Dominic was sure that he was going to die soon. What was once plump cheeks was now near skeletal. His lips were constantly cracked, sometimes bleeding, and his throat was hoarse from the lack of talking. He hadn't eaten in at least two days, ad was very weak. He didn't realize how much was at stake when he lost his wand, and the people that worked in the shops, lived in the houses, around Knockturn Alley were getting to be wiser about putting out dishes for the stray animals. It rained the night before last, so Dominic was able to collect a bit of water, but it was barely enough to wet his mouth, certainly not enough to sustain himself. The run down building that he was presently living in was bound to cave in at some point, given that half of it was already. The basement seemed sturdy on the one side, but there was nothing to say it would stay that way. Was this his fate? Dominic kept seeing flashes of his wife, but they were momentary, not like before. It was possible that the closer he came to perishing, the less his mind kept bringing her up. That was a sad fact, since her presence would have made it all the easier.

Dominic was curled into a ball on the hard floor, hidden by utility shelves. They wouldn't do much if the rest of the house fell in, but it was at least a bit of cover now. Dominic was drifting into a sleep, woken every few seconds from a painful lurch in his stomach. He was beyond delusional at this point. When there was a figure approaching, he chalked it up to his mind playing tricks on him, and closed his eyes, opening them only briefly as his mind played tricks on him, tricking him into believing he was smelling food. He supposed this was similar to those that wandered the desert, swearing upon oasis' of water.

Death seemed to loom nearer and nearer to the forsaken man. With the figure that he kept seeing when he opened his eyes, there was a smell of food. Some sort of baked good. If this was what Death was, he couldn't think it to be too bad. The man's eyes kept fluttering open slightly, only to close right after, but he captured glimpses of a dark figure moving near. It was only when he heard the sound of a footstep on the floor did he make the effort into being able to look around for any signs of danger, and he willed his body to open his eyes. Before him, yet again, was his wife. She was drawing closer to him, to take him into the next life. Would he be able to see her at least one last time before going to attest to his sins, to be able to embrace her and to tell her that he was sorry for all that he had put them through? Dom hoped so, but for a broken soul as he was, he wasn't sure that he would be allowed that much. In his mind, he didn't believe he even deserved that much, no matter how much his heart willed it to happen. Dom's eyes closed as she came ever closer. His mouth opened slightly, lips moving as though he were talking, only to fall slack without the ability to produce sound in his throat. This was it, this was the end, the bittersweet end.

He felt a light touch on his shoulder. Surely, it was Death, exacting her revenge on him, to take him away. However, that was not true, as there was a voice. A voice saying that she wanted to help him. The voice was not his wife's, which confused his depraved brain. His eyes opened again, and the blonde of his wife's hair was replaced with a dark haired woman. Did she know who he was? If Dom had the strength, he would have either leaped up and scurried away out of fear, or he would have ravaged whatever food it was that she had brought with her. His muscles, though, starved of nourishment, did no such thing, and focused on core things instead, such as breathing. That function was still on alert, however, as his breathing became quicker, more fearful. What did he have to fear anymore? It was odd. But she said she wanted to help, so Dom mustered up his strength and straightened up. He wasn't able to stand, but was able to rest himself against the shelves. She didn't look like one to be wandering around Knockturn Alley, that was for sure, and how she managed to find him was definitely a question, but as his strength was exhausted in moving to a suitable position, he was not in the shape to be asking questions. Dom's tired eyes landed on the bread and the water that was with her, and the smell alone seemed to intoxicate him.

