Disclaimer: I DO NO OWN HARRY POTTER or ANY CHARACTERS FROM THE BOOKS/MOVIES. I AM NOT JKR. NO MONEY MADE.
Over
He tells you he's leaving. He tries to explain, but everything grinds to an abrupt halt as those words are spoken. He keeps speaking, most likely explaining his reasons, but your mind can barely only wrap around the phrase 'I'm sorry…leaving…' Your thoughts are hurled this way and that, and an unwelcome storm of memories assault your consciousness. The sound of footsteps slowly walking away hardly registers as you sink deeper into yourself.
You remember that awkward first kiss. It was sunny that day by the lake. You didn't know who sent you that note, but your curiosity got the better of you (as it always does) and you wanted to meet the secret admirer. You remember the way the sunlight played in his eyelashes. You're beautiful….his words echo in your mind. He reaches up and lightly brushes his fingers across your cheek as if you'll break if applies any more pressure. Your breathing pattern becomes irregular as he steps into your personal space. Your eyes focus on the childlike nibbling on his lower lip, as if he's afraid of what is about to happen. He looks at you from under lashes and you see a glimmer of resolution inside them. You don't move and his face comes closer to yours, as if moving will bring him back to his senses. His lips are soft against yours and concentrate on the feeling, knowing that anything this good is too good to last.
You remember the first time he tells you…'I love you'. He drapes his body of yours and covers you with open-mouthed kisses. His movements are extra slow and he seems to worship your body. His eyes are shining with something unidentifiable and he drinks the sight of you in. The way he seems to be cataloging every inch of you makes your heart bleed the tiniest bit and you know that it's the beginning of the end.
He thinks he's being noble, that he's saving you by letting you go. You have a future, he tells you, I'm likely to die in this. The last bit twists your lips into a bitter smile. He doesn't know that he is your future, that if you don't have him, you're dead already. You idly wonder how this is saving you when it feels like your entire being is shattering into a million little pieces. With each step he takes your soul dies a little more.
He finally disappears from your line of sight and you find that your legs cannot support you anymore. You sink down the stone wall until you meet the floor. You wonder if you should wait for him to come back to you. The more you think about it, the less likely it seems. His friends will pat him on the back, telling him that he has to be strong, that he did the right thing. He'll forget all about you and move on with his life, into the arms of someone else. You lean your head back against the cold stone of the dungeon walls. Your eyes are devoid of any emotion. If he wants you to stay alive, so be it. You will write your father tonight. The Mark is given in October and you have little time to plan. You will live, yes, but the price will be his life.