"Quite a lot of weirdos out today," muttered a muggle man who was sweeping the walk in front of his shop. He'd been at it just a few minutes, but been stopped no less than three times to be asked the way to Broomwood Road. It was just such an odd road for folks to be asking after - being a mostly residential street in the fairly quiet borough of Wandsworth. Especially for midmorning on a school date when the students were at their desks and the residents were hard at work. And they'd been funny people, too, dressed in cloaks, two of them, and one in a grey wool suit with no less than twenty-eight buttons cross the breast. The muggle man shook his head and went back to sweeping the walk before stepping into his shop and flipping over the open sign that hung in the front window. 

The Broomwood Road ended at Wandsworth Commons, a park where one would often see young mothers pushing their babies in prams and old men sitting on benches and reading the daily with their shaggy old dogs asleep at their feet while they took in their pipes. But the Wandsworth Commons had a secret. It housed within itself a plot of land disillusioned to the muggle eye, tucked just between the pond and Baskerville Road. This plot was a wizarding cemetery - the Broomwood Cemetery - maintained by the Ministry for Magic, where there had been buried many fallen heroes from over the past two centuries.

Aurors were posted by the entrance to the Broomwood Commons, seeing arrivals went smoothly, greeting guests who arrived on foot and disillusioning muggles who wandered past, keeping up the charms that would repel the muggles long enough for the ceremony.

"Constant vigilance, boys, remember," Mad-Eye Moody growled for the hundredth time that he'd made 'rounds to check on the aurors at the Commons gate. "Constant vigilance. You Know Who's struck less populated funerals than this. Top notch security must always be vigilant..." and he'd knocked them 'round the legs with his cane before clunk-clunking away, back for another 'round of the grounds, anxious as he moved without stopping.

Harold Minchum, the Minister for Magic had already arrived and been seated, and many members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were doubling up as guests and aurors on duty in order to maintain safety.

October had stained the leaves on the trees of Wandworth gold, red, and orange sand brought with it a brisk coolness to the air that nipped and made the aurors thankful for the thick woolen uniforms. It also had Remus Lupin wearing two jumpers and a brown-and-burgundy plaid scarf that he wrapped twice about his neck. Two days before the full moon, Remus was doubly thankful for the baculum charm which had made his wand into a cane, which he leaned heavily upon, hand gripping tight on the bulbous end which contained a moonstone. Beside him walked his husband, stoic and wearing black trousers, a black shirt, and a burgundy vest which matched Remus's scarf quite nicely. Sirius's black leather boots were laced properly and all the way up, tight around his ankle instead of flopping about like he usually allowed them to do. He had his hand on Remus's back, gently guiding him, at the ready to help him stay upright should the cane be not enough and his knees chose to go out.

"Nearly there," Sirius kept muttering.

Remus nodded, his teeth grit. It was October's moon, and there was a pain in his jaw that had him grinding his teeth to exert pressure on and lessen the pain. He'd been rubbing under his chin and clenching his teeth all week and the closer it got to the moon, the worse it was getting so that shooting pain rode up through his temples.

Lily and James Potter and Peter Pettigrew were already seated at the gravesite, where hundreds of dark grey folding chairs had been put out surrounding two graves at the top of a hill overlooking the pond. Beyond, the skyline of London proper loomed, the Thames winding away in it's serpentine shape. James turned and got up to help Remus shimmey into the seat beside him as they arrived, holding onto Remus's left eblow and his wrist to keep him steady as Sirius helped him scoot in. Remus sank into his seat and groaned as his knees bent and the weight of his own body lifted from his feet. He winced and leaned back. "Oh gods damn," he muttered.

"Deep breaths, Moony," Sirius said quietly, running his fingers over Remus's curls at the back of his neck, staring with concern at his husband.

"Oh Remus, why didn't you disapparate in?" Lily asked, frowning with concern and leaning forward 'round James to see her friend.

"He's afraid he would have splinched," Sirius said in a hushed whisper.

"Oh that would be terrible," Lily agreed.

"And he thought your motorbike was a more viable option?" James asked, incredulous.

"We took a cab," Remus corrected through his gritted teeth. "That motorbike is a death sentence even when I'm perfectly healthy. I would never dream of going near to it now."

"He says that now, but once he jumped out of the window of a flying motor car and onto the back of my motor bike nearly a mile high, just to snog me," Sirius intoned. "And that went perfectly spiffing."

"Yes until Gideon Prewett showed up and --" Remus said, speaking before fully thinking through and utterly regretting it the moment he did.

Utter silence fell over the five of them as Lily sat back, James and Sirius both turned to face forward, Remus stared at his hands, and Peter leaned into Lily's shoulder and closed his eyes.

