Sirius strode down the streets of London, wand drawn, in full wizard's robes. People stared at him open mouthed, but he didn't give a fucking shit. There was only one thing that mattered to him anymore. Dawn was just strong enough to light the street in a blue-ish ethereal way.

Sirius knew exactly where the fucking little cowardly rat would be hiding. Sirius was getting close, he could smell it.

Suddenly he was there. The road widened into an open square where early-risers were just beginning to go about their business. And there, exposed, terrified, and utterly pathetic was the slimiest fucking bastard Sirius had ever laid eyes on.

"Worm!" Sirius spat, "I'll… I'll…"

But before Sirius could think of something sufficiently derogatory and threatening to say, Peter was coming forward, speaking.

Sirius raised his wand. Now or never. He would destroy the disgusting, murderous, coward. All of the pain in his soul had caught fire. It was this fire that now consumed his very being that he would throw at the one sickening little creature that had killed his brother and himself. But before he could utter the curse he had never before wanted so badly to use, he caught a word of what Peter was saying.

"What have you done, Sirius?" Peter exclaimed, tears sliding down his cheeks.

Sirius was caught so off-guard he could think of nothing to say. His wand fell limply to his side. Sobbing, Peter took another step forward. "Lily and James! Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?"

Sirius felt his mouth fall open, but there were no words to describe his horror, his hatred, his utter revulsion. "I'll kill you, Sirius! How could you?" For a moment Sirius thought Peter really was going to kill him, but then, a millisecond before it happened, Sirius realized what he was actually about to do. Peter shrank and then was gone. Sirius brought his wand up to stop him, but it was too late. An explosion rocked the street. Of course, Peter had made sure it wouldn't get near Sirius. There was no way he'd let Sirius die. He was too cruel for that. Sirius felt his wand slide out of his fingers. Dust clouded his vision and his breath. He coughed hysterically. When he managed to open his eyes, the first thing he saw was a pile of bloodied robes on the ground. Next, he saw a huge crater, and pale, empty bodies, draped in a tragically comic manner over the imprecise destruction of a madman.

For the first time since his life had fallen apart, Sirius began to sob. His sobs were wild, insane, and ragged. They ripped through his chest and tore his throat. He felt like the mangled remnants of his shattered heart were pouring out onto the dusty street to be trampled by those who would soon come and grant him sweet death. No one was left alive to see him, but had someone been there they would have thought they heard the cries of a dead man. It was utterly pathetic, terrible and filled with agony. It was no less than the admittance of ultimate defeat.

The only people who had known that Peter was the Potter's secret keeper were either dead, presumed dead, or an about-to-be-convicted-murderer. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Sirius had murdered his best friend with his own wand, which now lay broken on the street, unable to prove anything otherwise.

Lily was dead. Prongs was dead. Stella was as good as dead. Moony was all alone in a world where no one was left to understand him. Harry was going to grow up with strangers who wouldn't- who couldn't possibly love him like James and Lily would have. And Wormtail? He was free. He was free of blame, free of the ministry, and free of the pain that one could only feel for the loss of pure love. He had outdone them all in the end. And the only one left to suffer for it was Sirius. Because in truth, the real blame lay with Sirius himself. It was he who had betrayed them all. With his own stupidity, he'd murdered everything he'd ever loved. And so, his heart died.

Within seconds ministry workers appeared on the street. They ran toward Sirius, wands drawn, but Sirius had already given up. His sobs turned to laughter. Insane, mirthless, laughter that rang with all the pain Sirius had ever known. It was ridiculous, utterly absurd. How was it even possible for a person to feel so much pain and still be alive? And Sirius hadn't even begun to face the reality of James's death. He was still asleep, really, still dazed. He hoped with all that was left of his soul that they would kill him before he woke up to the truth of this nightmare.

A/N: This is probably the last chapter... I've written one more, and maybe I'll add it as an epilogue, but this seems like an ending. I wish it didn't have to be so sad!