AN: Slight references to HBP, but I've tried not to be specific. This is for the wonderful reviewers who asked for more.

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the wounds
That are never gonna scar me
And all the ghosts
That are never gonna catch me
If I fall down

The Ghost of You – My Chemical Romance

London

"Leave me," she commanded. The young Death Eater still hung close by. "I said to leave." He noticed her hand resting on her wand, and then quickly chose to back out the door and tried to calmly walk up the stairs. Her eyes followed him, making sure he had truly left before entering the cell on her right.

The windowless room was dark and dank. No prisoners were currently being held in it and she was thankful for that. What she was going to do needed to be done alone. Completely alone. "Lumos," she whispered. She held the wand light high and took in the familiar site around her. The small space had once been her residence before…before succumbing. Her eyes flicked over the corners and instantly remembered where it was.

She strode over to the farthest right corner. Falling to her knees, she simply stared down at the dirt floor. She lifted her wand over her head and let it float there, illuminating the space. Repeatedly, she had to keep herself from grabbing the wand and leaving. She leaned back on her heels, placing a hand on her face. Fixing her resolve, she took a deep breath then started digging.

Her nails felt nearly torn off as she continued into the packed dirt floor. A pile of soil sat next to a good-sized hole that nearly took up the corner. Finally, her fingers brushed against something. It was small, circular and solid. Carefully, she extracted it and brushed off the grime that clung to it. Slipping it on her left ring finger, she noticed how it still fit perfectly. The diamond in the middle sparkled under the wand light. It was like seeing it as she had the very first time.

She giggled as she held her eyes shut. "Can I open them now?" she asked.

"Not yet," answered a male voice. "Just be patient."

The midday sun shining in from the window was warm on her back. She bounced slightly on the bed she was sitting on. The one they shared since the refugees had flooded Hogwarts and space had become a precious commodity. Not that either of them had complained about having to make such a change. Quite the contrary…

"Remus," she started again, grinning, "when-" But a pair of lips stopped her constantly repeated question.

He said close to her ear, "Patience is a virtue. I'm nearly done."

Something soft started to touch her exposed skin. She could feel it falling slowly on her arms, legs, and face. Opening her hand, she caught one and felt the round, velvety surface. "Remus, now?"

Hands grabbed hers. "Now," he said.

After having her eyes closed for so long, the sudden light caused her to squint, but the site around her quickly caused her eyes to widen. She gazed in wonder at what lay around her and continued to float down from the ceiling. A never-ending shower of rose petals. Red, white, and pink. She looked down at the red one she had caught earlier in her hand. "It's so beautiful," she whispered to him as he stood in front of her.

He whipped out a whole red rose from behind him and gave it to her. "I thought you might like it."

She took it, and then gave him a slightly grinning confused look. "I do, but I don't know what the occasion is."

"It's not one yet," he answered and knelt down in front of the bed. "I'm going to make it one."

His hands found hers again. "Before you came into my life, I wasn't a very happy man; the days held nothing for me. But ever since you, it's as if I'm a new person. I can't wait to face the morning because I know you're there and I can't ever imagine me doing it without you. I guess what I'm trying to get at is…simply…I love you more than anything, more than I can even put into words."

He then reached down into his trousers' pocket and started to remove something and that was about the time it hit her. Flowers, kneeling, what he had said, and now… She brushed away the tears that trailed down her cheeks as he brought out a plain black box.

Not opening it, Remus paused to wipe at a fresh onslaught of waterworks and said jokingly, "Am I terrifying you that much?"

"No, no," she protested. "Go on."

With that, he raised the box's lid to reveal a simple, pale-metal ring with a single diamond in the center. "Hermione Granger, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?"

Lost for words, she nodded before screaming out an enthusiastic, "Yes!" and throwing her arms around his neck. She could feel him laughing against her neck. Finally, after a flurry of kisses, he said, "Want me to put it on or shall you?"

She looked disbelieving down at the shiny light-colored ring. "Can you? I mean…"

He removed the ring from the box, took her hand, and slid it onto her ring finger as she murmured about how it was perfect. Giving her an amused expression, he said, "Trust me, I avoided the silver selections like the plague. White gold is absolutely harmless."

Gently, she leaned forward and removed flower petals that clung to his hair. A few stragglers meandered down now and then. "I love you," she whispered, letting the petals fall from her hands. Their lips met again and only broke apart as Remus muttered, "And I you," into her ear.

Standing up, he held out his hand to her. "Should we run off and tell everyone now or would you rather wait until supper?"

