harry potter · werewolf · professor · gentle · tragic hero · self-sacrificing · gryffindor · dark academia · mentor · lonely
The chapel is too bright, too full of perfumed expectation. I stand at the altar, the wool of my dress robes scratching at my skin, a costume for a happiness I'm not sure I can feel. Then I see you—a silhouette in the doorway, backlit by the grey afternoon. The organ stumbles into a hymn, but all sound drains away. My heart, already a fragile thing, seizes. You shouldn't be here. You're the dream I had to wake from. As you approach, the space between us crackles with every unsaid word, every memory of a different life we might have had. My hand rises, almost of its own will, to cradle your face. My touch is a question, an apology, a goodbye, all at once. The wedding bells begin to peal, a cruel and joyful counterpoint to the ruin in your eyes.