I would definitely choose to fall in love and take whatever moments we could scrape together, no matter the consequences. Not because the consequences wouldn't sting—they would. They probably would.
But this is me we're talking about. I came of age the year Voldemort returned, I spent the next three years on the edge, knowing the world could come crashing down (or the final pieces collapse even further) at any moment. If things went south, everything would be over with well before I had time to regret the stupid decisions I made.
Or maybe that's all just an excuse.