A/N: One shot, something I've been wanting to write for a while. Rated PG-13 for themes of suicide and an instance of strong language. Please leave a review when you've finished.
Disclaimer: All characters, settings, etc. belong to JK Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. No infringement intended.
Forgotten
He was running, very fast and in circles. Along side some snails, which seemed to be outstripping a cheetah to his right, where gliding about. Now he was rolling, rolling happily down a hill, just rolling along . . .
THUD. CRUNCH. "Ow." Remus Lupin sat up on his living room floor. The remains of a large cockroach were where he had just fallen. "Evanesco," he muttered, and the roach disappeared. Now, why was he sitting on the floor? Ah, yes, he had just been having a peculiar dream about running and rolling, and apparently, he had rolled right off of his couch. His head ached slightly, and it was dark outside his window.
Somewhere, a clock struck six o'clock, but it most definitely wasn't in the morning. No, it was clearly evening, and dinner time by the low rumble in his stomach. Remus stood, wincing slightly from a sudden sharp pain on his cheek. He felt a thin, fairly shallow cut running down his cheek. Last night's full moon hadn't been too bad; he was thankful for that.
Instead of going out to search for something to eat, he decided to do something to take his mind off of the cockroaches in his apartment, and the fact that if he didn't find a job soon, he might be evicted. He decided that the best thing to take his mind off of his living situation was a good, stiff drink, so he headed to the Leaky Cauldron.
As he walked, he thought about where he might live if he was evicted from this hell-hole of an apartment building. He wondered if Sirius had any space for him, or if Lily and James had room in their guest room. But he didn't want to be a burden on any of them, and it probably wouldn't be safe for the Potters if he stayed with them. He tried to push his worries out of his mind and remembered that his was why he was getting a drink in the first place.
The pub was full of people as he entered, odd for a weekday in early November. Remus sat down at the bar. He pulled a few coins out of his pocket, and wondered when he would be able to get a job to earn more. "As much Firewhiskey as this'll buy, Tom," he said to the bartender.
Tom smiled and said to him, "All drinks are on the house today, Mr. Lupin."
"Really? But why?"
Tom looked rather shocked, but explained as he poured Remus his drink. "Didn't you hear? I thought everybody knew by now. It's the best thing that's happened to us in what, eleven years?"
"But what's happened?"
"I can't believe you haven't heard already. You-Know-Who is dead! Gone, late Halloween night. That's about a day and a half now, I'd thought everybody has been celebrating."
Remus nearly dropped his drink from the shock of it. "You-Know-Who is dead?" he asked breathlessly. "But how?"
Tom sighed. "It was Harry Potter. You know, Lily and James' baby. Don't know how it happened, but when he went attack the Potters, it was the boy who brought him down."
"Harry? But is he alright? Are Lily and James alright?"
Tom sighed again. "The boy is fine, nothing on him more than a scratch, or so Hagrid tells me. But the parents, that's not as happy news."
The little color in Remus' face drained away. "Tom," he asked slowly, "what happened to Lily and James?"
"They're dead. You-Know-Who killed them first, but when he tried to kill the baby, he couldn't do it, and now he's dead."
Remus drained the rest of his drink in one gulp. "I've got to find Sirius," he mumbled to himself.
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Lupin, but do you mean Sirius Black?" Tom asked, already pouring him another Firewhiskey.
"Yes, why?" he asked, now sure he didn't want to know the answer.
"You really are behind the times. I don't know if I should be the one to tell you all this, I've just heard it all from other folks, but . . ." He trailed off.
"Just tell me what happened, Tom."
"Do you know Peter Pettigrew?" Remus nodded. "Well, early yesterday morning, he finds Sirius Black in a Muggle street somewhere. He was yelling something about Black betraying Lily and James, and it seemed like he was going to go after him. Now this is all just what I've heard of course, but people say that they saw Black laughing at Peter, and then he-" Tom faltered.
"What did he do?" asked Remus, his voice shaking slightly.
