It had been a long night for Dvona. She had only achieved a couple hours of sleep when the dreams started to claim her and she flung herself out of bed, choking back a scream. The next several hours she spent sitting on the bed, her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, fighting off the memories. Seeing the school again, in shambles, had brought them back stronger than ever. All of the work she had done in forgetting that night was gone. Every once in a while she would shudder, and it wasn't until the sun rose and a dim light settled over the room that she unfolded herself. Making her way into the bathroom she ran the hot water, letting the large tub fill nearly to the brim before turning it off. The steam from the water had warmed the room quite a bit, yet even so she was reluctant to take off the sweatshirt she was wearing. It was dark blue, and white lettering spelled out Erisons across the front. It was all she had left of her school, and of her friends.

Folding it carefully she quickly stripped the rest of her clothing off and sank gratefully into the water. It had been far too long since she had last been able to take a bath. Reaching behind her she began unbraiding her long hair, gently massaging the scalp as she finished. The tight braid had hurt, but it had kept her from having to do anything with it for several days.

Taking a deep breath she sank beneath the water, looking up at the now distorted ceiling. The tiles that had just a moment before fit together perfectly now overlapped and fell away from their rightful places. The lines that had been so carefully designed to be perfectly straight were crooked, no two lines meeting up as they were supposed to. She smiled then, but it didn't reach her eyes. What a difference a little bit of water made. If that was the case, then ever since that night she had been drowning.

She stayed underwater until her lungs screamed for air and her vision began to go black, forcing herself to ignore her instincts. It wasn't easy, it never was, but when she managed to stay under for as long as she did she took a small amount of pride in the fact. Most people wouldn't have been able to do that. Nor would they have wanted to, the darker side of her mind argued, but she ignored it and began to wash her hair.

Half an hour later, after she was thoroughly clean and the water had cooled considerably, she carefully pushed herself up and out of the water, wrapping a fluffy towel around herself as the water drained from the tub. The mirror was still completely covered in steam, but she stood in front of it anyways as she methodically worked the complimentary brush through her dark hair. Her hair was the only thing that she had gotten from her father, or so her mother had told her. The thick, wavy black locks that her mother had so often combed for her as a child, not because Dvona had asked her to, and not out of love for her daughter, but because they reminded her of Sirius, the love of her life. The man who had forced her to go back to her family in America not long after graduation, for fear of Voldemort. She had done as he asked, for he had promised to join her as soon as he could. It wasn't until she was home that she realized she was pregnant, and at that point it was too dangerous to send letters, so Sirius had never been told that he was to be a father. Then, on Dvona's second birthday, her mother had gotten the news. Sirius had killed Peter, Sirius would be sent to Azkaban for life, Sirius would never return to her. The news had devastated Dvona's mother, and for months she had done nothing but lay in bed, unable to even get up in the morning. Dvona's grandmother had moved in with them then, and had taken care of the pair of them. It was supposed to be just a short-time arrangement, but Cathleen, Dvona's mother, had quickly become dependent on her mother to look after her daughter. In fact, the only thing Cathleen did for years to care for her child was to brush her hair nightly, tears running down her face as she remembered her lost love.

Dvona had thought her mom cried because there was something she was doing wrong, and for as long as she could remember she had done everything in her power to please her mother, but nothing was ever good enough. After loosing Sirius, she had never been quite the same, for she had lost a piece of herself.

The news of his escape had never reached them, for Dvona had been in school and Cathleen had been on some tropical island for much of that year. A vacation from life, she had called it, and claimed that she would come back and she would have moved past Sirius. So Dvona's grandmother had financed it, at a loss as to what else to do to help her only daughter. The news of his death two years later, however, that news they received. Dvona could still remember the horror in her mother's crystal blue eyes as she looked at her daughter for the last time before collapsing on the floor silently. Catatonic shock, the doctors had told Dvona and her grandmother. Cathleen's already weak psyche simply couldn't handle the news of Sirius's death, and she had shut down. She had been admitted to a hospital, and Dvona had visited her every Saturday during the school years, and every day during the summer, always the dutiful daughter. The summer she was seventeen her grandmother had died, and she had cried for days. Part of her then began to understand why her mother had done what she had done. Surly, laying day after day staring at nothing, never speaking, hardly moving, was better than this pain.

Even now, the look in Cathleen's eyes when she had been told the news haunted Dvona. And yet, she knew, when she had topped that hill, seen the destruction of her school, her friends and teachers lying dead on the ground, she knew her own eyes had mirrored her mothers. They may have been several shades darker, but they were still blue. And every now and then when she was thinking about that night, and she happened to pass by a mirror or window, she saw her mother reflected back at her.

Looking up at the mirror that was mostly visible now, she saw it again. How much she looked like her mother. The same high cheekbones, the same pale skin, the same long fingers, the same elegant neck. Yet instead of the blond hair her mother had been gifted, Dvona had received her father's hair. After her mother had been committed there had been more than one time she had found herself with a pair of scissors, about to cut her heavy hair away from herself. And yet, she had never gone through with the act, because as much as she hated the connection to the man that had destroyed her mother, it was still the only thing she had of his.

