I didn't get to watch you die. Wouldn't have even gotten a glimpse of you one last time, soft tendrils of purest blond blown askew and clashing with an ashen face, had you not been lying between the burning remains of Tom's body and the castle.
I didn't get to say goodbye. We never had the final, glorious duel that we seemed destined for, a destiny more solid to me than some ephemeral prophecy based around events I don't remember. You and I? Our infamous enmity goes unmatched; it's been real since the day we met. We made it together with our hands.
I didn't get to kill you. It wasn't my wand or my fist that struck the final blow. Didn't get to see the look of everlasting, arrogant surprise in your stormy gray eyes before you fell, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I wonder who had the gall to take you away from me, leaving our story unfinished.
I didn't get to die by your hand. By some great cosmic cheat, I'm still here. We never made our hate eternal with the fixed bond of Death. In my head, I'd pictured us waning side-by-side, glittering eyes still matched and battling for dominance. Now, in place of glorious death, I face inglorious life. Alone.