Remus

The month was April. I've always loved Spring the most. It has a hopeful feel to it. The season's so full of hope and light. I turned twenty-eight last month, as did Sirius last November. We had just returned to our little cottage in Oxford after visiting the Potters in London. Harry is six years old, or 'six-and-a-half!' as he says indignantly. 

Sirius carried our bags inside and I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water and downed my pills, turning around to watch Sirius hobble to our bedroom. 

I rubbed at my chest and drank some more water, worried and a little puzzled at the stuffy feeling there. I waited until I heard the water running for the shower to dig around in the hall closet. 

I pulled down a box that hadn't been touched in years and grabbed out the old nebulizer. I checked the expiration date and took a puff of it, feeling a little better. What didn't make me feel any better was that it meant that there was mucus in my lungs again. 

I'd avoided my Cystic Fibrosis catching up to my new lungs for years, but it appeared that my luck had run out. I put the box back on the shelf of the closet, keeping the nebulizer and walking down the small hallway to the bedroom, hiding it in my bedside table drawer. 

I considered not telling Sirius about it, but decided that it would be best to just tell him and get it over with. The last time I tried to ignore my health, it didn't go so well. And Sirius deserved to know. We'd promised no secrets long ago and this would just be a cruel secret to keep. 

I waited on the bed, my back propped up on some pillows, playing nervously with the hem of my sweater. I couldn't deny that I was scared. Terrified, really.

Sirius came out of the bathroom connected to their room with his towel tied round his waist. I waited for him to get dressed. I didn't say a word and I think that my silence was what first caught his attention. 

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, a frown on his face. He sat down at the edge of the bed and tilted his head to look at me.

"Moons, what's wrong?" 

I spoke quietly, afraid that my voice would break if I spoke any louder. "I think I'm getting sick again."

Sirius sat quietly for a few moments and then crawled up to sit next to me on by the headboard. He rested his head on my shoulder and took my hands, playing with my fingers before gripping my hands tightly in his. 

He leaned over to put his head on my chest. "Breathe for me, would you?" He asked. I took a few deep breaths.

Sirius pulled away and nodded, looking pained. "I can hear them rattling, just a little. Not even close to how bad they used to be, though."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"I'll call the Oxford hospital and see if we can get you an appointment," Sirius said, planting a lingering kiss on my forehead before leaving the room. 

*******

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Sirius bumbling around the bedroom as he got dressed for the day. I sat up in bed and started coughing a little.

I threw on a pair of Sirius's black jeans and an oversized, well-worn sweater that James got me for Christmas years ago.

On our way out the door, I grabbed a muffin from the container tray of them on the counter and Sirius grabbed his keys off the hook. 

As we approached the bike, Sirius handed me a helmet that I pulled over my head, stuffing the muffin wrapper into Sirius's pocket. He rolled his eyes at me as he pulled on his own helmet, but there was an amused grin on his lips. 

It was a quick five minute drive to the hospital and we got checked in fairly quickly. As we sat in the waiting room, waiting for my doctor, I was super jittery and nervous. I kept trying to find something to do with my hands, so eventually Sirius laced our fingers together. 

And then a nurse called my name and Sirius and I followed her back to a very familiar hospital room. 

"Dr. Weston will be right with you," she said with a smile before turning to go. 

Soon enough, Dr. Weston came into the room. "Ah, Remus, Sirius," he said in greeting, shaking our hands. I remembered back when I was little, Dr. Weston would get on his knees in front of me and shake my hand so he could look me in the eye. He didn't say it was nice to see us, because it wasn't. 

Dr. Weston took a seat on the stood across from the hospital bed the two of us were sitting on. "So what seems to be the matter?" He asked and I explained everything the best I could. 

"I appreciate you two coming in right away, some people wait too long. Even though it doesn't seem like much, it could be. I'll take some tests and I'll be back in a little while, feel free to wander, there's a new cafe on the third floor."

The doctor did his tests and then left us be. Sirius and I decided to go for a walk, stopping at the cafe for some coffee. 

