I put the barrel in my mouth and pull the trigger. Bang.
That's not the way a wizard dies. A wizard gets hit by a wayward spell, or blows up a potion. There's thousands ways for a wizard to die and it look like a complete accident. I think that's why I find guns so appealing.
Muggles are always finding new ways to die. News flash, an animal killed a muggle. In the wizarding world, same guy's lucky to land a page before the quidditch scores. Werewolf attacks only make it big because they've become so rare.
Not to mention its easy. Pull you're finger and bang. That's the end. No fancy spells to remember, nothing to mix. Muggles may be bad ata lotof things, but they got one thing right. Death. Quick. Easy. Death.
In the wizarding world, dying on accident is easy... Dying on purpose? That's much harder. Blew your face off with a spell? There's a potion for that. Giant lizard took off your leg? Got a spell to patch that right up. The spell to kill in an instant?... That one can't be done on yourself.
Its like a safety switch or something. You point the wand at your heart and get out "Avadaka-" and your voice dies. Right there. Every time. You have to mean the spell though... Maybe that's it. Some part of you can never really mean to kill you. The quickest most painless death in existence and it can only be used on those that don't want it.
Oh fuck. Its even the eleventh. I hate the eleventh. My best mate and his girl were killed on the eleventh. A month later the damn rat was "killed" on the eleventh and framed my other best mate, getting him sent to Askaban.
Now I've got three mates dead and the only one other thing living that remembers them like I do is the same that got them killed.
This scotch tastes like shit.
Now here I am, in the Blacks house. Waiting for my own death. If only I could get a damn gun.
These kids parade around like they own the place, certain they can take out the greatest evil in wizarding history. And I'm sitting behind them, cheering them to their own deaths. When mine is unreachable.
I think half the reason I don't do it is because I worry Molly will be the one to find me. Once upon a time I had a bit of a crush on Molly. But who could love a werewolf, right?
I don't want to steal her from her husband and family or anything... I just like red-heads. And she seems so sweet. Over bearing, but sweet. Why am I even thinking about this. Who could love a werewolf.
Nymphadora thinks she loves me. Silly girl. Silly child. I see her sweet face smiling at me like she understands and I want to scream "I'm an animal. Run, before I eat you... Before I eat you all up." Because I will.
She has a full life ahead of her, why is she wasting a thought on me. A damn wolf that cant even buy a gun. I know that if I was let loose...at the wrong time, on the wrong day... I would kill them all. Just for the sake of it.
I hate being a wolf.
Then Severus drops by. To remind me of what I am, of what I could do. Of how doomed we all are. He sounds like a bastard, bus sometimes I think he's the only wizard here with half a brain left in him.
Sending children to war.
I'd be sick if I didn't know I'd be the one to clean it up in the morning. Does Dumbledore really think we can save the world? Has the old coot deluded himself so far? The entire war rests on the shoulders of one incompetent child with a scar from his parents murder.
This scotch still tastes like shit.
I've been stuck in this house for goddamn days. I would say that I want to go home, but I don't believe I really have anywhere to go back to. I think of "home" and the only thing that comes to mind is the cabin where I got bit. That is not home.
Molly just walked in. She poured some milk in a pot and set it on the stove. I don't know if she know's I'm here... Well, she looked at me, so I'm going to assume she does..
"Would you like some cocoa, dear?" She offers, her voice soft and sweet. I nod unconsciously. I don't know if I want cocoa, but my mouth is dry and that sounds better than nothing.
I wish I could tell her. About the gun, about my fear... But what would I say? I say nothing. She adds some milk to the already heating pot and we sit in silence. She's still beautiful.
A small part of me wished Mr. Weasley had died that night with the snake... but a greater part of me is glad that there's still someone around to take care of Molly. It's not like I could have a life with her if he died, so I'm glad he's alive.
She asked me how I was doing. I nod without thinking. I'm just sitting here wishing I could buy a gun... Is what I want to say. "I'm good." is what comes out of my mouth.
When the milk is hot she pours out two cups and puts chocolate powder in both. She puts in cinnamon, and sugar, and what I smell to be a hint of nutmeg. She's a fabulous cook, even at 4 in the morning for a cup of cocoa.
Its 4 in the morning?! What in the nine kingdoms is she doing up? "Yer up late?" My words are slurred with alcohol, but I try to ignore it. Molly pushes a cup of cocoa in front of me and I accept it gratefully.
"My children are fighting on the front line of a war." She states. I nod. I wouldn't be able to sleep either. I cant sleep now, and I don't even have children. Molly opens her mouth to speak, but hesitates.
"You're a good man Remus, never forget that. a good man." Its like she can read my thoughts. I nod and lean in to take a drink of the cocoa to cover the tears welling in my eyes.
"Thank you." I mutter, as my tongue refuses to say 'I love you Molly, and I always have.'... That's just the scotch talking. Molly carries her cocoa upstairs as I watch. We're all fucked, but at least we have someone here to make us feel loved.
I don't want her for myself... I wan't her for us all. If everyone had their own Molly, I don't think anyone in the world would be sad. What if Voldemort had his own Molly? Would this war even be here if Voldemort had his own Molly.
Fuck buying a gun, I'm going to go out and be someones Molly goddammit. Now how in hell do I be a Molly?
((A/N: Its not really suppose to make sense, and I think that's what I love about it.))