A/N: I haven't written in a long time, but I unearthed this story a while ago and felt compelled to post it for anybody interested. It is really quite short. Please enjoy, reviews are lovely. Also I don't own Harry Potter, but I will as soon as I find the leprechaun gold.
Harry was gone, chasing after Bellatrix Lestrange. Now was my chance. The chance to end it. The veil fluttered enticingly. I was tired of being the noble, self-sacrificing wolf. What was the point of being noble with nobody left to sacrifice for? The last marauder. My mouth twitched. I had always been a great believer in irony. Irony seemed to enjoy hanging over my life. The last marauder. Fifteen years ago I had been the last marauder. Lily and James dead, Sirius mad and evil, Peter killed by one of his own. Now, fifteen years later, I was still the last marauder.
Lily and James dead, Peter mad and evil, Sirius as good as killed by one of his own. It would be funny if it wasn't so tragic. Four people who loved each other more than anything, an unbreakable bond of faith. They betrayed me. All of them. To leave me this way. I had betrayed them by not doing this long ago. Now I could. I could make it up to them. I would run through the veil, and we would be together again. God, it was ironic. James had a family to take care of, Peter had to prove himself, Sirius had twelve years of his life to make up for, and I was the one who lived.
Ironic that the only one of us that had only his friends to live for should be the last one left alive.
I missed them. Missed them so much. Sirius. It hurt to think. The name burned in my throat and melted in salty tracks down my face. Sirius. A life so full of laughter and tragedy. A paradox. Sirius and his barklike laugh, his twinkling eyes. I didn't want to think about him. Sirius. It was worse than my entire life's worth of transformations. Sirius. But my mind wouldn't let me stop, there was only one way to make it stop. A veil had never looked more inviting. I moved towards it. Breaking into a run, everyone was grieving, rounding up the last few death eaters. Who would stop me? Who was left that cared whether I was dead or alive? I had rebuilt my life once. I couldn't do it again.
And then I was on my knees with a hand on my shoulder and tired blue eyes looking into my own, into my soul.
"Remus," Dumbledore murmured, "Harry needs you. Hold on."