When we got back to the room, we only waited a few more minutes before Dr. Weston was there. "Remus, if you'd take a walk with me," he ordered more than asked. Sirius and I shared a look before I followed my doctor out the door. 

"We're just going to take a quick x-ray," he explained to me as I laid down on the table and he put weighted covers over different parts of my body, leaving my chest exposed. Anxiety bubbled through me. It was a quick test and he asked me if I could find my way back to the hospital room and I said of course I can, so that's what I did.

When I got there, Sirius was nervously twisting the ring on his finger. I sat down next to him and we waited in silence. 

When Dr. Weston came back, he sat down at the stool again, but there was no happiness in his expressing. Sirius squeezed my hand tightly. 

"Do you want the sugar coated version?" he asked. 

"No," I said quietly. He'd been asking me the same question since I turned thirteen, and every time I answered in the same way.

"It's pneumonia again, Remus."

My heart sank, but I kept my head up.

"So it's back then," I said.

"It never left, rather."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius asked quickly, sounding rather choked up. "It's been eight years since he's had pneumonia last and these aren't even the same lungs!"

Dr. Weston sighed like he hated this part of his job, which he probably did. "It's seems that Remus has been carrying a dormant form of the virus in his cells ever since the first bout. The virus is lysogenic, meaning that the virus DNA has invaded his cells and reproduced along with them, so that by the time it's caught...it's everywhere."

I took a minute to process everything he said. 

"How do we fix it?" Sirius asked desperately.

"Pneumonia can be either a viral or a bacterial infection. This strain is a virus. We can fight bacterial infections with antibiotics, but there's nothing that can be done about a virus. We can treat symptoms, but it's up to the immune system to fight the pneumonia. And with a compromised immune system..."

"It'll kill me," I finished. He nodded sadly, "Yes."

Sirius looked desperately between my blank expression and Dr. Weston's pained one. "But-"

Dr. Weston interrupted, looking me in the eye. "The blood test I took this morning shows that your immune system isn't fighting the virus. I'm sorry Remus. By my estimate, I'd say you've got about four months."

I took a shaky breath. Sirius stiffened beside me and I took his hand.

"Would you like some time to--" Dr. Weston started.

I shook my head. "No, just get on with it. What else do we need to know?"

"Remus--" Sirius tried, but I shook my head again. 

"Well, for the last three years, you've kept a consistent 98% lung function, but since your last check up in October, it's dropped to 95%, not too dramatic, but enough to draw attention. You'll want to start coming in every two weeks to drain your lungs of fluid. As it gets harder to breath, you'll be wanting to start wearing your nasal cannula again. If you want to be hospitalized, we can arrange for that, but if you would like to spend your time at home, we can set up a hospice service for you. I'll write up some more prescriptions for your symptoms if you'd wait here."

I nodded numbly. In the time that he was gone, Sirius and I didn't say a word, each gripping the others' hand just as tightly. 

Dr. Weston came back and handed Sirius the slip of paper and wished us well. We got on the motorbike, stopped at the pharmacy, and then headed home. 

When we got home, I kicked off my shoes and tried to head straight for our bedroom, but Sirius caught my hand. 

"Hey, do you wanna talk about it?" He asked softly.

"No. I just wanna be alone for a little while."

"Remus, don't keep your emotions bottled up, please. If you need to cry, you can and--"

"I don't need to cry, Sirius! I'm going to bed."

"It's four in the afternoon."

"I'm tired."

He let me go and I was glad for it. If I had to look at him any longer, I'd start to cry. I didn't want to cry. I couldn't. If I started, I'd never stop.

I exchanged Sirius's jeans for some sweats and closed the blinds, making it as dark as I could. I wasn't actually tired, I just wanted to spend some time alone in the dark. 

A few hours later, after I listened to Sirius in the kitchen for awhile, he came into the bedroom and I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

He set a plate of food down on the nightstand and used his hand to brush my curls away from my face, kissing my forehead before walking out again. 

