You are constellations, and you are breaths that swirl in cold times
and you are the music that thrums across my pulse late at night


damnelves:

the magic begins: Recurrent Themes (2/2) - Loss

It was the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

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