DARKNESS. The rasping sound of his own breaths which sounded rattling in his eardrums, as though every breath seemed a struggle. Quirinus woke in his bed, the room shrouded in complete darkness. Everything was pitch-black. The blankets had fallen off him during sleep.

The curtains of his bedroom window were pulled tightly, blocking out the harsh garish rays of sunlight from bursting in through the glass and illuminating the room. He lay against the pillow for a long moment, frighteningly disoriented by the memories that flitted through his mind's eye.

The vivid images thrust him under the claws of a fierce Hungarian Horntail and hearing Albus Dumbledore's voice speaking to him, alongside Severus at one point. Even Hagrid, he recalled.

Quirinus stiffened and gnashed his teeth as his shaking hands found their way to his face and traced over the burn mark that now covered the right side of his face. Even the slightest twinge of his facial muscles hurt. He released an undignified whimper as a constrictive feeling started to cause his throat to tighten. He lifted a fumbling hand to undo a few of the buttons of his silk pyjama shirt in order to breathe. The fresh swarm of memories thankfully passed within seconds, leaving the wizard breathless and exhausted. Though conscious and fully awake, Quirinus could feel his sense of awareness had dimmed and he lay there for a moment staring blankly at the ceiling without seeing it.

There was a few terrible moments of panic that flared to life within him as he knew he should find a mirror and assess the damage, though a part of him did not want to look, for the moment he looked into a mirror and at his twisted and now deformed reflection, his wounds would become all too real.

For the moment, by refusing to see, he could at least pretend that all was well. But…if not now, when?

When would he allow himself to confront this horrible fear that his life as he had known it previously was over, and why he could not seem to remember anything from this past year? His concern took hold of his heart as the feeble quivering muscle fluttered painfully in his chest.

He had just thrown the blankets off him and was in the midst of swinging his legs over the side of the bed when he heard a creaking floorboard in the hallway, just outside of his bedroom.

Quirinus froze, his ears were suddenly burning, and his stomach was in knots and the man's heart was now in his throat. He listened intently for any sound of movement and fumbled with his bandaged hand for his wand that rested on his nightstand. Someone was in his home.

He swallowed and looked to the door as he shakily rose to his feet, hastily dressing as best as he could into a pair of simple trousers and a thick black turtleneck sweater that was slightly too big for him, though it was a far sight better than greeting this supposed intruder in his home in his pyjamas.

Once dressed, he opened the door as carefully as he could and stepped out into the hallway, careful not to make any sort of noise that would give away his position to the intruder. As he walked slowly down the hall towards his sitting room, he was met with nothing but silence. He raised his wand as he entered his sitting room and widened his eyes to see a young witch's back paraded to him. She was standing in front of the fireplace, eyeing the moving photographs he had set up along the mantle, various moments of his life depicted with his parents, Merlin bless both their souls when his parents were both still alive.

He exhaled a shaky breath and raised his wand, though before he could speak to announce his presence and demand she turn and reveal herself to him, she turned, as if she had sensed his presence, and then she lifted her gaze to him. Quirinus stared, his breaths catching in his throat as the flustered wizard met the witch's gaze. He was entirely too nervous to eye her for very long and his hands instinctively drifted to allow the pads of his fingertips to ghost along the rough, tender surface of the burn scar that would serve as a permanent reminder of the dragon's capability. He furrowed his brows in confusion.

Merlin's Beard, but what had he been doing with a Hungarian Horntail in the first place, especially considering they were not native to Great Britain?

Quirinus did not understand. He nearly jumped out of his skin at hearing the redheaded witch's voice.

"Hey." Her voice was low and soft, like silk, as she stepped forward without fear or hesitation. The nervous wizard's black eyes met her sparkling brown eyes with shimmering dismay and dread behind his dark eyes. His arms dropped slightly in hesitation as the witch came to stand directly in front of him.

"It's alright. I will not hurt you, Quirinus. My name is Elisabeth, sir, Elisabeth Raywood. I'm…" she hesitated, trailing off for a moment as she looked away from him and out the window at the rain that pattered against the windowpane. "A neighbor, I came to check on you. I heard you were hurt," she said.

The man's wide eyes became glossy and distant, almost glazed and he proceeded to blink rapidly as if the wizard were processing Elisabeth Raywood's unexpected and kind words. He looked more than shocked by the witch's kind reaction. His lips parted as if to speak, however, it took him a moment to summon the strength in his voice to talk to her. His breaths still caught in his throat as he brought his arms down, but of course, in a moment of insecurity, his hands found their way to rest in front of him awkwardly.

