Practice

This is the final chapter. Get the tissues ready.

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Chapter Twelve



The funeral was huge. Emma was so bright and sunny - she had many friends. Remus sat staring straight ahead, Sirius, James, Lily and Peter on one side and his and Emma’s devastated parents on the other. He was unable to look at the coffin that now held his wife‘s lifeless body, the flowers - her favourite roses, the photographs of a healthy, happy Emma. The kind and complimentary words from the well intended about his wife and their sorrow at her passing flowed unheard over him as did the sobs from those around him. He’d already done his grieving - with his wife.



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She only just made it to Boxing Day, waking one last time and, surprisingly, she was stronger than she had been for weeks. She’d looked at him curled up in bed with her and smiled.

‘You have to find another mate,’ she said suddenly and he frowned.

‘Bit late to start thinking about threesomes, baby,’ he joked and she smiled at him.

‘I couldn’t share you,’ she said softly. ‘I kind of fancy you, you know. But…since I’m not going to be around much longer…’



His smile faded and for the first time since she was diagnosed, he let her see his fear. ‘We both know it’ll be tonight or tomorrow,’ she said gently. ‘I don’t want you to think you’ll only ever have one mate. I don’t want you to be miserable.’

‘Permission to be a little bit miserable?’ he asked, stroking a trembling finger over her face. ‘I do sort of fancy you a little.’

‘A little bit then,’ she relented. ‘Just for a while then get on with your life. Don’t hide away, Lupin. You’ve got a long life ahead of you. Don‘t you die with me.’

At that, he broke. ‘Em,’ he whispered, a sob shaking him as he laid his head on her chest. ’Please don’t leave me.’

In the face of his grief, she lost grip of her control as well, both of them crying together for the first time since the night she was diagnosed, whispering their love; their adoration as they held onto each other.

When her parents woke in the morning, Remus was still awake; still holding her, but Emma had let go.



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Just over a month after the funeral, Sirius, James and Peter appeared on his doorstep with two bottles of Firewhiskey and refused to take no for an answer, pushing their way into the house. He’d done exactly what Emma had asked him not to do - he’d hidden himself away and shut down. He was unshowered, unshaven, refused medical treatment for the horrific injuries he’d inflicted upon himself at the full moon, just one week after Emma’s death. His parents had bought a Healer to him, desperately trying to help him. He’d eventually let the man heal his wounds then sent him and his parents away.



He got absolutely ratted on the alcohol and all the pent up grief and anguish came flooding out. Sirius and James had deliberately watered down their bottle of Whiskey so they were sober enough to help him, listening to his rants about how unfair it was that he‘d lost Emma; then holding him as he sobbed. Then, once he seemed to have gotten a lot of it out, they wrangled him into a shower and clean clothes, Sirius casting a charm to rid him of his scraggly beard. They slept with him, taking turns to stay awake and comfort him when he woke sobbing, and the next day, gave him pain potions for his hangover and fed him the first decent meal he’d had in months. They laughed at Peter who they didn’t have enough potion for, and Remus could see the light at the end of the tunnel for the first time.

Emma didn’t want this; had told him not to do this, so he wouldn’t. His allowed miserable period was over and now, Emma would want him to start to get on with his life.

And he always did what Emma wanted.



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Nineteen years later



He opened his eyes, looking at an impossibly bright blue sky. He realised that he didn‘t hurt. Stretching experimentally: there was no pain, no aches.

‘Impossible,’ he thought with a frown. ‘I was hit. I know I was hit. Not even a useless prat like Dolohov could’ve missed that shot.’

Sitting up, he looked around. There was no sign of fighting; no sign of the fallen bodies; no sign of Hogwarts castle where the Final Battle had been raging.

‘What the hell?’ he mumbled then heard a voice behind him.

‘Not hell,’ it said. ‘Somehow, we went the other way. Go figure.’



He turned and saw Sirius Black grinning at him. ‘Hey, Moony,’ he said and Remus smiled disbelievingly.

‘Pads, how…?’ he stuttered, standing up. He looked around. ‘Where am I?’

Sirius’ face changed and suddenly he knew. ‘I’m dead,’ he whispered, eyes widening. ‘I’m dead, aren’t I?’

Sirius nodded. Remus felt a little shocked but accepted what he was told without question, knowing instinctively it was true. He was surprised he wasn’t more upset.

‘It’s nice here,’ Sirius said, coming closer. ‘You’ll like it.’

‘My son,’ Remus said, looking at Sirius. ‘I have a son.’

‘I know,’ the dark haired man said. ‘He’ll be fine. Tonks was sent back to him. It wasn’t her time.’

Remus nodded, relieved. He didn’t feel sad or angry or afraid. He felt at peace.



He felt different. He wasn’t tired. He wasn’t weary. He ran a hand over his face and felt smooth skin. His scars were gone.

‘No wounds here,’ Sirius said, watching him discover his healing. ‘No illness. You’ll still have the wolf inside you because it’s part of you now but you won’t transform again. Pretty good, huh?’

Remus nodded and looked at Sirius. ‘Are James and Lily here too?’ he asked and Sirius nodded.

‘Still as crazy about each other as ever,’ he moaned without malice. ‘It’s still just as nauseating.’



‘Is this where I’ll stay now?’ he asked Sirius who shook his head.

‘No,’ he told him. ‘This is just a meeting point. I was sent to greet you - although there was some argument about that. You’re a popular guy up here. Eternity is very much like real life, Moony. But there’s no pain; no fear; no sadness. Just peace. Not a bad place to spend forever.’

Remus nodded.

‘Plus,’ Sirius added, looking over Remus’ shoulder. ‘You get to reunite with the people you love.’

Her name popped into his head at the same time he smelled her scent. He spun around and, when he saw her, joy; unspeakable, indescribable joy that he hadn’t felt in years, flooded through him.

Emma.

Beautiful, healthy, healed Emma.

‘You got old, Lupin,’ she teased, laughing. ‘Good thing I fancy older men.’



A/N: Fin.