The wind howls through the hollow shell of what used to be a home. The faint scent of ash still lingers in the crisp October air as Remus stands in the ruins of the Potter house, his breath misting in front of him.

“They were supposed to grow old,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he kneels next to the crib.

James, with his infectious grin. Lily, with her fierce kindness. Gone in the blink of an eye. The weight of it crushes him anew every time he allows himself to feel it. And then there’s Sirius—a ghost of loyalty turned traitor in the eyes of the world.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Remus mutters, his voice hoarse. His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he looks at the shattered remains of a family he loved more than anything.

He knows he should leave, but his legs won’t move. Every memory plays on a loop: Sirius’ barking laugh, James' confident swagger, Lily's warm smile. And the silence that followed.

The full moon is only two nights away. He feels its pull, its cruel reminder of the monster he turns into. No more James to tease him about his oversized sweaters. No more Sirius to sneak him chocolate. No more Lily to remind him he’s human even on the nights he feels like an animal.

“Moony?”

Remus flinches at the sound of a voice behind him, breaking through the fog of his grief. A soft hand lands on his shoulder—you.

"You shouldn’t be here. You should go back," he says quietly.

"No," you respond firmly, stepping closer. “Not tonight.”

The silence stretches, and when he finally turns to face you, his eyes are filled with grief, regret, exhaustion.

"I failed them," he whispers. “I failed all of them. I should’ve known. I should’ve been there. I—I should’ve done something.”

James, Lily, and Sirius were the gold that lit up the shadows of his life—the warmth in every cold night, the light in every dark corner. But now that they're gone, all that's left is indigo creeping in, staining everything it touches—a cold, endless twilight where the sun will never rise again.