Prompt: If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome. Anne Bradstreet
Thirty steps between the front door and her bed and every one of them vibrated through her head and ribs. Tonks collapsed onto the soft mattress with a groan.
"I'm not moving for the next twelve hours," she swore.
Less than ten seconds later, there was an insistent tapping at her window. She hobbled over to let the owl in and unrolled the proffered scroll.
Nymphadora, it began. By the time you read this, I will be gone. It is for the best. You deserve more than I can offer.
"I deserve exactly what you offer, you idiot," she sighed.