Black Hole

"Tainted Love"

-Epilogue-

She had wept. She had screamed. She had thrown things. She had cursed.

You and me and you and me and you and me-

How could I be me without you?

She had begged. She had pleaded for someone one, anyone, to believe her. Anyone. And no one did.

As soon as the words "Sirius is being detained at the Ministry" came out of Dumbledore's mouth, she was in the fireplace.

"It wasn't me, LJ!" He had screamed. He looked as though he had seen a ghost. She supposed he had. "It was Peter! We switched, it was-" And then he was gone. 

Not even Remus. Not even he believed her. Her great love, her best friend, the father of her child. Even he didn't, though he never said it out loud. But she knew.

They had fought and she had screamed and screamed and screamed and he took it. He was too broken to scream and scream and scream back even though he wanted to.

He was broken. Shattered. James, Lily, Peter....Sirius.

Ripped away.

They handled the grief differently. He stayed stoic, almost catatonic for a while. He would go through the motions with little expression.

She, however, was angry. So, so incredibly angry. Angry that her best friends were dead. Angry that her brother was wrongly accused and currently rotting in jail where he would die a miserable and lonely death. Angry that no one believed her. He was gone and she needed him. Angry that everyone was celebrating what had happened that night. Angry that Voldemort was gone, but at what cost? Angry that everyone seemed to always leave her. Her parents, her cousins, Reggie, Mia, Monty, Marlene, James, Lily, Sirius, fucking Peter.

Was she that unlovable?

She could barely look Remus in the eye for weeks following that Halloween night. But, when she would sob through the night, he would hold her. He would always hold her. He would always whisper sweet nothings in her ear when she needed them. He would always cradle her like a child and rock her body back and forth as sobs spewed out. He would always stroke her hair and kiss her brow.

Forsythia was confused. "Uncle Pwongs and Aunty Lily? Baby 'arry? Uncle Womy? Where my Uncle Pads? Where?"

She didn't understand why Mumma and Da were so sad. Why Mumma was always so angry at everyone. Why Gramps and Aunt Andi were always looking after her while her parents disappeared. She didn't understand what it meant to be "gone". Why was everyone telling her that her aunt and uncles and baby Harry were gone? When people are gone, why don't they just come back?

Why were people always bringing over food? Why did she always have to go to these parties where everyone cried, and she had to wear a frilly black dress? Where Mumma would sink to the floor and cry and Da would have to carry her home? And why did people whisper about Mumma at these parties? Why did everyone hate her Mumma? Even Daddy and Gramps and Aunt Andi would give Mumma funny looks. Why?

Where was everyone? Where was Uncle Pads?

She didn't understand.

***

Later

LJ Lupin sat on the swinging chair on the front porch of her families small cottage nursing a warm cup of tea. The weather was cold and icy, but not cold enough to halt the hyperactivity of one Forsythia Lupin. The five-year-old had begged and begged her parents to play out in the snow since the moment she jumped into their bed that morning. The snow had come over night, covering the ground like a soft fleece blanket. It was the first snow of the year, and Forsythia could not be more excited to play in the white ice.