Ashes

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Ashes

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"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down."

Thin, pale lips muttered the phrase monotonously. He recognized it as a line from a Muggle nursery rhyme. Strangely enough, the simple, perhaps morbid, words were able to describe the miserable life he now lived. Once more, the skinny man murmured the line, this time ending the utterance with a saddened sigh. Everyone was falling fast. Too fast.

His haggard, weary face remained impassive. Tumultuous thoughts wracked his mind. What if they hadn't died? What if he hadn't died? What would have happened then? He let out a shuddering sigh, quickly rubbing his eyes with his nearly skeletal hands. Hunger was not an important issue anymore. The man simply didn't care. After all, everyone was falling... and if he fell, would it honestly matter? Stricken gray eyes filled with tears.

As he closed his eyes and curled his hands into fists, a gentle sob shook his body. Slowly, one tear fell, then another, and another. The streams of sadness trickled down his sunken cheeks. The emotional tears soon ceased to fall. Crying like a child would get him nowhere. But, was he even supposed to go anywhere in this life? The man dragged a hand roughly through his graying hair. "Perhaps this crying served a purpose," he mused quietly. The man had so much pain pent up within his body that needed to be released. Crying helped lift the mantle of his heavy burden.

Many painful things had accumulated over the years; many of those things he was unable to stop. His lycanthropy. The death of Lily and James. The supposed death of Peter Pettigrew and his climactic return to Voldemort. Harry's painful past. And... and the death of his wrongly accused friend, Sirius Black. Remus Lupin continued to keep his eyes closed as he took in a shuddering breath. Calm yourself, Moony, calm yourself.

Lupin stared wearily into the dim fire, watching the orange hued flames lick the sides of the fireplace. He hoped dearly that Voldemort would be defeated soon. That burning hope continued to dwell in his heart, even when he knew that the war was just beginning. He wanted it to end now, oh, he wanted it to end dearly. "Death... Ashes," Lupin muttered, feeling like he was trapped in a stupor.

It had been one month.

Lupin could hardly believe it himself. It had only been a single month since the unfortunate death of Sirius. To Remus, Harry Potter, and other members of the Order, it had seemed like ages ago. He leaned back in his worn seat and murmured, "It has to have been only one month, nothing longer. The wounds are too fresh." At this thought, he had shivered. In countless ways, Sirius' death had been harder on him than death of James and Lily. James... Lily... He was able to say 'goodbye' to their bodies. The man swallowed back his sadness and forced himself to continue thinking about his friends' deaths. Remus was able to properly mourn for James and Lily. The situation was completely different in Sirius' case. His grasp tightened on the arms of the chair. Remus hadn't had the chance to say 'goodbye.' He hadn't had the chance to clear Sirius' name and conduct a proper funeral for him. It was wrong. It was all wrong. Sirius shouldn't have left.

He coughed roughly, clearing his throat. Casting a glance around the room, Lupin shivered. "Grimmauld Place, yes, a very grim, old place. I see why Sirius felt so trapped here. This is a chilling residence. I wonder if that lying, conniving house elf is still here... Kreacher," he growled, his voice laced visibly with venom. "It started with him!" Abruptly, his shoulders sagged. "God... there are so many people to blame. Including me... I failed to keep Harry away from his horrible relatives. Of course, they would never give guardianship to a werewolf," Lupin commented bitterly. "I'm sure Sirius would have wanted me to sure Harry was safe... After all, he was unfairly sent to Azkaban at the time. What could I do? Albus merely said that he would be safer in that... that... hellhole." An abnormal spurt of red colored his pale face. "Damn this lycanthropy."

Shadows swirled menacingly around the hearth, as the occasional spark flew dangerously into the air. Watching the stray spark land on a thick carpet and smolder into nothingness, Lupin bit his lip. "We, the Marauders, including Harry and Lily and excluding Peter, were always the wild cards... A bit like that stray spark, popping up unexpectedly." He lowered his head. "Is that we were all targeted? Because we were different?" His voice grew in volume. "We're falling - I mean, we fell one after another. James and Lily to Voldemort. Peter to Voldemort. Sirius to Bellatrix and the Veil - therefore by Voldemort. Now it's only down to two. Harry and I..." His eyes grew slightly misty as the image of the emerald-eyed boy entered his mind. Harry was so strong and noble. "He's a real trooper, that one," he murmured as he pressed his fingertips together. "He's changed so much though. He never had a childhood... much like me," he added thoughtfully. "I, because of my lycanthropy; him, because of Voldemort."

His eyes traveled to a framed picture, layered in dust. Remus reached out, gently caressing the still lively photo. He grasped the object, bringing it closer to him. Four lively figures jostled each other, smiling brightly. A rueful smile appeared on Lupin's face. Wormtail... Padfoot... Prongs... and himself, Moony. "Everything was so beautiful back then..." His grip grew tighter.

Staring into the flames, he gave a mournful smile. "Ashes... ashes... we all fall down."

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