reputation

“are you saying i can come home?” “i’m saying,” he murmurs softly, “it’s not home unless you’re there.”

and there we are again when nobody had to know. you kept me like a secret, but i kept you like an oath

JOANNA HALPIN

“some wounds run too deep for the healing.”

THE HARRY POTTER SERIES (featuring colors from the book covers)

“like the fact that the person sirius cared for the most about in the world was you,” said dumbledore quietly.

HARRY JAMES POTTER in THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN

MEAN GIRLS (2004)

“severus, will you swear it? will you make the unbreakable vow?”

"you do care," said dumbledore. he had not flinched or made a single move to stop harry demolishing his office. his expression was calm, almost detached. "you care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”

↪  “anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.”

Let me tell you why this is the saddest death I’ve ever seen on television. To state the obvious, it happens after only a quarter of the way through the episode, which is pretty shocking in and of itself. Secondly, it’s devastatingly heartbreaking to witness their exchange. She wants some comfort, a little reassurance, warmth from the hands of the man she loves. Given the circumstances, all hope is lost. She’s a brilliant doctor. She knows it’s her end and she wants to go out in his hands. But this man, the man who, unknowingly to her, reciprocates her love, refuses to believe that she’s met her demise. Holding her hand would signify acknowledging that she’s going to die, that she’s doomed. Holding her hand would mean he’d have to watch her die, feel her touch loosen in his own. Holding her hand would break his heart because, despite what he already knows, she will die. She won’t die today, he convinces himself. I can save her. I can try. It’s determination, a conviction to keep her alive and with him that pushes him to his breaking point. He’ll damage his already injured body to raise plane debris from crushing her weakening body. He’ll ache to avoid touching her, avoid comforting her, avoid admitting defeat. But then it will happen, and he’ll be pushed to admit what he wants to ignore. Only few seconds pass before he lowers himself down to his knees, and looks her in the eye. He will look at her, the woman he loves, the woman he regrettably let go, and break. His aching heart will freeze. And he will take her hand, softly, delicately, the way he knows he should have before, and he’ll hold her. He will tell her comforting words, truthful ones he should have spoken weeks ago. He will hold her, and love her, and warm her last breaths. She’ll dream a little dream of what could have been, the kids and the laughs and the love, and their exchange will haunt him. He will hold her hand, and admit defeat. His heart will be ripped out of his chest as its owner departs.