a/n: so here's a bit of an awkward epilogue for anyone who bothers to read this story. it's a bit half-assed and written in an hour or so, but i hope you like it. oh, and reviews would be very much appreciated.
V.
Don't let your wish bone grow where your back bone should be.
She misses than she has any right to since she's the one who left him in that blur of colors and confusion years ago.
She misses the way his silver eyes lit up when she mentioned a new creature that her father had discovered. She misses the way his hands and his body seemed to fit perfectly with hers, like (oh merlin, she can't believe she's saying something so cliché) two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together. She missed the way his flawless pearl teeth shone against his alabaster skin. She missed the way he hissed at her almost like a snake in public and whispered sweet nothings in her argent hair when they were in the privacy of a hotel room, making her ivory cheeks flush a deep rose.
But oh Merlin, what she missed the most was his touch. The way his hands seemed to paint a new canvas on her skin everytime they were together. The way his pale rose lips seemed to dance a perfect waltz or tango with her own chrysanthemum ones as they touched. The way his tender breaths touched the back of her neck when they slept in the cheap hotel room bed they shared. The way his bare perfect body touched hers in such a way she'll never forget. A way Neville never could.
Sometimes she missed the way they used to be. She wishes it could have been more simple.
Her eyes rain when she thinks of him now.
She's wasting away thinking of him now.
She doesn't care anymore. It's all her fault.
He misses her.
Oh, how can he just fucking forget her now? He'd do anything just to forget her now.
Forget the way her cerulean eyes flashed sympathetically when he mentioned his father instead of them flashing angrily like everyone else's. Forget the way her delicate, skinny, beautiful fingers found just the right way to pleasure him into lose sight of everything but her. Forget the way her porcelain body moved perfectly with his, almost like water running across his skin. Forget the way her smile flashed, her pale pink lips stretched across her alabaster teeth almost perfectly. Forget the way she didn't treat him any more different in public than in private, seeing nothing wrong with their connection.
But oh merlin, what he needed to forget the most was her touch. The way her hands seemed to have magic healing powders and seemed to be unconciously healing his body of undiscovered wounds because her touch was just that fucking amazing. The way her delicate lips felt like flower petals against his own chapped, rough ones when their lips were brought together desperately. The way her rose breath felt against his flushed face when she checked him for Nargles as he was about to leave her from another encounter. The way her naked, blushing body felt against his pale, toned one when they were brought together, moving against each other desperately. A way Ariana (is that even her fucking name) would never be able to do.
He misses the way they used to be. He wishes he could have gotten the courage to be with her.
His eyes refuse to rain when they think of her, but they do get cloudy.
He's wasting away thinking of her now, trying to forget her.
He doesn't care anymore. It's all his fault.