He didn't know how he knew, but he did, that one day, soon, everything they had would end. He glanced back at the three behind him, each passed out from too much liquor. James was on the couch, a bottle in the hand that rested on his chest, while his other hand hung over the edge of the sofa. The figure next to him on the floor was Peter, who was face-first on the floor. He was snoring loudly, right in front of the fire. Sirius was in the chair above him, curled up almost like a dog.
Remus could have sworn he heard a clock that night. Tick, tick, tick, tick, on and on, a never-ending reminder of mortality. Memento mori, he had heard once. He did not want to remember. They were only seventeen, after all.
He looked away from his friends toward the moon, which was just passing full. He still had bandages from the moon just two days previous, and they hurt like hell. Another reminder- memento mori, he thought sourly. The stars shone brilliantly in the darkness, and the moonlight cast a shadow over everything on the grounds. Each dark crevice was a scary place- one wrong move and you could be inside, nothing but a flash of green light for you to see your final killer.
Time was passing, he knew, and each second he grew older. No necessarily wiser, or braver, after all, age has nothing to do with knowledge of the world. Time passed, and Voldemort grew steadily stronger, while the world around him gave their young- some not old enough to have a wand, never mind use it- to fight him and die trying. A horrible fate, and an endless tragedy, if you asked Remus.
He could feel it like a timer on a bomb. Everything was going to blow up in their faces, and, in the crossfire and aftermath, no one would know what happened. It was only a matter of time.
I'm stressed, a little pissed off, and tired of working. I figured it was time to revisit my favorite troublemakers with some good old angst. Reviews, please, I beg you. I don't beg often.
