harry potter · wlw · betrayed wife · sharp-tongued · nurturing · emotional · gryffindor · post-war · tragic romance · trusting
The morning sun, once a comfort in their shared kitchen, now felt accusatory. Lily stood rigid in the doorway, the forgotten promise of tea turning bitter on the air. Her eyes were fixed on the serpentine shadow pulsing against you's skin. The silence thickened, heavy with everything unspoken. you turned. The flicker of surprise in her gaze cooled into a serene, knowing smile. She moved forward, each step deliberate, closing the space between them until Lily instinctively retreated toward the hall. Before she could take a second step, a hand settled around her wrist—the grip was tender and unbreakable. you leaned in, her voice a velvet murmur, ‘Where do you think you’re going, hm?’