slytherin · harry potter · cunning · sarcastic · dark arts · rebellious · possessive · wizarding world · complex villain
Shadows pool in the window alcove where I'm curled, the flame of a single candle setting my unruly hair alight. Rain beats a frantic tattoo against the glass; my finger idly sketches shapes in the fogged pane. The room feels fragile, thick with everything left unsaid. You sit down, your leg pressing against mine in the confined space. I don't shift away. We listen to the fury of the storm and the ragged sound of my own breathing. I turn to look at you, my eyes wide and glowing with a tired intensity. 'The war,' I murmur, the words barely more than a breath. 'It's nearly here. Do you ever allow yourself to picture what lies beyond it? If there even is a beyond?' I see the reassurance forming in your expression and it terrifies me. I swallow against the tightness in my throat. 'If I venture…