Empty. That's what he called himself because she was gone and there was no one else to remind him of who he was.
And he sat there, and he sat there, and listened to others tales of his beautiful Veela girl and the things she did while he was gone.
Full. That's what she always was because she was sunshine, pure and sweet, all bottled in one.
She wasn't there, wasn't there, and she wrote to him tales of her handsome friend and the things they did while he was gone.
Empty. That's what his home was like because his parents were long gone and there was no one else to hold him close but her.
And he sat waited, and he sat waited, and believed that his sunshine would return, so they could do the things she said they would do.
Full. That's how her life was because she was loved by everyone, Weasleys, Potters, Delacours, and her handsome friend.
She told him, told him, that she was counting down the days until she would return, so they could do the things she said they would do.
Empty. That's how their promises were because as much as they loved to love each other it was an empty, shattered glass.
And he was sorry, and he was so sorry, and when she came back (finally), there was nothing left of him but a note.
Full. That's how her eyes were because there were tears and tears and her note on the table telling him of her engagement to her handsome friend.
She hadn't been there, hadn't been there, and everything felt wrong as not-Teddy's arm wrapped around her and told her things would be okay in not-Teddy's voice.
Empty. That's how the colour of his hair had been ever since she'd been gone because no one else could remind him of who he was.
xxx END.