A/N: Nearly to the end now! I only have Theme #0 left, to return to zero. It's been long, and tiring, and thank you for reading!
"Go to the end with me, Moony," he whispers, "and let's make it such an end."
You look into those storm-grey eyes, and you feel yourself want to walk into them and drown, and you see the bold truth in them, and you wonder who could ever deny him anything.
There is no life without him, and you know it, you always had.
"Yes," you whisper, "yes, yes, yes."
And then he kisses you, urgent and fierce and taking what is his, and as you feel both your excitement stir, you give in to the red of passion, and you lead him back into bed, and pray that the end will be like this – you locked in his arms, his eyes silver in the dark as he arches above you in pleasure – and you pray that this will be the last thing you see.
A week after he fell from you into the veil, you find yourself crying bitter tears, sitting here in this unmade bed, his hair still caught on your pillow. You find yourself admitting that you were never surprised by the events of that night, that you had known it the second he turned to you at the door, as you were all getting ready to disapparate, telling you, with that hard grin of his, that it was time to give life hell back. And because you have always been the hesitant one, Death passed you by and only took him, and now you wait, as you always have - his Moony, his Moony who is howling brokenly in this human skin – wait, wait for me, my love, I will keep my promise.