The woman brought the water to his lips, tilting it slightly to allow him to drink. Dominic watched the woman as best he could, though it was interrupted frequently over the muscles controlling his eyelids giving out due to exhaustion. Try as he might to keep his eyes open and alert, his body simply did not have the energy to observe. She didn't seem to pose that much of a threat to him, other than the fact that everything at that point posed a threat to him. He was a man on the brink of death by nothing more than starvation alone, and was entirely defenseless against an attack. Alternatively, she wasn't ripping him from his hiding spot in a flame of glory, so it was unlikely that she was with the Ministry. It was unusual, as this was the second time that he had come across a beautiful woman who just happened to be in Knockturn Alley. The first had stumbled across him as he was eating the last meal that he remembered, questioning his presence, and making small talk instead of scurrying away at the prospect of him being there. This one, however, she seemed to be there deliberately, like she had sought him out. Did the other girl tell her he was there? Dominic didn't know what to think other than that maybe these were hallucinations of a dying brain. Obviously, beautiful, young women didn't venture into Knockturn Alley, and they certainly didn't have the need to help a broken soul like his.

She seemed to watch him as he moved, being patient with his ragged movements. He wondered if she was real, but was willing to accept that it wasn't important if she was or not, as it didn't help or harm his chances. Either she was real and the food and water she brought was real as well, or she was a figment of his imagination; a last ditch effort of his mind to pull him through before perishing. Either way, the options were the same; he either lived or died. Whether one was more favorable over the other was definitely a question, but not one that he had the answer to yet. When he was finally to the sitting position, his chest heaved heavily under the rags he was wearing. His eyes closed lazily when she brought the canteen to his mouth, and the moment it touched, he was convinced she was real. All other questions had to wait, because the liquid touched his lips, wet his mouth, and brought life to his jaw as he swallowed. He vaguely felt the woman bringing his hand upward, but all strength that he had was exhausted with sitting up, and his hand fell right back down. Still yet, he drank. Was it poison? That was a great question, but sent him right back to the thought on whether it was better to live or die at that point, and he drank anyway. He could hardly think that anyone wanting him dead would do to such trouble as to poison him when they really only had to wait a few hours longer before thirst and starvation made off with their dirty work.

She cared for him like a child, making sure that he did not drink the water too quickly. Another drink was permitted. Dominic felt the water dripping down his throat, wetting the dryness in its wake. It didn't do much for his energy, but there was a few steps away from the death that he had been so very close to only moments before. Each breath was counted now, each one moving him further and further from that dark abyss. His eyes closed as he drank. The water was not finished, but it left his mouth and tired eyes opened to see her breaking off bits of the bread that was with her. They closed again as the bits were pushed into his mouth, and he used great amount of energy to chew as much as possible before the food joined the water.

He would have never thought that something like chewing and swallowing would take so much energy, but here he was, exhausted from chewing one single bite. Still, there was a tiny light to him now. Certainly not enough to sustain him to move around, but his stomach did not lurch as it had moments before, and there was a hunger in him. Had he the energy, he would devour the whole of what was before him. As it were, though, it would be laughable to think he could even stand. After the bread was in his belly, he opened his eyes again. "Who... Are... Thank..." Dominic managed the simple words before falling silent. Though the water wet his throat, it was still dry as parchment, and cracked heavily with each whispered word.

Dominic fell silent as the mysterious woman shushed him. Even if she didn't, his ability to speak was severely limited, and near nonexistent. He wondered who she was, and there were a million thoughts running wild through his mind. Was she sent by his wife, to nurse him back to health, to remind him that it wasn't his time? He wasn't all that sure. It didn't add up, that a beautiful woman had happened upon him within moments of his demise, to bring him back from that brink. She brought the water back to his lips, and he felt infantile, to be fed and watered by another hand. Dominic was a laughing stock of his former self, that was for sure. He drank the water slowly, gaining the ability to breathe more and more as he drank.

As sips of water fell, his eyes slid closed and the whole of his body sagged to the side. He was still breathing, but he had passed out. He slept for some time, and had a dreamless sleep. When he awoke, it was with a strong jolt. His breath was rapid, his eyes bugging out of his skull as he frantically searched around in the dark. Was the woman a figment of his imagination? No, if that were the case, he would not have woken up. The only sounds he heard were his own ragged breathing, the shaky sounds of his dry throat ringing in his own ears.