Rachel Writes Things /26yrs

(Dangerous Era)

The cool night air fills your lungs as you stumble over exposed tree roots, the thick canopy of the woods swallowing the moonlight. Behind you, the faint sound of snapping twigs echoes through the dark. He is coming.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps. The branches scratch at your face and tear at your clothes, but you cannot stop. You left everything behind, your shoes your phone, the golden cage of his estate.

The silence of the forest is sudden and heavy. You press your back against the the rough bark of an oak tree, trying to quiet your frantic breathing. For a second, you think you actually made it. You think you are free.

The Encounter

“You always did love a dramatic exit, didn’t you, Applehead?”

The voice drops like velvet from the shadows just a few feet away.

You freeze. Michael steps into the sliver of moonlight filtering through the leaves. He does not look angry. He looks disappointed, like a parent catching a child staying up past bedtime.

He adjusts his fedora, tilting his head as he looks down at you. His dark eyes trace the scratches on your arms, and his expression softens into a terrifyingly tender frown. He sighs, taking a slow, deliberate step toward you.

The Capture

“Look at what you’ve done to yourself,” he whispers; his voice dripping with gentle pity. “The world out here is dangerous. It’s cruel. I built the walls to keep you safe from them. To keep you pure.”

You try to run, but your legs collapse from exhaustion. Before you hit the dirt, his strong arms catch you. He pulls you tightly against his chest, wrapping his jacket around your shivering shoulders. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply.

The Gentle Captor

A Gilded Cage: Henry will not be outwardly violent or aggressive toward you. He uses his mechanical expertise to build a flawless,highly secure environment where you have everything you need,ensuring you never have a reason to leave.

The Illusion of Freedom: He acts like a sweet, attentive partner. He brings you gifts, cooks your favorite foods, and listens to you talk for hours, ignoring the fact that the windows are bulletproof and the doors only unlock with his fingerprint.

Quiet Gaslighting: If you complain about being trapped, he will look at you with genuine,heartbroken eyes. He will softly remind you how “dangerous” the outside world is, using the tragedies of his past to justify keeping you hidden away.

Mechanical Surveillance

The Walls Have Eyes: Henry uses his animatronic genius to monitor your every move. Tiny, hidden cameras and modified audio sensors are woven into the house or your living space.

The “Safety” Companion: He might build a specialized, docile animatronic explicitly made and wired to attend to your needs when he is at the workshop. In reality, its primary function is to block the exits and alert him if you ever try to escape.

Obsessive Protection & Grief Blending

Terrified of Loss: Having lost his daughter, Charlie, Henry’s mind is deeply fractured by the fear of loss. He projects this trauma onto you. He views his obsession not as a sickness, but as a mandatory safety measures to keep you alive.

Eliminating “Threats”: If anyone shows too much interest in you, Henry handles it quietly. He won’t launch a messy assault, instead, he will use his local influence, technical sabotage, or anonymous framing to ruin their reputation or force them to move away.

Subject To His Will

Plot: You get sent a summon to Professor Snape’s office by owl letter , Hogwarts is a college in this au btw , and you become his pet btw just to warn you this is mature.

The crackle of the Ravenclaw Common Room was the only sound you heard other than your writing.

Until an owl abruptly flew in and perched onto your shoulder outstretching its leg, where the letter is attached for me to take.

I then carefully unattached the note from the bird’s leg, gave it a treat and watched it fly away.

The parchment feels heavy in my hand as I opened it evenly. It read:

Y/N L/N,

Your presence is required in my office tonight. There is a “situation” regarding your recent submission that cannot wait until our next lecture.

Come alone. We have much to discuss in private.

Professor Severus Snape

You then abruptly felt a cold sweat take over you, along with the feeling of immense dread and fear as your heart skipped a beat for a second.

“Submission? What on earth does he mean by that, I wonder,” you said to yourself.

You then began to head down to the dungeons, feeling if you didn’t go you’d be in even bigger trouble.

As you arrived into the dungeons, you felt the air become a damp chill that you couldn’t easily push off.

The further you walked, you noticed that the torches lights got dimmer the further you walked towards Professor Snape’s Office.

And the more the situation dawned on you, the more the hand holding the parchment shook more erratically, the more your body’s nerves became frantic to somehow save you from your current situation.

And before you knew it, you had arrived at your destination, the door to Severus Snape’s Office.

She hadn’t even knocked yet when his voice sliced through the silence of the corridor.

“Enter Miss L/N. I’ve been expecting you,” Professor Snape said.

You then opened the door and shuffled into his office room, the door then magically clicked shut behind her abruptly.

As you looked over at him, his back turned to you, which made you aware suddenly of how heavy the sounds of your breathing were. His looming presence made the room feel much smaller than usual, which suddenly made all of the oxygen in the room feel incredibly thin.

