Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything even my hands.

In the afternoon, he asked her to leave with him.

"You know I can't, Sev," she said snapping up her shirt and skirt.

"But why?" he pleaded to her back as she walked towards the bathroom, "I thought that we could-you said that you wanted to..."

"I do, Sev. I do." she said moving back into the room, reaching for his hand.

"So then why?"

"I don't know, Sev. He's sweet to me, he makes me laugh," a smile ghosted around her mouth. He jerked his hand away. "He makes me feel safe, Sev," she whispered the smile falling from her face, sadness rising in her eyes. "Life is easier."

"There's no harm in that, right? I mean, I know I have to be careful. Given the state of things everyone has to be careful but especially muggleborns. And you know that it's dangerous out there and not just for me either. But for Mum and Dad and Tuney as well. I can't risk it. I can't risk them."

I hate this war. She felt the sentence in her mouth but clenched her teeth to hold it back at the sight of his face. His eyes were darker than normal but churning, his brows were furrowed and a vertical line was sliced between them. He was pacing back and forth, walking through thoughts and plans with his hands shoved in his pockets.

She had to fight. Dumbledore had told them that they would face dark and difficult times when they left Hogwarts and now they were here. This war could blow out the windows of the house she spent 17 years in, send the glass ripping through her room where her childhood sat and collapse all of the memories into rubble. It could tear up the trees and bushes at The Spot, their spot.

He stopped pacing, a thought finally rising and halted the silence. "I could keep you safe," he said. "I could—"

"Sev, please listen to me," she said, grabbing his hand with both of hers, "I am not asking you to do that. I can't risk you either. If they knew... They'll hurt you if they find out about us...Please, Sev."

His eyes rose to hers for a few seconds until he nodded slightly. Silence dropped between them again and he pulled his hand away once again and her hands fell to her sides.

"I should go," her voice thin and soft as if wound in spider's silk but it dropped to the floor like a brick. He edged back to the bed, his head turned away from hers and nodded once to show that he had heard.

She moved towards the door and fastened her cloak before looking back over her shoulder at him. "Bye, Sev."

Author's Note:

I'm aimless. You're aimless. This story has no rhyme or reason. I started writing it, I think, from grief. I don't have a plot. I don't have anything planned. I don't know where any of this is even going. But these scenes call me in the middle of the night and won't stop calling until I write down what I see. I realize that the previous sentence makes me sound like a crazy person (the scenes are rather relentless honestly). It is crazy but I call it fiction. I confess that these few scenes have comforted me and eased me majorly out of my sadness. Thank you for reading. I hope that it made you feel something, anything, even nausea or boredom or repulsion. All news is good news.