Black is the colour of my true love's hair.

Her lips are like a rose so fair.

She's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands.

I love the ground whereon she stands.

He couldn't bring himself to tell her. He knew it would burn inside him until he finally voiced his feelings. It had for the last month. Ever since he left her by the lake in school. Whenever he looked at Ron he saw her and it made his heart ache. He longed to see her again. To see her smile or her blazing eyes when she was enraged. The weeks they had spent together a as couple in school meant nothing. He never got to tell her how he felt. He never got to share all his intimacies with her. He never got to tell her he loved her.

I love my love and well she knows.

I love the ground whereon she goes.

And how I wish the day would come

When she and I can be as one.

And now, standing against a wall in the countryside. In a farmers field near a small muggle village all he felt was pain for her. His shoulder's slipped slightly as his foot lost balance on the slimy grass. His hand clenched onto the pebble-dashed brick. His finger nails scraped and scratched until small flakes of paint and stone fell onto the green below his feet. His shoes were shiny from rain, sweat or even blood. He pushed those thoughts far from his head as his finger tips numbed against the bumpy surface of the wall.

Black is the colour of my true love's hair.

Her lips are like a rose so fair.

She's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands.

I love the ground whereon she stands.

His hearing was fading but Harry didn't really notice. Only muffled screams made it past the blockades across his ears. His vision was slowly creeping away as well. The sky looked more grey than lilac and the grass was turning black. The trees were a strange purple colour and suddenly the clouds were saturated with a hot pink colour. He blinked and the people before him went fuzzy. Going further away, abandoning him until he was alone in the field, until he blinked again and they returned. Returned as if they had never left. Until they vanished again only to appear when he shut his eyes.

I go to the Clyde and mourn and weep

Satisfied I never will sleep.

I'll write her a letter, just a few short lines

And suffer death ten thousand times.

His mind is blank except for her. He is not ignorant of the fact that he his losing his battle. He only feels guilt for leading them here. For having there trust in him. He would go along with there hopes and dreams. There optimism would slip away and there confusion will be apparent. They will remember a time when they wouldn't let a minute go to waste and when there aims and goals would be satisfied. But this was pushed away as he thought of her. Her vivid hair vibrant in his mind. He could see her face now. Smiling. Possibly that blazing look he saw after the quid ditch game. Harry felt a smile trace his face. How he wished he could tell her but that was all wishing now. He could never express his gratitude and love for her. Never use his affection towards her or show the world who they were. Together he believed they would be great, apart he didn't know.

Black is the colour of my true love's hair.

Her lips are like a rose so fair.

She's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands.

I love the ground whereon she stands

Harry was aware that he was now on the ground. He was aware of rain drops falling. He was aware of the rain washing the blood from his arms and face. His hair flopping onto his forehead and soaking his ripped robes. He blinked and the sky was a lilac colour again. The clouds were grey tinged with gold. The grass was green and the trees were turning brown and red again. He was hearing people talking clearly. There was nearly no more shouting and very little screaming. Noises from the battle were few and rustling was near to him. He heard a worried call as clear as day. Shadows descended over him and he looked up. Head swam before him. They came closer as the people fell to their knees. They were all talking at once. Some to him some to the others. Hermione produced her wand and started to clear up the wounds on his arms but Harry knew it was too late. His head was growing lighter. His throat was sore. Pain was slowly recapturing his body. He was conscious of the rain and the blood mingling together. Along with the tears of his best friends. Then he saw her. Her hair pulled up in an elastic. Strands floating around her eyes. She knelt down beside him and he grabbed her hand. She looked at him in the eyes. Her blazing look sent butterflies fluttering and a warmth spread through his veins. Just how he remembered her. How he always would. He tried to talk but his mouth would not move. So he squeezed her hands and tried to communicate with his eyes.

The last thing he felt was her lips on his as he floated away.