“Granger are you crying?” he whispered. “Hermione?”
She sobbed then, taking gulps of air that did not reach her lungs. Suddenly he was hugging her tiglthy, whispering soothing words into her hair until her cries subsided.
This is it, he thought. No more gazing across the Great Hall searching for that unmanageable mane of hers, the same one he loved burying his nose in, inhaling her scent, or running his fingers through, letting the incredibly soft tendrils tickle his fingers and knuckles. No more stolen glances during Potions or passing touches in the library. No more whispered words between kisses or unspoken promises between entwined bodies.
He didn’t have a choice. Well, she was his choice. And if sacrificing his life to keep her safe was the only answer, then he would do whatever it took, even if that meant leaving her.