I could stay like this forever in your arms just looking at you. Even the way you sleep is flawless to me. I stroke your messy raven hair, which stubbornly falls back, resting on your long eyelashes. Sensing movement, your eyelids flutter and you open your eyes. The green emeralds captivate me, giving me a strong, almost unbearable sense of desire. It courses through me, making my heart falter. I turn away, ashamed that I feel the way I feel, knowing that you do not feel the same way. All this was to you was a quick release; I am your escape route. The openness in your eyes was captivating, but now it's gone. Your relaxed smile disappears, and right then and there, reality hits me like a bucket of cold water on a winter day; I know that I'm not the person you want to see when you wake up.

You push me away, gentle but firm, detaching your limbs from mine. I feel distant, the harsh coldness of winter and reality reclaiming me from you. You dress quickly, then walk over to the window, displaying the winter wonderland that is a joy to some but sadness for others.

You say, 'it's snowing. Almost January.'

I say, 'I know.'

Because, what else can I say? You turn to look at me, your green eyes turned grey by seriousness as you regard me, study me, like you did on the first day of Hogwarts. And for a moment, I wonder if this rejection would be hard and cold, just like the first time.

When you said that you would give it one last shot, I thought that it would mean that you would actually try to make things work. But every kiss we shared, even when we melded as one, I knew that it was someone else in your mind, that this whole thing meant absolutely nothing to you. I was of no significance. But I needed you, even if your feelings for me were not genuine. I just needed your body to be in harmony with mine, feel your salty sweat smearing onto my body, feel our bodies move in unison because I knew that I wouldn't feel anything like this with anyone else. And when you climaxed, a name that I didn't recognize was on your lips, but that's okay, isn't it, because I'm going to be gone next January, and you don't have to put up with my shit. What's the harm with one last fuck? Loneliness takes over after the peak of pleasure and the salt of my tears was smeared onto your body. I know you saw felt my tears; you made no comment, you didn't care. Even when you were physically with me, I knew your heart was somewhere else. With someone else.

We both fall into silence after the few uttered words. In that silence, things I love about you come back to me, such as the way your eyes widened in fascination when studying all the different rooms in Malfoy Manor, or the way you grinned because you were doing something without any flaw-so you thought, since, every time I saw that cheeky, curious face of yours, something was bound to be wrong-or the way that your bronze skin was dusted by a faint pink when embarrassed or aggravated. I also remember all the things you loved and hated. You hated cold feet, morning breath and most of all fame, which robbed you of your privacy. Things you loved: strawberries, John Felton and Shrek.

I remember I asked you why you liked Shrek.

You said, with a grin on your face, 'because Fiona reminds me of you.'

I said, wrinkling my nose, 'ao you think I'm a princess-turned-troll with bad breath? That offends the 'delicate sensibilities' you claim I own, Potter.'

Rolling your eyes, you explain it to me like you were talking to a baby, 'it's because she can throw away her family, her money, her royalty and her beliefs for her love, and you did exactly that for me.'

I say back to you with a badly concealed smile, 'stupid sentimental Gryffindor.'

After that, we laugh and I remember thinking that your laugh was the best sound I ever heard.

But secretly, in my heart, I loved that you chose that as a reason to love Shrek. Now I don't dare ask you if you hold that movie special anymore. Maybe you do, maybe you don't. It doesn't matter though, since nothing I ever do will make you love me the way you did. Either way, you didn't actually care, did you? Cause that night, when you said that things were not working and I pleaded and begged for you to stay, you picked up the flawless mask that I used against you for so many years in Hogwarts, leaving me broken and shattered in the disconsolate room that I once called home.

Give the stupid Slytherin a taste of his own medicine. Serves me right.

Then, I think about how you looked at me when you woke up this morning, before reality set in in your mind, I contemplate the loving glance you shot me and the overwhelming beauty and happiness that radiated of you in waves, taking my breath away. Was that the way you looked at me when you loved me? Because truly, now I think about it, I can't remember anymore.

I remember when you loved me. You made me new friends, gave me new experiences. But that backfired when you stopped loving me. When you did, I think I went back to being the old me. The one who would snap at everyone, be selfish and inconsiderate. Without your love, I don't know what to do and how to act, and nothing seems to be right anymore. Maybe I should just let go of everything and become me all over again. It's tiring for me to keep up the mask that you put on my face for years, as without you by my side, I lost hope.

Besides, who was I kidding with the mask anyway? You? Surely not. You left.

You must have thought I was stupid. Everyone could see that you stopped loving me. We became distant and you would come home, late at night, clothing rumpled, smelling strongly of sex and drink. And I never say anything.

Cause what do I say when my husband blatantly doesn't care that I know he's unfaithful?

I started smoking after that. Nicotine was my escape button. Usually, when you came home drunk, I would stay up in the late hours, chain smoking until I fainted from exhaustion or from the dense fumes of the smoke.

When I wake up, I find you in the same room. You shoot me a look of disgust. As if nothing went wrong, you say, 'you shouldn't smoke. It's unhealthy.'

Then I can take it no longer.

I say, 'the reason why I'm smoking is you, you adulterous bastard.'

You stiffened and look at me. Looking at me, and at that moment, I wondered why our love was lost. At that moment, I also realize that your eyes are the exact same color as the killing curse. We study each other for a few more moments.

Finally, I speak up, 'please, just… just go.'

You look at me for another two agonizing seconds, and then smile. I look away, shuddering, because the smile you give me had no emotion in it. The smile is icy, cold, distant. I longed to see the smile that you gave me when I gave you your birthday present, the smile when I gave you my love, the smile when I gave you my all.

Then, you turn on your heel and walk out the door and leave me and my shattered heart in the cold silence of the room. In that second, I know that I truly lost you.

Then, I order Tippy to give me all the firewhiskey she can find.

And now, staring at your back as you leave my room, leaving without hesitation, leaving the last intimate touch that we share, I know that you weren't the person that I loved long ago; that person was long gone. And when we meet next time, in January, it will be over divorce papers, a court case, and a lawyer. And maybe, I'll still be in your mind somehow, wherever you tucked the loving memories of me.