Summary: Each Halloween, their memories haunted them rather than a ghost. They remembered the lost of their friends…and the day their friendship crumbled into dust. Maybe the Marauders weren't eternal.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Nothing's Forever

He forced a smile on his face, nodding at Sinistra chattering animatedly, her hands barely touching her fork. He stabbed his potato angrily, cursing the woman and the whole school in his head. His eyes roamed across the Hall, decorated in bats and glowing, giant pumpkins. The students laughed and chattered amongst themselves, enjoying the feast immensely. How could they be so damned happy when today…this day was an important anniversary of sorts? When you think of anniversaries, you assume a wedding anniversary. But on the contrary, this was anything but a happy anniversary. It was the anniversary of when the Marauders died forever…when they lost three of their number. He sighed, hating himself for deciding to join the feast. Halloween reminded him of everything he wanted to forget…of every bitter emotion he contained within him. James and Lily died twelve years ago. Sirius betrayed them all, confided in Azkaban…Peter destroyed by his hand. Remus lost his faith in the Marauders twelve years ago, their bond of friendship destroyed by a single act of betrayal. He blamed it all on Sirius Black, once counted as his best friend, his brother, a fellow Marauder.

He pressed his forehead against the rough, stone wall, his eyes squeezed shut. Cold flooded through his chest, tingling through his veins. He bitterly slammed a fist on the wall, satisfaction flowing through him as warm blood trickled down his stinging hand. He was used to pain, the only real emotion he felt in years. The Dementors never weakened him. They only robbed him of his reputation, his friends, his life…never of the sickening memories he replayed in his head over and over again. He remembered today. It was twelve years from Lily and James's death…twelve years from Pettigrew's betrayal…it was twelve years that he was shut in that hellhole only to find himself enclosed in a dilapidated shack. Pain was what surged through him as he searched among the rubble of the Potters' house to discover their bodies on the ground. It was pain when he saw his godson, taken away to his aunt and uncle's house to live a life of ignorance to the magic world. It was pain to realize his friend betrayed them all…threw their friendship away in the dust…broke the Marauders apart and weakened them. It was pure irony for him to end up in Azkaban with his remaining friend to believe that he killed them when a little rat betrayed them all. The little rat simpering by his master's side…the rat who robbed him of everything.

He huddled in the corner, his eyes staring into the darkness. He knew what today was. The day he killed Lily and James…the day he sent Sirius to Azkaban…the day he killed several Muggles with a single blast, cutting off his finger to escape into the sewers with other rats. A tinge of guilt crossed his face but quickly faded. He was strong. He wasn't the little rag the Marauders dragged along in pity, but a grown man with no fear and no guilt. Lily and James deserved to die…it was all for his Master. Yet, here he was, a pet rat belonging to a redhead boy, Ron. He ignored the hunger in his stomach, the unsettling worry and guilt churning inside it. He was strong. He sent Black into Azkaban, killed the Potters, and several Muggles. Was he afraid of his Master or of Sirius's wrath? Perhaps both… He was not a coward. No, far from that. He was strong, independent, and cunning. He was no longer the chubby little boy who adored Sirius and James, only to find that he would never become them. Never become the popular boys…only the tagalong--the wannabe of the group. Every group needed one, and he was theirs. But he ruined them all, didn't he? He sent them into hell…and they were to face their fates along as he did, also. The problem was that if he damaged the others, he hurt himself. The Marauders were connected. Whatever happened to one, happened to the others…they were one. But he separated them with a price. A terrible price of lives and reputations…of happiness. He gambled it for him. Was he selfish? Yes. He only wanted to be strong. Yes, he was strong. But if he was strong, why was he crying?