(Happy UK Mother's Day, as your fanfic mother I expect wishes back)

REMUS' POV.

Walking home from work was one of my favourite parts of the day, especially if it was a shift where I'm forced to be cooped up inside repairing boilers in cellars or god knows what I'm dimly lit rooms. In summer and spring the walk home was greatly appreciated. It felt good to get some fresh air again and hear the birds sing before the night silenced them.

I couldn't help but notice how still everything felt today, how peaceful the village seemed in the sun that was ever so slowly beginning to set.

With shopping bag in hand and cake for pudding secured, I fumbled with the key to my front door. My fingers felt sore. Overworked and tired, surely to develop arthritis with age. With multiple failed attempts, I decided to simply knock on the door instead. Stretching out my free hand that felt as if it was locking up and keeping me locked out.

No answer.

Usually I could hear Arty's slippers slap across the wooden floor from the other side of the door, in an enthusiastic run to answer.

I knocked again.

Silence.

I placed down the shopping bag and tried unlocking the door with my other hand, with hope there'd be less pain and struggle in my joints. Not with ease, but more easily, I unlocked it.

"I'm home!" I shouted out, wondering if she had fallen asleep. Knowing she'd struggle to go back to sleep later on if it were the case.

No reply.

"Arty?" I called out, whilst I kicked off my shoes and made my way into the kitchen to put the shopping away.

"Probably at Lily's." I mumbled to myself, flicking on the kettle to make myself a tea.

I stretched out my toes whilst I waited for the water to boil. Sighing in relief at the freedom from steel capped boots and the stability of flat floor beneath my sock padded feet almost resetting my stance.

"Oh for merlin sake." I sighed looking at the butter lid off to one side and knife covered in buttered crumbs in the sink, with a trail of toast crumbs on the kitchen floor near the toaster. The absence of a plate. She never uses a plate for her morning toast, I don't understand it.

I covered the butter and put it back in it's rightful place and flicked my wand to sweep up the crumbs into the corner of the kitchen by the back door. With the intention of brushing them out properly later on.

That's when I also noticed the washing still out on the line in the garden. A row of towels in a variation of colours hung out perfectly and probably bone dry by now after the sunny day we've had.

It was unlike Arty to not have completed the washing. She loved the smell of fresh towels and linen, even loved the act of folding and putting stuff away all organised and satisfactory to her eye. It was one of the household chores she jumped at the chance of doing, especially in the summer and didn't want any help with. It was unusual that they were still out on the line and long dried.

The butter not being covered and the trail of crumbs didn't feel odd. It was actually a frequent thing she forgets to tidy.

Something in how stiff the towels appeared all perfectly hung and abandoned there all day...left me feeling a little unsettled.

"Babe?" I called out.

Perhaps she had fallen ill throughout the day, taken herself to bed and needed catering to. The house felt so silent, though. No light sounding snores from anywhere around. Nonetheless, I decided to head upstairs with the steps creaking one after another behind me.

No lights were on, as they would be around this time. Usually I'd be happy about that, as I thought Arty always prematurely turned them on before it became necessary. But the upstairs under the blue hue of the open curtained windows seemed cold and empty.

I opened up the bedroom to an unmade bed on her side. Nightgown still open and collapsed on the floor beside the bed, from where she's stepped out of it to get dressed. The sheet still creased from her movement from the night before.

I never expected a perfectly clean house when I came home. It's nothing I've forced into Arty as 'her role' but she's always simply...taken it on. She takes pride in our house and loves taking care of it and the things she owns. She may not get on top of cleaning and tidying straight away but it's always done by the time I get back.

The bed is always made a little too tightly.

The washing is always folded, sometimes put away in the same day - but usually left on the dining room table in piles of mine or hers.

There's always a lamp turned on upstairs, as soon as she deems it evening and it stays on all night, even if we close our bedroom door and can't see it on.

One thing she never fixes after herself is the sofa cushions. Thrown in all different directions depending on how she's decided to sit that day, whereas I prefer an order.

With that thought I decided to go back downstairs and into the living room only to see...the perfectly organised cushions I had placed the night before.

She hasn't even sat down on the sofa today? But she loves reading a chapter or two with her lunch here?

