The Picture

The Picture

I am a scholarly man who has found benefit in the written word most of my life. But in times like these, words that you feel can illustrate the emotion that you are feeling are few and far between. You are even afraid to use words, fearing that you will underplay the situation, or that by putting it down in writing will just finalize everything. He is dead. Those three words are all you need to convey any and all emotion. Any more would be like painting a headstone pink; pretty, yes, but it only hides the grim, heart-wrenching truth.

He stopped there, wrenching his red-rimmed eyes from the parchment that lay before him, placing his quill back into the inkwell and then leaning back in his chair with a shuddering sigh. He had no idea how he was supposed to do this, how he was going to write this eulogy without falling apart completely. How long has it been? Five days? A week? It seemed like forever since he had died; but then again it also felt like yesterday. The image of his best friend, the last piece of the whirlwind, glorious childhood he had, falling as in slow-motion with that look of shock and fear plastered to his face played itself over and over in his mind. So did Harry's screams.

"SIRIUS! SIRIUS! HE IS NOT DEAD! SIRIUS!"

If heartbreak could be heard, it clearly rang out in Harry's voice. Each time the scene played in his head, his stomach felt as if in a vise, while his heart felt as though it had stopped beating all together. He still could not believe that he had held Harry back when at the time he wanted to run as well. That he told Harry that Sirius was gone, even though he still believed, as did Harry, that Sirius would just pop through the curtain of black fabric with a determined, devil-may-care look on his face, spout something totally Sirius-ish, like, "Only singed my traveling cloak! I thought better of you, ol' cousin of mine!" and commence fighting. That he was able to just walk away without falling to the ground and dying on the spot. With Sirius went his whole world, and just when he thought everything was regaining normalcy. The Order had returned, and with it, a friendship to rival the one back at school. He finally had someone to confide to again, someone who knew the pain he had suffered those fourteen years only because he had suffered it too. It was almost like the old days...his eyes wandered over to an old dusty picture frame that sat in the corner of the desk. In it was Peter, James, Sirius, and him, all donned in Hogwarts robes, getting ready to board the train that would take them to Hogwarts. Sirius was giving James bunny ears, while James prodded him with his wand maliciously. He was looking at them reproachfully from over a thick tome, while Peter just waved, looking slightly out of place. Oh yes, those were the days...

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if to push back disturbing memories, but he knew it would not work. They just rushed back to him, and, as if watching a movie, began to play back in agonizing vividness, color, and detail.

First was the day he, Sirius, James, and Peter first ran through the Forbidden Forest together, they Animagi, he a werewolf. It was then, and still is now, the happiest moment of his life. When dawn came and the four of them slumped exhaustedly unto the floor of the Shrieking Shack, all back in human form, he had thanked them profusely for sacrificing so much for him.

"It's nothing, Remus, trust me," James had said, patting him on the back. "We know you'd do the same for us. That's what best mates are for."

"Exactly!" Sirius piped up. "If we weren't there in your time of need, weren't there to lend an ear, weren't there to do something illegal just because we like you, what kind of friends would we be?"

"Most would draw the line at 'illegal', but I appreciate it, I really do," his lips formed the long-since spoken words silently to himself as the memory slowly faded. It ended with Sirius clasping his shoulder and saying, "And remember, we will always be here for each other, no matter what, forever and ever." No matter what, indeed. He guessed that saving James and Sirius and Peter from Voldemort's grasp did not fall under that category. He hated himself for that, for not being able to see it coming. He should have saved them, he was the smart one, he should have...

The next memory was two years later, at graduation. He had graduated with top honors, and seeing his parents' smiling, proud faces in the audience beaming at him should have made the day a joyous one. However, his heart dropped into his stomach as he watched James and Sirius go up to receive an award for taking the Gryffindor Quidditch team to three consecutive Cups as co-captains. The two were smiling, but he could see through their facades; there were no parents in the audience to be proud of their accomplishments. As the crowds of chattering graduates and their families milled out of the Great Hall, he went over to Sirius and James, who were both talking to Peter and Lily Evans, that girl James had been seeing on and off again. He walked up to both of them and gave them the biggest hug he could muster.

"Hey, what's this all about then?" Sirius said waveringly, patting Remus on the back awkwardly.

"I just wanted to tell you that your parents would have proud of you two today, all right?" he said quickly, emotion welling up in his voice. The recent death of Mr. and Mrs. Potter had hit him hard, but not as hard as it had Sirius. They had been his adopted parents during his teenage years basically. James, obviously, was the most hurt by their death, and he could see in his hazel eyes that he was thinking about them today.

"We know, Moony, we know," said James quietly, a single tear slipping from underneath his glasses.

"You guys are welcome anytime to crash at my place, you hear me?" he told them with a smile, but the crack in his voice betrayed his feigned good nature.

"Or at mine," said Sirius through tears, "when I get one."

"Or at mine," Peter joined the four friends, the Marauders together in a group hug, sharing in the sadness of the moment, "Let's not lose touch, all right?"

