The funeral was today, and Remus knew he should go. It would be wrong not to. But it would be too real. Too final. It would make his nightmare become reality.
He thought his heart would break if he went. But he knew he had to. James had been like a brother to him; Lily, a sister. They weren't just friends to him; he had loved them, and they had changed his life forever. He would not forget. Not in a thousand years.
The day didn't seem right for a funeral, indecent almost. The sky was a beautiful, vibrant blue color and the air was crisp, the fall season showing in the brightly colored leaves of the surrounding oaks. But the air was chilled, the kind of air that makes you shiver and draw your coat more tightly about you.
But then, I suppose they would have preferred it that way, Remus mused. Now he would never know for sure.
A small man clad in black stood and began to speak of the Potters; of their nobility and how valiantly they died for the cause.
Remus did not listen, for it meant little to him, this rambling.
This was not the Potters as he had known them. He had known them as a happy loving family, and as quarreling teenagers. Since when was good old Prongs noble?
He looked out across the brilliantly covered oaks surrounding the small graveyard, thinking of happier times.
He envisioned Lily, resplendent on her wedding day. The vision was so real he could almost smell the lilies entwined in her auburn hair, elegantly French-braided and pulled back beneath an exquisite veil. She was wearing a simple white gown, but she transformed it and made it gorgeous. Her lively green eyes sparkled with life and the joy of living.
And yes, there was James right beside her, grinning madly. His hazel eyes were alight with happiness, his raven-colored hair messy as ever, matching the black suit he was wearing.
And Harry. Darling little Harry. He had been only just learning to walk. Remus longed to know what had become of him. His eyes, so very like Lily's, had been honest and innocent. But no longer. The child who had once called him "Wemus" was a marked man now. Now and forever.
A breeze ruffled the hair that had fallen into Remus's eyes. He looked up in time to see them lower first Lily's, then James's, coffins into the ground.
Only then did he cry. He did not make a sound, simply suffered in silence. But the tears ran down his weathered cheeks nonetheless, dripping down into his lap.
As the funeral ended, he stayed in his chair, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The Marauders were truly over. Forever. No more midnight "strolls", no more pranks, no more betting on Lily and James. It was over.
At last, long after everyone had gone, he stood and walked up to the graves.
Lily Potter
1956-1981
A delicate lily was engraved beneath the words, more meaningful to Remus than any poem or verse.
James's read:
James Potter
1956-1981
And a stag was engraved upon his.
Remus stood silently for a long time, remembering.
"Goodbye," he whispered in a broken voice. He looked on sadly for a moment that seemed to last an eternity, then turned and walked briskly into the gathering dusk.
The next day, Lupin didn't want to get out of bed. He did not want to have to face reality, to have to pick up the pieces of his broken life. All he wanted to do was lay there forever and block out the world.
But his situation was dire. He had no job, no money, and no friends. Not any that were living, at any rate.
He groaned and rolled out of bed, stepping into his worn purple carpet slippers and ambling slowly out of the room.
In the kitchen, he set a tarnished silver teapot on the old-fashioned burner and began to boil water for tea. Tea had always helped him to relax and unwind. He particularly enjoyed Chai.
As he sat and waited for the water to boil, he thought about what would happen to him. He needed a job, or the impatient landlord would throw him out of his small and humble flat. That was the last thing he needed. He didn't blame the landlord though; he was by no means rich, and he needed the money as soon as possible.
The sharp, shrill whistling of the tea kettle told him the water was boiling at last and conveniently served to distract him from his dreary thoughts.
He sighed and, pulling a chipped mug from the cupboard, poured the steaming water into it. All he had were some cheap tea bags; he dropped one into his mug and stirred it around morosely. He really did need a job. He had no idea where to look; he had no money for the Prophet, and he hated to go ask at the Ministry. They looked down upon - people like him.
Poor he may have been, but he had his pride.
He sipped his scalding tea. No, he would have to find a job elsewhere. But the question was, where?
He sighed again. Lily and James, the funeral, money issues. Before he knew it, he was crying again, this time wracking sobs. He hadn't cried like that in years.
"Lily, James, what will I do without you?" He did not think he could bear to go on. Life had not only thrown him a curve ball; it had thrown him a bowling ball.