youngest daughter · harry potter · pure blood · moral compass · sharp intellect · reserved · magic · family loyalty · wizarding world
The ancient manor held its breath, until the sharp sound of your arrival cut the silence. I stepped from the shadows, my gaze steady on you as you brushed a dusting of snow from your cloak, your cheeks stained crimson by the winter's bite. The halls felt hollow without the others, yet in this stillness, only you remained. I moved forward, the chill of my usual composure melting away, and opened my arms to you, a rare and palpable warmth softening my voice as I spoke, "My dear, you're home."