a/n – Hey! Shooting Star here! This is sort of a songfic (don't ya just hate em) to Werewolves Of London by Warren Zevon.


Remus sat at the bar.

He was gone.

As in forever.

Not coming back.

Their song came back to him. It ran around his head like a boggart refusing to be laughed at.

He sighed.

I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand

Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain

He was looking for a place called Lee Ho Fook's

Going to get himself a big dish of beef chow mein

Ah-oo, Werewolves of London

They used to laugh over that song. They'd get drunk and sing it in the streets on the way home. Neither had any money but they didn't care. Not as long as they had each other.

A tear slid down Remus's cheek as he left a pile of sickles on the bar and left.

He walked the streets for what seemed like hours and found himself at the same place that he always did.

Sirius's grave.

There was no body there. How could there be? He fell through a fucking curtain.

A curtain.

Remus laughed.

In their youth, if Sirius had been told that he would meet his demise through drapery, he would have hexed your underwear off and then bought you a drink. It was preposterous.

Yet it happened.

If you hear him howling around your kitchen door

Better not let him in

Little old lady got mutilated late last night

Werewolves of London again

Ah-oo, Werewolves of London

Remus sat near the Wizarding headstone which held a waving picture of his lover. It had been taken by Harry at number twelve.

Remus hadn't been there since.

He knew that it would hurt too much.

To see Snape smirking discretely and Harry welling up at the mention of his godfather.

None of them knew how he was feeling. The emptiness that clawed at him and burrowed inside along with the knowledge that no-one would ever accept him for what he was, like Sirius had. No-one would ever see past the wolf to the man neath it all. The passionate being with a thumping heart just waiting to be loved.

Sirius had been that person who loved.

Remus stood up, Dirt covering his trousers. It didn't matter, its not like they were pricey.

He's the hairy-handed gent who ran amuck in Kent

Lately he's been overheard in Mayfair

Better stay away from him

He'll rip your lungs out, Jim

I'd like to meet his tailor

Ah-oo, Werewolves of London

He made his way back to their flat. It had started out as Remus's but they spent too much time there together for Remus to think of it as his. He entered the living room and just saw memories.

It had been too long.

He walked over to the swirling mass of silver on the table and drifted into the memories of their time together. He couldn't go too long without viewing them. It was like a bowl of Odgens to him. It numbed all feeling and gave him meaning.

This was how they found him the next morning. His wand in the bowl and his head slumped on the table. He was cold yet a smile donned his face as he was at long last with his love.

Well, I saw Lon Chaney walking with the Queen

Doing the Werewolves of London

I saw Lon Chaney, Jr. walking with the Queen

Doing the Werewolves of London

I saw a werewolf drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic's

And his hair was perfect

Ah-oo, Werewolves of London

Draw blood.