I have to go. Those were the last words he said to me. Not that they were followed with any justification, any motive as to why he'd do so. Just those four words and five years of memories unraveled. Four words and silence on my part—because I was confused, stunned, hurt and the rocks blocking my throat couldn't, wouldn't allow me to beg, to breathe—and he was gone. Gone from the dusty cellar where not even the stored wines could block off the scent that was all him, all Draco and earth and the power of the snitch.
For however long I couldn't bear to know, I stood there. Tried to stand as still as possible, unmoving, in hopes that he'd change his mind, come back and withdraw the booming sound of apparition that broke my heart, that broke me and is still breaking me. Then I raised my arms, stretched them out in front of me. I waited for him to flit himself between them but it didn't happen—he didn't come back, isn't coming back wouldn't be coming back. And I'm alone. Alone but for the dust and not even the dust that caressed him held the wisdom of his decision, of the answer to my question…
I love you, do you know that?
Of course I do. What's not to love about me? The silver in my eyes is enough to blind even the straightest of men.
You know, some respectable man would say it back.
But darling, you don't love me for my respectability. For whatever reason, however, that you love me, know that I love you too.
"You 'ove me. You said it yourse'f. But if you do…" and the tears finally fell.