Title: In Memoriam

Rating: PG

Summary: Ends and beginnings, blame and forgiveness. Takes place immediately following "Order of the Phoenix."

Warning: Severe spoilers for OotP.

A/N: Well, I've obviously finished it. I laughed and cried, and was both amazed and disappointed. And now... something I think was missing.

They split up after bidding Harry farewell and watching him drive off with his relatives — Tonks to watch the group upon arrival at the Dursley's home, the Weasleys to the Burrow, Hermione home to her parents, Moody to a conversation with the Ministry, and Remus to help pack up the Order of the Phoenix home base for transfer to their old home of Hogwarts. He didn't relish taking away that which they'd so recently created, especially from the Black home, but no one could stand the thought of carrying on under the veil of tragedy.

He didn't expect anyone to be there to help. Dumbledore and McGonagall were readying the old wing once more, and most of the Order was monitoring Harry's way home, undetected. However, after tiptoeing past the portrait of Mrs. Black, Remus found the most curious of people sitting pensively in a chair in the study, staring at an unopened bottle of Firewhisky. Severus Snape.

"I came to aid with the transfer," the man said dully, not looking up. "What kept you?"

Remus awkwardly took a chair across from his one-time nemesis. "Threatening Harry's relatives," he said. "To make sure they take care of Harry properly. Considering... Well, he won't be there long, not if I can help it."

Snape gave a derisive snort, but stayed silent. Lupin could hear the portraits of Sirius' relatives wailing the end of their name in other rooms. He expected to find the blasted house elf gloating, but when he began to ask where he'd gotten to, Snape shook his head. "Elf's dead. Don't know how," he said gruffly.

"Oh," Remus replied lamely. There was another long pause — Snape peeled at the label on the firewhisky. "We should get started," the werewolf finally hazarded. "I don't want to stay here."

"He had a Will?" Snape asked abruptly. The label made a snapping noise under Snape's long fingers, as he flicked the free edge back and forth.

Remus winced reflexively. He didn't want to talk about it. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, he had a Will. Updated it a few weeks ago. I think... I think maybe he..."

"He didn't know he was going to die," Snape growled. "That's nonsense." He yanked his wand from a pocket in his cloak and charmed the bottlecap from the whisky before replacing his wand and taking a swig straight from the bottle. "It's nonsense," he repeated. "Black wasn't a Seer."

"That's not what I meant. He was bored..." Remus shook his head. "I think he was going to do something rash."

Snape's sardonic bark of a laugh filled the room. "Going to do something rash? His life was one rash decision after another."

All Remus could do was sigh tiredly and bury his face in his hands. "Please, Severus... don't speak ill of the dead. I don't think I can stand it."

"I just wanted to say" Snape began, but Remus cut him off, slamming his palms down to the tabletop.

"No. Stop it. Don't say anything," he snapped. "I've heard it before. Yes, they were arrogant — they were both stupidly arrogant, and I did nothing to stop it. It's as much my fault as theirs. They bullied you and they hurt you, and I just stood aside and watched. What kind of a person does that make me? I don't know... But they were kids, Severus, and I was a kid, too. It was a long time ago. And now Sirius is gone, and I don't think I can stand to talk about it, alright?"

Snape's mouth was hanging open slightly as Remus grabbed the whisky away and took a long swig. It burned all the way down, throat and eyes nearly trembling with the sheer effort of forcing back sobs and tears. He was ready to go, before Snape could say something else to upset him, when something surprising happened.

Severus Snape shook his head. "That's not what I was about to say," he replied, as much of an apology as Remus had ever heard from the man. "Not at all. I just wanted to... He died well. He died how I think he'd have wanted. That's all." He shrugged and finished his eulogy with whisky.

"He did," Remus whispered, fighting back his embarrassment. "He's probably off joking with James right now. Making fun of what on old fool I've become."

"His family... they were Catholic, weren't they? Persecuted during the Reformation?"

Another swig for Remus. "Yes. Sirius reckons — reckoned that that's what did it for the family's prejudices and all. Muggles persecuted them, so they persecuted the Muggles."

Snape nodded and took the bottle right from Remus' grip. "When's the funeral, then? They'll be one, right? He should be buried like a part of the family."

Reflexively, he snagged the bottle back, taking a long, slow swallow or two before he found strength to respond. Even then, the tears were welling up. "No funeral... no body," he whispered. "It was in the Department of Mysteries... these rooms, where they study time and love and thought. There's one where they study death. He got hit by a curse and... fell through an arch. Disappeared."

"Then it's real?" Snape demanded. "Where they're studying the Veil — it's real?"

Remus' laughter was short and pained. "Yeah. It's all real. You could hear voices of the dead coming from the other side... he fell right through and didn't even leave a body behind. Nothing left... like the Virgin Mary being taken straight to heaven or something. Nothing left."

Conversation stopped, but the drink still flowed. The bottle was half-empty by the time Remus spoke again. "He's just like his father, isn't he?" he whispered. "I wanted for him to be; I wanted and prayed so hard... but now I see that if he's just his father, he'll make the same mistakes."

"He's not," Snape said shortly. "He's something else. I can't — I can't like him... but I've heard about the club he founded. He was teaching the others Defense, you know. He was teaching them well. They flourished under him... he never mocked them for being different or not as good..." The last was bitter.

"He can overcome it, then?" Remus whispered. "He — he told me, about what he saw in your Pensieve. He asked about the night. He was... crushed to find out what James and Sirius did. I think he expected one of us to say something, but -"

Snape's face was set in to deep lines of pain. "He shouldn't have known that. I'm sorry I ruined his hero-worship of his father — it was bound to happen sometime — but he should've found out from someone else."

"I make no apologies for them," Remus murmured. "I can't. Maybe they'll apologize to you when it's your time. But I can apologize for my own actions. It was twenty years ago... but I should've done something to stop them. I was the prefect. It was my job."

"For what it's worth," Snape whispered, passing over the bottle, "I forgive him."

No more words passed between them until the bottle was dry. Words were no longer important, not after Snape's admission. Perhaps, forgiveness was the best eulogy of all.