"I value your opinion," he stated. He wanted to make sure she knew that. When it came right down to it, if she didn't want him to go, he'd simply not and deal with the consequences later. If she didn't think it was safe or if she was going to worry too much, he'd do everything in his power to listen to her views. He then sighed, a twinge of guilt and pain hitting him at her statement.
He remembered how Sirius had been. At the time, he had been impatient with Sirius' behavior and in the weeks after his death wondered if it could have been avoided had they paid more attention to Sirius' needs. He never once thought he'd be in a similar situation. He glanced down at the floor of the house, trying to think of what he could say. He had felt so vastly empty when Sirius passed, as Sirius was the final link to his childhood and to his closest friends. It took months to even feel like himself once again and when he did, he noticed that everyone else began to act strangely.
"You won't lose me, Dora," he whispered. His words came across almost as if it was a promise, and in some ways, it was.