"How are you feeling?" Elisabeth pressed gently, watching as a flicker of something passed across the man's warped face. It sent a shiver down her spine though she forced herself to try to ignore it for the moment to the best of her ability and shoved her emotions down into the pit of her nauseous belly.

He startled and started at the witch, unblinking. What an odd question. Most tended not to inquire after his health out of caring. Most, in fact, expressed quite the opposite sentiment, that he go drown himself in the Black Lake instead and rid the wizarding world of his timidity and clumsiness. Quirinus was not used to such kindness and as such, could not formulate an adequate reply in his mind fast enough.

"I…" he stammered but trailed off as he stared. He was too nervous to eye the witch for long. His wide and round eyes darted from Elisabeth Raywood and back down to the hardwood floorboards beneath his feet. However, the glances Quirinus did manage to catch of his new neighbor were…really something.

Elisabeth Raywood was gorgeous. Even a bloody fool could see that much of this one. The small yellow lights from the small fires of the candles that she had seemingly lit and set alongside the mantle of his fireplace for light and warmth framed her nicely which in his mind, only made her look that much more beautiful. A light pink blush speckled along his cheeks. He did not look at her. He was too shy to speak.

He then remembered he owed the witch an answer.

"I…I'm fine," he blurted out, his words clumsy and blunt, though he did not feel fine with all the blood that was currently rushing to his cheeks. He really needed a moment. Quirinus hesitantly lifted his gaze to hers and he surprised himself in a moment of boldness when, hoping to repay the witch for her kindness, he used a simple piece of magic to conjure a small and pristine pink Elisabeth flower in his hand. He hesitantly lifted his shaking hand to hers and had to smile at the witch's stunned look. "F-for you, Miss Raywood, for your kindness. Thank you for…checking on me, that was...kind of you. You did not have to trouble yourself for me, b-but I am grateful for it all the same, Miss Raywood," he stammered.

His voice held a slight stutter to it that was not like him at all, likely due to his nervousness around such a pretty witch. When he stepped forward slightly to hand Elisabeth Raywood the flower, his legs shook and felt as though he had been hit with a Jelly-Legs Curse below the knees.

It was a wonder he could even stand upright, much less form any words, given how his tongue suddenly felt heavy in his mouth as he felt the burn of the redheaded witch's gaze burning a hole through him.

She smiled in such a pleasant way that sent his heart careening painfully against his rib-cage, and then the feeble quivering muscle was in his throat. As Quirinus was in the midst of swallowing his heart back down where it belonged, past the lump forming in his throat, he finally met her much smaller hand. He cautiously held the stem of the pink Elisabeth flower in his palm. Their fingers brushed slightly from the interaction. Neither one of them expected the sudden touch between them.

They pulled back into themselves quickly. She parted her lips as if to speak to Quirinus.

"You are…lucky to be alive, Quirinus. Not many could…survive a Hungarian Horntail and live to talk about it, a-and if you ever need anything, please let me know. Don't hesitate to come knock on my door. I…er…live next door to you. The cottage on the left, sir," she whispered, heat searing on her cheeks.

The furrow of confusion between his brows deepened as he wondered why it was that she could not look him in the eye and wondered if it was the mark on his face that was off-putting. He stiffened and ground his teeth and sharply turned the damaged side of his profile away from the witch. Suddenly, for reasons he could not fathom, he felt wholly undeserving to be in this young witch's presence.

"Thank you, Miss Raywood, for your kind words. I will take them into consideration but I am sure that I will manage just fine," he answered stiffly in a cold voice that surprised even himself. Quirinus grimaced at how ungrateful and impersonal he sounded and immediately began to try to rectify his mistake.

Elisabeth felt her hopeful little smile that had tugged the edges of her mouth upward fall off her face and her shoulders slumped in disappointment. She recognized that the poor man must be exhausted and she would get no further with him now. She softly nodded her head and moved to grab her purse that she'd plunked unceremoniously on top of the cushion of the leather armchair in front of the fireplace.

"You should rest," she murmured quietly. "And…I'll be back in a little while with some supper for you. I could get you something from the Leaky or Three Broomsticks? There are a couple of good Muggle restaurants in downtown London too, I'm happy to bring you back something. Whatever you would like."

He nodded, still unable to bring himself to look at her. "That…would be fine. Thank you."

Quirinus's eyes nervously made a quick scan of the two bookshelves that were shoved against the wall on either side of his sitting room's fireplace. He shifted to the left and Elisabeth was quiet for a moment, frozen to her spot and she made no move to step over the metal grate of the man's fireplace and see herself out via means of Floo'ing to Diagon Alley. She waited another minute or two to see if Quirinus would speak to her, but when he didn't, she left. Before she let the last pinch of Floo Powder trickle out of her hand, she turned her head to get one last look at Quirinus Quirrel.