Setting the brush down on the counter she shook herself of the old memories and stooped to grab her clothes from the ground before re-entering the rest of the hotel room. To her surprise there was a note on the mirror, that said simply to check the dresser. As she read it the note faded and she was left looking at her own face again. Doing as it had said, she was shocked to see each drawer filled with clothes that were just her size. No doubt the dresser would provide clothes for whoever slept there, and she pulled a pair of jeans and a red tank top out with relief. Her own clothes were in horrid shape, she had bought them from a garage sale, desperate for something that didn't have blood stains here and there. Neither the shirt nor the pants fit her very well, and the sweatshirt was so precious to her that she hated to wear it when she could avoid doing so.

Once she was dressed another note appeared upon the mirror, instructing her to take a seat at the table near the window. She did so, and the table promptly filled with various breakfast foods. Taking just a slice of toast and a cup of coffee she went out on the balcony, but first selected a book at random off of the bookshelf that was behind the table. Settling herself on the railing with her back against the building, she sipped her coffee and opened the book. Surprisingly, it wasn't a magical book at all, but rather a muggle classic, and one of her favorite books. Wuthering Heights, all about unrequited love and the havoc it wrecks upon the lives of everyone involved. A slight smile on her face she instantly fell into the world of Catherine and Heathcliff, the love, the pain, the revenge, and the hope.

Several hours later found Blake knocking on her door, and upon receiving no answer after several minutes he tried the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. He entered slowly, aware that she could very well be changing or something. She wasn't, however, anywhere in the room. Her beat up duffle bag still sat on the end of the bed, her clothes were in a pile, and one of the drawers of the dresser was still partly open. Glancing around again he caught sight of her through the sliding door, sitting on the railing of the second story balcony, perfectly relaxed, reading a book with a serene smile on her face. The girl he saw now was vastly different than the girl he had found last night. Last night she had been terrified, and on the verge of tears. She had looked broken, as if the weight of the world would never stop bearing down on her. But this girl, no, woman, was beautiful. Perfectly at peace with the world, the sun making her black hair shine and her eyes very nearly glow. Her smile revealed dimples that he never would have guessed existed on the girl he had found last night. Glancing at the title of the book he saw it was called Wuthering Heights, and though he had never heard of it he resolved to read it. If it could put Dvona in such a good mood after everything she had gone through, then it must be a truly exceptional book.

He didn't want to disturb her, but there was no way to avoid it. The Minister had called for her, and Blake was sent to fetch her. Walking slowly so as not to startle her, he slid the door open and stepped out onto the balcony.

"Good afternoon Dvona. I'm sorry, but you didn't answer the door, and the minister…"

"It's fine." she cut in, flashing him a smile that made his heart skip a beat. "I always get lost in this book. Shall we go?" she didn't wait for an answer, rather, she slid past him, placing the book lovingly on the shelf before putting her few possessions back into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. Following her out into the hall, Blake caught her hand and hesitated a moment before aparating, if only to prolong the contact.

The appeared right in front of the Minister's open door, and unlike last night there were no other witches or wizards in the room this time. Blake nodded toward the door when Dvona looked at him questioningly, and she walked slowly in. He followed her, shutting the door behind him.

"Ah Ms. Black, there you are. Right on time. Please, take a seat. Now, this morning I realized that I never introduced myself. I'm Allen Muchins, Minister of Magic, though of course you already knew that part. And that there is Blake Sill, our newest auror here at the ministery. And he's already proving to be extremely valuable, let me tell you." glancing back at Blake, who was standing near the door, Dvona saw him blushing slightly at the praise.

"Now, for the reason I asked you to come, as I said there have been quite a few developments in the wizarding world since that night, all of which you need to know before you make your decision."

"Decision Sir?"

"Well, yes. Whether to retake your final year of schooling, or to simply take the exams. As I am sure you have realized, the attack happened a month before exams at Erisons. You are of age, yes, but you haven't graduated. Normally, we would require a student to attend a different school for a year, but you've always had top marks, so we are leaving the choice up to you." Dvona looked at the Minister in total shock. That was why he had called her here, to discuss how she would graduate? After everything that had happened, he actually though she cared about such a tiny, unimportant thing? The very thought of wasting so much time made her sick. Even if she didn't have to go to school for a year, she most certainly would have to spend several months studying on her own in order to be able to pass the tests, and for what? A diploma so that she could go on to get a job that she didn't want? Were they not at war? Didn't that matter at all to the man sitting across from her? No, it didn't matter what he said, she would not be wasting her time to get a diploma. All that mattered, now that she wasn't running from the very man who sat before her, was revenge. Retribution, for all of the lives that had been lost that night. Oh yes, all of the Death Eaters who had attacked had been killed, but the man who had ordered the attack was still terrorizing the wizarding world. That was what mattered. That was all that mattered.

"You said there were circumstances that would effect my decision." best not to reveal her plans to him. Rather, she was going to get as much information from his as possible before she made any kind of a decision.

"Yes, I did." now, a broad smile was making its way onto his face, though she didn't understand why. "Dvona, do you know how it was your father died?" surprised at the sudden change of subject, she shook her head slowly. She had never heard the details, only that he had died. "Well, I won't tell you the whole story, but basically he fell through a veil in the British Ministry of Magic. Now, up until recently, it was thought that anything that passed through the veil would be lost forever. This, however, isn't the case." Dvona was frowning in confusion. What did her father's death, or the way he died, have to do with anything? The minister was making no sense. "Dvona, don't you understand? Your father has come back. He's alive."

A/N: Yes, I know, terrible of me to leave it at that. Please, tell me what you think!