I was finding it difficult to look at him. That man ... that man that I truly loved, can say such terrible things. He can't be serious, I thought, How can he POSSIBLY suggest-

"Annette... say something." he interrupted my inner thoughts, "Please? I need to know what you think about this."

Breathe. "I just ... I just can’t “ I whispered, struggling to find my voice," What If you something happens to you? I would have no way of knowing, and you know what that would do to me. I just can’t..."

“Annette, darling, you of all people should realize that nothing will happen to me." he chuckled" Like I would let some Death Eater just kill me. For a witch as smart as you, I thought you would have known that." he laughed again
Despite my strong objection, my eyes began to fill with tears. I absolutely hated crying around him, because I knew perfectly well how much he hated tears. I also hated the way I was acting. ‘Oh look at me! I'm crying. Everyone feel sorry for me’. Believe me when I tell you that I'm not normally like this. you wouldn't believe how many times he and I sat around, laughing at all those superficial girls who seemed to be obsessed with creating pointless drama, clearly into themselves. I was above all that. But here I was now, crying like that girl from those hilariously inaccurate muggle-teen vampire novels. I quickly wiped my eyes, hoping he wouldn't see the moisture building up under my lashes.

He stopped laughing. "Oh god, are you crying? I was only joking, I'm -"

"No, it’s okay." I laughed nervously," It's just ... It's hard to imagine. I've lived here so long, you know? I mean, my whole life is here."

"Annette, you know why you can't stay." He replied

"But what if I stay in hiding? They won't find me, they'll -"

“You’d be on the run, for months, maybe even years. That’s no way to live, spending each day in fear of being killed."

I’d never seen him like this. I have always been the rational one, the one making all of the important decisions, while he just stood back, letting me. He was different now, so serious. And, for the first time, no hint of humor appeared on his face.

"You need to really think about the situation here. Staying will only lead to you getting captured by the ministry. Whether you like it or not, you are a muggle born, and by the slim chance that you get caught, you will be put on trial. You and I both know that Umbridge won’t be as forgiving this time."

I looked at him. His beautiful blue eyes were looking at me, searching for my response. I reached up and gently pressed my hand to the side of his head, which was tightly wrapped in a clean bandage. I could feel the emptiness that now occupied the space were his ear used to be. We both then began to laugh, because such romantic gestures seemed ridiculous to us. It’s not that we don’t ever show affection, it’s just that we have never been into that romantic over-the-top love crap. What we had was unique. We had our own ways of showing love. Letting my hand drop, we looked at each other.
I opened my mouth to speak when Molly called from downstairs Hermione, Ginny, and I to help with dinner. I got up to leave when George reached for my hand.

“We can talk about this later, okay?" he smiled, something I loved to see.

"Alright." I replied, and then turned for the door.

"Oh and one more thing..." Said George. I turned and waited for him to speak.

"I just thought I would remind you, Miss Annette, that I love you."
Smiling, I replied," And I, Mr. Weasley, quite truly love you as well."

And with our hands intertwined, he and I walked downstairs into the end of life as we knew it.