"Tonks!" I cry out, desperately, between spells. "Nymphadora!" I am so desperate that I had actually used her full name. If we both survive this, she would never let me forget it.

"I'm right here," and suddenly we're standing back to back, battling the Death Eaters that are slowly closing in around us.

We dodge the flashes of green light that come hurtling towards us continuously at the speed of light, and fire back every time, listening for the grunt or thud that shows that we hit our marks. That's the problem with being on the good side. They have no qualms about using the killing curse, the one curse that guarantees death.

And suddenly they're all gone, and during the brief respite we have, I impulsively turn towards her and kiss her. And then I let her go.

It has been days since this battle started; it has been years. And still I keep going on, keep fighting for the first place I truly belonged after my… accident. Fighting for all the young lives who had found their place here. Hogwarts is more than a school. It is a home, it is a place of love, and happiness, and things that we treasure. And if the home of these feelings is destroyed, then what's left to keep them themselves from drifting away? I don't know, I don't want to find out.

And so I go on.

I catch glimpses of people I know every once in a while. The bright and abnormally colored flashes of hair for my love, the bright flash of James' – no, Harry's glasses. How is it that of the four people that we were, the Marauders, the three people, brothers, I held the dearest, I am the only one left? It is not right.

And with this comes the realization – I should not live, while they don't survive. And I know that my time has come. I let out a strong battle cry as I raise my wand for what I know will be the last time, and plunge into the fray. I hear the calls in response to mine as people are revitalized and charge with a renewed energy.

After mowing down a dozen Death Eaters with little resistance, I begin to send curses at Antonin Dolohov.

He laughs as he effortlessly deflects my feeble magic, and I know that he is toying with me, that he could easily finish me off. But I have to try.

I can't give in without a fight.

I can't do that to the people of this school. Or the people of the world.

I can't do that to the memory of Sirius and James.

I try my best to weaken him, knowing any attempts to harm him would be futile. And, when he hits me with a "Petrificus Totalus!" I know that this is the end.

I want to close my eyes, to do anything to look away from the person who widowed my dearest Dora, and made my baby Teddy fatherless. But I can't; even if I could I wouldn't.

Because I am so strong.

So in my last moments I stare up at the psychotically grinning face of Antonin Dolohov. I see without seeing, I hear without hearing. His wand goes up right above my chest, and his lips move to form the words that will end my life.

All I feel: relief. The kind that you feel going to bed after a particularly long day.

And I. Can't. Think.

Except one thought that echoes in my head, the last thing binding me o this cruel, mortal world of pain and loss and suffering.

I'm sorry, Teddy.

A flash of green light, and then it's over.

I'm sorry.