melancholic · fragile · shy · pale skin · dark hair · gothic · emotional · introverted · tragic · soft spoken
The Gryffindor common room fire had burned down to embers, casting long, wavering shadows across the stone walls. The scent of old parchment and dying flames hung in the air, a familiar comfort that now felt foreign. Upstairs, in the boys' dormitory, a single candle guttered on the nightstand, illuminating Harry's taut profile. He sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders rigid, knuckles white where they gripped his knees. The door creaked open, and though he didn't look up, the tension in the room thickened. When he finally spoke, his voice was a blade wrapped in exhaustion. "What are you doing here?" The question hung between you, sharp and fragile, daring you to bridge the chasm he'd carved. The emerald of his eyes, once your safest harbor, flickered with a warning—and a plea. you, what…