All he can think the first time he sees her is that she's very… yellow.

He steps on board, with the skinless monster wailing in his arms. Its blood oozes out of open arteries and gathers in a puddle at his feet. The engine roars. For minutes, for days, for years the train moves onwards, forwards, never stopping and never slowing. Until, finally, it does.

Sometimes, Harry gets lost. [non-magic AU] [one shot]

Asleep, Draco is hunted by his fears; awake, he is haunted by regrets. Hermione feels neither of these things, but the emptiness left by the war drives her out of her bed every night with an itch in her feet and an ache in her chest. When the two hapless wanderers stumble across one another, how will their crumbling worlds be affected? (Post DH, Eighth Year Fic - DAILY UPDATES)

'Oh you may not think I'm pretty, but don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me. So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none) for I'm a thinking cap.' The individual sortings of each and every notable HP character, into their rightful houses.

' Through the fragile glass that linked them to one another, they stood face to face. For the very first time, they saw each other clearly, and what they saw... was themselves. Harry wondered, was this what being the Master of Death truly meant? ' A story of life, death and most importantly, mortality. (DH compliant)