The food sat untouched.

I fell asleep at some point and was awakened hours later when Sirius came to bed. He reached his arm around me and rested it on my chest, pulling me into him. He snuggled his face into my neck and I let him, falling quickly back to sleep.

*******

The next morning Sirius and I sat around the table, a plate of eggs in front of each of us. 

"How are we gonna tell everyone? I don't think I could go through it more than once," I admitted, breaking the silence. 

"Then don't. We can tell them all at once," Sirius said. He'd been holding everything together for me quite well, but I knew he was just as torn up about it as I am. 

I gave him a look, tired of everything. "And what would you suggest?"

"We could invite them over for dinner and break the news then? Sort of rip off the band-aid? That way it only has to be said once."

I shrugged. "Sure."

Sirius gave me a sad smile, but I looked away. "Is tomorrow night good?" He asked to which I shrugged and nodded. 

Sirius sighed and got up from the table, taking our empty plates to the sink. He got out his phone and took a few minutes to carefully construct a text message before he sent it out. He pulled down a cook book from the cupboard and sat back down at the table, flipping through it to find something to cook. 

"Any preferences?" He asked, looking up to meet my eyes. I broke the eye contact and shook my head, standing from the table and leaving Sirius sitting there. I drew a bath with lots of bubbles and lit a few candles. Maybe that would help clear my mind. 

*******

Mr. and Mrs. Evans were the first to arrive to the dinner. Sirius and I got hugs from both of them and Mum squeezed past me to set the bars she'd made on the counter. 

Soon after, the Potters showed up, Lily squeezing through the gaps between people to give hugs, brandishing the bottle of wine she brought. 

James and Harry followed, Harry squealing and running around the living room as Sirius gave chase, demanding a hug, but only if Sirius could catch Harry. James patted me on the shoulder, gesturing his parents inside. 

Euphemia Potter pulled me into a hug and Fleamont gave me a one armed hug, as he was holding a bouquet of flowers in an expensive looking vase in the other hand. 

Lily gave me a peck on the cheek and hurried into the living room. "I'll hold him down, Sirius!" She called, joining in the chase. Harry shrieked in delight as he had to avoid his godfather and his mother. 

Lily caught him finally and swung him around as he screamed and laughed. "I've got him, I've got him!" She exclaimed, pressing sloppy kisses all over the sides of his face, wherever she could reach.

Sirius laughed and approached, tickling Harry and hugging him. Harry calmed down and Lily let him go with a smile. Harry let Sirius pick him up and wrapped his legs around his waist as Sirius hugged him.

"Hey, little man, how's life?" This was a customary question Sirius had been asking him since before Harry could talk.

"Oh, life's great," Harry drawled like he knew what he was talking about. "My daddy gave me a tattoo! Look'it!" He said, showing Sirius his arm. There was a sunshine press-on tattoo with a cheesy smiling face. 

"That's so cool," Sirius said. "Look'it mine!" he said, showing Harry one of his own real tattoos. "Whoa," Harry said. 

I jumped when Mum came up beside me, resting a hand on my elbow. "Alright, Remus?" She asked. She'd noticed how detached I was.

I swallowed and lied. "Yeah, m'fine."

She narrowed her eyes at me but accepted my answer and left to pour herself a glass of wine. I followed her, because wine totally sounded like a good idea. 

Dinner was a pleasant ordeal, everyone in high spirits as they exchanged stories and caught each other up. I couldn't find it in myself to enjoy it, though. I caught Sirius's eye and I could see that though he was doing an excellent job at acting carefree and happy, he was uneasy. 

At last, when the dishes were in the sink and everything was taken off the table, everyone was anxious to hear what we had to say. Sirius and I were anxious to say it.

James nudged Harry, who was looking longingly in the direction of the living room, bouncing around in his seat. 

"Why don't you go play with your toys in the living room?" 

Harry didn't need to be told twice. 

Lily bit her lip, her eyes shining. "So what's the news?

