"Correct me if I'm wrong, Harry- but did you, or did you not, stare at him across the seas of tables in the Great Hall, and always manage to find him in the uttermost impossible crowds?" "No." Harry seethed, his face flushed red. Yes. Ron continued on with evident glee on this face as if he hadn't heard him. "Did you...
A postwar fic where Harry barely speaks anymore, and no one understands him the way Draco Malfoy does. One apologetic letter written by Draco will change the course of both of their lives. Mentions themes such as PTSD, trauma, and depression. Read with caution, but this will be a lighthearted fic for the most part. ...
"𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞," 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, "𝐢 𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐞." 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥. "𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲," 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝. "𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨...