Constant had been the knowledge books could give. Constant had been a school day at Hogwarts. Constant had been the strength of their friendship, through thick and thin.
Constant. A renowned word that lately had become so foreign a one.
What is constant in their lives anymore?
Sirius had optimistically asserted constant was their love. A more pessimistic James had professed that love was fickle. Constant was the flow of injured, he had declared.
Depressively, Remus didn't think otherwise.
Currently, no matter how often refuted, constant was the war. Constant was the death eaters, the blood spillage, he-who-must-not-be-named, and hatred.