My heart was beating erratically and my hands were shaking.

Lily gasped. "Oh! Are you adopting?"

I couldn't help it. I started to cry. 

My face crumbled and all the tears, all the emotions I'd been holding back for the last few days came crashing down. I tried to blink back my tears, but it was no use. 

"What did I say?" I heard Lily ask quietly, worry seeping into her tone. Sirius quickly traded seats with Dad so he could pull me into his side. 

"Remus, honey, what is it?" Mum asked and I let out a harsh sob, curling farther into Sirius. 

"Shhh, shhh, just breathe, Remus. Calm down, love."

I took a few gasping breaths, pulling away from Sirius so I could wipe my eyes with my sweater sleeve. Everyone was looking at me. I saw James looking at Sirius and from their intense conversation through their eyes, understanding dawned in James's eyes that this wasn't any sort of happy news.

"I'm sick," I said.

No one spoke. 

My voice shook as I spoke. "It's bad. The kind of sick that doesn't get better. I'm gonna die."

Mum, with tears in her eyes, reached across the table and took my hand. Lily was holding James's hand and James reached out instinctively to grab his mum's hand. Soon, everyone at the table was holding someone's hand. 

"I'm sorry I assumed. I shouldn't have said--" Lily started, tears streaming down her face. 

"Just don't. Please," I interrupted. Lily nodded frantically, leaning over to rest her head on James's shoulder, where he rested his head on top of hers. 

With the sun setting, the lights dimmed, and the candles flickering, god knows how long we all sat there, a ring of clasped hands. 

*******

I could tell exactly when it started to get worse. I started to lose the energy to do much of anything as even the little things in life took more effort to accomplish. 

Sirius started doing most of the things around the house. I felt terrible that I couldn't help, that I couldn't contribute as much as I'd like to, but Sirius would always assure me with a smile that it was no bother. 

In June, roughly two months after the diagnosis, I took to wearing my nasal cannula. At first, I hated it. I'd gotten so used to being able to walk wherever I wanted without having to pull an oxygen cart behind me. I was quite impressed with my younger self and how used to it I once was. It didn't take me long to get used to it again though, sadly.

In July, Hospice volunteers started showing up at our house more often. They were helpful and kind, but I'd really rather they weren't here. Sirius and I talked about it and they limited coming to our house to once a week. 

James and Lily started staying at our house instead. They crashed in our spare room, the one with the pull-out sofa bed. I had my bookshelves in there and my easels.

One month, years ago when Sirius and I first moved into our new place, we slept in that room because I had been painting the ceiling in our bedroom. I painted it like the night sky, plotting out all the constellations and the moon and even some of the planets.

Constellations had become a pretty steady point of inspiration for a lot of my pieces. 

As time went on, I was taken off most of my meds, instead taking mostly pain meds for the aches in my chest. 

Harry was staying with Mr. and Mrs. Potter for the time that James and Lily were staying with us. Every few days the two of them would drive the hour to London to see him and spend a night before coming back to Oxford. 

As month three came to a close, my appetite shrank considerably and I was mostly just getting food through my G-tube. Sirius stopped trying to force me to eat, seeing as I couldn't keep anything down. I also couldn't get anywhere on my own, too weak to walk without Sirius, James, or Lily holding me up.

Most afternoons were spent with the lot of us sitting around either with me laying in bed or sitting on the couch with Sirius, me leaning into his side where he'd pull my legs up onto his lap. We'd talk about all the important things and the not so important things, too.

The Evans and the Potters came to visit too, every once in awhile, the Potters sometimes bringing Harry and trading him off with the Evans. Petunia even came to see me once or twice, leaving Vernon and her son Dudley, who was the same age as Harry, behind at home. 

A few school friends came to see me too, those that we kept in touch with. Alice and Frank Longbottom chatted with us for a whole afternoon, showing us pictures of their little boy named Neville, and talking about memories from University. 

