-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.
So, the Lupins bundled up in warm sweaters, knit hats, woolen scarfs and headed outside.
LJ, now pregnant with baby number two, had quickly become winded from an impromptu snowball fight - her husband and daughter on one team and her all by herself. Daddy's girl.
Typical.
She rubbed her swollen belly, which was covered in three thick layers, and hummed in satisfaction as she sipped her tea. She watched her Moony and her baby girl attempt to build a snowman. Forsythia had recently been introduced to Frosty the Snowman by her father and swore that she could make her very own Frosty.
"With a bit of your magic, Mumma!" She had said, "We can bwing him to life with some magic! There must have been some magic in that Old top hat they found, fow when they placed it on his head..."
The Frosty look alike was looking quite funny. LJ watched with amusement as an identical look of concentration washed over her husband and daughter's faces as they tried to mold the snow to their will.
LJ used to hate the snow and Christmas. But this year it wasn't so bad.
She looked behind her when she heard approaching footsteps and smiled when she saw her father-in-law's giddy face.
"Hiya, kiddo. Thia's thrilled about this I see." He motioned to the layers of snow before them and the laughing little girl.
"Yup. Been up since eight out here. Freezing my arse off. Hope her screams of glee didn't wake you."
He waved a hand and settled down next to her. She moved the blanket so that it covered them both.
"It's worth it." He said with a shrug and smile.
"Yeah, it is." She agreed. She looked at the old man next to her and gave him a sad smile. She didn't mean for it to be sad, but sometimes they just turned out that way.
She looped her arm through his and took another sip. They shared a laugh as Forsythia got bored of the snowman and threw a large ball of snow at her father's face.
"You okay LJ?" Lyall asked, turning his head to face hers.
She rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh. "Yeah, I am."
She meant it.
She was okay. Not great. Not bad. Not content, but not unsatisfied. She had genuine laughs and smiles some days. She had such a huge amount of joy in motherhood. She enjoyed her little cottage in Wales and the trees and the sea. She seemingly had the life she always wished for. However, she still cried almost nightly. She still had to cast a silence charm on her room as to not wake the rest of the house. She still had to sob into the arms of Remus Lupin as he whispered loving and reassuring words. She still mourned and cursed and screamed. But only when the sun set. And never again in front of her daughter.
She was okay.
But.
She still had nightmares. Merlin, did she still have nightmares.
Nightmares of white hands grasping at the air from beneath milky water. Nightmares of those dashing Potter dimples fading away. Nightmares of beautiful bright green eyes going dim. A baby crying. A betrayal. Nightmares of cloaked black dementors and prison cells.
She had once told Sirius that their little brother was like a dead star; gone, but still seen. Sirius was gone, too. Not in the same sense, but gone from her life all the same.
But, you see, Sirius was the brightest star in the whole night sky. Sirius could be gone, but he was still blinding her, still flashing, over and over again in her line of sight.
Gone, but still seen. Still heard, still felt.
Like a star.
She saw him in the mirror, every day. She saw his grey eyes in her own, his midnight waves sprouting from her own head, his pout in her own pink lips. She couldn't look in the mirror for months after that night. People always said how alike the two looked. She didn't see it until he was gone.
She heard him in her daughter's giggle, that Sirius Black giggle that Forsythia had somehow seemed to inherit. She heard him on the vinyl player, singing along to Bowie and The Kinks.
"'Cause he's oh, so good, and he's oh, so fine, and he's oh, so healthy, in his body and his mind."
She felt him when she ran her hands through the neighbor's dogs' thick fur. She felt his head in the crook of her neck when she was sad. She felt his hand in hers when thunder shook the room and lightning lit it up.
Many parts of her, her being, her soul, would forever be gone, never to be seen again. A part of her left this earth the moment that Mia Potter did. A part of her was endlessly drowning, gurgling screams of help, with her baby boy, her brother. A part of her ceased to exist the moment that James and Lily Potter's hearts stopped beating, flashes of green light across their wide, horrified eyes. And a part, a large part of her being, was sitting in a cell in Azkaban, locked away from the rest of the world.
She didn't have her baby brother. She didn't have her big brothers. She didn't have justice for any of them, and she thought that she never would. She didn't her friends, her found family. She didn't have baby Harry. Her godson. She didn't have acceptance from her community or love from her kin.
Because the list of what she didn't have was much too long, she made sure that she cherished the things she did have every precious day.
She did have her baby girl. She did have her baby boy on the way. She did have her Remus Lupin, the love of her life and her best friend. She did have her cousin and little Dora. She did have Lyall. She did have her healing. She did have her own little family, like she always had wanted. She did have their love and their tenderness.
If she let the things that she didn't have overtake her mind, she would surely go crazy. Surely go mental. Although, everyone seemed to think that she already was.
So, she held the things she did have as closely and tightly as she could.
And for now, that was enough.
It had to be.
Or else she would return to her Black hole.
***
"I wish you a kinder sea."