The Potter Residence, April 1980

His ears. They rung. They rung like church bells after a service, or like the static on the radio during a storm. It hurt – it was agonizing. His hands, covered from the soot shooting out of the chimney, clapped over his ears as he winced. It didn't help. Not in the slightest.

He refused to open his eyes – refused to watch the massacre. Remus was a coward for not helping. His thoughts, fractured and jagged, couldn't focus on the task. He couldn't be vigilant. His body ached; someone had punched him the stomach upon entering. His knees buckled, the air in his lungs forced out by a hard fist.

People stepped on his hands; they were frantic to escape or to fight. No one could find their wands. They were missing from their pockets or holsters. The ticking in Remus' brain was counting down – reminding him of the dwindling opportunity he had to protect Lily and Alice. Lily. Alice.

Remus forced himself to stand, shoving away bodies and shaking the hair out of his face; he still couldn't hear. There was no fine line between the crackling of Apparations' or the whizzing of spells. The lights had gone out; this was their plan. Ensuing chaos in the flat, making sure no one had their wits about them.

It was a slaughtering table.

"Remus," he heard above the sting in his ears. "Remus! Do something!"

Do something. Do something. Do something. But what could he do? There were so many faces, so many faces he'd known from school.

Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Barty Crouch, and more. Bellatrix was the very apex of the massacre, her crooked wand launching spell after spell into the small gathering. What could Remus do?

He could barely even gather his own thoughts; what spell could he use? Which spell would work? Why was the floor swaying beneath his feet?

Damn, there was too much! Too much screaming, too many people, too much ruckus!

Sirius appeared in his peripheral vision, his face red from the smeared blood. He was hurt; how had it happened?

Remus took hold of his wand, aiming it at an aggressor in dark clothing.

"Stupefy," he managed, sending an older looking Crabbe into the wall.

The fog in his mind was clearing, the weight of this attack bearing down on his shoulders like a crippling dumbbell he was far too weak to carry. They needed him – now more than ever.

Lucius Malfoy appeared, long hair pulled away from his face revealing a nasty glower.

"The Ministry should've gotten rid of you the first chance they got," he declared. "Avada Ked—"

"Expulso," Remus said.

With wordless magic, a feat so powerful even Remus had trouble conjuring, Lucius sent his spell off into the distance of the flat, blasting straight through the wall. Debris fell from every which way, assaulted by miscast and deflected magic; it was dangerous to be in there.

"Expelliarmus," Remus attempted to disarm Lucius, giving him an opening to get the situation under control.

Bellatrix was the issue; only Dorcas, Sirius, and James had their wands. Three against more than seven was becoming a threat to many lives. Sirius was holding up his end of the flat, cornered by Severus and a man Remus had only ever heard of; Fenrir.

"James," Remus shouted, though Lucius had other plans for him.

Remus moved out of sight, ducking behind a couch as he just barely missed the Cruciatus Curse from his opponent. This was nothing like their classes in school, nothing like their training in the Order. They'd never prepared for a match like this, in such a small space with too many things obstructing their movement. It made things a hell of a lot more difficult and far too dangerous.

They needed to Apparate. Anywhere! Anywhere but here. So many people were too frantic to do anything but hide and scream. Without their wands, they were useless unless they were advanced enough to conjure wandless magic. Even then, hardly any of them had enough focus to do so.

"We need to get out of here," Remus shouted. "Everyone! Get out."

Only some heard his command; Marlene was brave enough to spread the word, her small body able to navigate the confusion of the flat. She tried her hardest to raise her voice, to give out some sort of instruction to those left without defense. Bellatrix, however, decided it wasn't within her agenda to have fleeing sheep.

"Ah, ah, ah," she crooned. "Not so fast!"

Marlene skidded to a halt with no wand and no Dorcas to protect her. Remus cast a hex – hell he didn't know what exactly he cast – in Bellatrix's direction. It missed, hitting the china on the wall behind her. Glass rained down, clattering on the floor loudly. Elphias, who'd been crawling around in search of their wands, cried out in agony; there were shards lodged in his palms.

"Kill her," Lucius shouted. "Leave no one behind!"

Bellatrix grinned, bearing her blackened teeth and gums like a lioness on the prowl.

"It's been fun," she snickered, raising her wand. "Confringo!"