August came around too soon, the last August I'd ever see. One morning I woke up and I knew that I wanted to be outside, so Sirius carried me outside and sat me down in the grass. He sat behind me so I could lean back into his chest and we watched the clouds and I got to feel the sun warm on my skin.

It was a good last day, I thought. I could feel it in my bones. This was it. The funny thing was, I wasn't scared. Not at all like I was when I was younger, when I used to think about death a lot. It wasn't some big, scary thing to me anymore. 

It's just death, I thought to myself and I smiled. 

I tugged on Sirius's shirt when I was ready to go inside and he scooped me up gently into his arms, using his extended fingers to pull the cart along. 

Lily and James were sitting at the table drinking tea when we got inside and Sirius sat down at the table and kept me sitting on his lap, right where I wanted to be. 

Lily tried for a strained smile as James got up to get us some tea. "You look happy today," she said.

I returned her smile, though mine wasn't as hard to muster. "I am," I said. "Happy, I mean."

"I'm glad," she said.

*******

That night, as Sirius laid me gently on my side of the bed and crawled under the covers himself, I used all my energy to scoot over to him and lay my head on his chest, listening to the comforting sounds of his heart.

I reached a shaking hand up to rest over top of his heart. He rested his hand on top of mine and kissed the top of my head, using the hand attached to the arm he had wrapped around my waist to run his hand up and down my back. 

I'd been thinking all day of what to say to him. What I wanted my last words to be. I wanted it to be perfect. How was I supposed to convey all that I needed to say with the breath I had left in me? 

How was I supposed to convey just how much I loved him? How I didn't want him to be sad that I was going to die, because I wasn't sad. That I wanted him to live out the rest of his life happily. That he shouldn't bottle up his emotions like he sometimes liked to do, and that he should know that he could talk to James and Lily. That even though I couldn't be alive to see it, I'd still be with him to the day he dies. That I would be there waiting for him in whatever comes next. 

Sirius flicked the lamp off and the room plunged into darkness. My eyes took a second to focus and when they did, my eyes traced the night sky painted on the ceiling. My eyes searched for the secret message I'd left there after I was diagnosed, while I was still able to hold a paintbrush, and I knew what to say. I wondered when Sirius would find it. The thought triggered another smile. 

"Goodnight, love," Sirius whispered into the dark, kissing my hair again. 

I pressed a kiss to his fingers, his hand still over mine, over his heart. 

"I love you to the moon and back," I told him.

"I love you more," he answered.

*******

Sirius

I woke up suddenly to light streaming in through our bedroom window. I breathed deeply, startled for a second at the weight on my chest. Remus lay there, head still on my chest, hand still on my heart. His face was slack with sleep, peaceful. 

But something was wrong. 

"Remus?" I asked, reaching over to brush his curls out of his face. He didn't react and my eyes suddenly started to swell with tears. I sat up, pulling Remus up with me. I pulled his legs over my lap so I was cradling him in my arms.

He wasn't breathing. His skin was cold.

I started rocking him back and forth, crying. 

"Hey. Hey, no. Remus, wake up. Wake up, please."

Of course he didn't.

I let out a sob, a terrible, guttural sob, pulling Remus closer to me. I wished I could hold him forever. If I had the choice, I would never let go. 

As the sobs came harder and faster, the door opened and there was James and Lily. The two of them climbed up onto the bed beside me, wrapping me up in a hug, and Remus in turn, from both sides. Lily had called the hospital with the news and an ambulance was on its way to take him away. 

When the paramedics came, I didn't want to let Remus go, but I had to. I kissed his forehead one last time and hugged my knees and sobbed once the weight of him was gone. James and Lily were there though, both of them crying with me, holding me together.  

A little while later, Remus's mum and dad came, sitting on the bed too. 

Dr. Weston stopped by that afternoon to say a few words. He shed a few tears as he squeezed my shoulder. He'd been treating Remus since he'd been diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis at two years old. 

I didn't want to leave the cottage at first, but the longer we spent sitting on our bed, in our room, in our house, I couldn't get out of there quick enough. 

