Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): The Triwizard Tournament (Task 12)

Prompt: A character must be self-conscious of a part of their body.

"I'm a little behind on the times, but I think the term you are looking for is 'O-M-G'." - Elijah Mikaelson, The Vampire Diaries
"You think you're going mad, so you came to see me to see what a mad person looks like." - Effy Stonem, Skins

End your total word count on either a 3 or a 6 (803 w/out A/N)
Use a mobile phone in your story
Reference to or use Ariana Dumbledore in your story

Reference to or use Ariana Dumbledore in your storyHermione stood alone in the graveyard, trying to somehow convince herself that she was here for the sole purpose of laying flowers on the gravestones of those she had lost. After the war, the cemetery in Godric's Hollow had been dedicated to those who had died in the war and the once happy village had become a gloomy town full of the ghostly memories brought here by those wishing to pay their respects. She came to the end of a row and carefully laid her last flower on the grass where Arianna Dumbledore was buried. Somehow it felt right; Professor Dumbledore's tomb was always covered in bouquets and wreaths, but she felt that he would have hated to see his sister's gravestone cracked and overgrown, so she made sure that it was well kept whenever she visited her own loved ones.

She knew that he would come today. He was always here, every morning before the crowds flocked to the graves like crows to a carcass. He moved through the cemetery slowly, his black cloak billowing out behind him and his blonde hair windswept and unkempt. She didn't know why he came; no one that he loved was buried here. For some reason she felt drawn to him, the man who had changed more than any of them in the long months following the war. She suspected that he, like her, only left the house to come here. Nowhere else mattered, nothing else was important. They had saved the world, but in the process she had lost faith that the world was worth saving.

Her phone bleeped and she looked down quickly. To her relief she saw that it wasn't Harry, or Ginny, but her father, and she opened the message with a faint smile.

I'm a little behind on the times, but I think the term you are looking for is 'O-M-G'.

She shook her head slightly. After the war she had found her parents immediately, and without their help she doubted that she would have made it at all. They made sure that she ate regularly, that she got up in the morning. Her dad's awful sense of humour remained one of the last shreds of normality that she could cling to. She was about to respond when suddenly a sharp wind blew across her face and she looked up.

He was standing there before her, only feet away. His expression was blank as he stared at her unflinchingly and she met his stare defiantly.

"You've been following me." He said in a dull voice. "Watching me whenever I come here."

She couldn't deny it but neither could she explain the strange impulse that had forced her to wait here for him. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I came"

It was a stupid idea stupid, reckless even. He was quite possibly dangerous. The ministry had pardoned him, yes, but the ministry were hopelessly incompetent. She shouldn't have come here. Harry would think she was stupid and Ron would shout at her. For some reason though, she was beyond caring.

"You think you're going mad, so you came to see me to see what a mad person looks like." He grinned. "Well Granger? What do you think?"

She stepped back. "I'm not mad! I'm not!"

He stepped closer to her and she shrunk away. "Oh really? Can you explain the nightmares then? The way you wake up with your wand at the throat of whoever tried to wake you? Can you explain the screams that echo in your ears, the blood that smears across your vision? Do you know why you can still see them, all of the people who died instead of you?" His voice was raw, as though he hadn't used it in a long time. As he spoke he raised his voice until he was shouting at her. Suddenly his eyes refocused and his voice dropped to a deadly calm.

"I know you feel it too. The guilt, the burden of their deaths."

"No. No. No." She shook her head, trying to force away the images that came with his words. She tried to pretend that she couldn't see Colin Creevey's small frail body, tried to imagine something other than Fred's dying grin. She tried to see past the flashes of green light and deep red spatters that filled her mind. She tried to hear something other than the screams of torture that her ears rang with.

"No." She fell to her knees as if praying to a God that she no longer believed in, sobbing into her hands.

"You know what I mean Granger. And when you want to talk, you know where to find me."