The silence in the small, dark house was broken by a soft crackling from the fireplace. Always aware of the danger his position in the Order put him in, and additionally just a generally light sleeper, the young man awoke abruptly and lay motionless, waiting for further hint of whether his guest was friend or foe.
"Remus," a voice said faintly from the other room, and he relaxed because he knew that voice. Of course he knew that voice.
He slid out of bed and pulled on robes as he went into the living room and to the fireplace where the head of Albus Dumbledore would be perched among the flames. He was wary, though, because Albus Dumbledore appearing in his fireplace in the middle of the night likely did not mean good news.
So many members of the Order had been tortured and killed in recent months that it had become all too routine to him. Of course, Dumbledore did not generally make special trips to tell him first hand in the middle of the night, which probably meant there had been a bigger attack and the Order's presence was required - for any number of possible reasons.
"Albus," he said as he crouched low and approached the fireplace. Now close enough to clearly see him, a pit grew in Remus's stomach. For the first time in the many years that he had known him, Albus Dumbledore had tears in his eyes.
"The story will break in the Prophet tomorrow, but I thought you should hear from me."
He could feel the color draining from his face, all at once. In one breath, with one thought. Because there was only one thing this could mean, and it was the worst news he could imagine.
He knew Dumbledore must see this on his face, but he carried on anyway.
"Several hours ago, Lord Voldemort…" Dumbledore's throat seemed to close for a moment. Remus waited breathlessly. "Lord Voldemort attacked James and Lily's home." Remus let out a ragged breath. "I'm so sorry, Remus," said Dumbledore sadly. "James was killed. They both were."
He couldn't breathe. There was a weight on his chest and his throat was burning and he couldn't breathe because this was not possible. This could not be happening.
He stood and ran his fingers through his hair. "No," he whispered. Because even though he'd known all along that it was a possibility, that it was even a likelihood, he had never believed it could actually happen. How could the world keep turning with James and Lily Potter no longer in it?
He paced for a moment, knowing he had to hold it together at least until Dumbledore left. And suddenly, with that thought, a million questions flew into his head.
But two immediately stood out as the most important.
"Harry?" he asked, choking as he knelt once again by the fireplace. The baby had been You-Know-Who's target, so naturally if James and Lily had been killed so had he. But Dumbledore's peculiar phrasing - "both" - gave him hope.
Before Dumbledore had a chance to answer, Remus's second question tumbled out.
"Sirius?" It was a whisper, for he did not want to believe it. He could not fathom it. And yet, there was no other way the events of several hours previously could have occurred.
"It seems," Dumbledore said, his eyes crinkling with pain, "that Sirius Black was not the friend he appeared to be."
"No," Remus said again. "No, that's not possible." He stood up and began pacing once again, his voice rising. "He hated his family, he hated everything they stood for. He loved James! He would never -"
"Harry is alive," Dumbledore said quietly, interrupting. Remus stopped abruptly.
"What? How?" And Dumbledore explained what had happened, how Voldemort had murdered James and Lily Potter, two of the bravest, most powerful witches in the Order, but had been defeated by a small, defenseless baby. He explained that that would be the story in the Prophet tomorrow, that James and Lily's murders would be a side note compared to the boy who lived.
"What will happen to him? Where will he go?"
"I've made arrangements for him already," Dumbledore answered, "so please do not attempt to convince me the child would be better off with you." Remus only nodded. There were very few families the child could be placed with where he would be worse off than if he were with Remus.
All at once it hit him again. James was dead. Lily was dead.
James was dead. His best friend in the world, aside from Sirius.
Sirius, who might as well have killed him.
No, he could not do this, not until Dumbledore was gone.
He had one more question.
"Does Peter know?" he asked quietly.
Dumbledore shook his head. "No. No, I thought perhaps I would leave that to you. You both could use a friend right now." Remus nodded his agreement.
"If you don't mind I think I'll do that now, then," he said, feeling his throat tightening. Dumbledore nodded solemnly.
"There will be a lot of celebration in the coming days," he said seriously. "But those of us who knew the Potters will remember that this is a tragedy."
It was the past tense that did it for him. Knew. Because there was no longer anything left to know.
Remus couldn't contain himself as the sobs ripped loose, even though Dumbledore was still in his fireplace watching him. His hands pressed to his eyes, his chest heaving, his knees so weak he could not stand even if he tried, Remus sobbed. He did not even notice when Dumbledore left him.
Eventually - he could not say after how long - he began to regain some measure of control. Taking deep breaths and slowly standing, Remus reached for the pot of floo powder on his mantle.
He had to tell Peter.
AN: It legitimately makes me angry imagining Remus going to tell Peter the news and Peter just pretending like he's surprised. And it makes me so incredibly sad to think about Lupin spending 12 years thinking he was the only one of his friends who wasn't a traitor or dead. Anyway, I wrote this a few months ago, and never posted it because I kept thinking I'd add to it. I may still. I have ideas for the rest, anyway, but I don't know if I'll ever have the time. In any case, let me know what you think, and if you'd be interested in seeing this become a two or three shot.