To her utter excitement, he was looking right at her.

Elisabeth did her best to smile and nod at a few shopkeepers as she passed them by aimlessly walking down the streets of Diagon Alley, a paper bag containing takeout from the Leaky clutched in one hand, her other hand instinctively moving to rest on the handle of her wand she kept tucked securely away in her belt. Ever since she had Floo'd into the Leaky, ordered their food from Tom, and had taken about a half hour to walk around, she seemed to have this odd sensation that she was being watched in secret.

It was an uneasy feeling, one the witch was too embarrassed to share with anyone else. Not that she had anyone to tell. Her mother was removed from her life, having fled the family when she was only seven. Her father was dead. She had next to no one in her life to call her own. The best she could hope for now was to repair her relationship with Quirinus and try to start over, given he did not remember her.

She was having trouble getting Quirinus out of her head and she still held the flower he had given her. It was a beautiful delicate little plant and an even more beautiful piece of gifted magic.

The more she thought over Albus's decision to order Quirinus's memory be Obliviated, the more frustrated she grew. The man deserved to know the truth, that he had survived Lord Voldemort possessing his body and the Potter boy accidentally injuring him, almost killing him. A horrible abrupt bitterness seeped its way into the pit of her stomach and Elisabeth halted in her tracks, growing alarmed.

The more and more she racked her brain trying to understand why Dumbledore insisted on keeping the truth a secret from Quirinus, the more frustrated with the warlock's antics she grew. Quirinus deserved to know the truth, no matter how painful it would be for him to accept it. She felt her blood boil as she thought of how the Hogwarts Headmaster had removed that decision from Quirinus when it should have been his to make and his alone. What she wouldn't give to find a way to tell him the truth.

Elisabeth pulled her coat around her tightly for warmth as she continued down the cobblestoned streets, the chilly air strangely comforting as leaves scraped their way off the ground as the wind took hold of them and a strand of her red hair fell out of its messy bun. The streets of Diagon Alley were relatively empty, as they usually were this time of day. Children were not yet home for break and parents not back from work. It was nice to be out alone with her thoughts and the cool breeze was oddly comforting.

As she walked, her mind melted back to Quirinus Quirrell. Aside from the horrific burn mark that now covered half of his face and was clearly a map of where the wizard's life went wrong, he was just as she had remembered him. His eyes had always been so dark. It wasn't even the color that made them so dark, but what was underneath them that ensnared her in their trap.

The tumultuous sea of emotion Elisabeth sensed was lying just beneath the surface.

The emotion that she would see brought out of him if she could. Elisabeth was so enraptured by her thoughts of Quirinus that she was not watching where she was going and accidentally barreled straight into the back of a tall wizard, seemingly passing by. She immediately jumped back and apologized, clamping a hand over her mouth in embarrassment as a pink blush snaked its way across her cheeks.

She fumbled with the bag of food and nearly dropped their takeout onto the cobblestones in front of her boots, a cry of surprise and dismay leaving her lips.

She reached out a hand to grab onto the bag, though before she could, the wizard's smooth velvety voice that was almost a buttery purr reached her eardrums and sent a chill down her spine.

"Here, Luv, let me help you." The man kept his face hunched inward, though that voice... it hit her squarely in t he chest as though the wizard himself had hit her with a Flipendo Knockback Jinx.

Her eyes widened and her stomach churned in dread. Her face turned an interesting shade of green as the man's hand met hers as he handed her back her food and she did not even need to look up as she rose shakily to her feet to know that she had accidentally stumbled into her ex-boyfriend of three years.

"Elisabeth, darling. What a pleasant surprise. I didn't anticipate running into you here, but I'm glad I have. It's...wonderful to see you again, Luv." His voice was richly accented and deep and immediately set Elisabeth on edge. She ground her teeth. Nothing he'd ever said to her sounded sincere, and she hated that just his voice alone was enough to lull her deeper into her haze. He was using his Power voice, damn him. He knew full well as she did, that no one could resist him when he spoke to them like this.

The man's voice was unmistakable, as was his thick mop of straw-colored sandy blond hair. Her eyes went wide and she looked as though she had been punched in the gut.

Elisabeth suddenly wished for nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

The wizard standing in front of her was easily one of the most handsome wizards she had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. He wore a crisp and tailored black suit, his white skin was near the color of paper and high cheekbones gave the man an imposing look. His eyes were hooded and dark and piercing as she felt the man's stare burning a hole through her. Elisabeth felt a shiver run up and down her spine as she summoned enough courage to lift her head and her gaze towards the tall wizard. The fear in her eyes was obvious as she hesitantly lifted her gaze and found herself staring face-to-face with the young man to whom she had once been engaged and thought she would spend the rest of her life with.

