(((((((((((((((((((Hmm..Randomy little drabble which I am dedicating to Avada Cait-davra, because I will keep my promise and this is a sorry present because it has taken me so long although she knows the reason :D glomps))))))))))))

Tea. The British solution. Got a problem? Tea is the answer. Remus lived by this cure. When he woke up after one of his 'bad nights' the kettle was sitting in his kitchen, welcoming him back like an old and slightly tatty friend. Much like himself really. No one could make a cup of tea quite like Remus and that kettle. Whenever there was a particularly perturbing Order meeting. Remus, James, Sirius, Peter and Lily would have tea curtsey of Lupin. It was an unspoken ritual. When something went wrong Remus made tea for himself and his friends.

But tonight is different. Because there is no one to make tea for. Tea won't fix their problems. Because they're all gone. Except Remus. Remus and his damned teapot. It makes him so angry sitting there, same as always, black as a shadow. Like nothing happened. Like Lily and James and Peter weren't dead. Like Sirius, his Sirius, hadn't killed all of them. He hated it. Suddenly it was in his hands. Cold. Unfeeling. And then it was striking the other wall with a force he never knew his body could create. It lands on the floor in black shards. So does Remus with his heart in the same form. He closes his eyes. He wants to cry, scream, break everything. But he can't. He still hasn't cried for what he has lost. He has lost his universe and he can feel nothing. But when he opens his eyes all he can see is the remainders of his broken teapot. Broken just like him and his world.