James hung his head and stared at his trainers, bouncing his knee with anxiety. Lily touched the top of his knee, her palm splaying over it, and he felt a rush of warmth pass through her palm that spread suddenly through his entire body. He closed his eyes.

Sirius had just done the same thing to Remus, taking his hand and holding it tightly in his own, their fingers laced together. Remus leaned into Sirius, who released their hand grip to put his arm around Remus's shoulders as best he could because of their height difference, and hugged him closer. Remus's head rested against Sirius's chest as he leaned down and Sirius stroked his hair.

Suddenly from behind them there came the sound of bagpipes and James whispered, "Here we go."

Remus sat up and Sirius's hand returned to being lace-fingered with his.

The caskets were carried in, then. One before the other, four aurors apiece. They were carried, too, not levitated, James noticed. This was considered a special honor at Wizarding funerals - especially for aurors killed in action, he remembered once reading in one of the Ministry for Magic handbooks. It symbolized the giving of strength. Because the auror had given his or her strength for the sake of the wizarding world, the aurors of the Ministry gave their strength to bear the casket's weight. It was a small thing but the symbolism was very large, and James bit his lip thinking of it.

The aurors carried the caskets to stands that stood side-by-side at the front near to the graves and they put the caskets down, then lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, all eight of them, at the head of the caskets, right arms laid over their hearts as their left hung down.

Frank was one of the four on Fabian's side. They could only tell the difference between the caskets because they'd been engraved with a large F and a large G. A design like peacock feathers had been engraved into the wood as well with a silvery-blue ink so that the caskets seemed to glimmer in the sunlight.

In the front row, a string of Weasleys sat - Molly and Arthur, hugging tightly as Molly cried - Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Bilius, holding one of the two twin babies while Bill held onto the other. James noticed Bill, who was only eight (nearly nine), had tears silently running over his cheeks, and Charlie (six) was staring down at the ground, a red book he held hugged tight to his chest, his eyes unfocused. Charlie was rocking himself so that his little red haired head nodded as he went forward and backward, but he was holding tiny little Percy's hand tight in his own as Percy looked around wide-eyed, chewing on his other hand - a mere three and having no real idea of what was happening.

On the opposite side of the aisle, James could see Dorcas Meadowes, her chin held high and level, dressed in a black dress with a tiny hat in her black hair, a net of lace that covered her forehead and big round black glasses covering her eyes. Her lips were painted the brightest red he'd ever seen and beside her sat an older witch, who held the crying baby, whose tears were punctuating the music until it stopped suddenly and only the baby's wailing filled the space around them for several seconds.

Harold Minchum stood up and he walked up to the front, bowed to each of the two caskets - very low - and then stood between them and raised his wand to elevate his voice's volume over the chairs. "Last week, we lost two of the Wizarding World's best. They fought together for our world, tirelessly, and in a way which seemed effortless and even joyous at times. Never, in all of my years serving at the Ministry - as Minister and before as a head of several departments and in the ranks of aurors before that - have I ever met any that were as brave, selfless, and down-right hilarious as these boys." He waved his palms to the caskets. "Before we begin ceremonies, we shall hear a few words. Miss. Meadowes?" Harold Minchum moved aside.

Dorcas Meadowes stood, shaking, and she walked over to the front. Her fingers grazed over Fabian's casket, but she lingered by Gideons, of course, and her hand touched the wood. She pulled a small book from her pockets and cleared her throat. "Gideon and I met at Hogwarts and we shared a lot of dreams, and we read a lot of poetry together - it was sort of our thing... we -" her voice cracked and tears sprang to her eyes and she wiped them quickly with the back of her hand. "We were always marking them for one another and his - his last words were a poem to me. And this is one I have selected to  - to give back to him, and - Oh Gideon, darling, if you can hear it just know these are the words in my heart I don't know how to write."

Dorcas paused and closed her eyes tight, great tears falling over her cheeks, and she took a deep breath and said, "Loss, by Winifred Letts...

In losing you, I lost my sun and moon
And all the stars that blessed my lonely night
I lost the hope of Spring, the joy of June,
The Autumn's peace, the Winter's firelight
I lost the zest of living, the sweet sense

Expectant of your step, your smile, your kiss;
I lost all hope and fear and keen suspense
For this cold calm, sans agony, sans blisss...
I lost the rainbow's gold, the silver key
That gave me freedom of my town of dreams;
I lost the path that leads to Fairie

By beechen glades and heron-haunted streams

I lost the master word, dear love, the clue
That threads the maze of life... when I lost you."

Dorcas's breath was shaky, and she paused, took a deep breath, "Gideon would've wanted me to end this on a happy note, but I honestly... I can't think of any of my own, so let me just - I - I woke up the other day to a note he left, spello taped to my forehead so I'd find it when I got up... It just said, I wanted to kiss you when I saw you sleeping but didn't wish to wake you... so I kissed this note and left it for you to collect it when you wake. I love you and I'll see you soon, don't forget me while I'm gone, love, but don't waste away your entire day thinking of me, either... Smile and have a good laugh... and I'll see you when I see you."