James and Lily let me stay at there house for as long as I needed. When I knew I had overstayed my welcome, though James and Lily insisted they loved having me around, I moved back in with Mum and Dad for a little while. 

After Remus died, before the funeral, Dr. Weston met with us to explain that Remus's lung had collapsed that night in his sleep. Pneumothorax was the official medical term. It was rare, apparently, but occurred mostly as a result of Cystic Fibrosis or Pneumonia. Remus had both. It was when the air leaked into the space between the lung and chest wall, causing a lung collapse. 

Dr. Weston assured us that it was best how he went, in his sleep. He wasn't in pain, he told me. 

It was months before I was able to step foot into the cottage again. Everything was almost exactly as we'd left it. Mrs. Evans had been coming by to clean every once in awhile, keeping the dust off of things and watering the plants. She said she wanted it to retain the life it had for when I was ready to go back. 

I broke into tears the second I stepped through the doors. 

The basket of pill bottles was still sitting on the kitchen counter. The four cups of tea were still sitting on the table, another one of Remus's mugs on the counter and a few more in the sink.

Remus's plants were still alive, they'd lived through the winter, thanks to Mrs. Evans. The Spring sunlight shown through the window, catching the dust that was floating through the air. Spring, Remus's favorite. He used to say that it was a hopeful time. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't.

Remus's favorite blanket, the one with the wolves, was thrown on the couch just so from the last time we'd used it. I walked over to it and sat down on the couch and grabbed it, pressing it greedily to my face and breathing it in. 

The smell was weak from time, but it was there. It smelled just like him.

I let the tears flow, soaking the blanket. It was a ratty old thing, not even soft anymore, but comforting. I remembered back to that night when Lily was sick and Remus stayed over in my apartment. He'd shown up at my door wrapped up in this very blanket, like a cozy burrito.

As I walked down the hall, fingers trailing along the hallway, I thought back to that night. The night after Remus died. James, Lily, and I had sat out on the lawn outside of their house and watched the sunset. 

I had cried, and cried, and cried as the sun went down. 

I had heard once, that when a painter dies, they get the chance to paint the sky. 

Remus painted the sky in all our favorite colors. 

As I opened the door to our bedroom, the smell of him hit me. It was so much stronger here, where the door had evidently been closed since my hand was the last one on the handle.

Remus's book was there on the bedside table, unfinished. An empty glass that once had water in it on mine. I opened his closet, and took in the sight of all his sweaters of various sizes and colors. His scent was strongest here. 

I was just about to sit down on the bed when I heard a noise at the door. I retraced my steps to the front door to find that there was a wrapped package on the rug by the door. I bent down and picked it up, carrying it back to the bedroom. 

It was wrapped nicely, with a pretty bow on the top. There was a card tucked under the ribbon with Sirius scrawled across the top in Lily's handwriting. 

I opened the card and read the letter. 

Dear Sirius,

I understand today is a big day, you going back home and all. I've been meaning to put a book like this together now for sometime and I've only just gotten it done. I've left it with Mum and Dad so they could give it to you when you get to the cabin. James and I had a wonderful time going through all the pictures and putting the book together. We love you, Sirius. And even though he's not here anymore, Remus loves you too.

Love, 

The Potters

I tore off the wrapping paper to see a thick book. The tears that had just stopped started all over again as I traced my fingers over the engraved title. The cover was a dark, rich blue with gold stamped stars. Engraved in gold letters were the words In Memory of Remus Lupin and the Times We Shared 🤍.

Opening the front cover, there was another message.

Remus John Lupin, March 10, **** to August 9, ****. Lived to be twenty-eight years old.

