Summary: Remus raises a drink to better times.
Author's Notes: I recently re-found a bunch of Marauders fic. So, I hope there's folks who still read the community and will enjoy this.
Her green eyes glistening, she'd always insist on listening to those LPs on Friday nights, when they'd mix drinks while crowded around the tiny kitchen table in her flat. For better or worse, they'd get together on Friday nights whenever they could, and piss the night away.
"The what?" Remus' eyebrows shot up, certain that he'd just heard unsolicited profanity coming from the readhead's mouth.
"The Sex Pistols. They're a Muggle band, Rems." Giggling, she patted his arm. "I'm sure you'll like them, at least a little. Sirius and James think they're brill." Her speech was only a little slurred, which told him that in another three to five drinks, she would likely be sprawled languidly across James. He, in turn, would probably be leaning on Sirius, and Sirius would want to have his head firmly planted in Remus' lap. More than one night had ended with the four of them half-asleep in a pile on the floor.
"Besides, I think it goes perfectly with sex on the beach!" Giggling again, Lily elbowed him playfully, now anticipating his shocked reaction.
His own mouth turning up, Remus couldn't help but chuckle. A sober Lily wouldn't be as crass, but Lily after a few drinks somehow regained the sense of freedom and playfulness she'd put carefully away sometime after fifth year. "See, Lils, that I know is a drink. Cranberry, orange, and pineapple juice, and a bit of vodka and peach schnapps, right?"
"More than a bit of the latter," she pouted playfully. "And since you know, want to mix me another?"
They used to tease her about being a girl and how she'd only drink girly frou-frou drinks, until she downed the rest of a bottle of Firewhisky, just to prove them otherwise. Sirius had applauded, and James was the one who held her hair back later that night. Still, they never teased her again.
Still, Remus mixed the drink for Lily. Even now, when his bony hands with their weathered, aged skin shook as he mixed the ingredients together. As he sat alone by candlelight, and God Save the Queen played softly in the background, for old times' sake. He'd always thought of her as being like the sun; the bitter irony in only being able to light candles and mix drinks for her ghost was not lost on him. He'd give anything for just one more night in her flat, the four of them in a comfortable tangle on the floor.
A million times over, he'd wished desperately to have been there. To have seen Voldemort coming, to have done whatever he could to stop him. Anything. Everything. Maybe that would've given them enough time to get away. Even if...
Sighing, Remus buried his head in his hands. Toward the end, they had moved from Lily's flat into the house that she and James shared, after their marriage. She got pregnant and stopped drinking, even though there was more cause than ever to want to slip away from reality for a few hours. Those celebrations around the table became tearful wakes for friends that had died, and her green eyes would glisten with tears she held back.
He hadn't even come close to giving everything for her. He had never been enough. With his fingers, Remus snuffed out the candle as the clock chimed one; the quiet, imposing solitude of darkness was no less comforting than what his melancholy imagination conjured up, night after night.