"I miss you."

How long has it been? I can't remember. I can't remember at all, and that thought scares me. Well, it scared me more in the past, but I think I've made peace with my demons. I buried away all my regrets a long time ago.

Or so I've told you. You and everyone else around me.

I can recall the conversation we had just before you got married.

You looked at me, and I saw it. The flash. The hint of fear in your eyes; the fear you had of one day waking up to find an empty bed. To wake up and find yourself being oppressed. To wake up and find that your life has been a lie.

"Hey." I nodded towards you and you immediately stood up from your chair, and strode over to the door at which I stood. They told me I couldn't see you. I didn't care. You wrapped your arms around me and gripped me tightly, just like you always had. And as always, I simply smiled in return and kissed the crown of your head.

"Don't be afraid," I whispered into your hair. Partly for you. Mostly for me.

"Harry." Your voice was shaken. That you trembled at this moment made me almost collapse and hold you more intimately than I had ever done before. I would have, honestly. But then I remembered where we were, who I was, and who you were about to be. I shook my arms free and returned your hug with an equally powerful grip.

"Look at me." The slow turning of your head kept every last bit of my attention; it was like watching the sun rise. Eventually, you opened your eyes and your beautiful almond met meadow greens. Emeralds, you called them.

I didn't say anything, but I held you. I don't know for how long. I just knew I had to hold you.

It was after a time that you finally pulled away from me; that moment left a rift I could never mend. It was at that point that it began to hit me how much of you I had lost.

And it was right then that I felt so sick I could have thrown up for days.

But, this was your special day. Your special moment in life. Your most precious ceremony. Your wedding.

To him. Not me.

I shook my head again, only slightly this time. Still, you caught it - worry filled your eyes, touching my heart just like it had for the past eight years I had known you.

"What's the matter, Harry?" the words rolled off your tongue like a soft melody; your voice never ceased to tug on my heartstrings.

"Nothing," I replied. I forced out a laugh and the biggest smile I could manage to pull. "It's just…" I faltered. Then I swallowed. I figured that I could tell you the truth. "You're beautiful, you know? You're absolutely beautiful. Brilliantly so." Your cheeks were tinged with pink, but I knew you only appreciated my compliment as a best friend could. After all, you knew me. You could tell when I was lying. And I wasn't.

You simply never knew the depth of my ineptitude for finding the proper words to describe you.

You smacked my arm and giggled. "Oh, you! Thank you, Harry," you whispered.

After that, I could bear no more. I told you I would see you later - see you standing there at the alter. With him.

Watching your bright smile, I knew that it was my cue to go. Your wist overtook you, and I quietly pardoned my presence. It was sickening enough to see you everyday like that. With him by your side. I couldn't bear to see that look on your face anymore than I had to.

If you knew, you would have yelled at me. Called me a craven. You would have been right. And in fact, you would still be right.

My eyes don't want to open anymore. Not these days.

Not after she was born.

"Harry?" your voice was weakened by the door, but I heard you. "Harry?" you called again.

I had no idea how you knew it was me, as I had not yet knocked, but I felt grateful that you knew all the same. "Come in, Harry. Come here."

I closed my eyes.

"She's beautiful."

And then I choked. I coughed quietly, begging the door to muzzle my lack of breath. Tears threatened to fall, and I recall failing to hold them all in because I touched a finger to one side of my face - I don't know which - and felt a wetness I hadn't known since four years prior.

Crying. I hadn't done such a thing since Sirius died.

I hastened to answer you and let out a strangled, "Just a moment." I wiped my face with my hands and ensured that I appeared as I always had around you.

The door creaked painfully and it took great effort to open.

My gaze flickered around.

You were there. Alone. But then you weren't. There was this little bundle you had on your lap. In your arms.

"Come here." I stepped forward. Fear, dread, torture, and agony all vying for the throne of my heart. My throat dried.

I ignored the fact that your husband was not yet there.

The Floo was a mess that day, and St. Mungo's had never allowed direct apparation into the building.

Your eyes beckoned me to continue my advance, and I complied.

I drew closer until I was by your bedside. You didn't say a word; you simply picked it up and gave it to me.

My breath hitched and I bit down on my lip, forcing all my mental capacities to bend but not break.

"She looks just like you," I let out. Every word was more than I thought I could muster. I smiled at her, reaching to stroke her hair.

And then she opened her eyes.

"Her name's Rose," you said.

I barely heard the words, barely registered what you said. I was caught by the two orbs staring right back at me.

Her eyes weren't yours.

And she wasn't mine.

I swallowed again.

"Beautiful."

Even now, I can hardly contain myself. You have been in my life for as long as I can remember the feeling of the word 'joy'. You have been the meaning of that word to me since I was eleven and you were twelve.

Nine years.

I cannot force myself to bear this cross anymore.

I was a decent person once. Good thing that was once and not now. The me of right now would not be able to look the me from back then in the eyes, I suppose. I wouldn't know. Not now, not tomorrow. Not ever again.

Today, I decide, would be my last day on these shores. I glance at the clock. Four in the morning. Again. My eyes drift towards my new, year-old best friend I never introduced to you. Firewhiskey.

I stumble towards my bed and pull out a journal from one of the shelves. I flip to an unused page and tear it out. Or most of it, at least. I twist myself and lean onto my desk, dipping a quill into my new ink.

A splash of black douses the paper but I ignore it.

As best as I can, I scribble out, in my infamous chickenscratch, my last word to you.

"Good-bye."

Silently as I can manage, I apparate to your doorstep. I tuck the letter in the first place you would look. Your mailbox. The one just for me.

Of course, the sounds of your lovemaking this morning distract you from any sound my apparation could possibly cause and I do as much as I can not to let the sound kill me.

Because I'll probably be dead soon enough.

I turn away, my back facing your home. I brace myself for the slight pop.

I land somewhere - nowhere - and I whisper to nobody.

"I love you."