The pain she'd tried to numb after her mother's funeral nearly two years ago had sunk in, and no one could stop it. There was no one there to stop Hannah's pain, to distract her from it. She was alone, just as she figured she would be for quite some time.

For all she knew, she and Neville could have been walking for hours and days. The cobblestone streets in Diagon Alley were endless, just like the number of days that made up our lives. She could see the sun as it sat on its perch between a few clouds, beaming down on the world below. But the miles of road were incessant, never ending, and Hannah wasn't really sure how much longer she could pretend to listen about Sarah.

The voice was hauntingly familiar, so familiar that she didn't even want to pick the face from the pool of them gathered on the cobblestone streets. As she walked, 'Hannah!'s following her, she bowed her head, staring at her sneakers as she walked as quickly as she could, passing the shops she needed to go into (a stationary shop, the joke shop...). Her heart pumped blood quickly through her body, faster than could be healthy, and she quite literally jumped when she felt a hand upon her shoulder.

His thought process was quickly interrupted by a sound he never thought he'd hear again, and never in the form he was hearing it: her sporadic laughing was sweet, if a bit scratchy, and to him, it was like a bell. Kind, peaceful in its own way, and always happy. It wasn't bitter as one would expect it to be given the circumstances, and a smile twitched on Neville's thin lips as he looked over at her.