Transition

1. Denial

Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over... Death is not anything...death is not...It's the absence of presence, nothing more...the endless time of never coming back...a gap you can't see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes no sound...
--Tom Stoppard

Remus still set the breakfast table for two, Bill noticed when he came into Headquarters early one morning. He still set out Sirius' favourite towel and a fresh, sharp razor every day right before noon. He still set out a teacup and a tea bag every afternoon before he disappeared into the Black family library.

All this for Sirius.

He still talked to him, too, like he was there in the room with him. Bill heard Remus at night, when he settled into bed alone. "Are you comfortable, Sirius?" Remus whispered to no one. Bill could imagine the frown that was surely ghosting over Remus' face when Sirius did not answer.

Bill heard nothing and strained his ears, nearly pressing his face against the door. Remus sighed. "I love you, Sirius," he muttered. Somehow Bill knew that was that and made his way as silently as he could to his own room.

The next morning Bill followed Remus on his errands like a man possessed. He followed him to the post office, to the apothecary, and to the little Muggle convenience store three blocks from Headquarters that sold Mars Bars.

He followed Remus to the grocer, where Remus almost tried to tie off Padfoot's lead on a street lamp. That frown crossed his face again but he shook it off and pushed open the door, leaving Bill across the street on a bench to wait.

Dumbledore came round that afternoon with a goblet full of foul smelling muck. He put his free hand on Remus' back and led him into the library. Bill felt something bubble up inside him but he wasn't quite sure was it was so he squashed it down and jumped when he heard the soft clank of china against marble.

Bill didn't even realise he'd pulled down Sirius' teacup off the top shelf until it clanked against the counter top. He pulled his other hand away from the canister of teabags and shivered a little before heading out of the kitchen to wait.

Dumbledore stopped by every day that week, and each time he brought a goblet full of the foul, green, mucky potion. He and Remus spent hours in the library, doing Merlin knows what. Bill had tried to eavesdrop once, but Remus was nothing if not quiet and Dumbledore was nothing if not vague, so he didn't hear much of anything. After a few tries he gave in and spent his afternoons playing chess against himself, eyes flickering back to the door every few seconds like he was daring it to open.

As Dumbledore left early Friday he stopped by Bill on the sofa and smiled softly at him. "Do not worry yourself with Remus, Bill," he said to the red-headed boy. "He's still trying to adjust."

Bill rather thought it was about time Remus adjusted.