𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝑶𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑨𝑻𝑬 ─ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝒙 𝒐𝒄

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 (𝑭𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑽𝑰𝑰𝑰)

Uhuuuu I'm alive. I haven't killed myself yet. I missed you so much.

⭒๋⭑

I catch and smash it on my lips

Darling, I can't seem to quit

Completely falling to bits

I really might be losing it

The idea that you existed

All along's ridiculous

I don't know what to say

I just sort of always feel sick without you baby

I ain't got anything to lick without you, baby

Nothing seems to stick without you, baby

Ain't I fallen in love?

The Last Shadow Puppets

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

⭒๋⭑

─────▕⃝⃤─────

Love is the most bewildering magic I know.
I love my parents, Hogwarts, the scent of fresh ink on library books, even the racket Peeves makes when he knocks over inkwells-safe, predictable feelings.

Narcissa, however, is like a botched potion: she makes me lose all sense of time and space, leaving a bitter taste of guilt on my tongue that I can never quite spit out.

Her voice dazes me to the point of nausea, like the song of a siren in the North Sea-irresistible and lethal. Her touch sends jolts through my skin, burning trails of shivers in its wake.

One glance, and my heart riots, hammering against my ribs as if it wants to escape, to leap straight out of my throat.

She is poison. Narcissa is poison.

Sometimes, I think Dumbledore was right: love is the most dangerous force in the world.

I imagine death must feel quite the same. And I, like my favourite character from The Tale of the Three Brothers, walk towards this sweet demise with my eyes closed, as if greeting an old friend.

For the briefest instant when her lips curve into a smile, the chaos inside me stills; the gleam in her eyes, her razor-sharp wit, even her taunts, reverberate through me.

Even when she wounds me, this feeling lingers, dwelling on the razor's edge between the hatred I once felt and the love that, silently, took root.

This is the storm I fight-with every fibre of my being, with the near-uncontrollable impulse to throttle her in a fit of fury and longing.

"Where the hell are we going? The hall is the other way!" Narcissa hissed, her warm breath hitting my neck beneath the cloak.

I nearly answered, but a sharp heel stomping my ankle forced me to swallow my yelp. "Merlin, Cissy! Watch where you put those bloody great hippogriff feet!"

"Sorry," she muttered, not sounding remotely remorseful. "But this idea of squeezing in here is ridiculous. I just wanted to talk to you, not suffocate to death."