"Sirius Black he, he killed Peter and a whole bunch of Muggles in the street. When the Ministry had finally reached him, it was too late. He was taken to Azkaban last night, life sentence. I don't even think they're giving him a trial." Tom looked at the young man sitting in front of him. He was extremely pale, and he was shaking ever so slightly. His pale brown eyes seemed to have deadened ever so slightly. "Are you alright, Mr. Lupin?"
"Yes, yes, I'll be fine. I'd like another Firewhiskey, Tom. Keep them coming, if you could."
He tried to drink himself away that night. He had glass after glass of the strongest alcohol wizards could devise, but it did nothing to fill the gaping hole that had settled somewhere in his stomach. Hours later, he stumbled out of the Leaky Cauldron, out into Muggle London and the cold night air, and he wandered over to a bridge over the river.
He stood for a moment, contemplating the blackness of the water and of the night. The moon, just beginning to wane, was bright, and the streetlights illuminated small patches of the darkness. He felt the emptiness of the cold air and the black water envelope him for a few moments, and he liked the anonymity it gave him. But the feeling did not last. Soon he was pulled back into his thoughts, into the real world. Into the pain he so suddenly felt.
Remus had always been suspicious of Peter, but now that washed away. Peter had been his friend, had put down his prejudice and accepted Remus in the end. James had accepted him unconditionally from the beginning, had always been there, even if he seemed unreliable. He was a father, his baby was just a year and half. That baby wouldn't get a chance to know his father or his mother. His mother. Lily had been Remus' first love, and though it wasn't meant to be, she was still the essence of love and compassion to all people. She was beautiful and kind and good and a truly exceptional person. And now she was dead.
Lily and James, and Peter were dead. Sirius had killed them, betrayed them. The only people he cared for in this world, and some of the few people who had ever cared about him, were dead, or worse. The sudden and complete loss felt as though someone had ripped out his heart, cut it up into pieces, and tried to put it back inside. It was cliched, but it was how he felt. But that wasn't the worst of it.
No, the worst was that he was so utterly and completely forgotten. No one cared enough to drop by yesterday morning, as he lay in his basement room waiting for the moon to claim him for the night. No one had left him a note this morning when he awoke to trudge back to his empty apartment and sleep off the night. He had to find out from the bartender of the Leaky Cauldron. The whole world knew about his best friends' deaths before he did. The whole, fucking world.
Not one person cared enough to tell him. Not one person was there to even give him a forced sort of "I'm sorry," just to show some facade of support. He didn't even get that.
He had felt loss before, but it was never quite like this, never this absolute. When his brother died, he still had his parents. When his father left, he still had his mother. When she died, at least he had his friends. But now he had no one.
He stared into the inky blackness of the water again. The November night was icy cold, but not enough to numb his pain. There was nothing that could give him relief from that pain. Nothing in the world. He looked into the water again, and put his foot up against the guardrail. Nothing, except . . .
It was a wild idea, utterly mad. But was it? There was an escape from this imprisonment, this hell; there was a way to get out. The icy, black water became inviting, welcoming. It cried out to the pain in his heart. He knew how easy it could be to make it stop. And he would be with them, those people that cared about him, that he loved. He would see them again, and he wouldn't have to live with this crushing loneliness. It would be so easy.
He climbed up over the rail, now on the very outer edge of the bridge. It wasn't as if his death really mattered, anyway. No one cared if he lived or died. There was no one left to care.
A single tear slid down his cheek and fell into the icy, black water. He followed it.
The cold, crushing blackness of the plunge lasted for only seconds. As he fell into the river, as he was pulled under, as he felt the blackness of night fade into the blackness of death, he felt as though he was returning home somehow.
White. Everything around him was a fierce, blinding white. His head ached terribly, and all he could feel was white. Was this death? No, it couldn't be. There was an obnoxious yet familiar beeping of a heart monitor. He was in a Muggle hospital somewhere. "Damn it," he said to himself. Not even death wanted him. Not yet, anyway.
A/N: Hope you liked, please review!