Remus meant quite a lot to so many people, I find. He was my best friend for the better part of my life. We were always there for each other through thick and thin. He'd had a tough life with Cystic Fibrosis and his parents, but he could always find a way to smile. He had a perhaps unhealthy obsession with chocolate and he loved to read. He created so many beautifully pieces of artwork, whether with a pencil or a paintbrush. His heart was golden and when he loved, he loved with everything he had, with all of his heart. When he met his husband, Sirius Black, I watched him come to life in a way I hadn't seen in a very long time. Sirius was his saving grace and Remus was Sirius's saving grace in return. It was such a shame that such a wonderful life had to be cut so short, but the way I look at it, our loved ones never truly die. A part of them will always live on with us, in the way we use the love they gave us to love others, to maybe even love another in the way we loved them again. Remus only wanted you to be happy, Sirius. Let yourself be happy again, love. 

Written by Lily Potter.

I closed my eyes and held the book to my chest for a little while before turning the page and discovered that it was a photo album. 

The first few pictures were photos of Remus when he was little, ones Lily must have had to dig to find. The first was a picture of Hope Lupin in her hospital bed, smiling up at the camera with a little baby boy in her arms. The second was a picture of Lyall Lupin sitting in a recliner chair, gazing down at his baby son sleeping on his chest with the fondness only a father can have. 

The next was a picture of Remus, probably two years old, standing in a field of flowers wearing overalls, big rain boots, a yellow rain jacket, with his curls wild and the biggest, toothiest grin. 

Sirius had to wait for the tears to filter through so he could see again.

The next few were pictures of Remus in the hospital at various ages. All of them featured a smile and big, hopeful eyes. 

There was a bit of a gap and then a picture of Lily and Remus, most likely eleven or twelve, standing outside of the Evans' house with Petunia. They were in their school clothes, their school bags on their backs. Sirius guessed that it was a first day of school picture. 

The next several were Remus and Lily in their teen years. Some were the two of them together, taken by Mrs. Evans, but most were just Remus, taken by Lily.

And then, finally, an older Remus, the one I met. The earliest picture Lily had taken from their apartment was Remus sitting on that sofa in their living room, with all the plants hanging around them. Remus was reading a book, his nasal cannula tucked under his nose. He was oblivious to his picture being taken. 

The next was a shot of myself and Remus, holding hands, our favorite coffee shop ahead of us. 

Then there was one of the five of us on Halloween in our costumes. Lily had picked out a random stranger to take the picture for us. The corners of my lips pulled down into a frown of sadness, though I tried to smile, I really did. In the picture, Remus, in his yellow raincoat, holding his red balloon, was holding my inflatable t-rex hand. 

There were so many various pictures, some of the two of us cuddling, sometimes we were awake, sometimes asleep. There was a picture of the two of us ice skating and at Christmas. Regulus was in a few of them. Lily had taken pictures of all the things Remus had painted on us. 

And later on there were a whole bundle of pictures from our wedding and pictures that we'd taken on our trips. There were pictures of the four of us in New York, too, and with various people. 

There was a picture both of me holding baby Harry fresh out of the womb, and Remus holding him also. 

The last few pictures were more recent and they hurt to look at but they were a little bit beautiful too. 

The very last picture was a selfie I'd taken when we were in France on our honeymoon. I was holding out the camera with the Eiffel Tower in the background. I was kissing Remus's cheek as he faced the camera, a light pink blush on his freckled, scarred cheeks. His face was scrunched up in joy, his eyes closed and his hair crazy and wind-blown. 

He was wearing my very favorite smile of his.

I closed the photo book and laid down on the bed, setting the book beside me and closing my eyes, feeling the hot tears slipping from my eyes one after the other. 

"Thank you, Lily," I whispered to the empty room.

I stayed there for god knows how long, just breathing, thinking about the best times and the worst times.

When I opened my eyes, through my blurred vision, I looked up at the painted ceiling. The shades of royal blue and the gold of the stars. The red and blue and white and green of the planets. The gold and silver of the moon. 

And then I noticed something that I'd never seen before. 

There was something there. By the moon. 

I stood on the bed to see it and couldn't help but smile. I thought for sure I was all out of tears, but still more came. But these were happy tears.

There, written in Remus's cursive handwriting, in gold paint, was a hidden message, Just for me. 

I love you to the moon and back-

the end.