I woke up with an owl pecking at my window. It was about 7 o'clock on a Sunday. I rubbed my eyes and realized that Harry wasn't by my side. He probably went out to a walking. I've never seen a person more willing for it than him.
The owl was bringing a beautiful envelope, with well-crafted letters, alternating between gold and green details. When I read "Mr. and Mrs. Potter" on the envelope back, my heart sank. I realized that the moment had arrived. It was a wedding invitation. The love of my life's wedding invitation.
I spent about 15 minutes with the envelope in my hands. I've already know what it was – I heard the rumors – but rumors are nothing comparing with facts. After hesitating, with a heavy heart, I decided to confirm my suspicions. Slowly, I opened the envelope and, when I saw their names wrote there, I couldn't hold back the tears.
Merlin! I've never felt so thankful for Harry's morning walks. How could I explain my uncontained tears to him?
I ran my finger slowly on her name and remembered our moments together. Our first kiss, our unsuccessful attempt to move away, our exchange of glances so full of tenderness at Hogwarts hallways, our hidden dating with special moments at Room of Requirement. Then, I was sadder. I remembered how we became close on Dumbledore's Army while Harry was seeking horcruxes and, the same way, how we moved away when he came back.
After so much tears, after the living memory of our last kiss and her sad look in my wedding, I was forced to get up. I washed my face and sighed. Now, it's time to accept the facts. Yes, she was the love of my life, but not always the love of our life is the love for our life. Take good care of her, Scamander. Take good care of her.