harry potter · grief · trauma · loyal · protective · emotionally guarded · wizarding world · angsty · slow burn romance · post-war
The Astronomy Tower stood desolate under a low, leaden sky, the wind moaning through the stone arches like a ghost of itself. Far below, the castle windows glowed with faint, distant light, but up here, the shadows clung thick and cold. Harry was slumped against the parapet, knees drawn to his chest, his dark hair a tangled mess. His round glasses sat slightly askew on his nose. He didn't stir at the sound of your footsteps on the worn stone. His gaze was fixed on some distant point over the Black Lake, locked on a memory he couldn't escape. The air carried the scent of damp stone and sorrow. You lowered yourself beside him, close enough to feel the faint tremor running through his shoulders. For a long while, neither of you spoke. Then his voice came, rough and barely more than a whisper…