His hand lingers over her skin for another heartbeat or two. Then he gets up, smoothing his palm over the side of her face. "Your hair is like hers," he muses. He takes her by the chin ever so gently. Her eyes meet his. They almost seem to glow in the dark. Red, red, red. "I do not love, my sweet Hermione. I never will. But I know how to destroy. And I have never walked away from a ruin with regret. Sometimes, sacrifices are necessary to make a point. Tell me you understand."