Sax Rohmer #1 by The Mountain Goats.
The Order had left long ago, dragging a screaming Harry with them. Remus had followed, of course he had – he had to keep up appearances – but he had swiftly Apparated back. He sank to his knees in front of the archway now, one hand barely nudging the whispering veil. Hot tears stung his cheeks, and in the silence he allowed himself several sharp, broken sobs. All his maturity, his long years, carefully nurtured restraint – forgotten. He remembered the war, when James and Lily had died; it had hurt. It had hurt more than any full moon, and yet this was so, so much worse. It was the broken bones and new skin of the wolf, the hollow sorrow of the hospital wing afterwards, the uncompromising terror of the dementors. It was pain. Pure, scorching pain. He cried and cried for a very, very long time, until his eyes were red and dry and his voice was gone. He rested his forehead on the cold stone and breathed out, long and slow and shuddering.
"Come home." He closed his eyes. "Please, come home to me."