This turned out significantly different than I had originally intended. But I think I still like it :) Also, I realize Amelia Bones was not in the Order but for this story she joined after her brother's death. Alright? Alright.
Remus Lupin.
The young twenty-two year old slammed down a bottle on the table.
Loud.
Ogden's Best Firewhiskey it read, joining two other empty bottles occupying the table.
He got up and staggered over to a sofa that was severely damaged. He slumped down and clenched his eyes shut for a moment, secretly wishing he would just die in his sleep at some point.
Outside the tiny flat, excited voices of little muggle children were to be heard as they scampered up and down the hall, door to door, in hopes of collecting mass amounts of candy.
Remus had half a mind to go out and hex them or something to just shut. them. up. But even in its fuzzy state, his brain told him that hexing muggle children was not the best course of action. A better idea, he decided, would be to walk over to the cabinet to check if there was more firewhiskey.
(Even though he knew there wasn't.)
He leaned against the empty cabinet, staring expressionlessly out the window. A gleam of light from bustling London glinted off a framed photo hanging on the wall.
Four students in their final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Two had dark black hair (though one was an untamable mess.) One with blond hair in an unfortunate pudding bowl haircut. The last had brown curls. It had been taken on a gorgeous day by a pretty redhead who was now…
Dead.
In two short strides, Remus ripped the frame from the wall and smashed it down against the table that held the empty firewhiskey bottles. The glass from the frame broke and shattered. Ignoring the shards he picked out the photo. Its subjects were waving merrily at him.
Anger bubbled up inside him and spilled over in something between a yell and a sob. He sank to the floor despairingly, holding the photograph tightly.
James. Lily. Peter.
Dead.
Sirius…
Remus ripped the picture viciously, over and over again until there were only little pieces left that fluttered slowly to the ground. And the lone Marauder buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
A knock sounded at the door.
It was ignored.
Another knock, followed by a voice.
"Remus, it's Amelia! I have a message from Dumbledore!"
No response.
"Remus! Remus? Remus, c'mon I know you're there."
No response.
"Oh honestly!" the young witch huffed before letting herself in.
She was first struck by how dark it was; only a small group of candles in the corner were emitting light. The second thing she noticed was the object of her message, sitting in the middle of the small kitchen, surrounded by broken glass.
Tentatively she wandered over. She saw the shredded photo and the bottles and understood immediately.
"Remus…" she said lightly, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. He grabbed her hand tightly, as if it were the only thing keeping him lucid. It was wet with salty tears.
Amelia didn't say anything but sat down carefully next t him. They sat in silence for several minutes.
"Gone." He croaked suddenly. He cleared his throat. "All gone. He killed them. He—" Remus stopped talking abruptly, overcome by anger or grief, Amelia couldn't tell. She put her hand softly under his chin, lifting his head to look at her. His handsome face was streaked by tears, his eyes red.
She searched for the right words but couldn't seem to find them. She remembered when he had been the one reassuring her—the day her brother was killed, the day she joined the Order. She felt she needed to repay him.
"C'mon Remus, why don't we clean this up, hmm?" she asked, helping him to his feet. She vanished the glass on the floor and the bits of paper. She walked over to the fireplace and lit a fire which flooded the room with light.
They sat on the destroyed sofa together. Well, she sat; he lay with his knees drawn up, his head in her lap. She was absentmindedly running her hand through his hair.
He was watching the clock. 11:58, 11:59, 12:00. The most hellish day of the year was over, but the pain lingered. He was angry, sad— lonely. He didn't want to be lonely.
Amelia looked at the man before her, thinking how ironic it was that she was here now. She remembered back at Hogwarts, how her and her friends would watch the Marauders go by and how he was the one who had caught her eye.
Remus sat up, his brain buzzing. Amelia raised her eyebrow,
"What?"
He didn't answer, but leaned in close to her and softly pressed his lips against hers. She was surprised, but only for a moment. She kissed him back.
Their kisses became hungrier. Amelia was leaning against the arm of the sofa, one arm slung around his neck. He grabbed the hem of her T-shirt, working it up. Something clicked in her brain.
"Remus… we can't do this." She muttered.
"Why not?"
"We can't. We just can't." she said, pushing him off her. He gave her a confused look. "Oh come off it, you know exactly why. And for one thing, you're completely drunk."
Realization dawned on his face and he jumped up, banging into the coffee table.
"Shit. Amelia, I'm sorry. Amelia…" he trailed off. She gave him a pitiful sort of look and slipped quietly out the door. He seized a fistful of hair.
"You're a flippin' idiot, you know that Lupin?" he said to himself. "Maybe that's why you survived. You weren't smart enough to go and help someone. You're a sick beast."
The first hour of November 1st had proved to be no better than October 31st. Nothing had changed, life still sucked for the survivors.
Questions? Comments? Concerns?