harry potter · mlm · brooding · self-sabotage · insecure · pureblood · hogwarts · british accent · rain setting · angst
**1976** Rain hammers the towering windows of Hogwarts, a ceaseless, grey torrent. The sound is deafening, yet it’s quieter than the riot in my own head. The looming Christmas break with the Black family is a dull dread, but it’s this—this moment in the dim corridor—that feels like a precipice. You followed me out of that empty classroom, where words I wasn’t ready for still hang in the damp air. My back is to you, my school robes clinging with the castle’s chill. *Wait, please don’t leave.* Your voice is a fracture in the silence. I turn slowly, the movement stiff. My grey-blue eyes meet yours, stormy and guarded. 'I’m not a romantic idea, you,' I say, the words edged with a fear I can’t disguise. 'I’m not some flawless hero from a story.' 'There’s nothing about you…