Hi, shocolate! You probably don't know me very well, but I absolutely love your writing. Hope you have a lovely day!
He tells you that he’s tired, and you think he might have saved his words. He’s sinking into the cushions on the couch, eyes half open, half closed and hands curved around a cup of coffee. You wrap a blanket around his shoulders and smile for him.
Hermione’s history books will remember nothing but a hero with a past and a scar, a prophecy and a lust for revenge. You think that you will never forget this boy, with lopsided glasses and kind eyes, and perhaps that is all that matters. You take his hand between yours, and you can feel the words stutter, erase, and rewrite. There’s a pulse, skin, life underneath your fingertips and this time he smiles with you.