Elisabeth could not stop the shudder of revulsion or veil her reflexive gasp of disgust as she found herself staring face-to-face with the man she had once deeply loved, and the man who had broken her heart when he had revealed to her a week before their engagement his true allegiances. She looked deep into Barty Crouch Jr.'s dark and penetrating eyes with disgust, hating he was such an enchanting sight.

By some miracle of Merlin Himself, she managed to regain control of her voice enough to speak to him.

"Hello, Barty." She felt tears touch her eyes as Barty slunk closer to her and she nervously waited.

She knew her chances of fleeing the alleyway were next to none. The man was faster than her, he would catch her before she'd make it two feet. Barty could slit her throat in one fell swoop for how she'd hurt him so, but something told her he had other intentions on his mind as he came to stand in front of her.

His right arm rose over her and Elisabeth gasped and instinctively put her arm up.

"Barty!" she screamed nearly hysterically when he suddenly jerked his hand down and he froze.

Elisabeth shivered and squeezed her eyes shut as slick tears poured down her cheeks, waiting for the inevitable feeling of the Killing Curse to hit her in the chest, but that moment for her never came.

When she had recovered some courage, she peeked open one eye and looked up at her former fiancé. Barty's dark eyes were blank, but she knew this look well by now. His eyes now held the same look that she always attributed to Barty making up his mind on a decision that was particularly troublesome.

"Barty?" she squeaked in a breathless voice and to her amazement, the wizard lowered his wand.

Elisabeth exhaled a shaky breath and looked up at her former fiancé cautiously.

This was a first. She had no idea how to go about this at all. She shivered and flinched when Barty slowly brought up his left hand and took her left hand in his, staring down at it blankly for a moment, though she thought she sensed the thoughts going on behind his eyes.

He was imagining how a wedding ring would look glittering on her finger, she was sure of it.

The thought was enough to make bile rise in the back of her throat.

He let go of her hand and brought his hand up to hover the pads of his fingers over her cheekbone. She felt Barty's fingers on her face even though the wizard did not touch her face.

An electrical charge like a current flooded through her body. His fingers were like ice. As she watched Barty Crouch Jr., Elisabeth felt a strange swelling of happiness well inside of her, and she felt some hope swell in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, he had forgiven her for ending their engagement so soon before their wedding, but the moment she found out Barty had turned down a horrific path she could not follow and had joined the Dark Lord's ranks, she knew that she could not marry the wizard.

She would not align herself with a husband who held such horrific ideals. She could not.

She would rather die alone than ever marry a man like that. Barty was a cruel man with little feeling and cared only about how he could benefit in a given situation. She had not been concerned with how she had made Barty feel the night she had fled. Elisabeth swallowed down past a lump in her throat as the man pressed the tip of his wand to her throat. The tip was sharp and the scent of the wood of his wand flooded her nostrils. Her lower lip trembled and she blubbered as she waited for the wizard to be done with it and slit her throat. She felt the tip of his wand press deeper into her throat and yet nothing.

She kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut. The man's wand pressed against her neck again and she inhaled a deep breath, but again nothing.

Confused, she slowly fluttered her eyes open and she looked up at Barty.

"I—I'm sorry, Barty," she whispered hoarsely in a small and meek voice. "I…had to leave you."

Elisabeth watched as her words hit their mark and the man's angular jaw clenched. There was more emotion on Barty Crouch Jr.'s face than she had ever seen before. His wand hand trembled violently and became clammy as he struggled to maintain a vice grip on his wand. His wand now trembled against her skin. Barty's thin lips curled up into a twisted and feral snarl and Elisabeth could only watch in awe.

Rage and confusion were plastered all over the wizard's face like a Permanent Sticking Charm, but it was emotion on his face, visible, and plain as the nondescript nose on his face. Her lips parted in amazement. Elisabeth was about to speak to him when Barty immediately removed his wand from around her throat and he jerked his right hand to the left, hard, and something that felt like a stone smacked against the back of her temple. There was no pain, though spots immediately blotted in her vision.

Immediately, she saw black and a little cry left her lips as she felt the strength in her legs give out. She was sure Barty was going to kill her. She had hurt him too badly and there was no apologizing or coming back from this at all. She wondered if perhaps she should have asked Quirinus to come with her, or anyone else, but she could have never anticipated that a quick trip into Diagon Alley would end like this.

She could just barely make out the sight of Barty Crouch Jr.'s handsome face looming over her as her eyelashes flickered open and shut, barely perceptively, before fading away completely, her body going limp as she was lifted bridal style into the wizard's strong arms.

The last thing she felt before her world went black was an icy-cold wave of horrible, unending shame.