Grinning madly, she bounced off the bed and proclaimed, "Now." As she turned back toward the bed to shift through the layer of petals and find her rose to put in some water, something on the horizon caught her attention. "Remus…" she trailed off as she stared out over the Forbidden Forest.

Dark, black shapes were approaching. He was by her side and his keener eyesight saw what she could not. "Dementors," he said. Then the trees of the forest swayed like grass in the wind. "Giants," he added softly.

"He's here." She gripped the stem so hard that the thorns bit through her skin, not noticing the blood that covered her hand.

She refilled the hole with dirt and packed it back down with her shoe. The new weight on her finger felt odd yet right like it should be there. You can't start now. It's too late. Angrily, she swept out of the dingy cell and started back toward the stairs to leave, but a voice called out from down the hall.

"Hermione," someone said from a cell near the end.

Stopping dead in her tracks, she turned toward the sound. Fingers were beckoning her from the thin slot that could be found in each of the dungeon's doors. She debated briefly before dignifying his request by stalking down the corridor, ignoring the pleading that emanated from every direction. She stopped and stared expectantly into the darkened slit.

"Choose your words wisely. You've already messed up by addressing me. It's Granger," she warned icily.

A coughing sound could be heard and then a man's voice answered, "Alright, Granger," he emphasized the name, "I want to hear this from you. Rumors are hell down here. Did you do it? Did you kill him?"

"Which him?" she said testily.

"Lupin. Everyone says you did it, but I told them they were wrong. You may have gone sour and all, but I knew you couldn't have done that. You two were…"

"Not meant to be," she said through gritted teeth, cutting off his sentence. "Sorry to disappoint you, but it was me. His absence did not make my heart grow fonder and I rather think we're done here… What's your name?"

"Name's Dawlish. Greg Dawlish. Being held on conspiracy against the rightful governing body and attempt to overthrow it," he spat out.

"Enjoy your stay, Mr. Dawlish. I have a feeling it shall be a short one." She turned on her heels to leave.

His voice echoed down the hall at her. "I was with him, you know! Remus! He looked for you. Dammit, he dragged us all over the place for you. The last people captured from Hogwarts told him about you lying there bleeding and looking like death itself. They said you had died; nobody could have survived that. By the time we escaped and the grounds were clear for a sweep, nothing was left."

She stopped in her tracks. He continued, "Got you listening now, eh? Only things there were massive piles of bodies, charred from being burnt. No traces. Did you search him after you cut him down? You would have found a picture of you two. He looked at it every night. He loved-"

"Shut up," she roared as she spun around. With a violent swish of the wand, the Dawlish's door slot banged shut. Silence fell upon the dungeons with only the reverberating sound of a slammed door breaking it.

Soon she found herself in a room she frequented. The training room. She shrugged off her outer red robe and tapped a device at her side. "Pull," she barked at it. An object zoomed out and with a well-aimed wand motion, she sent it shattering into a million pieces. It quickly repaired itself. "Pull." Another flew out and again it exploded.

She continued in this fashion until she felt a pair of eyes on her. Tapping the machine, she heard it whirl and shut down. She turned to give the person behind her a stare of pure hatred. So he's back, she thought angrily. The man simply fixed her with his famous smirk before saying, "Finally without a soul, I see?"

"Don't lecture me about souls, Severus, seeing as you don't have one yourself," she pushed past him. "At least I didn't sell mine."

"That's a little unfair, but I'm not going to deny that I wished it had been me instead. However, it seems the Dark Lord has taken a liking to you and lets you have all the fun these days." He grabbed her arm as she started to seize her robe to leave. "Going so soon? I just got here."

"Let go of me," she said, staring up at his cold, black eyes.

"Why should-" But Snape did not get to finish his sentence since he had been sent sprawling backwards off his feet. Her silent Impedimenta had caught him by surprise.

"So you want to go," he said rubbing the back of his head. "Alright then, let's." He raised his wand and she crashed into the hard stonewall behind her.

One look into the training room caused the observer to quickly go elsewhere. A dueling duo was having it out and no one wanted to get between the two. They valued their life more than a quick bit of entertainment.

"Stay out of my mind, you bastard," she screeched. She could feel him trying to probe in, feel his way around to find out what spell she would use, and even the memory of that night. In retaliation, she uttered Wingardium Leviosa in her mind and watched as he floated up to ceiling. She let him bounce against it for a bit before letting him fall back on the ground.

