I remember sitting there, trying to get comfortable while still trying to hide my tears from Harry. I couldn't let him see me like this; not now, not after what happened. I had to be strong, for the both of us. I couldn't just break down because he left. No.
I sat in the old arm chair reading and translating the Tales of Beetle the Bard. I kept his Chudley Cannons blanket wrapped tightly around me. I could smell his scent on it. But barely, like it was a dream you try remembering after you wake but it's just faintly there, slipping, slipping away. Like him. I didn't know if he would come back. There was a part of me that wanted to believe he would; like he was only outside looking for some mushrooms for me to fix for dinner. But I knew it was only Harry outside watching and me; me, just sitting here while Voldemort and his evil, dark followers were out there hunting, killing, ruining lives of innocent people; the poor innocent people who were counting on Harry. How can I be worrying about me when it's Harry who will have to fight him in the end? How can I be so selfish?
But he promised. He promised he would stay and keep me safe. I wouldn't get hurt. He wouldn't leave. He broke his promise. And it's all Voldemort's fault. At first I thought it was mine. It was my fault that he left. But it wasn't. It was that stupid locket. That's what drove him away. That's what broke him, made him leave; leave me and Harry.
It's driving me insane. Where is he? What did he mean I chose Harry? I only stayed for what I knew was right. If I followed my heart instead of my head, I would be with him. I wouldn't be worrying about all of this. But I know I have to do what is right and stay for the good of the world. But it's hard. I miss him. I want him; I need him. I need him here with me; holding me, whispering to me that it was going to turn out all right in the end. But he isn't here. And I don't know if he ever will.