The scene melted around me and re-formed into what must have been Rita's home. I saw a blacked-out Pansy Parkinson on the mattress, and my wife holding the muggle weapon filled with sleeping potions. This was only a few months ago, and Rita looked older; frustrated yet shameless as she had just been caught dosing the young girl with a love potion. She aged well, but she never truly fell in love again, did she? It hit me, and I wondered what these two women were to each other now.