Sirius sat frozen, his hands chilly and his heart nearly stopped. "Oh, Moony, I-"

"I've never told anyone that," he said, his fingers fiddling with a blade of grass. "I don't much like talking about it, you know?"

Sirius just nodded; words had escaped him. He felt something like fear or sadness or maybe rage welling up in his chest. "What—what happened after that?"

"Naturally, of course, her parents were devastated. They lived in Manchester or somewhere, I believe. Mrs. Bartley promptly sold her share of the land to us and moved away. Well, I say sold, but she actually just gave it to us. Felt sorry for me, she said. But it was her I pitied. She had lost her granddaughter, after all. Never saw any of them again after the funeral."

Sirius bit his lip as Remus spoke, monotone and as if reading from a script. All the color had left his face and he was staring gravely at the man with the tawny hair before him.

"You know," Remus said with a bit of a chuckle. "I still take my tea the same way. Two lumpsa, one dash. I've never been able to take it any other way."

Sirius forced a little smile, touching Remus's hand. "That's good then, I suppose, right? She left you with something."

Remus looked at Sirius, his mouth set. "So, no quips?"

"Quips for what?"

"My first love being a girl and my current love being, well, you?"

Sirius shook his head, too crushed by this man's story to be offended by the remark at his usual callousness. "No comments from the peanut gallery, sir."

Remus relaxed, holding the dark-headed man's hand. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Not being your usual arse-like self."

"Hey! I am fully capable of being caring, too, I'll have you know."

"I know," he says, leaning his head on an available shoulder. "I still miss her, sometimes."

"Well, do you want to say goodbye?" Remus looked up at Sirius, his head tilted. Sirius couldn't help but suppress a laugh at this expression. "Well, then? Do you?"

"Say goodbye?"

"Yeah. I mean, we are here, right where it happened." Sirius looked at the ground beneath him with new eyes and shuddered. "You could give her a proper send-off, if you will."

"Sirius, it's been fifteen years. I'm a little late to the ball, don't you think?"

"Better late than never, yes? Oh, don't give me that look. You will regret that you didn't if you don't. Come on now, get up."

Remus sighed and stood, taking the swing between his hands. Sirius stood beside him, his head down. It was several silent, tense moments before Remus found his voice.

"I—I guess, erm, I guess this is goodbye, then."

Sirius nudged him with his elbow. "Go on, then, say what you're really feeling. You've had fifteen years to practice this speech. Wow me."

Remus coughs into the sleeve of his coat, then shifts his weight to his other foot. "I, I am really sorry about what happened, you know, that night. I 'pologize, honestly. But we were kids. We weren't to know...," His voice trailed off and Sirius heard him choke back something, but kept his eyes on the ground. "I am sorry. And I really did love you. Goodbye, Sadie."

Sirius scooped down and picked up a handful of dirt, handing it to Remus. He need not speak; Remus could almost read his mind by now.

He took the dirt and threw it into the air, ignoring the burning in his eyes when it hit the wind. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

Remus felt Sirius's fingers find his own and squeeze them tight. A swallow, the last of his flock, sang somewhere in the distance.