2. Fingertips

Several years after the war, she still has moments, fleeting seconds, when she loses grasp of where she is and her fingertips go numb.

And then it burns.

One day, it's too much to take.

She goes see Neville. She knocks and waits anxiously until he opens the door. When he does, he is wiping his hand on the apron he wears around his waist, traces of flour still on his shirt.

"H- How long did it take?" she asks immediately, all manners gone, because she has to know.

"How long did it take to what?" he replies, unsettled by her frantic state.

She doesn't want to say it. She wants him to understand and just tell her. Quickly. She cannot bear another moment of this.

She sighs, trembling all over, and casts Neville an apologetic glance before she braces herself to speak.

"How long did it take, for your parents succumb to dementia, after..."

Crucio.

Her throat is too tight and she tries too hard to conceal the tremors coursing through her body. She can't speak.

Thankfully, Neville realises what she is asking. He looks at her, aghast, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound coming out. She nearly runs up to him and shakes him until he gives her an answer. She can't stand his silence and almost whimpers in anticipation.

"None."

The word echoes loudly in the quiet room.

"They lost all concept of who they were before she was even finished with them."

Everything starts to spin.


A/N : This could have gone in so many directions, but this is how it came. For anyone knowing me and my fics, this is a recurring theme and I apologise (sort of) for my obsession!