Everyone's leaving the house.

One by one, they go off: to their next assignment, to their families, to the lives they lead apart from this wretched existence.

I can hear their voices in the entryway below me. Quick goodbyes, final instructions, plans and promises all uttered in hushed voices so as not to wake anything better left sleeping.

Like me.

Here I stay, stagnant, a sentinel who's post is now unneeded. I once guarded a life, now life has once again blow past me. I'm left grasping at the wind.

Since his death, since his leaving, I walk the floors of this horrid house; searching for him, desperately trying to find some part of him. Haunting his memory.

If I can save his scent, if I can just keep a part of him here, then I've convinced myself that everything will be alright. He won't really be gone if I don't let him go.

Now the voices are slowly leaving. The children are being herded out the door, the other members of our rag-tag army are dispersing.

I hear a voice, one that violently reminds me of a better time.

"What about Lupin?"

A silence stretches across the void. I hold my breath, waiting for something I cannot identify.

"I'm sure he'll be alright, Harry. Now come along, we can't be late to the Crossing."

Molly Weasley, ever efficient, ever moving forward, shuts the door behind the voices with a loud crack.

Like a death knell.

And so I, the last of the Marauders, sit alone.

Everyone has left the house.

Except me.


Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to J.K. Rowling. The idea was brought to me by my poka-dotted plot bunny, Hubert.

A/N: Written for HonorH's LJ "First Line Meme". Hope you enjoyed it!