Why are hospital rooms always painted white? I never got that. Ok, so they say it's clean, but it doesn't look clean to me. It looks stark, pale. White means death in some cultures. That's cheery. Maybe I'll join one of those cultures and campaign for hospital rooms to be bright pink.

There's a sense of foreboding in the air as I enter this particular room. Maybe it's because I've barely slept in 3 days. Or because Olivia's shaking (I don't think she realises she's doing it). Or maybe it's because I'm dreading what I'm about to see.

We're approaching the bed now. They've put curtains up for us, to give us some privacy. Liv's right beside me. She's been really brave these last few days. I mean, she's had to look after me, and take care of the house and the owls, though if she feels anything like I do, she'll be wishing she could drop everything and just…

There she is. Lying there, completely still on the bed in front of me. Her eyes are wide open, they look glazed, but that's just because she's not blinking. I step closer to the bed; quite a loud step, so she knows I'm here.

"Hi Mum, it's me, Vaila. Olivia's here too."

"She can't hear you Vaila."

How does she know? How can she possibly tell? For all she knows, Mum could be completely conscious, just lying there, crying out through lips that can't move, pleading for a familiar voice to speak to her, just so she knows she's still here. Maybe she needs to hear the voice of someone she loves to give her the incentive to move.

I continue.

"It's a really nice day. The sun's out, there's no clouds in the sky, it's lovely."

No reaction. Her eyes didn't even light up. Maybe she can't see me; maybe I'm out of her range of vision. I move closer still and lean over so I'm right in front of her eyes…

Nothing. Just the same glassy, blank stare.

I sit down, feeling slightly put out. Olivia's sat on the other side of the bed. She's not saying anything. Maybe this reminds her of when Dad died. She was only three and she's never told me how much she can remember about him, but she gets all upset if anyone mentions him, so I've always thought it best not to ask.

"We thought you might like a visit," I continue. "I doubt if you get many visitors – the ministry's so busy and as for family…"

Olivia gives a small cough and shakes her head, as if to say, "Dangerous area, don't go there." But she still doesn't speak. No one speaks for a few minutes and I can't stand the silence. It's so oppressive, it's weighing down on me and I have to break it.

"School's going well…"

*

We've been here about half an hour now. Liv's gone to get a drink and talk to the Healers. So far, all we know is that Mum was fighting a group of Death Eaters, alone. One of them did something to her – it might have been a curse, or a jinx or a hex, we don't know. Liv asked a Healer if Mum had been given the Draught of Living Death, and the Healer told her it was possible. Anything's possible. Anything…

No, I don't want to think about that. I grew up without my Dad, and I can't face losing her too. But looking at her, at her glazed eyes and still, cold figure, it feels like I already have.

No, mustn't think like that. Let's go back to talking, that helped before, didn't it.

"Liv's gone to get a drink. I think she's talking to the Healers – she quite likes one of them – he's quite young and fairly good looking. If I didn't have Matt…" I give a small, nervous laugh.

"But I do. Everything's wonderful with him. Can I bring him home at Easter to meet you? If he wants to come that is. But I'm sure he would, he's always going on about how he'd love to meet the famous…"

"Vaila, you're babbling."

I was so caught up in what I was saying that I didn't hear Olivia come back in. I also hadn't noticed the note of panic that was rising in my voice as I spoke, desperation flooding through me as she doesn't respond.

"There's no point Vaila, she can't here a word you're saying."

"Shurrup," I mutter.

*

We've been here for nearly two hours now, and there's been nothing. No slight twitch, no light in the eyes. I keep feeling my hope slipping away, before I tell myself that everything's going to be ok, that she'll wake up. Just five more minutes.

But in two hour's worth of 'five more minutes,' there's been nothing. I'm holding her hand – it feels cold and still. Why can't she just squeeze my hand? Just a tiny bit? Just so I know she's ok?

A single tear slides gently down my face and splashes onto her cold arm. There doesn't seem to be any life left in her at all, she's slipping away from between my fingers, I'm losing her.

More tears, faster and heavier now. I've tried to hold this back but I can't. I'm losing her and there's nothing I can do about it. It'll just be me and Liv from now on, the Rosewood sisters against the world. I'll be like all the others, all those who've lost their parents. All those whose lives have been torn apart by him. He, who specialises in causing misery and destruction, he who…

Olivia's back. She's put her arms round my shoulders and I know she's crying too. I can't deal with this; someone ought to prepare you for when this happens. Or maybe you just can't be prepared; maybe it's not possible.

"Let's go Vi," says Olivia's voice from somewhere by my right ear. "They'll let us know if there's any change."

Slowly, resolutely, I get up from my seat. It feels like I'm giving up hope, there are no more 'five more minutes'; they've done no good. I get to the edge of the curtain and turn back for one last look.

Wait, did she just, did I just see…

"Olivia!"

Liv comes running back across the ward towards me.

"What?"

"She blinked, I just saw her blink, I know I did!"

We both fly back to the edge of the bed and stare at her eyes, waiting, pleading for something to happen.

But there's nothing. Five minutes pass, ten. Olivia looks up at me and nods her head towards the door. In silence, we get up and walk away from the bed, the last glimmer of hope fading. Maybe I imagined it - wishful thinking. Maybe if I wish hard enough, she'll do it again. I stare hard, wishing for all I'm worth, but there's nothing.

"Come on." Olivia's tugging at my arm. I take a final look at the figure who has been there every day of my life, the figure I've sometimes taken for granted, but always loved, no matter what. Lying silent, alive but lifeless. I turn and walk away, not knowing if I'll ever see her alive again.