They Say

They say it's important to gain closure after the death of a loved one.

Remus Lupin isn't sure that closure is what he really desires. In his heart, he still believes that Sirius is still going to walk in the door, is going to complain about the house, is going to flirt with Molly Weasley in the kitchen, is going to make plans about taking Harry away from his awful relatives. Is, is, is.

They say you can tell when people accept death by referring to the deceased in the past tense.

Why couldn't it happen? There was no body, no proof. Only that veil, sitting in that godforsaken room in the godforsaken Department of Mysteries, and why the hell would they just let something like that sit around? He doesn't know anything about it, and the Department of Mysteries isn't talking. Maybe all they need to do is say the magic words, throw the exact combination of obscure mystical objects in, and Sirius will reappear, unharmed, just as he was, saying, "Certainly took your time, there, Moony!"

They say that having something to bury is important in accepting death, so you aren't stuck in the limbo of never knowing for sure.

Remus spends hours devouring the books in the library at 12 Grimmauld Place (because they certainly have an excellent reference section on the Dark Arts). You would think the Blacks, of all people, would have some book entitled "Raise the Dead the Easy Way" or "Necromancy for Squibs" lying around on a shelve. He plans to visit the restricted section at Hogwarts, to peruse the collection at the British Wizarding Library off of Diagon Alley, to exploit all his contacts at the Ministry. A thousand years of wizarding history in Britain alone, and no one has ever tried something like this? There has to be an answer somewhere, and Remus Lupin will find it.

They say that you have to accept that death is final, and that they will never come back.

Only Dumbledore had the gall to suggest having some sort of service in memory of Sirius; Remus turned on him, angrily. What use would it be? Talking about the life of a man who got stuck with a crap family who couldn't even stand him, who spent thirteen years in hell on earth because everyone thought he was evil, who lived the last year of his life going mad in a mad house, unable to even go outside? Who wants to hear about that? No one else would mourn.

They say that some type of service is necessary to help remember the person, and put their death behind you.

Remus has nightmares about that night, about Sirius falling through that veil. He can hear Sirius calling to him from behind the fluttering material, calling his name out over and over again, begging for help. He has no clue where that veil leads to, or what torments might await behind it. Nothing says it is a portal to death. Remus can only imagine, in the dark depths of his dreams. He has to get Sirius out from there.

They say it's always harder on the survivors.

His absence can never be escaped, not even in the drowsy moments as Remus wakes up. It is impossible to forget, impossible to deny. His thoughts turn to Sirius constantly, making mental notes to tell him of the latest Order uproar, the newest Weasley twins' invention, the letter from Harry that arrived that morning. Then he remembers that Sirius isn't there.