Molly always invited Remus over for Christmas. She invited him over often, actually. For dinner, for lunch, for any reason she could think of. She hopes, she prays that someday he'll heal, someday he'll be alright again.
But in her heart, she knows that will never happen.
Over twenty years ago, Remus found true happiness for the first time. He found it in his dear friends, James, Peter, and Sirius. But one by one, he had those precious people ripped away from him. James and Lily, the perfect family, had been brutally murdered. Their infant son would grow up without remembering his parents' voices. And the first time he would hear them since that day, it would be only terrified screams, precursor to the deaths that were to come.
Peter was alive, yes. But he didn't deserve it. Remus had thought for a while that he hated Peter. He hated that Peter had been a coward, had betrayed James and Lily, had become a monster.
But as Remus thought (as he was prone to doing) he came to a startling realization.
Peter had always been this way. James had always protected him, Sirius had belittled him, and Remus himself had done nothing to improve little Peter's self image. In fact, the three of them together had shaped the boy into the cowardly rat that he grew to be.
And Remus found he didn't hate Peter anymore.
He pitied him. He hated what Peter had done, what he had become, but he couldn't hate Peter himself. Hatred took to much energy, and Peter no longer deserved that attention. Remus' own guilt could not allow him to hate Peter.
Sirius. Rash, loud, brave, caring Sirius had been ripped away from them in front of Remus' own eyes. He had watched the ever-graceful Sirius fall, as if in slow motion. He watched that tattered veil flutter as Sirius passed through it. He had watched the last and most important person in his life vanish.
He cried. He admitted it freely. He cried, because he had lost the ability to believe that Sirius would return. He couldn't 'hope' anymore.
Whenever Remus came for dinner, he would speak as politely as ever. He would help with the dishes, and laugh softly at Fred and George's outrageous pranks. Molly would bustle about, smiling happily, because Remus was smiling.
But if Sirius or James had seen his face at these times, that would understand. Remus was a broken man. All his happiness had been taken from him.
When he spoke, it was gently, and only enough to continue the conversation. He spoke as if at a funeral. Sadly, with a hint of nostalgia.
When he laughed, it was quiet, and hollow. His laughter was due to the horrible bitter irony of his life. He laughed because he knew that everything he had ever cared about he had lost.
When Remus smiled, it never reached his eyes. It was painful, and so hauntingly sad.
Remus was tired. So tired. And really, he wasn't sure why he was still alive. Why he had bothered to continue living. All he knew was that James and Sirius had loved living so very much; it would have been wrong to willingly end his own.
So he went about his business. He came to Molly's invitations; he was his usual calming presence.
But he was broken.
A break that would not heal.
Only scar, deeply, forever.
He is broken.
But in her heart, she knows that will never happen.
Over twenty years ago, Remus found true happiness for the first time. He found it in his dear friends, James, Peter, and Sirius. But one by one, he had those precious people ripped away from him. James and Lily, the perfect family, had been brutally murdered. Their infant son would grow up without remembering his parents' voices. And the first time he would hear them since that day, it would be only terrified screams, precursor to the deaths that were to come.
Peter was alive, yes. But he didn't deserve it. Remus had thought for a while that he hated Peter. He hated that Peter had been a coward, had betrayed James and Lily, had become a monster.
But as Remus thought (as he was prone to doing) he came to a startling realization.
Peter had always been this way. James had always protected him, Sirius had belittled him, and Remus himself had done nothing to improve little Peter's self image. In fact, the three of them together had shaped the boy into the cowardly rat that he grew to be.
And Remus found he didn't hate Peter anymore.
He pitied him. He hated what Peter had done, what he had become, but he couldn't hate Peter himself. Hatred took to much energy, and Peter no longer deserved that attention. Remus' own guilt could not allow him to hate Peter.
Sirius. Rash, loud, brave, caring Sirius had been ripped away from them in front of Remus' own eyes. He had watched the ever-graceful Sirius fall, as if in slow motion. He watched that tattered veil flutter as Sirius passed through it. He had watched the last and most important person in his life vanish.
He cried. He admitted it freely. He cried, because he had lost the ability to believe that Sirius would return. He couldn't 'hope' anymore.
Whenever Remus came for dinner, he would speak as politely as ever. He would help with the dishes, and laugh softly at Fred and George's outrageous pranks. Molly would bustle about, smiling happily, because Remus was smiling.
But if Sirius or James had seen his face at these times, that would understand. Remus was a broken man. All his happiness had been taken from him.
When he spoke, it was gently, and only enough to continue the conversation. He spoke as if at a funeral. Sadly, with a hint of nostalgia.
When he laughed, it was quiet, and hollow. His laughter was due to the horrible bitter irony of his life. He laughed because he knew that everything he had ever cared about he had lost.
When Remus smiled, it never reached his eyes. It was painful, and so hauntingly sad.
Remus was tired. So tired. And really, he wasn't sure why he was still alive. Why he had bothered to continue living. All he knew was that James and Sirius had loved living so very much; it would have been wrong to willingly end his own.
So he went about his business. He came to Molly's invitations; he was his usual calming presence.
But he was broken.
A break that would not heal.
Only scar, deeply, forever.
He is broken.