Because this was impulse writing immediately post-OOTP this is very short, and very incomplete. I just wanted to share the unfinished angst with you all.

And then there were two...

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After fumbling with the lock on his apartment door in The Leaky Cauldron Remus Lupin staggered into his small room in a daze, sitting down slowly on the edge of his bed. He leant forwards, his elbows on his knees and his face in his scarred hands, wishing he did not know what he knew. He felt swamped with fatigue, although there were still two weeks until the next Full Moon.

Remus rubbed his eyes dejectedly with his palms. He was aware of the prickling sensation that heralded tears, but even then he was not prepared for the great racking sob that escaped him. To his ears it sounded animal- like, as though the wolf was howling with pain. There was an aching in his throat and he knew that if he even opened his mouth the lump under his chin would escape, unleashing a torrent of emotion the likes of which he had not released since James and Lily's deaths.

Thinking of that time only increased his woe, however, a moan working its way through his tightly clamped lips. At least then he'd had someone to share his grief with. Sirius had understood. But did Sirius understand now? Was he watching from somewhere, cursing old Moony's sentimentality? Remus swallowed the lump in his throat once more, sighing and lying back on his bed. Silent tears began to course down his cheeks and futilely he tried to cover them with his trembling fingers.

Harry had been upset, but it was nothing compared to Remus' all- consuming grief. He stared into the blackness of his hands, seeing years of memories filter through his mind; the pranks; the midnight trips; the original Order of the Phoenix. He sighed again, lowering his hands and trying to convince himself that he was once more in control. Taking a deep breath he moved as though to get up, but abruptly he rolled over, burying his face in the bed covers to hide his anguished cries.

Remus dug his fingers deep into his hair, the ravenous loneliness devouring him. He called out to the room in frustration, thinking that this was beyond even the pain of transformation. Of the happy and blissfully ignorant schoolboys who had called themselves the Marauders twenty years ago none now truly remained, but there were still two who were haunted by a bond they had shared. Remus wondered what Peter's reaction would be when he found out. Would he care, or was he so loyal to Voldemort that Sirius' death would only cause him pleasure? Remus found it hard to believe in the latter.