When Remus woke up, he wished he hadn’t, but it didn’t feel unfamilar to him. He thought he had known pain before, what it was like to despise the thought of waking up, wishing the darkness of his dreams would swallow him, but had not been ready for this day. He knew he wasn’t ready, but it still hit him like a trainwreck.
He slowly opened his eyes, trying his hardest to accept the coming of The Day. The past month held him captive, wallowing in sadness, numb to everything but the pain wrenching his heart, unable to leave the house, as if it had became a cage. But he didn’t know whether it was the lock, or his fear holding him inside. He made friends with this force though, his will to leave walking out the door without him.
Every once in a while he pressured himself to leave the house, to go to the nearest liquor shop and return with bottles which never lasted as long as he hoped. He felt shameful at first when he looked around and everything was covered in green bottles, many broken and shattered. He had gotten used to the sight at this point, and while he hated himself for being so pathetic this was a hellhole from where he couldn’t escape and gave up trying to.
Where he looked pain followed, seeing his friends. His friends. A year ago they were together, celebrating Christmas. It could’ve—it should’ve still been like that. But it never will be, and Remus knew that all too well. He remembered spending Christmas at the Potter-Evans’. The whole house warm and friendly—a nice but still not fully comfortable relief in the middle of the harshness of the war—, smelling of ginger, chocolate and various sweet scents coming from the kitchen, where he was baking with Lily. He was never too good at it, making a mess, her laughing and helping him fix it. Sirius, James and Mary playing with Harry, who took one of the deer decorations off the shelf and Sirius making horrible jokes about Prongs, James and Mary laughing at how stupid they are. Remus was looking out from behind the kitchen door, finding himself smiling after so long. Peter was there too, fixing something on the tree in the background. Remus’ eyes kept going back to Sirius, who after so long seemed happy. Everyone else seemed happy. It looked like the perfect image of Christmas. This was their effort to enjoy it without the sufferings of the war plaguing, it like it did everything else. Christmas was the time they tried to pretend to be normal, happy people. But while they were young, the stress and pain of the war took it’s toll on them, mostly mentally, but also physically. He knew nothing would be normal again. Even though he didn’t let himself have the hope of them all surviving, if they did, he couldn’t imagine a world where everything could be like it used to. As much as Remus didn’t want to, he could still only think of Marlene and Dorcas. They should’ve been there. They should’ve been there, amongst them, celebrating with their friends. But they weren’t. He wanted to be free of the war, if only for one day but his mind decided he didn’t deserve the peace. It was still going on, no matter how much they tried to pretend. In the moment he felt the way it all felt forced, but he chose to forget that, clinging onto a time he tried to believe was close to merry.
But now as he looked around no matter how much he tried he couldn’t see his friends. His family. He couldn’t play pretend. The war was won, but what was important to him lost. Lily, James, Peter, Marlene, and Dorcas dead. “They aren’t!” he couldn’t accept the truth when Mary told him what happened. He fell to the ground, his legs giving up underneath him, feeling his whole world being shattered into tiny unfixable pieces. Betrayal. Loss. Grief. Anger. Pain. It was all he could feel but the combination of them in that moment was so intense he thought he might as well go after them. If not because of the enemy, then because of his choice. But he didn’t want them to die for nothing.
And he… he did it to them. He who Remus once loved. And what was harder, he still loved. He found their old memories coming back to him, like ghosts, haunting him, not leaving him alone. It didn’t matter if he drank, if he screamed and sobbed until he thought he’d also be taken by sweet death which he found himself wishing for more than before, if he bashed his head into the walls and floors, throwing the empty bottles, he knew it was all over. Poor Mary was the only other person left, but when Remus tried to find her, he instead found out she had oblivated herself. She had no idea who they were anymore. He also thought about it, but never got around to doing so. He didn’t want to forget the good parts, but even the best ones felt painful to think back to. He remembered gushing over Him to Lily in fourth year, but now he didn’t know if he could say his name ever again. He remembered James being so on top of life and energetic before Quidditch matches. He remembered walking the grounds at the end of their years, all four of them, free from exams. He remembered sharing a quick smoke in empty classrooms with Dorcas, just talking about whatever stupid thing was going on at the moment. He remembered going to the library with Lily to revise. He remembered finally letting Marlene do his eyeliner for their last party, and how excited she was. He didn’t want to remember most of what came after, thinking he was the happiest person ever with his friends and boyfriend. But he couldn’t look back without feeling the emptiness the people closest to him left beyond themselves, and the destruction only one person could cause. He was their friend.
He and James used to be inseparable, yet he gave him over. How could he do that? James, Lily, and Peter were always there for him. Remus couldn’t belive at first that he would ever have done something like that, but looking back it made sense. He was constantly putting more and more distance between himself and Remus, this was why. He should’ve known.
He walked over to the table in the middle of the room and grabbed another bottle, hoping for it to drown his thoughts out.
What was once the happiest part of the year, was but pain. He didn’t want it to be Christmas again. He wanted last year’s Christmas to be the last one he remembered. But he couldn’t kill himself. So much went into the war, so many people sacrificed, he didn’t think he would be important anymore, but in the end it would still make himself feel even weaker, giving up.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Remus yelled at his brain between sobs. He didn’t want to think anymore.