Chapter Text
Remus tramples through the stone pathway, past the decaying tombstones with faded names and dates of dead long since lost. He just came from the doctor’s office. Every test showed that, at the one year mark, there were no signs of rejection.
“Of course there isn’t,” Remus wanted to say. “This heart is the closest to my own I could ever get.”
He climbs up the small incline, taking his steps slowly. On the downslope, he spots the familiar plot, well-kempt and littered with flowers, between all the different people who come to give their love. Remus is grateful. He doesn’t come here as often as he thinks he should. Sometimes, he doesn’t have the physical strength. More often, he doesn’t have the emotional strength. It gets easier, though. Every day, it is easier.
He helps himself to the grass, not minding the dampness on his jeans, and he smiles.
“Hullo,” he says casually. “Sorry I’ve not been by for a minute. James must have come by recently, though, I see you’ve already got the newest pictures of Harry.” Remus reaches over and plucks up a wallet-sized photograph of the baby that is stuck between a few faux flowers in a plastic vase. “He’s getting so big, you wouldn’t believe it. He just started crawling last week, and it’s a disaster. He’s such a sneaky little devil, you would be proud to be his Godfather, I think. Don’t worry, though, I’ve got his Godfather’s heart. I’ll be sure to lend him a few tips on mischief once he’s old enough to understand them. Lily can’t get mad at me, I’ll just say they’re from you.
“Not much else is new, honestly. I’ve got a clean bill of health from the doctor, which is a first. Thanks for that.
“Um. I don’t know. I love you. I miss you. Daily. Hourly. Every second, really, but it’s getting better. Somewhat, anyway. Helping Lily prepare for the wedding helps keep my mind off of things. She’s so worried about still having baby weight by the time the big day rolls around, that I’ve had to hold the past five conversations with her while she was doing crunches in the sitting room. Be grateful you’re missing out.
“By the way, James made me best man. Technically, you’re best man, but we told him a cardboard cutout of you was tacky, and so he said since I have one of your vital organs, I’m the next best thing. He told me I’m not allowed to wear a jumper. They’re going to force me into a tuxedo, and I’m very upset about it, and I hope you know I blame you.
“Bollocks, I don’t know what else to talk about without getting upset, but look what I brought with me.” Remus holds up the copy of A Life Worth Living . It is starting to fall apart. The pages are all rumpled, and the binding is crooked. Remus loves it. “I wasn’t able to read it for a while, you know? I don’t know if it was the memories, or if I was just spiteful about all the talk about fate, or what, but I finally picked it up again. That means something, right?
“Well, anyway, I’ve talked enough about myself. You know everything about me already, anyway. I’m just going to be a storyteller, now, if you don’t mind. I’m at a really good bit, too, so listen closely, please.”
He cracks open the book to where he left off, finds his place with his pointer finger, and clears his throat.
He reads.