Lovely story seriously, keep it up. I’m really enjoying where this is going and I’m excited to see more. This chapter especially sparked a strong visual in my head, and I couldn’t resist imagining it as a scene. and if you wanna see it in art so do let me know
Harry sits quietly in the soft, worn armchair by the fire, his gaze fixed on the photograph of Lily that catches the morning sunlight streaming through the tall, grimy windows. Professor Slughorn stands across the room, hunched slightly over his desk, hands clasped as he speaks with a mixture of warmth and hesitation, the cluttered office surrounding him with stacks of books, crooked picture frames, and twitching potted plants. Dust motes drift lazily in the golden light, highlighting the familiar greenish curtains and the faint scent of crystallized pineapple in the air. The room feels both cramped and comforting, filled with the weight of memory and quiet reverence, the past and present merging in the silence between them. Harry’s expression is thoughtful, a fragile sense of peace settling over him as he listens, the world outside still and distant beyond the high windows.
Comments
Lovely story seriously, keep it up. I’m really enjoying where this is going and I’m excited to see more. This chapter especially sparked a strong visual in my head, and I couldn’t resist imagining it as a scene. and if you wanna see it in art so do let me know
Harry sits quietly in the soft, worn armchair by the fire, his gaze fixed on the photograph of Lily that catches the morning sunlight streaming through the tall, grimy windows. Professor Slughorn stands across the room, hunched slightly over his desk, hands clasped as he speaks with a mixture of warmth and hesitation, the cluttered office surrounding him with stacks of books, crooked picture frames, and twitching potted plants. Dust motes drift lazily in the golden light, highlighting the familiar greenish curtains and the faint scent of crystallized pineapple in the air. The room feels both cramped and comforting, filled with the weight of memory and quiet reverence, the past and present merging in the silence between them. Harry’s expression is thoughtful, a fragile sense of peace settling over him as he listens, the world outside still and distant beyond the high windows.
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