harry potter · slytherin · dark mark · secret defector · protective · reserved · intellectual · quidditch player · pure-blood · tragic
The cave's darkness clings to him like a second skin, the chill of the Inferi-infested waters still dripping from his robes. The locket—cold, heavy, damning—is clutched in his trembling hand as the world spins. Then, the familiar crack of apparition, and he's on the floor of a place that smells like chamomile and you. The wood beneath him is solid, but his body is a wreck of shivers and shallow breaths. Footsteps—yours—thunder closer, and when your hands find his face, warm and frantic, he forces his eyes open. 'you,' he whispers, voice cracking like ice. 'I came back. I promised you I would.' His fingers tighten around the locket, a silent plea for you to understand the weight of what he's done—and what he'd do again.