He remembered Remus dragging him into Muggle London, years before. Claiming he needed exposure to how the other side of the world existed. It had been oddly quaint, once he acclimated to the lack of magic usage.

Browsing the small shops, exchanging smiles and nods with other patrons, he and Remus had felt refreshingly normal for one afternoon. ( Read more... )

[ooc: After this.]

He retreats to the room, their room, collapsing onto their bed.

LilyisalivethereisnoVoldemortnoevilnopain...The words are jumbled and confused in his mind ( Read more... )

He had never understood the American custom of Thanksgiving. After all, how could one be proud of an event that eventually culminated in the genocide of entire peoples ( Read more... )

He didn't have time to cry out.
Moony, I love you.
He didn't have time to say goodbye.
Harry, this isn't your fault. I had to protect you.
All he felt was a falling sensation. No fear, no pain, no anger.

Ground was beneath his feet and he looked, seeing a doorway in front of him. He turned the handle.

So, this is death?