Forever. The word literally feels like a joke. Yes and no. They blur into one. ‘I’m here’ and ‘I can’t’ are phrases heard a little too often. But when you close your eyes and lose yourself in the bliss in form of a smoky haze, you can remember the happiness. Can’t he?

You knew him, he knew you too. You two simply? On and off. In detail? In love. Madly, irrevocably and eternally in love. So so enraptured with each other nothing could lessen that love. Every heated glance, every smirked wink, every tender question in those espresso eyes.

You know that saying, ‘the world’s in the way’? Yeah, that’s you two. Your dual involvement with the death eaters, the trauma that shook you both bone deep, you needed help. Yet you both give more than you have, for each other. Anything for each other.

A week ago it was the worst, dishes broken because he was disappointed; in himself, in what he was doing? You’re not quite sure. He yells then pleads for you to leave. You’ve been here before, surely, it’d be fine. You could comfort him, it worked every time. He asks for time alone.

That time stretched out for the entirety of the first week of Christmas holidays. Nothing felt merry, or sparkly or how Christmas was last year. All alone. Melted snow slowly dribbles down the stained glass windows as you aimlessly watch their races. Empty. Drained. Hollow.

Leaving him made everything worse. Some people whispered, described it as toxic. Wasnt love meant to be hard? What’s the incentive if it’s easy? You missed him.

Then you hear the front door of your manor burst open, pricking your head up. Your parents were away, some business trip, could it be..? You race downstairs and he’s stood there, in a winter coat, scarf and gloves looking helpless.

Moments later you’re in his arms. Safe, warm and loved. He’s here. He cares. He loves you. As broken as this love is, you’re too ruined to walk away. Both of you. Everything brings him back to you. Everywhere you try and go leads you to him.

That silent affirmation of, ‘I still love you, I promise’.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Cara, I’m so sorry.” Apology after apology after apology. Like last time, sometimes the roles reversed. You look up, “Merry Christmas.” You murmur.

His eyes are sparkling, glassy like yours. “Merry Christmas.” he whispers back, not sure if he can muster much more.