1996 – Summer
She'd seen his face when Sirius had fallen through the veil. She'd heard his cry as he lost his best friend all over again. She watched him wander aimlessly around Grimmauld Place. And she knew it was all her fault. If she'd killed Lestrange, then this wouldn't have happened. And it was never her aunt, or Bella, as her mother infrequently referred to her as. It was always Lestrange. It was easier to hex someone if you didn't think of them as family.
Every time she saw him she just wanted to take him in her arms and hold him until the pain went away. But it wasn't until she found him sitting alone in Sirius' old room that she could bring herself to do anything.
"Remus," she murmured, standing in the doorway.
He was sitting on the bed. He slowly looked up and tried to smile. "Hey."
She walked over and sat down next to him. "It's the middle of the night," she said quietly. "You need to sleep."
He shrugged helplessly, and then showed her the photograph he was holding. It showed two young men, one gazing at the camera lens seriously, the other laughing and pulling a face. "He's gone," he whispered, silent tears winding their way down his cheeks. "Again. I don't- I can't…"
She hugged him tightly, gently stroking his hair. "It's going to be okay, Remus. I promise."
She held him till he was all cried out and was running his hands through his hair with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he murmured, avoiding her eyes. "I shouldn't have…"
"It's okay," she told him quietly. "You're allowed to hurt."