Odd things had been happening all over Britain since Voldemort was defeated. Very odd things.
People had been... returning. People who had never been expected to return, people who were previously... dead.
They just kept randomly popping up where they died, with no warning. It had started with Barty Crouch Snr, then Bertha Jorkins, then Alastor Moody and many more. Thankfully only people from the light side were coming back to life.
Tessie twirled her drink around in it's glass, the colourless liquid swirling gently in the cylindrical container, it's strong smell dancing against her nostrils. She stared blankly into the drink, cheap vodka may have not been the best option, but it was the best for forgetting. It meant she could do what she liked then be oblivious the next morning with the slight side affect of a throbbing headache, yet unfortunately didn't make her forget the deep grief and hurt to the point of absolute traumatisation that ate at her inside. The emptiness that consumed her could not be masked, no matter how much she drank. She could try to let go, but knew on a subconscious level that it would never work. She set the drink down on the table. She needed to face up to her problem.
She missed him. She finally admitted her strong love and burning passion toward him before he was unexpectedly taken from her. He had slipped right out of her fingers. And she was left hurt and alone.
