wolfstar one shots

the last day

The thing about the day you die is that, more often than not, you don't know it's going to be your last day.

You don't know that's the last time you'll wake up in comfortable sheets, warm and heavy and loving breath on your neck. That's the last time you'll be held so strongly in someone's arms. The last moment you'll truly be at peace.

You don't know that's the last sunrise you'll ever see, the pinks and ambers the last vibrancy you can envisage before the sky overhead turns cloudy for the final time.

You don't know that's your last black coffee or milky tea as the rain starts to patter lightly against the windows. The last feeling of pulling a warm jumper out of the tumble dryer and feeling the fuzziness against goose-bumped skin.

You don't know that's your last tender kiss, sneaked out of sight. You don't know that's your last rough kiss, heat of the moment in the dying light of a cramped hallway. You don't know that's your last time walking out of that door.

You don't know you won't walk back in.

I didn't know that'd be the last time I'd see him. If I had, I'd've cherished everything. His honey blond hair, curls falling graciously in his eyes. Eyes a dark amber, flames with anger as he duelled, shooting spell after spell. His arms flexing slightly as they grasped his wand.

I felt a shot of pain in my chest and stumbled as I lost my footing. I fell backwards, disappearing behind a thick curtain. I caught his eyes which were filled with worry and dread.

And that's the final time I saw him.

***
My eyes scrunched tight as I fell, but I was caught by two pairs of arms. Still blinking in the hot white light I jumped out of pure shock. Two pairs of eyes blinked back at me, one a warm hazel the other an emerald green.

I looked at them, back and forth between the two familiar faces. James, with his black hair and smug grin. Lily, with her freckled and pale skin. Both of them no older than twenty two.

And that was my fault. It was my fault they never got their family. It was my fault that they would never age past that fateful night.

"I'm sorry," I choke out, "I should've protected you. This is all my fault."

"Padfoot," James' voice was a warm comfort and put me at ease, "There are many things that are your fault, but this isn't one of them." He smiled a smile I hadn't seen in fourteen years and I couldn't help but return it.

"I've missed you"

"I've missed you too, Lily."

We went silent for a while, walking in the general direction of a pristine, white arch. I stared down at my hands only to notice they weren't as grey as they usually looked. They had a pink glow to them again and my nails weren't bitten and blunt.

"Sirius, this is the afterlife." Lily spoke after some time, her smile vibrant yet watery.

"Can you watch over people? I know it's sounds stupid, but I'd like to-"

"Yes, you can." James said, his voice calm. It had a note of knowingness to it, like it had when we were younger.

"Remus?"

Lily looked at me and said nothing, but instead motioned through the archway we had now reached.

"You'll have to pass on fully to see him," she said, "This is the bit where most people can decide to become ghosts. Me and James were only allowed out to welcome you."

"Well there's no doubt about it then! I'm passing through!" 

***
I saw his eyes first; the pain in them so visible yet so hidden. His disheveled body slumped in the darkness, refusing to be moved.

"No" I heard him whimper as my cousin tugged gently at his arm.

"Remus, we have to go. Dumbledore wants to speak with you." She said softly, although she lacked tactfulness.

"Well he can fuck off. And so can you." He was whispering still, his voice a dull hoarse croak. He ruffled his hair, which already seemed so much thinner.

She didn't move.

"Remus you can't be-"

"Fuck off, Tonks!" And this time she left him alone.

He watched her out of sight as she sulked away quietly. Almost the second she turned the corner, he buried his head in his hands.

The sound he made ripped through me like a thousand knives. It pierced my brain like a thousand bullets and seared through my chest like a thousand red hot pokers.

He was talking to himself now, whimpering in a different type of pain. A choked sob left his throat followed by a pained croak of a whisper:

"What I'd do for one last day..."