He catches her hand in his, kissing her palm.

"I think I will keep you, too."

Let everyone who has doubts have them: it can't touch what he and Fleur have.

Let everyone who doesn't understand their relationship be a cynic: it won't change his feelings in the least.

They don't owe a thing to anybody but each other. And that's exactly how it should be, he realises, as he lets his fingers walk down her arm.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

"I love you."