Remus' vision went red, his eyes burning and face wet. There was no doubt in his mind that it was blood. He had no doubt that it was Marlene's blood; Dorcas screams confirmed this. They were shrill and helpless – like she'd been stabbed in the chest over and over again with a dull kitchen knife.

He wasn't sure what quite to do; so this was what it was like with Benjy? The warm trickle of his blood into his mouth and eyes, the feeling of skin on his fingers as he tried to wipe it away. Knowing it would stain his favorite clothes and remind him of the day Marlene McKinnon – the sweet girl who loved plants and ice cream – died right before his eyes. The day his friends were butchered by Death Eaters, and he let it happen.

"I'll fucking kill you," Dorcas snarled.

Remus grabbed a pillow from the couch nearby, wiping his face with as much force as he could. There would be no removing the soft pink tint on his cheeks, the wet trail of blood from his neck into his shirt, but that would be a worry for another hour.

He felt someone grab onto his shoulder, forcing him to look into their eyes.

Sirius said, "Peter! Peter has the wands, Remus."

Remus nodded dumbly, not knowing what to do with that information. With the bedlam in the apartment following Marlene's death, there was no telling where their former friend had gone off to. It would be a challenge to find him in the midst of all of it, but they had to try. With over half of their ranks defenseless, the blood bath would soon be over, and the Order would be on the losing team.

Sirius disappeared, going upstairs in search of Peter while Remus took to the downstairs. Remus knew Peter was the one to Apparate before the pandemonium begun. It was wishful thinking to assume he'd still been around; Peter always knew when to leave – it was always so convenient that he disappeared before shit hit the fan.

Remus made a move to chase after Sirius, to tell him their search for the traitor was in vain, but he stumbled over a heap on the floor. He inhaled deeply, knowing that looking down would bring nothing but terror and sorrows. Judging by the bright red hair spilled across the floor, it was Fabian Prewitt. Half of his face was missing – blasted off by someone most likely – and his brains were scattered across Lily's brand-new carpet.

Remus gagged, the rancid smell of flesh was now filling the apartment. It wasn't apparent who it came from – Marlene or Fabian, perhaps someone else who'd been slaughtered without him knowing? It made the contents of his stomach churn; who else had perished?

Remus fought as best he could for minutes upon minutes; bodies were dropping left and right from both sides, but the fatalities in the Order were stacking up on top of each other second after second.

All that had been left were his closest friends, hiding away upstairs like children. They needed to be kept safe; hopefully, Sirius was holding down the fort. If anyone would die for Lily and James, it was Sirius. He'd rather meet his maker before sacrificing them to whoever wanted them. Lord Voldemort or Bellatrix – it didn't matter to Sirius.

Remus knew they were in good hands.

It had been down to only three of them: Moody, Remus, and Dorcas. They were the only ones who could stay given they had wands. They were up against Barty Crouch and his cronies. Remus didn't bother thinking of who they were; all he could manage was spell after spell in hopes one would stick.

"Keep 'em alive," Moody barked, binding one man by the arms and legs from afar. "The more the merrier!"

Remus' bones ached and his head beat a terrible rhythm. He could feel his heart in his throat, throbbing painfully. It all would end soon, he told himself. It'll all be over soon. It had to be. Remus couldn't die that day; there was too much to live for.

Bellatrix had escaped moments before the capture of Igor Karkaroff, vowing the return of her beloved Dark Lord and the slaughter of whoever remained that night. Many other Death Eaters had scattered and dispersed upon battling it out with Alastor Moody; his reputation spoke for him. He'd been doing the brunt of the work, directing Remus and Dorcas as needed.

Still, nothing could distract Remus from looking at the floor every so often; he saw the lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling or at the wall, empty and devoid. He'd never experienced it so vividly before. Remus was skillful in the art of avoiding, and he'd done his best to avoid death. Now it surrounded him – some with their bodies sprawled lifeless before him while others only remained in bits and pieces. All sorts of limbs were strewn across the furniture. It was ghastly to look at.

The final Death Eaters realized it was a losing battle against Moody, choosing to flee rather than stay and risk being captured like Kakaroff. Moody, rather proud of the outcome, hobbled over to the few men and women they'd managed to capture that evening, preparing them for the delivery to Azkaban by other Aurors.

Remus stared blankly at it all – the destruction left behind.

