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

Game Over

Fleamont smiled, "I love Hemingway."

James, who'd once been caught in the heat of his emotions, halted in his tracks, hurt and furious eyes landing on his father with disdain.

"How could you be so calm," he asked. "Two people – who had nothing to do with your war – have died in the span of, what, five fucking months?"

Fleamont faced his son, that typical stoic expression darkening into something Remus had seen too often in his youth, "This war belongs to all of us, James. It isn't my war."

James became hysterical, "No! It isn't my war. If I had my way, I'd be marrying the love of my life in peace, with my best friends –"

"Life doesn't give a damn about your peace, James," Fleamont countered, baritone voice taut and clipped. "It doesn't given a damn about your wedding and your friends. It doesn't give a damn about your life either."

"How could you say that," Lily cried.

Fleamont's face softened but remained harsh, "It's a hard truth all of you need to get through your thick skulls; you aren't children anymore!"

James approached his father, face red and eyes critical, "First Julienne and now Regulus? How many more, Dad? How many before 'life' is satisfied?!"

Remus, confused, let his eyes befall on his friends. What did his friend have to do with any of this? Julienne had moved back to West Country with her family after their graduation without a word; had she been in contact with the Potter's? His eyes darted amongst the bodies inhabiting the waiting room, hoping for some sort of explanation.

"That's enough, Mr. Potter," Minnie urged, taking James by the shoulders, but he shrugged her away.

"I do suppose everyone could go with a nice cup of coffee," Dumbledore suggested. "I find that the coffee bean –"

"Would you just shut the fuck up," James screamed, veins protruding from his neck. The adults' faces blanched, Minnie taken back by such language used toward their old Headmaster. "Coffee isn't going to fix a god damn thing!"

"Wait," Remus interrupted, voice soft under the shouting of others, "what about Julienne?"

Lily pulled Remus away, eyes diligent yet oh so secretive, "Not now, Rem."

"No," he said. "What is he talking about? What's wrong with Julienne?"

However, James wasn't paying attention to a thing Remus said. His full attention had been placed upon the adults on the other side of the room and their desperately worried faces. Minnie, looking torn down the middle, appealed to James first.

"Mr. Potter," she began, "I understand your –"

"No, you don't Minnie," he snapped. "You couldn't possibly understand how it feels watching your friends lose their life to a war we didn't ask to be a part of."

Fleamont lost his composure, "But you did! You did, James. In April, you begged to be a part of this cause. You don't get to back out when it gets difficult."

James flinched at his father's words. Remus was sure this had been the first true fracture in their relationship. The two were practically glued to each other; they were one in the same. Watching them argue – taking all of their frustrations on each other – made something in him squirm. Whatever had happened unbeknownst to him, it must've been tragic.

"Don't you get it, Dad," James said. "Julienne d-"

"James, don't," Fleamont warned. "Don't go there."

Remus bristled at the implications in his voice. He stepped up, "Finish your sentence, James."

Remus was no stranger to a secretive lifestyle. The symptoms were written over everyone's expressions. The averted eyes, downcast expressions, and fiddling with stray objects. Dumbledore seemed to be the only one with enough courage to watch as Remus put together the puzzle pieces on his own – a mechanism he often left up to his students.