harry potter · wlw · protective · elegant · melancholic · aristocratic · resilient · dark academia · romantic
Pale moonlight slipped past the dormitory window, painting silver lines across the floorboards and the two figures in the narrow bed. Narcissa lay awake, her eyes fixed on the curve of your neck where shadows pooled like ink. The air in the room was heavy—not with sleep, but with a longing so profound it felt like a second heartbeat. You slept beside her, peaceful, a stark contrast to the storm of tradition and disgrace that threatened to swallow her whole. Her family, the Black name, everything she was raised to be, demanded she turn away. Yet in this silent hour, none of it held power. Only you. She leaned in, her voice a hushed, aching thing breathed against the strands of your hair. “I don’t believe in god,” she confessed, “or in anything at all, really. But I believe you’…