This was once home to him; the Potter's flat was once so quaint and soft with its light yellow walls and little paintings everywhere as a gift from Sirius. Marlene's plants had been hanging on the balcony or sat in pots on the dining room table. Mrs. Weasley had gifted them with a clock made with silverware and plates.

Now, it was all gone – reduced to nothing but splintered furniture and fractured walls. The flat was starting to crumble; the walls moaned and the floors creaked. Muggle Police were swarming on the street below, ambulances and firetrucks likely on their way as well. There was little they could do now; the only ones left alive were too busy mourning to be bothered with anything else.

"You ought to check on the Potter's," Moody grunted, hauling a captive to the couch. "I reckon they're shaken up."

Remus didn't reply, forcing his legs to move. He carried himself upstairs; his body felt weighed down by sandbags; he could sink through the floor. The upstairs was just as ransacked as the lower floor. Pictures were left shattered on the floor, the wallpaper torn to shreds as he followed the hallway.

It didn't feel real, truly. It felt more like a nightmare he once had, far off into the distance of his memories. He could only wish that he would wake soon, jolted by Sirius calling him for coffee. They would continue decorating the flat for the party, taunt each other about their crafts and whatnot. Things would be back to however normal they had been just hours ago.

He could only hope.

The door to the study was shut and bolted, most likely protected with a charm. He raised his hand, covered in blood, and knocked.

James responded, voice trembling, "Who's there?"

"Remus."

He was greeted with the frantic, hushed whispers of those concealed within the room. A part of him was glad they were taking extra precautions, but another just begged them to open the door and be done with it all.

"What was Remus' childhood stuffed animal," James called.

Remus' mind couldn't even conjure the memory of that ruddy elephant. It dared not tread into the past; he could hardly think of the present. For once, he was thankful his mind served as a brick wall. It felt better to be numb.

"It's a blue stuffed elephant named Ellie, and she's missing an eye," Remus said, hoping that would be sufficient enough.

He waited, body slumped against the wall. They all needed to get to St. Mungo's before any damage truly set in. The dead had to be accounted for, and as for the living? God knows what would happen to them.

James opened the door, the reflection of his glasses peering through the crack.

"It really is you?"

"Yes, Prongs," Remus sighed. "It's me."

The door nearly flew off the hinges, James' arms enveloping Remus in a bone-crushing hug. No doubt, it was excruciating. There were injuries beneath his clothes that were begging for treatment. However, for now, he would allow himself this one pleasure of comfort before the world began spinning again. He reached around, pulling James closer.

"So many," he whispered. "Gone."

Dampness set in on his shoulder; James was weeping softly. If he had it in him, Remus just might have cried as well. Instead, he remained silent, hoping that this gesture would serve as assurance in these times.

"Where's Sirius," Lily asked. "Is he alright?"

Remus' heart plunged into his stomach just as it had situated itself in its rightful place in his chest. His body pulled away from James', eyes frantic as he searched the room from afar.

Alice and Frank were huddled in the corner and Regulus, the poor kid, was sitting at the desk. He looked just as frenetic as Remus felt, eyes wide and pleading.

"Where's my brother," he asked.

"I thought he was up here with you," Remus stuttered.

James shook his head.

"We've got to find him," Remus stated, "before he does something stupid."

They hurried downstairs.

"Where could he be," Lily asked. "There are a million places in London Peter could've gone."

Remus racked his brain for information – anything to help them in their search for Peter. It was true; he could've been anywhere. Hell, he could've Apparated out of the country. But he wouldn't think of that. No, he was close, and Remus wasn't sure what made him assume so.

Where would Voldemort hole himself up? What would be the most convenient, secluded place for a terrorist to hide that Sirius knew well enough?

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

Malfoy Manor, April 1980

Remus ran. He ran as fast as he could up the drive to Malfoy Manor. Even from yards away, he could make out the doors; they were blasted open, smashed to bits nearly.

"Sirius," he murmured to himself. "Don't be an idiot."

The gravel crunched beneath him, wet from the Spring rain. Why was it that everything bad always happened here? What was it about this cursed property that brought out the worst in Sirius? If he'd done something stupid, something reckless and brash, it would be over. This wasn't his home; he was the aggressor here. The Malfoys wouldn't hesitate to press charges, and Sirius' future would be gone in an instant.

