It is quiet here. She is but an outline before the dying embers, and feels as though she is naught but an ember herself, slowly fading away into ash. She watches them as they turn from orange to grey; their feeble attempts to be ignited once more reflecting dully within her eyes. She wonders what purpose it serves for them to even try, as they must know as well as she that their efforts are in vain. Hermione/Ginny