She’d grown to hate the smell of cigarettes the cloying, bitter smoke that wafted through the bedroom at night. She would wake, alone, and watch him smoke out the window. Post HBP, oneshot.

The last, frantic moments of Igor Karkaroff's life. Post HBP, oneshot.

Everything he'd done, he'd done for a reason. He'd sent her away for a reason. And he'd come here, to the dustchoked house where his Godfather had spent his first and last days, for a reason. Post HBP, oneshot.