"I've had some lessons," she said down to him as he struggled to get up, "to keep people like you out." She enjoyed watching the grimaces cross his face. "Looks as if you're limited to old men and small children when it comes to fighting." Easily, she dodged a Stupefy sent her way. "Especially, defenseless, weak old men. Must have been your proudest moment."

Snape looked up at her from the floor. Blood stained the inside of his mouth. It was vivid as he spoke to her. "Lovely ring you've dug up," he nodded toward her hand. "He must have held such meaning as you drained him of life. They said you did it with your specialty. How was that one last kiss with your werewolf?"

Grabbing his the front of his robes, she said low, "Shut up."

"What did you say?" She felt his wand pushing into her stomach, threatening.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. Don't talk about things you don't understand." Sensing a Crucio from his mind, her own blazed out with Expelliarmus. The spell sent his wand bouncing off the far wall and him shooting backwards. She walked over to his still form and materialized a handkerchief from thin air. Throwing it down on his face, she said, "Welcome back."

As soon as she stepped out of the door, Flint hustled her down the hall into the briefing room. He did not say a word about Snape. She had a feeling no one would. "What is it now?" she asked, pulling her robe back over her jeans and tank top.

"A prominent leader in the vampire world isn't paying his dues. We've had reports that he's gone against the Master's wishes repeatedly. We need you to make an example of him. A little jab to the heart and a little message ought to do the trick. So," he trailed off, "have you ever been to a Russian vamp nightclub?"

Moscow

She was going to kill whoever picked out what she was wearing. The slightly chilly air that had invaded Moscow that night clung to her bare shoulders and exposed legs. Her black leather bustier continually cut off the flow of oxygen and the pleated plaid skirt was barely a piece of cloth. The only item that was of any use was the pair of knee-length, high-heeled black boots. That was only if she could whip out what she had stashed in them in time. Her lipstick was stashed far back in a drawer at her apartment. She never wanted to look at it again, not that it would have been any help this time. Vamps cannot die from poisoned kiss.

Tentatively, she placed a finger on her neck to check for a pulse. None. Flint had shown her a specialty glamour charm that caused her to appear quite dead looking. No pulse. No outward signs of breathing. Her newly enlarged canines though were rubbing into her lips. There has to be an easier way to do this, she thought. However according to Flint, the vampire she was going for, Ivan, was guarded heavily all the time and the only way to shake the guards was the get him alone. Completely alone. This entailed the use of her feminine wiles. She remembered the feeling of repulsion as Flint said, seriously, "He likes his women very…ah…rough and dominating, so feel free to be openly interested." After that, he had hastily shoved a whip at her; his face reddening and sent her on her way.

Feeling frozen, she approached the out of the way door, noticing the vampire mark discreetly carved above the door handle. She rapped on the entrance appropriately and gave a quick Russian password. As the man opened the door, the blaring music nearly knocked her over, but another sense was taking over that. Blood. The place reeked of it. It had been a long time since she had smelled it that appallingly strong.

She stumbled over another body behind her. Parts of the ground had turned red from the carnage and she slipped briefly in a slick, blackish puddle of blood. Her pursuer took the moment of imbalance to fire another curse. Hastily, she yelled, "Protego." The shield bubbled around her, reflecting the curse back.

"Come on, little Mudblood. Don't you want to play?" laughed Bellatrix. A ravenous, mad grin crossed her heavy features as she sped up, giving no heed to the dead littered around them.

The sun was setting low in the west and she was dead tired. Ever since the first assault, it had never stopped. Wave upon wave kept hitting the castle. She had already watched many, too many fall to a Death Eater's curse, ripped to shreds by giants, and a few wandering meaninglessly after a meeting with a dementor. Vampires were promised after nightfall. It had been ages since the last time she spotted Remus as he charged into a group of his fellow werewolves working for Voldemort. She wanted it to stop. She wanted to find him. Sometimes she wished they would just kill her and end it.

Pulling herself together, she turned and fired a Body-Bind at the woman. Bellatrix blocked it easily and sent Hermione rolling in response until she landed with a thud against a tree. Before she could react, the older witch was on top of her, pinioning her to the ground and knocking her wand away. "Now," Bella leered down, "how about some fun. I'm not letting you go quick, Mudblood, no, I want to watch you bleed like a stuck pig."

