A (probable) series of short drabbles, all about the lives of those in the first war, and the second. Definite angst.
Remus
Remus looked around at his friends, laughing in the Gryffindor common room together. James and Sirius were throwing marshmallows at each other. Peter was chuckling wheezily, shooting them both admiring glances. Remus was smiling sadly from behind his book. It was their seventh year, their final year. And war was brewing. He knew he would be the first to die, but that was okay, because he'd been given a chance to live...
Many years later, Remus sat in the Gryffindor common room. War was on the doorstep, the fire was empty and no laughter could be heard. "It's time, Remus, quickly!" Kingsley ushered from across the room. The troops were lined up, waiting to be taken outside, all probably wondering why one of their leaders had taken them up here first. Remus ushered them all ahead of him, and followed behind. As he did, he looked back at the common room that had been his home.
He would be the last to die, but that was okay, because he'd been given a chance to live...