Found this while clearing my old laptop. Written in 2007 around the same time as I wrote ‘Finite Incantatem’. How to save a life in 279 words without changing anything of the book.

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She doesn’t know how long she’s lain there.  Not moving, barely breathing, the cold stone of the floor chilling her body.  She likes the cold, it keeps her numb.  Oblivious.  Keeps her from thinking about the man who lies beside her – about the fact that his stillness is not voluntary. She tightens her fingers in his but he does not squeeze back, doesn’t brush his thumb across the back of her hand like he always does, doesn’t lean into her and whisper in her ear.  She daren’t open her eyes.  She doesn’t want to believe it; opening her eyes might make it true.  She feels her tears catch in her throat, stopping her breath.  She bites down hard on her lip and rolls onto her side, wrapping herself around him, her head against his chest, fingers twisting in the softness of his well-worn robes.  She desperately wants his arm around her, to feels the warmth of his body, soft breath in her ear as he tells her, ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’

It doesn’t happen.  None of it.  No embrace, no soft words, no warmth…

No heartbeat…

So many nights she has fallen asleep listening to its rhythmic thumping, safe in his arms.  She lies here now shaking, she is so scared.  It’s all gone.  How can she be without him? He’s gone.  She kisses his cheek, his forehead, his lips.  Picking up his wand from were it lies at his side, she slides her own into her other palm as she pulls herself to her feet.  She doesn’t allow herself to look down again.  He’s gone.  All that’s left now is darkness and violence and revenge.