Dorcas looked up from the little square of paper in her hand. She hesitated, then lifted the sheet up and pressed it to her lips. She turned and stuck the paper onto the side of the casket labelled G, and said, "I'll see you when I see you, darling."

She hurried back to her seat, tears wet upon her cheeks and she held out her arms to the woman she'd been sitting beside, taking the baby up in her arms and pressing her face into the folds of the blankets  that surrounded her daughter.

Silence fell over them all and then Alastor Moody stood up and walked up to the front, his wood leg causing a pattern of clunk, step... clunk, step... clunk, step... until he'd reached the caskets. He stared at them for several seconds, then turned around, staring over the crowd with his magical eye. 

"Most of yeh know who I am," he said, voice gruff and low, "Those of you that don't, I'm Alastor Moody. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement - boss over the department these two chuckle heads helped to run. I wouldn't've believed they could have died, the way they lived. Never took anything serious, which for an old codger like me who takes everything too serious... sometimes that's something I need in my life, whatever I might've told them, I think they knew it. Godric Gryffindor, I hope they knew it." He was quiet a second then, shook his head and looked up.

"I remember the day they walked through the door of the Auror Training Center the first time, all laughter and smiles, like they thought everything at the Ministry was going to be fun and games, like they thought being aurors meant being hot shots. That ended real quick when Prewett One decided at showing off and stuck his wand in his back pocket too fast and nearly blasted off one of his buttocks and had to be spliced back together by the healer on staff. Never have you seen a more embarrassed chap than that, at the mercy of the pretty healer girl that tended our aurors, first day on the job, with a blasted buttock. I'd like to tell yeh that they took things a bit more serious after that, but they never did, these two were full of pranks and antics their full life through. The number of damn times I had to shout for one of the two of them to finish their own damn sentence without the other one butting in --" he shook his head.

"And hell if I could tell them apart. Only can now because the caskets are engraved, even. They took advantage of me - every damn day I'd be givin' one of them orders and the other would chime in 'I'm Giddy and he's Fabulous' or vice-versa, and I'd get so bloody angry and loose my temper and the bloody larks would laugh their arses off as though it were the funniest damned thing on the earth itself. And so help me I'd laugh later when they weren't there because they couldn't know - they couldn't know I thought they were the funniest blokes I'd met in a long damn time. They couldn't or else they might not take serious the fact that any moment they spent fighting the dark forces we see everyday is a moment that they were risking their lives. CONSTANT VIGILANCE, I told them time and again and they repeated it back at me like damned mocking birds..."

He sighed. "The office ain't the same without'em. Too quiet, you know? I ain't done a thing worth doing this week except sit in my office and think how I ain't in their's yellin' up a storm over whatever new thing they've pulled. I keep waiting to open my filing cabinents and find them jinxed to spit files out at me or to walk in and find my office flipped upside down... or else touch the door and find myself port-keyed to a loo in the basement. You never bloody could tell what they were up to, always somethin'..."

Moody paused.

"They were the closest thing to sons that I'll ever have."

Moody turned around and stared at the two caskets, shaking his head. He turned back 'round then and he said, "Which is why it's my own honor to bestow upon them the Orders of Merlin, First Class for their services to the Ministry for Magic in the fight against the rise of the Dark Lord. May the might of Merlin be upon you lads and may the light of magic course in your veins." 

Moody reached into his pocket and withdrew two medals on purple ribbons, heavy gold medallions. He held them up for everyone to see, and then he turned and he handed one to Dorcas Meadowes, who sobbed and nodded as he let it drop into her hand... and turned to Molly Weasley and held the second out to her. Molly took hold of it and she clutched it to her chest. 

There were many words words and honors bestowed. Stars were sent into the sky in their honor, there were dedications made of placards that would be hung in the Ministry for Magic's Halls, the promise of a white peacock to be loosed in the cemetery to guard over the graves, donated by none other than Mr. Newt Scamander himself... The Minister gave a great speech on bravery and sacrifice and how the gift of a selfless attitude bestowed life upon those left behind, and a stirring promise that the world would see brighter days because of the twins' efforts against He Who Must Not Be Named.

When the caskets were lowered into the ground, everyone stood and held their wands high, the tips glowing with lumos charms, magic throbbing through the space as the twins were laid to rest. 

One large stone was placed over the graves to mark where they lay and etched upon it was the following:

Fabian Prewett | Gideon Prewett
1954 -1979
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ORDERS OF MERLIN FIRST CLASS
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Never One Without The Other
& Never Either Without Laughter