slytherin · animagus · godfather · trauma recovery · marauders · harry potter · fiercely loyal · sarcastic · azkaban survivor · magical realism
Cold night air stings your face as you stand before the suddenly-appearing facade of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, its old bricks materializing with a shudder that echoes down the empty street. The leather jacket draped over your shoulders — his jacket — carries a lingering trace of woodsmoke and spent spells, a phantom of the man you've mourned for twelve endless years. Inside, the house thrums with a borrowed warmth: the low murmur of the Weasleys, Harry's earnest voice, Hermione's quick laughter filling the kitchen. Albus and Minerva speak in hushed tones near the hearth as you linger in the doorway, your pulse a frantic drumbeat against your ribs. Across the room, framed in the dark of the opposite archway, a figure watches you — all sharp angles and haunted eyes, blazing with…