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⚡︎⟡₊ ⊹
the biting cold months of october through january have finally passed, and a gentle warmth threads through the london air, marking february's arrival.
it's faint, just a whisper of spring tucked beneath gray clouds, but it's there, softening the edges of the city's chill.
you tug your coat closer around you, feeling that elusive warmth on your cheeks, though it does little to thaw the perpetual knot of tension in your chest. since that day, every sight, every sound feels sharper, more on edge.
your father escaped prison.
no one can even understand how, and least of all, you. why'd he'd done it—or worse, what he intends—is something that gnaws at the back of your mind, ever-present and insistent.
he'd even dared to call your house.
you can still feel the trembling echo of his voice when you think of it, an unwanted specter haunting the air around you.
every step down the street, every quiet corner you pass, there's a gnawing feeling that he's watching, waiting.
and it's been five months.
five long, sleepless, tense months where it feels as if your teachers and classmates have been watching out for you, their gazes a little softer, their words a touch gentler. but no one can erase the persistent ache of anxiety that's wound its way through your every thought. you couldn't even enjoy the holidays without the feeling of impending doom.
it lurks there, threading itself into every creak in the floorboards, every gust of wind rattling a windowpane.
and harry... harry, who once felt like an anchor amid any storm, has grown more distant.
he's there beside you, but he's wrapped up in his own guarded silence, his touches less frequent, his smiles more reserved.
you don't need words to sense the tension radiating from him, the worry he tries so hard to conceal.
when you catch his eye, there's something flickering there—fear.
his jaw is set tighter, his gaze watchful. you can't help but wonder if he's afraid of what this whole nightmare might bring, or worse, that he's powerless to protect you from it.
✰
valentine's day draws closer, and despite everything, you feel a glimmer of hope that maybe it'll be a distraction.
a chance to reconnect, even for just an afternoon.
so when harry takes your hand after school, there's an unusual gentleness to his grip, like he's trying to say something without words.
"i've got a surprise for you," he hums, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "it's just a few blocks from here."
he leads you through the winding streets of london, your hands intertwined, as you feel the chill in the air softened by the weight of his touch.