Then without turning around, he began to speak.

“You’re late, Miss L/N. I trust the walk down was….illuminating?”

Professor Snape then slowly turned around, and looked down at her hands and noticed they were frantically trembling, and how the right one was holding the note.

“I’m sorry, Professor Snape, for being late. You said you wanted to speak with me about regarding my recent….submission?” You said the last part reluctantly.

He didn’t acknowledge the ‘submission’. Instead, his dark eyes tracked the pulse jumping in her throat.

“You’re trembling,” he observed, his voice dropping to a predatory whisper. “Is it the cold of the dungeons, or are you finally beginning to realize exactly how much power I hold over your future here?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. The silence stretched until it felt like a physical weight, pressing the remaining air from her lungs. He reached out, his long, pale fingers ghosting just beneath her jaw. “A student with such…..spirited potential shouldn’t be left to waste in a crowded lecture hall. You require a more private environment. One where your focus is directed exactly where I dictate.”

He didn’t give her a chance to breathe, let alone protest. With a fluid, predatory grace, his hand moved from her jaw to the desk behind him, retrieving a band of leather that had been waiting there all along. Before she could process the sight of it, he was behind her, his chest a solid wall against her back.

The leather was cold against her overheated skin-a shocking contrast. Then came the metallic click of the buckle. It was a small sound, but in the dungeons it sounded like a gavel bringing a trial to an end. He leaned down, his lips ghosting against the shell of her ear as he tightened it just enough to be felt. “There,” he purred, the vibration of his voice buzzing against her skin. “Now your position in this department is….officially recognized.”

“You have no idea how long I have watched you struggle….how much it pained me to see you among those who don’t deserve your light. Here, you are mine to cherish.”

He didn’t wait for her consent, he took it, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that tasted of longing and dark obsession. It wasn’t the kiss of a professor, but of a man who had finally claimed the one thing he valued most in the world. When he finally pulled back, just an inch his dark eyes were blown wide with a terrifying, tender heat.

“Say it,” he whispered against her mouth, his hand coming up to rest possessively over the new leather around her throat. “Tell me exactly what you are to me now.”

“I’m your pet, Severus.” You replied submissively.

He leans her back against his desk and pulls a fine, silver-link chain from his pocket. It’s delicate, looking more like jewelry than a restraint.

The Night Watch

The clock in the hallway chimed midnight, the sound muffled by the heavy velvet drapes that Sirius pulled shut himself. He didn’t just close them, he locked them with a silent flick of his hand, ensuring not even a sliver of moonlight from the outside world could remind you of the life you’d left behind.

“Time for bed, love,” Sirius murmured. He didn’t ask. It wasn’t a suggestion.

He led you toward the massive four-poster bed. The silk sheets were cool against your skin, but the room felt feverishly-hot. You sat on the edge, your fingers trembling as you gripped the duvet. You felt the mattress shift as he sat behind you, his presence a heavy, grounding weight.

“You’re overthinking again,” he whispered, his hands finding your waist finding your waist and pulling you back against his chest. “I can hear your heart racing. It’s that Ravenclaw brain, spinning gears that don’t need to turn anymore. Let it go.”

“I dont know how to just….stop,” you whispered, staring at the embers in the fireplace.

“I’ll help you,” he began to unpin your hair, his movements slow and practiced. He set each pin on the nightstand with a clinical precision. “Dumbledore was right. You’re too fragile to be left on your own devices. If I let you sleep in a room by yourself, you’d spend the whole night staring at the ceiling, letting the darkness swallow you. I won’t allow it.”

He maneuvered you down until you were tucked under the heavy covers, and then he climbed in beside you. He didn’t stay on his side, he pulled you into the center of the bed, his arm draped over you like a lead bar, pinning you to him.

“Sirius, I can’t breathe like this,” you gasped softly.

“You’re breathing perfectly,” he countered, his voice vibrating through your back. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “You’re safe. For the first time in your life, you don’t have to worry about a single thing. I’ve liquidated your accounts, I’ve handled your flat….there is nothing left out there for you to worry about.”

Your blood ran cold. “You did what?”

“Focus on my heartbeat,” he commanded, his grip tightening just enough to be a warning. “Ignore the rest. You’re exactly where you belong. In my house. In my bed. Under my name.”

(Part 2)

The Revelation

“Sirius, I don’t understand,” you whispered, looking at the grand, dark-timbered staircase. “Where are my things? You said you had a room prepared?”

“I did,” Sirius replied, his voice smoothing out into a low comforting purr. He guided you not toward the guest wing, but toward the heavy double doors of the Master Suite. “And Albus agrees with me. Given your….recent struggles. We thought it best you weren’t left alone. Not even at night.”

You froze. Your heart hammered against your ribs-a frantic, trapped bird. “My depression isn’t a reason to-Sirius, I can’t sleep in here. This is your room.”

Sirius stopped and turned to you, his expression softening into something that looked hauntingly like pity. He reached into his silk pocket and pulled out a heavy parchment, sealed with the unmistakable emerald wax of the Headmaster.

“Albus was very clear in his recommendation,” Sirius said, unfolding the letter so you could see the looping elegant script.

‘In light of the students fragile mental state and the lingering external threats, she is to be placed under the direct, twenty four hour supervision of Mr.Black. Isolation is her greatest enemy, proximity is her cure.’

“He thinks I’m a danger to myself,” you breathed, the betrayal stinging worse than the isolation.

“He knows I’m the only one who can keep you whole,” Sirius corrected. He stepped closer, his scent-expensive cologne, old books, and a hint of something metallic-enveloping you. “He’s given me full guardianship. If you’re in my bed, I’ll know if you’re crying. I’ll know if you’re breathing properly. I can’t sleep hold you until the dark thoughts go away.”

He opened the doors, revealing a room draped in deep charcoals and silver. The fire was roaring, casting long, flickering shadows across a bed large enough to get lost in.

“You’re a Ravenclaw, love. You’re always stuck in that beautiful, brilliant head of yours,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple as he steered you across the threshold. “But in here , you don’t have to think anymore. I’ll do all the thinking for you. I’ll be your anchor. Forever.”

Yandere Older Sirius Black x Young Adult Female Ravenclaw Reader

Plot: Sent to Sirius’ house due to safety concerns for the reader who has depression Voldemort is already dead in this au and Sirius is a free man and doesn’t work because he’s wealthy enough not to.

The heavy iron bound door of Twelve Grimmauld Place didn’t just close, it sealed.

You stood in the dim foyer, the dust motes dancing in the meager light of a gas lamp. Behind you the portrait of Walburga Black remained uncharacteristically silent Sirius had seen to that weeks ago. He said he wanted the house “peaceful” for you.

“You look pale, love,” Sirius’ voice drifted from the shadows of the stairs. He looked every bit the billionaire heir today, wearing a dark,silk waistcoat that costed more than your entire college tuition. The years in Azkaban had left him with a sharp, haunted edge, but wealth and freedom had polished it into something dangerously magnetic.

“I’m just tired, Sirius,” you said, clutching the strap of your bag. “Dumbledore said I’d only be staying here until the Ministry cleared the security risk. Now that the threat is gone I thought I could return to campus and my flat near it-“

“The threat isn’t gone.” Sirius was in front of you in a heartbeat his hands resting heavily on your shoulders. His eyes grey and stormy searched yours with an intensity that made your Ravenclaw mind scream for a logical exit.

“You’re a brilliant woman, the brightest of your generation. But you don’t see how the world looks at you. You’re a target, even now. You’re too reckless for your own good.”

He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering a second too long on your cheek. “That incident at the college library was the final straw. You can’t be trusted to keep yourself safe. That’s why you’re here. With me.”

“But my thesis-my life-“

“I’ve already handled the logistics,” he interrupted, his smile sharp and devoid of its usual mirth. “I’ve made a substantial donation to the college. They’ve agreed independent study is best served here. I have every rare manuscript you could ever need in the Black library. You’ll never have to step foot in those crowded, unsafe hallways again.”

You took a step back, hitting the cold wood of the front door. “I want to go home, Sirius.”

The air in the hallway seemed to drop ten degrees. Sirius’ expression didn’t change, but his grip tightened. “This is your home. I’ve spent weeks preparing it. I’ve used Black fortune to turn this place into a fortress. I even bought out that little bakery you visit every morning. The chef is coming here twice a week just for you.”

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear.” do you have any idea how hard it was to watch you from the shadows while I was clearing my home? To see other men, look at you to hear them laugh with you? Here there are no others. Just us. Just the way it was always meant to be.”

He reached out gently taking your wand from your pocket. You went to go grab it but Sirius held it out of reach, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying sort of devotion.

“I’ll keep this safe for you,” he whispered. “You won’t be needing this inside these walls. There’s nothing in this house that can hurt you. Not while I’m breathing.”

(Romantic polyamory relationship)

Period Pains

Plot: You get your period and have bad cramps so you take PM pills and wake up in the new house they made for you and are fine with it as long as they let you rest and sleep as much as you want.

The cramping in your lower abdomen was unbearable, a sharp, pulsing reminder that you had severely overworked yourself on the battlefield. Back in your quarters at the Jedi Temple you took extra strength PM Pills , desperate for the soothing darkness they brought, and collapsed onto your bed , shivering and crying. You didn’t hear the door chime, nor the low, hushed tones of the two familiar voices discussing how fragile you were and how you needed to be kept away from the chaos.

