Harry hated the loneliness, he'd always been alone. When he married Draco he'd thought the loneliness could finally end. And it had. The two had spent four years together in absolute bliss. Until three months ago when Harry had gotten the call from St. Mungos, where Draco worked as a healer. He was informed that one of the mad patients had escaped and killed ten people. One of the ten was Draco. Harry's soul shattered in an instant.
He sighed as he got out of bed, as he'd known he would, and walked over to his cupboard. He opened the drawer, took out the Resurrection Stone and turned it three times. Draco appeared before him. Harry felt tears in his eyes as he saw his lover. In death, just like in life, the young man was dressed impeccably: robes falling perfectly, every hair in place.
"I love you," the image whispered.
"I love you too," tears ran down Harry's face as he turned away and went back to his bed. To toss and turn, trying to get to sleep with the presence of his husband missing.