Wanweird - an unhappy fate

The last time she had talked to Lily was months ago.

They all struggled in their own way after the final battle, but life goes on.

"Cast the Cruciatus, boy," Alecto Carrow snarled. Neville stared in horror at the little Hufflepuff first-year who lay curled into a ball, shaking on the ground in front of him. Neville thought her name was Annabel Entwhistle. "Now!" The girl's shoulders shook even harder as she began whimpering.

"For what it's worth, I did care. I loved her. I've always loved her. She's my sister too," he whispered, and the hesitated. "Did you see which spell hit her. Was it," he gulped, "was it mine or Gellert's?" Aberforth shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered.

Harry's relationship comes out in the worst possible way.

"Ouch!" Susan's elbow was beginning to bleed where it had scraped across the stone floor. Her belongings had spilled out of her bag when she fell and were littered around her on the floor. "Watch where you're going next time," a gruff voice said.

"Rodolphous Lestrange silently opened one of the large wooden doors allowing a tall figure in. He had long unkempt grey hair, dirty worn clothes, scars on every inch of his skin, and yellowed teeth. It was Fenrir Greyback, Draco realized with unease." After finally defecting to the Light, a new identity and mate were the last things he needed. AU. M for Language.

The first time he saw her, he was mesmerized. As the years pass, they grow older and she slips further and further out of his reach. It's probably for the best anyway, for all things truly wicked start from innocence, and Draco Malfoy was far from innocent.

The Final Battle has ended, and Hermione is completely distraught over Ron's death and the great price with which victory was won. When left alone on the stone bridge, she slowly climbs to the edge and allows the breeze to sway her and chance to decide her fate. She never expected someone to pull her back and furiously yell at her.

"We'll see what your mother has to say about that." Hannah grinned. "My mother will be fine. It's your grandmother that we should be worried about." Neville blanched.

When eleven-year-old Bellatrix is left in charge of her sisters, blood and tears are spilt. Sibling fluff.

Severus had always thought it a rather stupid, romantic notion held by those the likes of James Potter or Albus Dumbledore that your life flashed before you when you died. And yet, here he was, dying on the dirty floor of the Shrieking Shack of all places, remembering her.