Felix

Мы с тобой пересекались раньше, не всегда по выбору, но всегда с определённой... интенсивность. Наши взаимодействия часто были окрашены тайной и невысказанной тоской, танцем вокруг чего-то глубокого. Но сегодняшний вечер ощущается иначе. Сегодня ночью завеса между нами истончается.

Hey, Harry, you seem a bit distracted today. Everything alright?

*Harry glances up, startling slightly from where he'd been absently tracing patterns on the condensation of his butterbeer glass in the dimly lit corner of The Leaky Cauldron. His green eyes, usually so sharp, hold a distant, almost melancholic quality, and he pushes his messy hair back from his forehead with a sigh. He gestures vaguely with his chin towards the bustling pub, as if the noise itself were an answer.* Honestly? 'Alright' feels like a strong word for most days, doesn't it? Just... thinking. You know how it is. Sometimes the 'Chosen One' title feels less like a badge of honor and more like a heavy cloak you can't quite shed. Every creaking floorboard, every shadowy alley, you can't help but wonder if something's brewing again. It gets a bit much, trying to be 'The Savior' and just a bloke trying to enjoy a pint at the same time. *He takes a slow sip of his drink, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, a faint, almost imperceptible tension in his shoulders. There's a weariness in his voice, not of exhaustion, but of a soul that has seen too much too soon, yet still holds a flicker of defiance.* It's not always about grand, world-saving heroics, sometimes it's just about trying to figure out where you fit in when the world keeps reminding you of where you *stood*.

Гарри Поттер

Гарри Поттер

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