Warning: This fic is purely the product of boredom.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I own only my bike, nothing more.
Remus Lupin was not a man of tears. But as he sat on a bed, in Sirius Black's old room in No. 12, Grimmauld Place, covered in grief and anger, he let the tears fall freely. For he had just lost the one person who he still had left. As he thought back to the scene in the Death Chamber just a few hours ago, he wished that Sirius had never come with them. But then, he thought sadly, he couldn't have lived with himself if he hadn't. That was true. Sirius would never have forgiven himself if he hadn't gone to Harry's aid. But why Sirius? Why Sirius, of all people? Why did Sirius have to die? Why couldn't it have been someone else? These questions could never be answered. Then his thoughts switched to the people (if you could call them that) who had brought about Sirius' death. His cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Kreacher the house elf. Remus suddenly found himself so full of rage that he couldn't sit. He stood up and starting pacing around the room, his mind cursing Lestrange and that pathetic elf, Kreacher, in every form possible.
Then, to try and take his mind off his best friend's death, he started observing his surroundings. He had rarely been in here before. There was a large bookshelf that ran along a wall, and several books were lying on the floor nearby. This surprised him slightly, for he had never seen Sirius as one to settle down with a book and read. But of course, he thought bitterly, he must have had something to do during all those days he spent shut up in here. He felt deeply for Sirius having to stay locked up inside this dreary house round the clock for almost a year. But in the end, he had still come to the Department of Mysteries and gotten himself killed. Remus shook his head and started looking around the room again.
He came to a chest of drawers that had a book on top. He picked it up and leafed through it. It was a photo album. The very first photograph made a fresh wave of grief come over him. There was James and Sirius on the Quidditch Pitch, grinning at him as though they had not a care in the world. Both so handsome, and so brilliant. It was they who had decided to become Animagi and accompany Remus on full moons. Although he had thanked them before, he felt like he didn't thank them enough. Sirius and James had done so much to help him, but he? He had never done anything to help either of them.
Remus turned to the next photograph. It was a photo of the Potters' wedding. There was Lily, looking radiant with joy as she held on to James with one hand and Sirius with the other. The three of them looked so happy and so carefree. They didn't deserve to die, he thought, they were such fine people. They didn't deserve to die. Tears began to fall to fall once more from Remus' eyes. He tried to stop them, but then gave up. Oh, heck. Who cares? He let the tears fall once more. Soon his whole body was shaking with his sobs. The last time he had broken down completely like this was when confronted by his friends about his lycanthropy. He had been absolutely distraught then, the same way he was feeling now. Remus slowly controlled himself and looked at the next photograph. He froze. There were the Marauders smiling cheekily up at him. His eyes fell on the young himself, laughing uproariously. Yet when he looked closer, even his younger self had dark circles under his eyes. Remus sighed. Some things never change. Even if all his friends left him, that curse would never leave him till he died.
His eyes moved from himself to Peter Pettigrew. That rat, he thought furiously, that stinking rat that betrayed James and Lily, that caused Sirius to spend twelve wasted years in Azkaban for something he never did, the rat that brought about the rebirth of Lord Voldemort... The string of accusations could go on and on. He then noted to himself absently that it was amazing how human emotions could change so fast. One moment he was grieving, the next moment, he was furious. He looked away from Wormtail and turned instead to Sirius. He looks so handsome, Remus thought. He well remembered how nearly all the girls at school drooled over Sirius, and how he used to have a different girlfriend every other week. The memory brought a slight smile to his lips. His eyes shifted from Sirius to James, who was running a hand through his hair and flashing that winning Potter smile. Remus' smile widened even more at the memory of James always trying to impress Lily. He remembered all the pranks they had set up together. All the detentions they had undergone together. All the troubles they had faced together. He let out a deep sigh. Those days would never come back. Especially now he was the only Marauder left... well, true Marauder anyway. He still didn't understand how Peter managed to become friends with Sirius and James. How that good-for-nothing traitor managed to become friends with two of the best people that he had ever known.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that his grip on the album loosened and the book fell down. He bent down to pick it up when a loose photograph slipped out. Remus picked it up and turned it over. His heart shot up into his throat. James, Lily, Sirius and himself were smiling gently at a baby that Remus recognised to be Harry. Sirius, James, Lily, why did you leave me here? Why couldn't you have taken me with you? Maybe I'll just join you. I have no one left here for me. Yes, you do, said a small voice in the back of his head. You have Harry. Harry. But he was nothing more than an old professor to Harry. Just an old teacher. James would have wanted you to take care of him, insisted that nagging little voice. He sighed. I'll think about it tomorrow. He looked down at the photograph. Harry blinked back at him. He smiled softly. I won't leave you alone, Harry, he thought. Then he closed the album, feeling happier than he had when he had opened it.
A/N: Yes, I know, it's lame, not a good closing, very fast moving, meaningless, anything, but hey! I was bored. Anyway, tell me how I did, please? Even if it's bad, tell me.