I decided to sit down, attempting not to overthink. She's probably just gone to Lily's, helping out with Harry and got lost in the time and distracted by her friends. It's totally okay to not live by a consistent routine. We all break out of them at some point, why not today?

I got comfy and waited for her to come. I knew she wanted to cook dinner tonight, and I had to bring the pudding. Otherwise I would have started to put something on for us.

One hour went by.

Two.

Three.

And suddenly I was sat alone in darkness. Having not moved to switch on the lights until I had snapped out of the weird trance of waiting.

I glanced at the clock that was quietly ticking monotonously in the background.

"9:47?" I questioned out loud.

My stomach grumbling confirmed.

I got up from my seared position and started flicking on the lamps around me. Walking back into the kitchen towards the house phone to phone James and see if Arty was there.

As I walked in and turned on the main light I suddenly noticed a piece of paper by the dining room table. Folded and limp as if it had drifted off in a breeze like a badly structured paper airplane.

I bent down and before I could skim over the handwriting that I recognised to be hers; the phone started ringing.

I almost jumped out of my skin, the sound in the silence of the house feeling like low level assault.

I placed the paper on the table and went over to answer. Expecting Arty.

"Hello!" I said enthusiastically.

"Turn on the radio." James said flatly.

"What?"

"Wiz News. They're about to recap. Turn on the radio, we're coming round." He said and hung up immediately.

I obeyed, going over and turning on the radio that sat proudly in the corner of our kitchen next to our home grown herb section.

"News at 10." The host began.

"Tragedy strikes in Hyde park, London. Where a number of magic and muggle folk get into life threatening altercation with now arrested wizard. Identity is unreleased to the press, at this moment."

I frowned at the announcement. With the political climate currently, crime rates were just getting worse and worse by the day. So many wand fights being reported within the last couple of months. Now muggles being involved?

"That must cause some difficulty for the ministry." I said out loud.

"Around noon today an unfortunate attack occurred that has left many injured and a number of fatal casualties, both magic folk and Muggle alike. Our reporter Fraser Fawn, has the details." The host transfers onto another journalist.

"Thank you, Sloane. With limited knowledge to the crime scene details, we must wait for the ministry to release the information as to who and why this attack occurred today in broad daylight." Fraser Fawn began.

"The unnamed wizard has been described as 'crazed' by witnesses with claims that he was on an 'emotional rampage'. The attack around noon today, lasted approximately half an hour , with many victims being hospitalised or announced deceased at the scene of the crime."

"awful." I shook my head.

"Five muggles have been reported as injured and eleven reportedly have died at the scene, one Muggle in serious life threatening condition. All currently being dealt with by the ministry to protect the veil between our two worlds. Which has been exposed and removed today." 

"Merlin!" I said in shock. Surely this was a hate crime?

"Amongst the casualties, were three of our own. All with great regret, have been confirmed as deceased at the scene. It has not yet been confirmed what magic was used, but needless to say...a massacre has occurred today and more information will emerge within the next few. Back to you Sloane." Fraser ended.

I shook my head. Horrified by the number of casualties. Fourteen already confirmed. A rouge Death eater, undoubtedly.

"With greatest sympathies to the victims families, I will now announce the confirmed deceased from our side of the veil and confirm a memorial to what has been named 'the Muggle massacre' will be held and announced at the ministry of magic within the next week. The confirmed deceased are-" Sloane continued.

"Marlene McKinnon of Leeds, Yorkshire. Aged Twenty-one."

My breath hitched.

"Peter Pettigrew of Plymouth, Devon. Aged Twenty-one."

"No." I said in a coarse whisper. Clutching at the hot mug in my hands, not feeling the way it burnt.

"Artemis Black of London, England. Aged Twenty."

The mug smashed to the floor, my body feeling weak. My ears beginning to ring by how deafening the silence was after the crashing, how loud the walls started to echo the emptiness of the house.

"Lupin." All I could manage to respond, a correction.

"Lupin." I repeated, frozen to the spot in my kitchen when I had been bolted to the ground. A sinking feeling that pulled me aggressively to my spot. The sudden recognition of gravity as a sensory stimulus. It weighed upon me like a suffocating blanket of dirt that made it hard to breathe or move.

"HER NAME IS LUPIN!" I suddenly shouted at the radio, picking it up and smashing it against the floor next to the shattered mug and pool of tea.

