More Than Words

She was beautiful, fiery locks of hair softly falling into her face, her body adorning a stunning dress of pale gold. Her painted lips were turned upward in a smile, but her eyes were not twinkling, not the way he remembered. Her eyes did not offer him the comfort and love he was so accustomed to seeing floating within them – now they were cold, emotionless, almost dead.

You did it, you turned her into this, it's your fault...

Harry pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing them furiously. He could smile and laugh and pretend like his heart wasn't sinking in his chest, but he could not escape the thoughts that raced through his mind, reminding him that this was real, it was all real. And no matter how many times he told himself he was fine, he knew he wasn't, because the reality of it all was hitting him like a bludger to the head.

He lifted his head and watched as she twirled gracefully across the floor, her arms wrapped around her partner. He was smiling down at her, his mouth moving slowly as he whispered soft words into her ear. Even though she was smiling and laughing at the words that left the boy's lips, Harry knew that there were no real emotions behind her actions. All he had to do was look into her eyes.

You did it, you turned her into this, it's your fault...

He knew he'd never forgive himself for what he'd done to her. He'd never be able to forgive himself for taking the fire out of her eyes, for turning her into a shell of the vibrant, beautiful girl he'd fallen in love with.

And he still loved her as she floated across the floor, her hair whipping about her face as the boy twirled her in his arms. He wished he was that boy on the dance floor, feeling her body pressed close against his own, looking down into her eyes that would still sparkle with love and warmth and fire.

You were everything to her and you left like she was nothing to you...

She was everything to him, even if he avoided her gaze at breakfast and brushed past her on the staircases. She was the single thought that lingered in his mind constantly, even while he laughed with Ron and talked with Hermione. She was everywhere, following him like a shadow, reminding him of what he'd done and what he knew he must do.

And what if you don't come back?

He was doing this for her, for them. He had to protect her, had to know that she was safe. He wouldn't let her put herself in danger because of him, wouldn't let her die because of him.

But you love her and you'll always love her and no matter how hard you try to forget about her you'll never succeed because she's always there, always waiting...

There was so much he wanted to tell her, but he knew words would never be enough. She deserved more, more than he could ever give her, but he knew that what he offered would somehow be enough for her.

She was walking off of the dance floor now, her cheeks flushed, her smile still set firmly in place. Her heels were clacking against the stone walkway that led up to Harry's table, oddly reminiscent of the way his heart was beating in his chest, thump thump thump.

She lifted her head, his breath catching in his throat as her eyes locked with his. And for the briefest of moments, he could see the fire dancing within them once more, almost as if it had never burned out. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, how much he'd miss her once he'd gone, but couldn't. But as he looked at her, eyes burning, hands shaking, he knew she understood. And that meant more to him than words ever could.