"No, never," James had said. The memory slowly faded once more. Remus sat ridged; he knew what memory was next, and it was one of the most painful.

He was in a dress robe of soft green, the color of her eyes, Lily's eyes. James had wanted his groomsmen to play up the feature that he loved most about his recently vowed wife. They were sitting at a big table at the head of a reception hall; he, Sirius, and Peter were at the left of James, who was talking animatedly to Lily and looking the happiest that he had ever seen him. It was so obvious that they were completely in love with each other that you could not help feeling giddy, it was so intoxicating. Suddenly Sirius ringed his goblet with a fork to get the noisy hall's attention. Once silent, the best man stood up, his full goblet in tow.

"To James and Lily. I'd never bet that they would have made it this far, but even I can be wrong," he said mock-humbly to polite chortles as champagne was drunk for the happy couple. Sirius remained standing, and when everyone was done with the toast, cleared his throat. "And now that that's out of the way," he grinned at James, who just looked at him and rolled his eyes behind his glasses, "I've got something to say about this fine gentleman who's sitting beside me. James Potter, you have been more than a friend to me all of these years; you've been a brother. Without you, I couldn't have made it through Hogwarts, let alone childhood in general. You kept me sane, and for that, I'm in your debt. And as for you two," he wheeled around on Remus and Peter who were listening intently and jumped at his sudden recognition of them, "Peter Pettigrew, you might not have been flashy or outstanding at anything..."

"Thanks, Padfoot," Peter interrupted, causing some laughter.

"Wait, I'm not finished! ...or outstanding at anything, but you were always dependable and did your share when we got in a pinch. You saved my ass a couple times, and that's an endearing quality to me."

Peter blushed crimson to the tips of his mousy brown hair as Sirius continued, "And Remus Lupin, good ol' Moony, if it wasn't for you, I'd know nothing about anything. You taught me a lot, especially near final exams, but there's one thing that will always stick with me and that is not to sit back and wait for the world to stop for me but to go out there and do something."

"And here's to Sirius Black, biggest windbag of them all!" James suddenly stood up, goblet in hand with a big smile on his face. The party erupted with good-natured laughter.

"To old friends!" Peter thrust his goblet into the air.

"To new adventures!" James placed his next to Peter's.

"To bright futures!" Remus' goblet joined the other two.

"To the Marauders! May our love for each other never falter and last until we're gray and toothless!" Sirius completed the toast as once again the memory floated out of his mind. Remus shook his head, tears of irony brimming in his eyes. Who knew that in only a year Voldemort would destroy their lives? That Peter would betray them all? That Lily and James would be dead? That Sirius would be in Azkaban? What would they have done if they HAD known?

Remus sat up in his chair, shaking himself from his thoughts. He did not think he could bear another trip down memory lane. He knew where the path led, and reliving it would just have ended him. He had to write this eulogy, even if it killed him. Tears running down his face, he reached for the quill again, only to be blindsided by grief once more. He felt so alone, so helpless, that all he wanted to do is roll up in a little ball and disappear. He had never felt like this, not even when James had died and Sirius imprisoned for his, and Peter's, death. This was just too final, too absolute. It was the end of an era, the end of the only life that he had really known. How was he going to live? He would never, ever stay up at night and talk to Sirius by the fire about good old times. He would never, ever see that big, friendly black dog bound up to him with that stupid grin of his still evident through the canine. He would never, ever hear his voice fluctuate from concern to pride to worry to confidence while he talked about Harry. But most of all, he would never, ever see his laughing face, blue eyes twinkling, as he and James pulled some silly stunt. Even though James had been dead for fourteen years, the wound reopened with a fury, and it felt like his lifeblood was seeping through the hole in his soul. All he wanted was how it was before. He'd give anything for those carefree days again. Anything! Out of no where came Sirius' voice from somewhere deep within himself.

"And remember, we will always be here for each other, no matter what, forever and ever."

It was too much for Remus. He just broke down and wept loudly, crying out to the ceiling, his hand wrung in agony and despair.

"OH WHY GOD? OH WHY DID THEY HAVE TO DIE? MY ONLY FRIENDS I EVER HAD, GONE FOREVER! WHY? WHAT THE HELL DID I DO, GOD? WHAT? I WAS HELPFUL, I LISTENED, I WAS A GODDAMN GOOD FRIEND, ALL RIGHT? SO WHY THE FUCKING HELL DID YOU TAKE THEM AWAY FROM ME? WHY? IS THERE SOME SORT OF LESSON HERE GOD? AM I BEING PUNISHED? WHATEVER I DID, I'M SORRY! I'M FUCKING SORRY, OKAY? BRING THEM BACK! BRING THEM BACK!" he slammed his hands down on the desk, tipping over the inkbottle. The ebony liquid splattered, covering the old picture in sticky ink. Remus collapsed in a heap on his desk, his voice down to only a whimper as he sunk into unconsciousness.

"Bring them back..."