I haven't updated in 6 months I know but I've just been really really busy. It's fine if you don't leave a review, I'm just determined to finish this story.


"Professor Snape?" she asked entering the dimly lit room. Some habits die hard.
The hook-nosed man lifted his head up wearily from his old potions table to glare with bloodshot eyes at the veiled redhead. He immediately straightened up and ran a hand hastily through his white streaked hair, she frowned upon him with pity.

"I don't need your pity!" he growled.
"I can obviously see that Professor Snape" Ginny said taking a seat much to his annoyance. She wrinkled her nose at the dirty vials, glasses and basins strewn over the mould covered floors.
He glared stonily as she critically examined the closest thing he could call home.
"What I need...is your help..." she said leaving the sentence hanging.
"Why should I help you, whore?" Snape said laughing ending with a pathetic coughing fit.
"I can be very persuasive Snape" she said lifting the heavy, black veil to reveal her sparkling eyes. Her eyes shone with malice and revenge.

"I'm listening"


It wasn't that she didn't support the war efforts.

It wasn't that she was physically weak.

It wasn't that she lacked the skill.

She was afraid, which is why she hadn't joined when all her friends had rushed to the cause. She had been called a coward, a traitor and various numerous other degrading names that she tries to forget. In the nighttime she would lie in her now empty bed wondering how many of her friends now lay dead and buried beneath the ground.

Sometimes she even wondered if it would have made a difference if she had enlisted. If maybe that one extra fighter could have put a stop to this senseless war before it even started.

She knows that it wouldn't have made a difference she too would be dead and buried by now if she had joined, just another faceless casualty of war. Least that is what she tells herself when she cries herself to sleep.

In the mornings when she wills herself out of bed to her safe office job, the once busy streets are now empty. Only the ghosts walk these streets now, only the ghosts and her.

"Luna"

Somebody calls her name and tells her that its lunchtime. It's worse today.

The weight of not enlisting her name to 'the cause'.
The weight of not digging her own grave for 'the cause'.
The shame.

When she passes by the muggle restaurants full of peopleeating theirexpensive foods,.who are unaware as to why there has been an increase in murders, freak accidents and building collapses

She is disgusted by them, almost as disgusted as she is with herself.

The shame...