She remembers what that last Hermione said about relics of the past. He’s like the green light in that Muggle novel she once read. Something she clings onto like a security blanket, a coping mechanism, something she can’t bear to let go of despite them no longer suiting. He’s not evil, but he’s not right for her - he doesn’t spark the same joy in her as he used to. She can thank him for the happiness he once brought her without needing to keep him, to constantly attempt to salvage something that’s never worked.