More angsty version. With execution

**REMUS**

“Accused of all charges and sentenced to the death penalty” Crouch’s voice echoed throughout the room.

Death he thought. That’s what’s coming for me.

Everyone always talked about not fearing the reaper. He thought he had wanted this only now he was facing the end his heart was racing.

So many things he would never do. He would never eat chocolate again, never read another book. The autumn rain would never touch his face. A summer breeze would never again ruffle his hair. James would never beam at him again. Peter would never again offer him home-baked cookies.  Sirius- no he wasn’t allowed to miss him.

But he did. All he wanted to do no was forgive him. To weep in his arms until the axe fell. Until his blood spattered the ground, until his heart stopped beating.

He wanted for Severus to start breathing again. He wanted to feel Sirius lips on his own. He wanted it to never have happened.

Remus wanted many things. None of which would happen.

Dimly he felt someone tug at his arms, cuffing them. He heard cries of outrage and pain. It all seemed far away. The earth were he would soon be forever buried seemed closer than voices around him.

Will i go to hell? He wondered. The question sounded childish even in his own head. Of course he would. He had killed someone, he was a monster. There would be a special place for someone like him in hell. If there even were such a place. He was raised to believe there was but he didn’t know.

His body may just lie rotting in the dirt for centuries to come whilst his soul just vanished. Darkness might be the only thing in store for him. A flash of light and then never ending darkness.

He might just watch everything going on. He would watch his friends grow up, watch them die. Watch them live entire lives without him. They might mourn him, for a while but then they would move on. No one would ever remember him. He would just be one more werewolf killed for murder.

Sirius might get married to some young girl and have kids. Kids with black hair and  dark blue eyes. He might get old, his hair turning grey and wrinkles forming around his eyes.

Would he meet his father? What would he in that case say?

There were so many different ways it could end. He hated them all.

Peter he thought suddenly. That was Peter crying and running behind him. Of course Peter would miss him. He would miss him too if he would be able to feel wherever he was going. Peter with his unwavering kindness and tentative smiles. His self-consciousness standing in stark contrast to James arrogance and Sirius bravado.

Peter, another persons life he would no longer be a part of.

He was just realising how much he had when it was all being taken away.

A churning in his guts and an inability to breath made him realise it was already too late.

Suddenly it all stopped and he was in a dark room. It was so cold, so unbearably cold. Chilling to the bone. The cuffs he realised weren’t normal cuffs. They hadn’t just removed his wand, they had shut off his magic.

Azkaban. That’s were he was. The horrible reality sank in and the bruises, cuts and burns along with it. Adrenaline wearing thin and the numbness coming off all he was left was with emotions of a wounded soul. The pain of a tortured body.

Gloom settled in on him. There was no hope. He would die. A loathsome black dementor swooped down on him.

Greyback was biting down on his stomach. Then he saw his dad cutting open his wrist, blood flowing freely, standing powerless as the life drained out of him. A silver cage and a crying woman walking away, tears in her eyes. His mother. Sirius after his parents used the cruciatus curse. Finding out what happened, seeing Snape’s pale disfigured form. Being sentenced to death.

It all struck him like blows taking out pieces of him. The gleams of happiness he had found being sucked out.

It was all too much. All too much he thought even as the darkness of passing out stuck out in his eyelids.