𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝑶𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑨𝑻𝑬 ─ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝒙 𝒐𝒄

𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

⭒๋⭑

You could've asked me why I broke your heart

You could've told me that you fell apart

But you walked past me like I wasn't there

And just pretended like you didn't care

𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬  ─ The Weeknd

⭒๋⭑

27th September 1991

My dear Dora,

I trust this missive finds you hale and hearty. How fares your final year? Have the Quidditch drills kicked off? I'm sure you're excelling splendidly, as you've always done.

I recall my own final year at Hogwarts with fondness. The expectations, the challenges, and the sensation that the world is about to end, and I'll lose it with all the exams.

But fret not. It's just a feeling, the world won't end, I promise. Don't burden yourself excessively or push beyond your limits by over-studying.
No matter what your mother says.

Now, let me share some news: Your mother and I have acquainted ourselves with a young lass.

Her name is Hermione. She's also in her first year, like Harry, and will be arriving at Hogwarts a tad later than usual, on the 30th of September, due to minor complications.

I vow to elucidate everything to you and Harry upon your Yuletide return.

Don't pester her with inquiries; she lost her parents very recently, thus it's a delicate matter. I implore you to treat her with kindness.

I was immensely proud to hear the accolades about you lately, you aiming for 11 NEWTs? Darling, I'm so proud of you and your dedication. I love you ever so much.

Sent over some treats for you and Harry. Hope you fancy them! They're your favourites. Just don't spill the beans to your, mother our little secret.

Last but not least, I'm pining for you terribly. Please, write more weekly missives. Your words are like a sunbeam to my heart.

With all my love,

ℳ𝓊𝓂

⭒๋⭑

─────▕⃝⃤─────

The ensuing six nights were a torment. Each day, ere the sun's rise, I was the earliest to rouse, and each night, the latest to slumber. I'd venture to Grimmauld Place come morn, sans even partaking of breakfast. Rusty grew anxious, barring my way ere the hearth to prevent my departure ere sipping at least a cuppa. Yet, once imbibed, my initial action was to fling myself into the flames.

Hermione had accrued fresh scars upon her arms and belly. Sirius ensured she refrained from scratching during the transformations, yet some persisted. They'd never fully heal, and there was scant I could do to mend them wholly. Gradually,