**Quote mentioned in A/N is not mine. It was written by our queen, JK Rowling.**
2nd May 1998
As your thrashing on the floor slowly began to subside, the white hot, searing pain which traveled through your body only continued to crescendo. Soon it would all be over, of that you were sure. She tried to warn you, you realize that now, all those years ago. When she came into your life like a tornado, and left just as quickly; leaving behind the ruins of your abandoned and damaged heart.
She hadn't gone back yet, you were almost positive. You could tell by the way she refused to maintain eye contact with you. The way she looked at just about anything else in the dilapidated room besides your black eyes, which were slowly losing their light.
The only things that made your dying moments bearable were the green eyes of the woman who taught you that you were capable of love - albeit the eyes rested in the wrong face - inches in front of you. Even more importantly, the warm brown eyes of the woman who taught you that you were deserving of love in return were mere feet away.
As your memories leaked from every orifice of your body, you made sure to hold on to a precious few that Potter could not be made aware of. Memories which included you as a young man, experiencing stolen moments in the empty Potions classroom with the bushy haired brunette in front of you. Although, she looked very different at the time; she made sure of that. Saturdays in Hogsmeade - a place you refused to go before she came into your life, due to Black and Potter, who you knew would make your trips hell. Swollen lips; soft, passionate sighs; silky smooth, flawless skin; your hands tangled in that mane of hair - hers in yours. No, Potter couldn't have those. He wouldn't understand. Hell, you barely understood.
As much as you tried to hate her, you longed for the feel of her full lips against yours one last time. With your last ounce of strength, you grabbed Potter's robes and tried to pull yourself up to get to her.
You barely managed to move an inch and realized you would not succeed. With your last ounce of strength, you looked right at her, over Potter's shoulder, yet it could appear as if you were looking at him. "Look... at... me..." you gargled.
The fear and slight hint of revulsion in her perfect cinnamon eyes almost caused you to weep. You wished that you had the chance to speak with her. To know why. Why had she gone back and why had she done that to you? Your heart ached knowing you would never know the answer. Did she care for you? Was it real at all?
As the pain reached its highest point yet, the room around you began to fade slowly. You tried to hold on to the sight of her eyes for as long as you could; until the blackness overpowered everything. Your head rolled to the side; you were conscious no more.
A/N: "Look...at...me…" is directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 32 - Page 658