A woman, with hard, striking features and strangely unfitting soft tendrils of brown hair approached the graves, booted feet crushing the gravel with her steady purposeful steps. She hadn't been to this place in twenty six years, and she couldn't help but despise the fact that her return had to be for all the wrong reasons. She could barely accept what it was she was going to see, for she had never stepped foot near the neat, lovingly tended graves before, she had arranged painstakingly to be left alone, to be left at peace.
Shh, shh, precious, nearly there now. She cooed over the baby held wrapped tightly in her arms. He was everything to her. Just as she hoped to be everything to him. For they had no one but each other, only grief riddled memories and futile, torturous regret Andromeda thanked God the child was never to know.
The graveyard was a beautiful place, Dumbeldore's tomb stood at the front, a proud, immaculate resting place for the only Hogwart's headmaster to wi