He made it inside, shocked at the condition of the home. It had been so similar to the Potter's house, only filled with more damaged luxury goods than plants and artwork. The carpets were darkened with blood, bodies of unknown Death Eaters strewn about like discarded clothing. It'd smelled awful, just like it had back at the flat – putrid.

"Please, Sirius," a woman pleaded. "You don't have to do this. He isn't here!"

Remus followed the voices, not caring if his footsteps gave him away.

"Then where! Where is he," Sirius screamed. "He nearly killed my family."

"I'm your family," Narcissa said. "I'm all you have left!"

Remus stopped in his tracks, stunned beyond belief at what he saw.

Sirius – his wand jabbed into his cousin's throat dangerously. His eyes were blazing with unshed fury; his teeth were bared and his free fist clenched at his side. Had he… had he killed all of those men? Slaughtered them just as their own were? Remus couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it.

"Sirius," James cried, finally catching up with Sirius. "What are you doing!"

"They were here," Sirius spoke fiercely. Remus had never seen him like this. "He was here. He brought the information here. I know he did."

"No one has been here," Narcissa whimpered. "I've no idea what this madman is talking about!"

James looked just as astonished as Remus when taking in the scene, and by the look on his face, he was just as torn as to what to believe. Sirius, the same Sirius who'd been picking out baby clothes months ago, the same Sirius who practiced origami in the sunroom, the same Sirius who killed spiders for Remus, a cold-blooded killer.

James pointed his wand at Sirius, "Padfoot, put down your wand."

Sirius glowered at his friend, skeptical.

"You wouldn't," he threatened. "He's going to get you and Lily killed!"

Remus' eyes flitted between James and Sirius, unsure of what to do. What could be done in a situation like this? Who should he believe? The man he'd known for ten years of his life – the man he loved more than anything in the world? Or the innocent woman with a wand to her throat?

The evidence wasn't in Sirius' favor, and Remus was panic-stricken.

"She's not the bad guy here, Pads," Remus tried to reason with Sirius, hoping that he'd see the truth in all of this. "She's done nothing."

Sirius shouted, "She let them all get away! She let them go with Voldemort."

Narcissa cried out as Sirius dug into her skin painfully, "I didn't. I swear I didn't!"

"You're a liar," Sirius spat.

James took a daunting step forward.

"Sirius, if you don't put the wand down, I'll –"

"What! What will you do James? Kill your best friend," Sirius sneered.

Remus knew that James would never kill Sirius, but he wasn't so sure that James wouldn't do something drastic to save what he thought was an innocent woman. An innocent, pregnant woman. No doubt he was comparing her to Lily; his paternal instinct was on high. Remus was inclined to agree; even if she had let them get away, killing her would bring nothing but ill-fortune on Sirius.

"You've got three seconds," James declared.

Sirius' face twisted; it was filled with pain and betrayal. He looked to Remus, his eyes demanding he did something about this all. However, Remus was helpless.

His mind hardly let him process what happened next. He cried out in protest.

James and Sirius, at each other's throats for the final time; a shower of sparks in a grand dining room flooded his vision. He shielded his eyes from the blinding light, a warmth spreading over his body as Sirius cried out in pain.

The last thing he wanted was for Sirius to be in pain, for him to be wounded on a night like this; they'd lost too many already. Marlene, the Prewitt brothers, Benjy, Elphias, Sturgis – all of them. He couldn't lose Sirius too. Not again – it wasn't fair.

But life has an ironic logic to it.

Expecting life to be fair is like expecting a lion not to eat you because you didn't eat him.

Well, Remus didn't find the irony tasteful. In fact, it was like the heartbreaking sting of acid down his throat. He didn't find it wholesome or wise.

He found it excruciating as James refused to let Remus interfere with the Aurors as they took Sirius away.

Perhaps this was the day the lion finally devoured Remus.

Perhaps it would be better that way? Perhaps, as the days bled into weeks following that awful evening in April, Remus would wish that the lion had attacked much earlier to save him all the heartbreak that dawdled behind him for years to come. He would wonder why it ended up the way it did, and question God for the outcomes Remus could never escape no matter how hard he tried.

The Aurors were cruel. Voldemort was cruel. Bellatrix was cruel. Yes, yes, we know that life is cruel. But it's also like a flower. It reminds us even the purest, most sincere, and beautiful things in life eventually must say goodbye.

Remus never got to say goodbye.