Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
'I don't want your crowd.'.
There's blood on his hands and she just can't do it anymore.
"We're over," she tells him, and if she's honest with herself, they have been over for quite sometime but she just needs to do this, to have some control over her life.
His eyes are dead and her face is scarred and the war has ruined them both.
He nods, says simply, "Okay." And that's that.
They sit in silence for a moment, and out of instinct more than anything, her hand latches on to his and he doesn't pull away, out of instinct more than anything.
"I don't need them," she admits, the words falling from her lips. "I have enough."
He raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything, and she continues with, "Ghosts. I don't need your ghosts. I have enough of my own."
He squeezes her hand in silent understanding.