In whatever space of time there was to blink, she was gone.
Nymphadora!
She was gone.
I'll kill you Dolohov - I'll kill you!
It was assumed that it would quick and painless, to be sure, but he could never fully quiet the voice that didn't scream or shout or rage - it merely pointed out the fact that there had been that look.
The Look.
One brief instant of confusion and something that was like fear but closer to pain.
Then he had blinked.
And she was Gone.
Gone gone gone.
She had had her back to the green explosion, so for the few fleeting eternities that he saw her, she was illuminated, frozen in time as an emerald statue. Her hair, brightest, vividest pink swirled and caught the light, and the light danced around her head in a halo. Her face had seemed like perfect, invincible stone. Then it was ice. Then she was gone.
NO -
All in a matter of a second.
He hadn't cried. No, no, he was far too sensible for that. And he had this faint delusion that it was all an act. She was going to get up and smile at him and kill the sonofabitch who'd just murdered her. She was going to screw up her face with that concentration, that determination, and her hair would fizz purple or blue or what have you, and she'd laugh in the face of evil.
Like he was now. Like a maniac. Because the whole world is a cosmic joke and everyone, every one of us is a fool. Watch the tear drip off the clown's shiny red nose and laugh, laugh, laugh, because you're next.
He was laughing and laughing and laughing and oh God, Nymphadora, get up.
Get up.
Get up!
She never did as she was told. Hadn't stayed home with Teddy. Hadn't listened to him when he'd told her: danger follows me. And now she was gone.
HIs fault his fault his fault.
Who would remember him? Who was going to tell him he was an idiot and a pessimist and a damned noble fool? He was a selfish - a selfish -
She - was - all - that - was - good - in - this - Godforsaken - world -
Gone.
For once he wants the wolf in him to emerge. He wants to rip the throat out of this monster who has just killed Dora. The irony of it doesn't escape him. He wants to be a monster to kill a monster.
I'm so sorry, oh God, I'm so sorry
One second she's there. The next gone. Surely, if there is a God, if the sky is blue, the same can be true for him. He had something to live for. Now he has something to die for.
It's as he gives one last war cry and jumps over his wife's crumpled body that he remembers the blue-haired child that has his eyes. It's too late to go back, but he knows that Teddy will be taken care of. He ought to be more concerned about the welfare of his little boy, he knows. But eventually he would begrudge and resent and regret and -
He loves that little boy.
In whatever space of time he has to blink, he's gone.