After Curfew

The hallowed halls of the castle lulled into a peaceful silence, as the Seventh Year had just finished his rounds and found himself sitting before the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room. Those thoughts plagued him. Those what ifs. Perhaps, if he spoke his words a little softer or tried a little harder, he wouldn’t be in the cold stalemate with his girlfriend. Raising the glass to his lips, he took a small sip of his strawberry juice — before his mouth pressed into a firm line. Those idle musings. The death of the Headmaster and the events of his memorial. His right hand brushed against his chest, his fingertips trailing across the thin fabric of his uniform along the lines of where scars should be formed. Should. Magic was a wonderful thing, was it not?

Except magic could not heal everything. At the very least, it could do nothing for the strife found in one’s heart.

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Clothes & Things

Decor & Things

  • Pose – Wrong – W27-3

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