ℒℯ𝓈𝓈ℴ𝓃 ℴ𝒻 ℒ𝒾𝒻ℯ 𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ

❀ 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℯℯ ❀

❤︎𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓰𝔂 𝓸𝓷 𝓫𝓾𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓷𝓮𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼❤︎

Awakened by the tender caress of sunlight upon my nose, I release a soft sigh, parting my eyelids to unveil a scene of breathtaking beauty. The sun's luminance dances upon the water's surface, casting beguiling reflections that traverse the window's glass and bathe the chamber in a verdant radiance. My gaze lingers on the tranquil tableau, then glides to rest upon the slumbering form upon the couch. Despite the discomfort wrought by my nocturnal posture, I strive to rise, the muscles of my back and neck protesting with each movement. A muted exhalation escapes my lips as I stretch, the ache merely a small price to pay for the dawn's splendor. I reach for the untouched cup of tea from the prior evening, the Earl Grey's bittersweet essence invoking an involuntary grimace. My gaze finds solace upon the ornate clock gracing Severus's quarters, its hands indicating 7.50 am. A curse escapes my lips in haste, prompting me to forsake the tea. My gaze once again alights upon Severus, ensconced in the embrace of tranquil slumber. His countenance, serene in repose, belies the tempestuous currents that undoubtedly churn within. It is my ardent desire to allow him the uninterrupted embrace of rest, a sanctuary from the relentless march of time. Yet, the corridors of his being, though shrouded in peaceful respite, are wrought with a quiet storm—an unwillingness to be perceived as anything but unassailable, unyielding.

A mantle of pride, meticulously woven, drapes across his shoulders like the regal robe of a sovereign. He bears it with a poise that belies the burden it truly is. In his world, vulnerability is akin to a rare artifact, too precious to be laid bare before the eyes of others. The facets of his existence have been carved from the chiseled stone of unyielding self-reliance, a monument to the indomitable spirit that has carried him through trials unspoken.

The very notion of exposing the fractures within, of allowing the facade to crack and reveal the imperfections beneath, is a proposition that tastes bitter upon his tongue. The admission of fallibility—of a momentary weakness—would, in his eyes, eclipse the potency of his intellect and fortitude. Thus, he clasps the reins of his own pain, a private martyrdom, unwilling to relinquish the reins even to those who care most deeply.

As my gaze lingers upon him, a portrait of muted vulnerability painted on his visage, I find myself ensnared in a crossroads of empathy and caution. The knowledge that his very essence has been ravaged by the ordeal he faced, that the walls he erected were breached, and his mortality laid bare, reverberates within me. The image of his suffering forms an intricate mosaic, each shard an emblem of endurance, each crack a testament to his unyielding spirit.

With this weight upon my shoulders, I hesitate—a moment poised on the precipice of decision. A delicate touch, my hand against his shoulder, poised in gentle reassurance, becomes a catalyst for a silent awakening. My intent is twofold—both to rouse him from his slumber and, in the quiet unspoken language between us, to convey that I understand the intricacies of his pride, the delicate ballet of concealing his pain. It is an act that requires no words, as my touch becomes a bridge between his resistance and my empathy, my silent declaration that his vulnerability is neither scorned nor diminished.

Urgently ensconced in my robes, I sweep into the corridor, the chill embracing me as I navigate the path to the Gryffindor common room and my chamber beyond. My discarded attire adorns my bed with careless abandon, a testament to the night's haste. Swiftly perusing my wardrobe, I select a pristine school uniform, the air punctuated by my wand's graceful movement as I conceal it within my sleeve's fold. Adorning my neck with the Gryffindor tie, I gather my ebony tresses into a severe ponytail while threading my hair pin within. I stride with purpose through the resplendent corridors of Hogwarts, allowing fleeting moments to savor the ethereal tableau of the ascending sun casting its golden effulgence upon the sprawling grounds. With due reverence to nature's artistry, I navigate through the ancient corridors before crossing the threshold of the Great Hall, finding my place beside Neville Longbottom.