Don't own a thing other than my shiny glossy pretty hair...

He stared at the blank parchment in front of him. It was tattered and yellowing with corners that curled in even after he had smoothed them out.. Numerous crease lines from where it had been folded to fit into various pockets crisscrossed over it creating a well worn map of time.

He didn't reach for his wand as he used to. He would have once, a long time ago, to reveal what the map contained. But now he had other intentions.

The war was long over now, the final battle had ended some 5 years back. Remus had been right in the thick of it, fuelling all his rage and hurt into attacking the enemy. He had watched countless be killed, both by his side and by their opposition. He had stuck through right to the end even after most those around him had fallen. The enemies numbers had seemed to be diminishing and he had allowed himself to feel hope.

And then Dumbledore fell, and almost all hope died with him.

A crumple of robes on the ground, his once proud, dignified body collapsed in a heap. Harry, who had been hidden away in the castle, had been brought out mere moments ago. His eyes fell towards Dumbledore just in time to see Voldemort kick him aside with a look of triumph and disdain. With a roar of rage, Harry and the rest started their battle anew, their desperation about what had occurred thrown to the side only to be replaced by anger.

And they had won eventually. It wasn't triumphant, it wasn't victorious. When the quiet calm descended on the battlefield. A scattering of blank, vacant faces started around noting how few was left and how many lay on the ground. Slowly and silently the survivors had began the gruelling task to collecting those that were left. Even worse was the job of checking to see if there were any survivors and whether they would make it back alive. The only sound to break the silence was a whispered "Somnus" to take them out of their misery.

When they had come back, they had all been called heroes. They had felt like murderers. But gradually time, as it does, stretched a fragile piece of skin over the gaping wounds and little by little the layers began to build up as they all settled into their lives.

All except Remus.

He felt as though he had no one left. His best friends were dead, one betrayed and killed along with his wife, the sweetest woman Remus had met. One killed by his cousin early on in the war and one shot down in the days before the final battle.

Dumbledore was gone, the first man to have ever placed his trust in Remus and showed his faith in him. The first one to look past the beast.

The trio had been wrenched apart through the loss of Ron. In those last crucial moments he had been hit by several curses at once and was unable to take the strain. Hermoine and Harry had found it too painful to be around each other and both had gone their own ways. Hermoine was rising quickly in the world of spell development and research, the last Remus had heard of her she had been promoted to head of her department.

Harry had married and now lived in the muggle world with his wife and two children. They came over to visit sometimes but Harry found it upsetting and they never stayed for long. Whenever they did come Remus would play with the two girls and the only true smile to ever grace his face in 6 years would appear. He was godfather to both, in lieu of Sirius and loved them both immensely. The last time they had visited he had asked Harry for a favour.

He had asked to borrow the Marauders map and if Harry could bring it the next time they came. Harry had reached into his pocket hesitantly and brought out the tatty piece of parchment. Pressing it into Remus's hand, he had haltingly told him to keep it.

And now he was sitting at his kitchen table at 2am, wand in hand, staring a hole through the parchment, debating with himself. Eventually he lifted his wand and uttered four words the map had never heard before.

"I am Remus Lupin"

Nothing happened for a few seconds, then smooth ink began to flow and loop across the page to form writing which he recognised as his own.

Mr.Mooney would like to express his shock at himself ever having to do this and thinks that he must have grown senile in his own age.

Then a smaller, curlier script began to appear.

Mr.Wormtail is horrified that it has come to this. Mr.Mooney being up this late? He wonders what the world is coming to.

Mr.Prongs is thoroughly ashamed in Mr.Mooney for resorting to parchment and thinks he should come over to his instead.

Finally Sirius's loping scrawl began to run amok upon the page.

Mr.Padfoot thinks that Mr.Mooney is remarkably clever in assuming that this piece of parchment is more intresting than the real thing and suggests to the others that they also do this.

A wet drop splashed on to the parchment and the words gleamed as they began to fade away. Remus groped desperately at it but they had gone.

Burying his head in his arms, his shoulders began to shake as the sobs racked his body and the grief poured out of him with desperate abandon.

All that was left of his best friends was this. Four friends, the greatest friendships anyone could wish for.

And he was all that was left.

A.N. The idea for this came to me when I was reading "Up to no good" by Rurouni Star (which is awesome, anyone who likes L/J should check it out) (it's a one shot). And I just wondered if Remus ever had the temptation when all his friends were gone. So I sat down to type and this poured out of me.

Any comments or suggestions are very much appreciated and please feel free to criticize where you see fit. My forte is features (writing articles) and my other writing attempts are rather pitiful. This si the first one of any value. So tell me what you think…..

Review it or e-mail it to me at

Holy Trinity