Breaking a heart for love – it wasn't a sin, nor was it a perfectly acceptable procedure. It was not a normal thing, did not happen often, and was not regularly done. Then why, why in the vision of the world, in the vision of a broken hearted girl, in her heart, in her mind, even in her soul, why did it pain so much? Just the thought of him, just the mere fact that he loved her, and then lost her in the same moment, in the same beat of a heart, welled up tears, which stung with every word, every tragedy.

It was a moment of new beginnings, a moment where sanity was unaccountable for anything, where trust was lost. It was a moment of ending, a priceless piece of art, wonderfully sculpted. It was divine, precious, and beautiful. And then it was over. It flew away. Suddenly. As if it were never there, as if it had no value, when in fact – in fact, it was priceless. It was a beauty which could never be meandered, never be meddled with, and could not be changed into something else.

That now nonexistent love was gone for the better, as he put it. It ceased to exist because one day, one moment, there would be a catastrophe forcing them apart. There would be a reckless nightmare, a sorrowful sensation, a sweet silence. It would be caused by the eternal love they were in. And in his words, there was someone out there, more deserving, more better, much better for me.

It had hurt when he said it; it pained me to hear those words sputtering out of his mouth. It was sickening, terrible, that I still loved him, still cared about him at that moment. Right after those hurtful words escaped his lips.

"Hannah, I'm going to have to let you go."

It still buzzed in my head, impairing my systems, drowning my subconscious self, my alter ego, putting it to its misery.

Three months ago, he crushed my heart and left.

One month ago, he went further away, leaving this beautiful place behind, leaving my broken soul, following the hurt, the prospects, and fulfilling the many desires of the world. The metaphorical prophecy caused such heartache that I was unable to understand whether I had the power to bear it.

But, I let him leave, no words spoken on my part, all the world crashing down behind me. The reasons behind his leaving were, as I had always suspected to be problematic, his insecurities. I hated when they got the better of him, making him feel as if he would never be able to fulfil the troublesome task of keeping my love.

My mind flashed with a memory, it began at once, ending in sorrow.

"Promise me, Neville, that you'll never leave me," I had told him one night, my hand intertwined with his, our eyes gazing deep into the others, underneath the stars, in the backyard of his small place.

"Neville, promise me," I whispered once again.

After a few moments of silence, he replied with what I needed to desperately hear.

"I promise."

And with that he had squeezed my hand comfortingly.

And then, barely two months later, it arrived. The day where all my dreams were shattered, he left me. I remember the day clearly, perhaps, a bit too clearly for my own good.

"Hannah, I love you so much, but please understand, I have to leave."

I remembered shrieking, remembered the satisfaction of yelling at him, at pounding hard into his chest.

"Why, Neville? WHY?"

His answer surprised me, especially the action he took right after saying it.

"Death Eaters are trying to track me down every day, and being with you, it will increase your chances of being in such danger. Hannah, I'm sorry, but I'm leaving now. It's for your own good."

I heard the heartbreak this time. Heard the pain, the shattering of the once whole, once complete heart.

And then he had just apparated away, before I could say anything, do anything. I had loved this guy, and he had deceived me.

For three months, I have still been unable to understand the truthful reason he had done that, unable to understand the analysis he took to get to the reason.

And it was only last month, when he shifted countries. I would never have found out if it weren't for Hermione. One day, we were shopping in Diagon Alley where she brought up Neville leave.

"Neville's left the country."

Those words rung in my air. It was difficult not to be so sad, not to be pained by the boy – the love of my life, breaking my heart and running away from it.

"Where?"

I wanted to know, wanted to run after him, to pull out my deserved answers.

"Nobody knows."

I had felt tears prickling the corners of my eyes before Hermione pulled me into a hug, and I sobbed. I cried for my love, for my lost love, for Neville, for his wellbeing, for missing him. Neville. I cried for him. I cried so much. I would never forget the time we shared, the moments we spent together. Countless moments, wonderful feelings. Exploring each other, inch by inch, loving the other, supporting each other, trust, love. It was true, it was meant to be. But, it ended, ripping me apart. Ripping my soul, shredding it into tiny little pieces, fragments which splattered violently.

I spent the next month wallowing miserably.

And up till now, I still haven't recovered from the two year relationship we had. Two years of my time, my love, handed out.

Neville, if you were here, with me, if I had seen you, just one time, I would tell you of one thing. Just one and nothing more.

"Eternal love is nothing more than time spent and lost."

And with that thought, I placed a rose on his symbolic grave.

Neville Longbottom, though for the right reasons, had left me, causing me such unbearable heartbreak. And now, now for leading me on and pursuing our relationships, wasting time, he is dead to me.

Neville; I love you so much, but sometimes, with your sacrifice, comes mine too. Sacrifice happens, and I have sacrificed my heart, and now, I will exchange it for my love.

I brushed away a final tear for him.

Goodbye.