"Her name is Artemis Lupin." I sobbed, falling to the ground as if someone had also thrown me aside.

I could feel my body trembling, an awful vibration that made my stomach churn and heart rattle so brutally that I could feel it falling to the pit of it, ready to be rejected from the body that I couldn't even feel as my own.

I felt on fire. The kind of intense heat where you confused it as freezing. Not knowing whether I was hot or cold invaded my veins, but the feeling of the intensity and discomfort was undeniable. My body shook as if the sun had disappeared completely. As if the very concept of warmth had become a total myth.

I could feel every nerve in my body, as if I were about to transform without the force from the moon. Each finger tip tingling, my face stinging.

And yet I felt completely numb. My brain not connecting that these sensations belonged to me, completely detaching from the concept of self and having a physical body. I felt as if I was like the boiling liquid beside me, spreading across the floor next to the shards of ceramic.

I didn't exist other than a pool of scolding  liquid that needed to be held and contained to stay together. Both clinging to the floor desperately seeking direction that leads to a place of rest instead of endless struggle- separating from one self.

There felt like there was an empty void between my ribcage. A hollow starving black hole where my heart once existed. It had disappeared, somewhere I couldn't locate but I knew it was still in me; mourning.

Suddenly I could feel hands touch my back and I snapped around.

"Arty?" I breathily gasped out.

"No, honey." A pink eyed Lily knelt down beside me and let out a sob.
"No."

James came into the kitchen. Face blotchy but holding it together. He instantly flicked his wand to clean up the spill beside me.

He looked at the piece of paper that had gone unread on the floor, for the second time. He went over and picked it up, giving it a glance over.

His eyes locked with Lily's and with a confirming nod to her they both let out a gasp of tears.

I scrambled up from the floor and over to the letter that had caused such a reaction. James held it back, folded it up nicely and stepped away from me.

"Don't damage it. I'll put it away for you." He said sadly and went off upstairs.

"I don't understand." I sobbed looking over to Lily who was still on the floor where she had come to comfort me.

"Neither do I." She cried back.

I collapsed onto a dining room chair. Tears starting to go dry and stiff on my face. A numbness taking over me.

My head pounded. A violent thumping that felt as if someone else could have heard it, also. My entire body felt heavy. Yet it didn't feel real. None of this felt real.

I felt aware that I was starting to slip away from myself. Starting to lean into the comfort of shutting everything off. The emptiness feeling better than the excruciating pain of a truth I didn't see yet as reality.

My throat felt sore.

My eyes felt sticky and heavy.

The migraine made it feel as if my brain was swelling.

My skin felt like TV static and I was on standby.

"They..." Lily gulped, trying to find her words amongst sobs.

I felt as if I looked at her in slow motion. Mouth hanging open and my head lulling. Fingers twitching to avoid going numb.

I felt so tired.

"They went to see Sirius. All of them." Lily pushed herself to lean against the wall, almost melting into it.

"Lily..." James finally spoke up as he lingered in the doorway, shaking her head at her.

"My best friend had died, James." She looked at him with wildly confused eyes.
"Marlene's gone. Peter! Arty! They're all dead!"

I felt sick.

James' silence was deafening.
Lily's sobs heartbreaking.

I felt sick.

"You guys need to leave." I whispered weakly.

"We- no Remus, we have to be together right now." Lily pushed herself up from the floor and stood there, arms limp and exuding despair.

"I need to be alone." I said, though it didn't feel as if I was speaking. Not really. It felt like I was dreaming.

"No, you don't." James said and went over to hold Lily's shaking body.
"We're not leaving you."

And suddenly I gagged. A sour, metallic taste filling my mouth. My stomach feeling as if it had been kicked in.

I threw up slightly down myself and suddenly I felt as if I was back in the room again. The feeling fully returned to my body. My ears unblocked from its ringing and my vision focused.

And there it was, my heart. It was there back in my chest and it was breaking. Horrifically, inhumanely.

I grasped onto my chest. Finger nails clawing at my skin as a desperate form of trying to hold and clutch it, if I could hold myself hard enough perhaps I could keep myself together.

My grasp weakened, I couldn't do it.

It wasn't worth it.

Nothing meant anything anymore.

With her, my whole entire future just disappeared from underneath me.