Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Grief stabbed Remus Lupin's heart like an ice cold knife, harder and harder every second. This whole incident made him want to curl up in a ball and just weep, weep until the tears stopped coming. If indeed, they ever did. He would be content to sit there, and cry like a child for all eternity. Up until the moment he was gone too.

He couldn't though, that much he knew.

Against the pain that was throbbing through his head, he scrunched up his eyes, desperate for it to stop. But all it really did was make him think. All the thoughts and memories he tried to keep under lock and key now that they were gone, they all came bursting through their doors. Free at last. Different times, different places.

"You thought we'd ditch you because you've got a furry little problem?"

"Moony, old chum, of course we're not going to get caught."

"I told you so!"

"Like brothers."

"She said yes!"

"A boy."

"He's after them, Remus."

His hands were numb, his eyes bloodshot, his knees threatening to collapse. He just couldn't stand it. He wanted nothing more to curl up and die, nothing what so ever.

One best friend dead, killed by Voldemort on information given by another best friend.

Remus missed James more than anything; he was the first to accept him into the group, the first one who befriended him.

Another best friend dead, killed by the same friend who sent Voldemort after the other.

Poor Peter, he'd been loyal till the very end, even if he was no match for the other, not really. If truth be told, he never really had been.

The last best friend, a traitor.

Remus was disgusted. Actually, disgusted wasn't a strong enough word. Remus was revolted at what Sirius had done. Sickened, appalled, all these words multiplied together; but even then it still wasn't enough. He couldn't believe that someone could have gone so far astray.

How could Sirius, who he'd known for 10 years, have changed so much? How could he have been different from the 12 year old boy who had found out Remus was a werewolf and didn't care? How could it have been the boy who had constantly told James never to give up on Lily? How could it have been the teen that had stood up for Peter every time that some Slytherin poked fun at him?

It seemed strange. Different. Surreal.

Because Sirius Black couldn't have (shouldn't have) sent Voldemort after his brother. He couldn't have (and Remus had a hard time believing that he would have) killed Peter, and 12 other innocent muggles, in cold blood.

That just wasn't the Sirius Black that Remus Lupin knew.

But it happened and Sirius wasn't Sirius anymore.

He was a cold, cruel man that had taken all of Remus's friends (his family) from the world. He was gone. They all were. Lily, James, Peter, Sirius. They were all dead (or as good as). Why hadn't it been him? Remus thought bitterly as tears threatened to break the surface of his eye lids, he blinked several times to stop them flowing. Once they started, he knew they'd never stop. He should have been the one murdered, or even the one that betrayed them. They had their whole lives ahead of them, free to take whatever jobs they wanted. He wasn't. It was like a joke, a sick joke. His life was. Remus was the one that had been shunned from the rest of society so of course life made him the only one of his friends that was in it.

This can't be happening. Remus thought for the thousandth time that day. Two days ago they were like a family. All six of them. Only last week were they all sitting around the Potters' kitchen having dinner together, baby Harry beside them. Although it hadn't been the most cheerful visit, the war still hung over them after all, it hadn't been bad. It was all a lie, he thought bitterly. Sirius, the traitor, was sitting there, planning the deaths of at least three people in that room.

Would he have gone after me next? Remus wondered as he turned the key into the lock of his tiny home.

Unfortunately, this place only brought back more memories. More, cold, grief stabbing memories.

And this time he sunk onto the couch. This time, he did curl up in a ball on it and let the cries of anguish and sorrow erupt from his mouth. Only now did he let the tears escape from his aching brown eyes, streaming rivers down his pale face. He cried out through the empty house and willed it to all be a dream. A horrible, terrible, life shattering dream, but a dream nevertheless. A nightmare, the worst anyone could ever imagine.

But as the torturing reminders of what had happened filled up his whole body, making it hard to breath, reminding him every second of what had happened, he knew for certain. He knew for certain that this was far worse than any nightmare.

Author's note: Thanks so much for reading. A review would be very much appreciated. I've had this in my documents for awhile, almost finished, but not quite. I'm quite glad to get it out.

Thanks so much for reading!

TTFN

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