I just basically did three pages of bullet point outlines for this whole plot story. In case you haven't read the others which is morelikely than not, this is kind of part of a series. Check them out if you feel like.
I own nothing, and if I did, practically no one would have died. Of course, it would also be written a lot worse, so I guess that's a good thing.
It never stops. It had been six years. She still lived in London, in her flat. Smoke poured out the window from the cigarette in her hands. The window was open even though it was January. She was curled up on a chair, Van Morrison playing softly from somewhere. The place seemed empty. She was alone again. Remus had left five years ago. She saw him on holidays and on other days, occasionally, but never that much. Her Ministry job was okay, someone had to organize and keep control of files and reports. She got to read. A smoking tea cup sat on the side table against the wall. She was lonely, again. Her only companion seemed to be music these days; music, smoke, tea, coffee, chocolate, and work. That was it. She hated it when someone from work asked if she wanted to go out for a drink, or if she was going to the Christmas party. Against her better judgment she always went, and she always ended up shit face in the corner after not talking to anyone and barely able to apparate home. She looked out of her window and saw lights. People walking together in groups down the streets, some alone. Some would sing, other were hurried with places to go, and most seemed to be celebrating. Of course there were always a few sad old sods that would be walking down with a bottle of something. She stayed tucked inside, living through other people more than anything else these days. If anyone was sick in the office, anyone she liked, they would be sure to get soup and a homemade quilt. If they were sad she would listen to their problems until they were better. She helped but she was always detached from everyone. She was tired, and weary, and so sick of living. She sat there without making a sound in her depressing red jumper and baggy jeans. Hair was blue for the holidays. Another blue Christmas where she observed but did not participate. "It's not my job to."She closed her eyes and imagined herself to be warm, on a green couch smiling softly in the dark. "It's easier in the dark."She felt so tired, not old. Why should she, she was only twenty five. The holiday season was the worst. She smoked the rest of the cigarette, closed the window and drank some tea, then placed the mug back down. She took off the jumper and blue jeans and changed into red, yellow, and brown striped pj bottoms and an old white shirt that used to belong to either James, Sirius, or Remus. She turned out the light and tucked herself in. "Happy New Year everybody."