She muttered down toward her wand. Swiftly, she ripped the upper part of the brown-haired witch's shirt, revealing her neck and collarbone. "Just a little design." With that, she pushed her wand onto the exposed skin, laughing as the other screamed. Like a knife, it cut through her flesh, leaving an oozing red trail. "Maybe," continued Bellatrix as she moved the wand point high along the collarbone, "I'll go all the way to your jugular. Not that it matters really. This," she smeared the crimson liquid between her fingers, "isn't going to stop. At least not in time for you to live."

Breathing was becoming a chore. She blinked hazily up at the evil Cheshire grin above her. Going into shock was inevitable and did not sound so bad at the moment. Another blink and instead of Bellatrix, all she saw was a gold-washed sky above. I died, was all she could think, but the pain still pervaded. A new face invaded her line of vision and she knew she had not died unless he had too or maybe angels looked like people you loved.

"Oh my… Hermione," said Remus, his eyes wide and looking worse for the wear. "Don't be…don't be…"

She felt his hand rest against her neck, checking for life. Something metallic was in her throat, but she managed to mumble out, "Remus."

"Thank God." He took her hand and held his wand in the other. "You're going to be okay, Hermione. I'm going to patch this up the best I can and then get a Healer over here. Alright?"

"It's not," she took in a shallow breath. "It's not…"

He shushed her. "Don't talk. It's too much of a strain. Relax." He pulled off her outer robe and stuffed it behind her head. "Be still for me." Carefully, he held his wand in position and said an incantation over the wound. She could feel the heat radiating off of it and the way the liquid continued to come out, making her shirt heavy and damp.

Remus stared down at the wound, glanced quickly at her, and yelled over his shoulder, "I need a Healer now!"

Turning his attention back to her, he rubbed her hand. "It's deeper than I thought. We'll have to wait on one of them. Where's my medic?" he finished in a roar, reverting to Muggle terms.

An Auror running past them, stopped and said, "Sorry, Remus. The east side has taken a beating. Most are over there if they aren't dead by now. Harry and You-Know-Who are dueling and the Death Eaters are killing rampant to keep back reinforcements for him. That's where I'm headed." He gripped his wand and took off again.

She saw his crestfallen look as he kneeled next to her. "It's not going to stop," she managed to say before he could hush her again. "Enchantment."

"Yes, it will," he answered determinedly. Ripping away a good portion of his shirt, Remus pressed it against the wound, but soon found the blue material turning dark with blood.

Screams emitted to their left as a brilliant yellow light flared up. Echoes of "Harry" could be heard. Soon the same Auror appeared again, "Lupin. We need you. He can't hold out much longer."

"I can't," he faltered, looking anxiously down at her.

The sky was turning darker. She could see a star above. Breathing took over her entire being. In, out, in, out. His face loomed over her again. "Hermione, I'll be back. Harry needs help; he's fading fast. Hold this on it," he put her hand on the soaked rag. "I swear to you I'll come back. Do you hear me, Hermione?" She could only squeeze his hand in response. He leaned down, gently held his cheek against hers before giving her a kiss and whispering, "Stay with me. I love you."

She felt his warm hand leave hers as he turned and ran toward the pale light that often exploded into her sight. Her arm rolled out from her and rested against something cold. The numbness in her mind barely registered that it was a cold somebody instead. Blankly, she stared up, not knowing if the dark of night finally overtook her or if she fell into oblivion.

Lifting her hand, she traced the scar from that day, now completely showing due to her outfit. The memories after that were a blur. A figure picking her up, proclaiming a 'live one', and asking what to do with it. Keep or burn? Then waking up to the shrill yells of a woman, asking why they had let her live. She was her kill. Her chest had hurt with a constant burning tightness. After that, there were only the dungeons. Only the endless darkness.

This is not that time, she chastised herself. Her eyes scanned the scene, the smell deadening as she became used to it. Most of the people were dancing erratically on a spotlighted-red center area. The rest were drinking at either the scattered tables or the front bar. She counted at the least ten men who were just standing around, looking threateningly. Guards. Now she knew their set up, all she had to do was find the target and get this over with.

She made her way to the front, ignoring the eyes that followed her. When one reached out a hand at her legs as she passed, the whip Flint had given her went flying. The guy hissed in pain and held his hand. "Look," she said to him, "but don't touch."

Holstering her weapon, she thought about once again how she would mutilate whoever dressed her like dominatrix-extraordinaire. Nevertheless, she conceded that everyone around her was in various states of black and undress as well. She went up to the bar and leaned back casually on it. The bartender tried to offer her a glass of what he promised as 'freshly drained A-positive.' Keeping her nausea in check, she waved him off and glanced up and down the row of chairs. Immediately, she recognized Ivan from the photos shown to her. He sat on the far end from her. His jet-black hair was visible over the shorter occupants. Unfortunately, she noticed a blonde-haired woman cuddling up to him, and he was already starting to pull away from his cup of blood to go with her.

