THC: Round 6

House: Ravenclaw

Class subject: Herbology

Story Category: drabble

Prompt(s): [object] snowdrops

Word count: 718

Notes: Takes place around the beginning of spring in 1982 so a couple of months after Lily and James died. This would also be a couple of months after Sirius "killed" Peter and at this point, Remus does not know the truth behind all of that. There are several different meanings for the flower snowdrops so I mainly stuck to hope, purity, and innocence but I've found that sympathy and consolation are also meanings.

Blood Stained Flowers

Mud's caked into the beds of his fingernails as he claws at the dirt. Tears are rolling freely down his face as the frigid wind causes them to stick. His clothes are ruined with mud and he can feel the moisture sinking into the cloth onto his skin.

He's sat between two graves, but that's not entirely the reason why he's upset. Although it was difficult, Remus accepted their deaths months ago. He needed time to come to terms with what happened between Peter and Sirius. None of it made sense the longer he thought about it. Nothing would change the fact that three of his friends were dead and the other was locked up in prison for the rest of his life.

Remus was alone again.

That was why he stayed away from their graves for so long. Loneliness was something that Remus knew quite well and the feeling ate away at him every time he visited. But the longer he stayed away the more he felt guilt destroy him instead of the loneliness.

The main point of his contention today was the clump of flowers sat in between Lily and James' graves—snowdrops. Remus knew the flowers well seeing as his mother loved them. They were a sign of the change in weather. A sign of hope. How could there be hope when his family was gone? Poor little Harry lost his parents and was stuck with his horrible aunt and uncle. No, there was no hope anymore. Remus had given up on that idea long ago.

He wanted the flowers gone. Their very existence mocked the deaths of the people Remus had loved. The white of the petals reflected the moonlight, pure and innocent, and maybe that was the real issue. That there had been nothing pure about the Potter's deaths. Sirius had betrayed them to Voldemort and then killed Peter for no reason. How could something so lovely grow where so much pain had occurred?

The mud was half frozen and soon the skin on Remus' fingers began to open and bleed. He gave up on digging the plant out of the ground and attacked the petals themselves. His blood marred the pure white petals, staining them and causing the delicate material to stick to him. Pollen flew everywhere as he tore at the plant ripping it from the stems. The roots were still intact which meant it could sprout again. Remus made a mental note to bring a spade to dig it up when he visited again.

Flowers at a gravesite were common and typically people picked flowers with similar meanings. Remus found it ridiculous. The dead person wouldn't care that someone put flowers with the meanings of love, hope, respect, guidance, or whatever bullshit people came up with on their grave. It was a show for the other people who came to mourn their loved ones. A show of who could pick out the best flowers and make the graves presentable.

Remus didn't know how the plant ended up there in the first place. It wasn't part of a bouquet which meant it had to have been planted in the ground. There was the rare chance that seeds had been blown into the ground with all the digging but then they'd be several feet under the earth. It was an anomaly that this flower was here. All alone. Just like Remus.

Just like how the universe took hope from him he'd take it from this graveyard. The moon—the only constant thing in his life now—looked at him mockingly as he walked away from his friends' graves. The destroyed plant had been scattered but some of its petals were mashed into his clothes along with the mud.

Several years later, a scatter of snowdrops bloomed over Remus Lupin's grave when the snow had finally melted. Undisturbed, they waved in the wind, their petals a stark white. They'd return year after year making sure that his grave was never empty- that he wouldn't be alone again.

His son, Teddy, found solace in the flowers that covered his parents' graves. He liked that they meant hope because his parents had sacrificed themselves so he could have a better life. Hope was a funny thing and it made itself known through peculiar ways.