Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Until

"forgive me my love,
I do not desire your love at the expense of your happiness
and so, I must leave to honor the passion I hold within."

-via Parth

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Hogwarts, May 1977

Life moved on. It always did, whether he wanted it to or not. It didn't care if his pathetic little heart had been withering, on its last leg, and it didn't care if he couldn't operate his left shoulder without wincing or whining about it. It didn't care if the boys had been smothered by homework since their absence, nor did it care about James's parents still in the hospital.

Life didn't stop for your circumstances; it never had, and it never would.

The only thing one could do is get on with it, even if they don't like it. Remus certainly didn't like it; their extraneous circumstance had done more than put a damper on their end of year spirits. It had felt as though the attack in London had pulled them apart at the seams, firing bullets into Remus's stomach until he landed back in their first year.

For the first time in years, there'd been a divide amongst the Marauders. After that fateful night in April, Remus had done his damned best to avoid Sirius – at any and all costs. Sirius didn't seem to mind, sharing the sentiment that less was better, and the less work he had to do in order to achieve this than jolly good show for him. James, unaware of their conversation, went along with it because he was painfully ignorant to the rest of the world whilst his parents were still in critical condition, not that anyone blamed him. Well, Remus did... just a little. Peter was blissfully content fluttering to one or the other, and Remus assumed that he'd put enough together to know that their little posse was dismantling.

Lily had been torn straight down the middle; on the one hand, Remus was her best friend, and to leave him alone, just as the boys had in their first year, broke her heart. He ate meals alone, typically at the end of the table with a book in his lap or an essay smacked in front of him. If he had to be paired with anyone in class, it had been Peter. Sirius refused to make any sort of eye contact, not that Remus had been jumping at the chance, and James seemed to not notice, or maybe he didn't care, that the rest of them were in shambles, too.

On the other hand, James needed her. She'd explained this to Remus as some sort of excuse as to why she would remain neutral in whatever feud was happening amongst their group. Remus accepted this blandly, figuring as much, because he didn't expect her to abandon James in his time of need. He knew he was being selfish by holing himself up and focusing on work and work alone, ignoring the pleas from Lily and Peter to join them at meals or study sessions; it was for the best, though. He'd fallen a bit behind after those weeks in the hospital, and, even though it hardly mattered at the end of the day, his grades were now all he had.

That wasn't exactly true. He still had his friends, minus Sirius, perhaps, and he had his family. But grades were his sole motivation to wake up in the morning now. The better the grades he got, the more likely he'd be able to find a half-decent job in the wizarding world. A man could dream.

Their graduation was small. Remus had graduated top of their class, as expected, and had given a small acceptance speech at the beginning as he introduced different Professors and Heads of Houses. He introduced the four students beneath them, each being allowed a seat up with the big dogs for the ceremony; he allowed himself to feel a pang of pride. He might have been a dark creature, but he wasn't stupid.

There were not many students in their class; only about thirty-one all together. Dumbledore had given one of his "eccentric" speeches, referencing the attacks in London and a particular group of students' "bravery." It didn't take a genius to work out who he'd been talking about; all eyes fell upon James and Sirius as their Headmaster spoke. Peter crossed his arms in the back row, looking down at the floor with a dejected expression.