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“You,” Ginny swallows, and her voice sounds jagged, waves crashing against an uneven shore. “You called out for him, in your sleep.”
He does not need her to finish. He knows. It is sick and festered and rotten, and it is true. In the blanket of night, in his dreams, Harry Potter starves. His mouth forms the supplication, a secret scalds the air, and his soul, then and now and always, calls out for Tom Riddle.
It is only fair, after so long spent stitched into the fabric of one other.
...Or: in peacetime, Harry finds a childhood he never dealt with, a cupboard he never left, and a soul accustomed to being inextricably tied with another.
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the only heaven
iwasborntired
Summary:
“You,” Ginny swallows, and her voice sounds jagged, waves crashing against an uneven shore. “You called out for him, in your sleep.”He does not need her to finish. He knows. It is sick and festered and rotten, and it is true. In the blanket of night, in his dreams, Harry Potter starves. His mouth forms the supplication, a secret scalds the air, and his soul, then and now and always, calls out for Tom Riddle.
It is only fair, after so long spent stitched into the fabric of one other.
...Or: in peacetime, Harry finds a childhood he never dealt with, a cupboard he never left, and a soul accustomed to being inextricably tied with another.
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Bookmark Collections:
-
Bookmark Notes:
Read