I didn't want to, but I'm going to have to be dramatic. She pushed herself up onto the bar top. At once, whistles met her ascension. The men sitting there quickly moved their glasses to let her pass. She grinned cheekily down at them and glanced down to see that Ivan had stayed for the show. The blonde was pouting at his side. Good boy, she mused. So, you like your girls rough. I'll see what I can do. She strutted down the past the crowd in time with the pounding music. A daring fellow tried to put his hand up her skirt. He soon found a stiletto heel in his chest and fell over with a thud. She lifted a finger and shook it disapprovingly.

Her eyes were sharp for her next dupe. A shy looking man was hunkered over his nearly full glass and he avoided looking up. She bent down, lifting his face up at her. Putting a finger in his drink, she suggestively licked off the viscous liquid before kissing him full on the lips. She clicked her teeth in a play-bite motion as she left him with a stunned look on his face. Continuing her way toward the end and an even more interested Ivan, she cracked the whip over her head and brought it down on the man right next to the target.

"He was looking at me the wrong way," she said nonchalantly to Ivan as she sat down on the bar right in front of him.

"You're a feisty one, aren't you?" he said amused, his eyes roving over her. She resisted the urge to stake him right there.

"Just a little," she answered. Leaning in, she grabbed his shirt and kissed him. The blonde made a noise of disbelief behind them. She hung onto his bottom lip with her elongated teeth and gave the woman a mischievous grin.

Ivan quickly waved off the other woman. "There's rooms, if you'd like to continue this in private."

She could have sworn she gagged openly a little as she nodded and was led off toward the back. The huge bodyguards backed off as he shook his head as they tried to follow. Soon they were alone, behind a closed door, and far away from the action in the back of the building. All the better incase he screamed out.

Nothing serious had happened. Not that she was going to let it. He was under her and looking far too eager. Being above him gave her an advantage lest things started going down hill. Easier access to her boots. She grinned down at him before taking up where they had left off outside. He needed to get relaxed, comfortable, and distracted. She felt his hands tracing up her legs that were on either side of him. Soon though, he was trekking where he should not. His hands played with the side straps of what underwear she had been allotted. She flashed back to the last time anyone touched her there. "No! Don't! No!" she screamed.

Anger bubbled up in her. She leaned back and he stopped. "What's the matter?" he asked in his slight Russian brogue.

"Nothing," she cooed down at him. "Close your eyes."

Expecting something good, he complied. Deftly, she extracted a sharp, wooden stake from inside her right boot. "What is it?" he said roguishly.

"A little surprise," she answered and positioned the weapon over his heart. "Hope your not allergic to dust," she quipped.

"Wha-" he started, but she had brought down the stake with such force it stood upright in the couch cushions. She jumped back as he exploded into a pile of dust. Enjoying the moment briefly, she removed her wand from her other boot along with a slip of paper. She took a quick look out the door before locking it magically. Opening the paper, she traced the words on it into the air with her wand. They glittered red: Here lies Ivan, who defied the Dark Lord, Voldemort, and had to pay for his transgressions. She rolled her eyes; they really needed to get some different people writing these.

Pointing her wand at he couch, she burned her mark into it. A phoenix emerging from a skull. She stuffed her wand back into her boot, but left the stake where it was before marching out of the door. Winking at one of his men as she passed, she said, "He'll be out in a bit. Just needs to compose himself."

At the bar, she stopped to join a group drinking, thankfully, something other than blood. They looked like lost Muggles the doorman had let in as a joke since the rest where eyeing their necks. She signaled the bartender she would join them. A shot was sent her way. She tapped it on the bar with them before downing it. The clear liquid burned down her throat. Vodka. Good choice. I needed a drink. Then she disappeared out the door and down the street.

Wand out, she paused on a bridge to conjure up a coat and lengthen the skirt. Her teeth went back down to size and her vitals rejoined those of the living. As she clasped the metal rail, a dull chiming sound echoed. She looked down to see she still wore her engagement ring. It glowed under the waxing moon's light. The dungeons had been pushed from her mind. She took it off and examined it closely. Her ring. The thing she held on to the longest had been what she had to finally let go of.

Slowly, she rocked back and forth on the dirt floor. It was unbearably cold and she grasped her legs tighter as if to keep out the chill. She could not see anything around her since they had shut the slot in the door, leaving her to dwell in darkness. They had just brought her back from the interrogation room. The name was a joke. Questioning was not the main activity going on in there. She timorously was trying to shake the effects of the Crucio she had been under. The number of times she had been there was lost on her. She had stopped trying to keep count long ago as the days, sessions, and pain started running together. It was all for their fun and they had promised to not leave her alone for long.

The air temperature dropped sharply as her breath became visible. Suddenly, she was back on the battlefield. Crying out, she pressed her hand over the scar. There he was over her again. "Hermione, I'll be back. Harry needs help; he's fading fast." His face swam above her. "I swear to you I'll come back. Do you hear me, Hermione?" He leaned down, gently held his cheek against hers before giving her a kiss and whispering, "Stay with me. I love you." She watched him get up and go away.

"Don't leave," she cried aloud. "Don't leave me, Remus. Don't." She broke down into tears.

"Shut up, Mudblood," snapped a voice in front of her. Her cell door stood open. Several figures blocked the corridor light, but the one floating in the back took in a rattling breath. Her scar flared up again and she winced in pain.

"Take the dementor out of here," instructed the tallest in a cold voice. "Keep him close though, he'll visit our dear Miss Granger later."

She breathed easier as the figure floated out of sight; the world came back into focus. Voldemort motioned toward her. "Bring her closer. We need to have a little talk."

Roughly, the two burly Death Eaters grasped both her arms and flung her at his feet. She slowly rose from the floor to stand swaying in front of him. His minions held her up to keep her from collapsing.

"I have something I'd like to return to you," he said, taking out her ring from a pocket. She flayed toward him to get it back. How dare he take it? He grabbed hold of her left hand painfully hard and slipped it back onto her finger. Then he took a long, white finger and traced it down her face. "Engaged to your precious werewolf," he said lowly. "How quaint. Well, Granger, where is he now?"

He paused for her to take in his words. "I haven't had the pleasure of killing him, at least not yet. He's out there running around and looks like he's forgotten all about you. Shouldn't he have shown up for a gallant rescue by now? Perhaps he's found another young Mudblood to make howl in the night."

The Death Eaters chuckled stupidly. A heat flashed on her face; she would not grace them with tears again. In as strong voice as she could muster, "He'll come for me. He said-"

"Of course he did," he laughed. Then he waved a photo in front of her face. "Look. Right across the river, just a few days ago. He fled south before we could get him or his little band of men. Until he comes back," he snapped is fingers at the two men, "boys show our little Mudblood what her honeymoon would have been like." He swept out the door.

She was pushed onto the floor. Hands were all over her. "No! Don't! No!" she screamed. Finally, she could not hold it in any longer and started sobbing as she heard the sound of a zipper. "Remus," she begged aloud before the one watching covered her mouth.

Back scrunched in her corner she was again. Her eyes though red held no more tears. They had none left to give. Her hands scraped at the dirt. Already one of her nails had been ripped half way off, but she was numb to the pain. The dementor had just left to feed off another cell and her scar continued to twinge. At last, she deemed the hole big enough. She pulled the ring off and dropped it in then pushed the dirt back over it. Patting down so it was even with the rest of the floor, she felt part of her die. Not that she had much left that was not already dead.

In one swift motion, she tore the ring from her finger and flung it off the bridge. "I was alive," she said softly. "Why didn't you come?" Into the black night, she screamed, "I was alive!" A noise behind her from an alley startled her. A homeless looking man shuffled farther into the shadows, obviously startled by her yell. She had overstayed her visit. Turning, she winked out from sight like a snuffed out star.

London

The field report was turned into Flint and she was going home to her apartment not far from headquarters. She unlocked the Muggle part before saying a long string of incantations to get past the magical barriers. Sighing, she entered and flipped on the light. She shrugged off the coat and hung it up. Making her way into the kitchen, she grabbed a box of pizza and slammed it onto the counter, feeling half-starved. As she opened the box, a piece of paper she had not noticed next to it caught her attention.

She looked cautiously around the kitchen before opening it. Her eyes widened as her ring fell out from between the folds. Quickly, she pulled out her wand and held it defensively. She looked down to read the note in a familiar handwriting. Happy Anniversary. You lost this. Below that written in hastily, Thought you might like it back. Involuntarily, she found herself shaking. A feeling came over her. Someone was watching her.