glanced around the room. They weren't talking about Fred. In fact, they weren't talking about Remus, either.

Hermione took Harry's hand tightly in yours. "None of them would've left, if given the choice."

The fist inside Harry's chest loosened. "You're right."

"As always," Hermione smirked.

Somewhere, Harry was sure, too many pairs of eyes were watching him silently, smiles gracing their peaceful lips.

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