Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Harry Potter; those belong to JK Rowling. I don't have any rights to 'like cockatoos', that belongs to the cure.
Death Eater, Eat Her.
She walked out of her house into the dusk and looked around at the blooming gardens she had created. Red roses, daffodils, sunflowers, all in separate sections; all stunningly beautiful. The flowers stared back at her house, infusing it with light; if it wasn't for the garden it would be bereft of any light at all. Bereft, like she felt on the inside that last day walking through the ministry. Smiles for Harry, Ron, Draco-Ginny-Blaise-Marcus, a blur of faces, a blur of Aurors, and all of them looked back at her, their expressions quizzing.
She looked around the garden once more and she saw him. He was standing at the corner where the road turned dark. He looked shiny wet. Surprise. How had she overlooked the rain? It was falling like blood, black down the street.
He was moving toward her, closer, nearer. There was no point in running again, he had found her – she knew he would. He would find her no matter how far she ran. He was inches from her face and she stared into vivid green eyes, dreaming; maybe seconds, maybe hours. Falling at his feet, her lips kissing thick blackened boots as she strained to see, just one more time. Looking up she could only see love, her head an inch away from heaven, her features tight. Loud ringing in her ears, like a thousand birds were singing and all around the day turned into night.
His voice was icy heat, "a thousand things I've said; I'll never say those things to you again," and turning on his heel he walked away, leaving a trace of bubbles bleeding in his stead. She remained, the life running out of her; her soul draining away as cold, wet pellets dripped around her. The light was fading quickly, not a natural function of the setting sun. And in her head was the picture of a boy, a green eyed boy who swore his undying devotion; a boy with disobedient hair and a quixotic smile who'd left her lying lonely in the rain, dying from the curse that had flown like wind from his wand. Silent and quick, no mercy, all mercy.
The birds were screeching now, pulling her quickly into darkness and just before she slipped into the depths of total blackness, a sound near her head, crunching leaves then two strong hands.
Lifted and turned and the hallow whisper of a rush of words; a bright band of light and her vision cleared; her senses returned, and all she could see were emerald eyes.
He couldn't do it; he saw light where there was only a blackened soul. Had she known? She'd always known.
The birds had gone silent and all that was left was two souls, seated on the grass in the rain; one of them holding the other unwilling to let go. The other still lost in eyes too vivid, too wet, too green, begging for forgiveness, begging for love.
A wailing tone of mutilated syllables, "if it hadn't been me who found you, you would be dead."
But she wasn't dead and she didn't die. She remained hidden because he made sure she did. And when the war was over, there was only one death eater free; still in her house with the little garden, but now not alone.
The one man on earth who knew she existed; her green eyed savior, the hero of the war; he was there, filling the house with love, filling her pain with joy. And the light had finally found its way into her house, heedless of the garden.