Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter.
I'm not sure I like this beginning; it sets the wrong tone for the story. It's actually supposed to be a romantic one (MMHG) but this start stuck with me and I had to write it down.
This story ignores book six and seven. In it; Voldemort is dead but the deatheaters are still active and they are pissed off.
The title is temporary and borrowed from Depeche Modes great song.
She sighed as she lovingly placed the last book in her cart in its right place on the shelf, noticing how dusty it was. The spectacle wearing woman removed a handkerchief from inside her robes and started to wipe the many shelves and books off.
How she had come to love these books during her years at Hogwarts, the brittle pages with their folded corners and wonderful words. The woman had long ago stopped caring what they actually said; she just loved the pages and the beautiful words. Sometimes late at night she picked up a random book and whispered the words to herself, marvelling at their intensity. But there was no time for that now, school was to start again in just a few days and there was much to be done.
All of a sudden a noise could be heard from somewhere behind her. The woman turned around, her eyes searching for an old vulture-like man or a cat and her mouth was calling out for them. Suddenly a green flash of light came from behind a shelf, giving her no time to react or even scream.
Madame Pince's body hit the filthy floor as the man behind the shelf walked away, his steps echoing through the halls.