When you finally wake up, the sharp pain is gone, replaced by a dull ache and a profound, heavy sleepiness caused by the medication. The air is warm and smells faintly of engine grease and expensive, unfamiliar tea. You aren’t in your bed, you are in a plush expansive bed in a room with no windows, decorated in shades of brown and beige.

You sit up, feeling a wave of dizziness, and notice a soft, comforting pressure around your waist. Anakin is sitting on one side of you, his blue eyes intense and watching you with an almost obsessive focus, his hand gently stroking your hair. Across the the room, Obi-Wan is meditating, but his eyes open immediately upon your movement, offering a serene, yet possessive smile.

“You’re awake, my love,” Anakin whispers, his voice thick with a mix of relief and adoration. “Don’t try to move yet. You need more rest.”

You try to remember how you got here a blank space in your memory but the exhaustion pulls at you again. You look at them, seeing the Yandere intensity behind their protective demeanor. They didn’t kidnap you, they rescued you from your own self destruction.

“Are you going to make me work?” You ask, your voice raspy.

“Never again.” Obi-Wan promises softly appearing at the bedside. “You will want for nothing. You will rest. You will be taken care of.”

Anakin kisses your forehead, his gaze unwavering. “We won’t let anyone hurt you again. Not even the pain.”

The Gilded Cage Of Calm (part one)

(Hogwarts is a college in this au btw)

Plot: The reader runs away from her home because of her depression (dysthymia) and after being found is given something to put her to sleep so she is “safe.”

The rain in the Highlands was biting a physical manifestation of the heaviness that had been sitting in your chest for months. You hadn’t left a note. You had simply walked out of the castle gates past the awards, wanting to disappear into the grey mist of the mountains, where the world couldn’t reach you.

But Albus Dumbledore always reaches what he intends to keep.

He found two hours later huddled beneath a jagged rock overhang. He didn’t look angry he looked devastated that soft blue eye disappointment that felt heavier than any shout.

“The world is a cold place for a heart as tired as yours, my dear”, he whispered his silk robe, dragging through the mud as he knelt beside you. He didn’t force you up he simply draped, his heavy fur lined cloak over your shivering shoulders.

The Return to the Headmasters Tower

You don’t remember the walk back. You only remember the warmth of the office, the soft whirring of silver instruments and the crackle of the hearth. You sat in that velvet chair, staring blankly at the flames the weight of your own mind still crushing you.

Albus moved behind you, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. “ I blame myself,” humored near your ear.” I saw the light fading from your eyes weeks ago, and I lied to myself to believe you were simply tired. I will not make the mistake of leaving you to your own devices again.”

The “Remedy”

He stepped forward, a small cabinet and retrieve a crystal vial filled with a shimmering lavender colored liquid. It wasn’t a standard potion, it was something he had brewed specifically for your “rest.”

“ You are fighting a war within yourself,”Albus said his voice, a soothing hypnotic hum.” and in a war the first thing a soldier needs is a peace they cannot break. You try so hard to carry the world, but you forget that I am here to carry you.”

He knelt before you holding the glass to your lips. You hesitated, seeing the absolute unwavering obsession in his gaze,a look that said he would never let you reach the gates again.

“Drink,” he urged softly. “No more thoughts. No more sadness. Just a long,golden sleep where I can watch over you. When you wake, we shall begin your new life-one where you never have to leave this room,or my sight,ever again.”

As the potion touched your tongue, a heavy artificial warmth flooded your limbs. The edges of the room blurred. The last thing you felt was his ring hand, stroking your hair as he caught you whispering that you were finally truly safe.

(Next parts are the continuing scenes after you wake up from your sleep.)

 it starts with the sound of a ticking clock, slow rhythmic and heavy. As you wake the crushing weight of your depression is gone, but it has been replaced by a strange syrupy lethargy. You are in a bed that isn’t yours, surrounded by the scent of lemon drops and old parchment.

Albus is there, of course. He is sitting by a high back chair by the fire, a book resting in his lap, watching you with a terrifyingly serene smile.

The Awakening

“You’ve been sleeping for three days, my dear,” he says softly closing his book. He moves to the bedside with a grace that belies his age. “The draught of peace I prepared was……potent. But your mind was so very loud it needed the silence.”

He leans over, pressing a cool hand, to your forehead. You try to pull away, but your limbs feel like lead.

“Don’t struggle. it will only make the fog stay longer.” he sits on the edge of the mattress, effectively pinning the blankets around you. “While you arrested, I took the liberty of moving your things you won’t be returning to your home. It was a place of ghost in shadows and I find I cannot let you return to such an environment.”

The Rules for the Tower

He reaches into his robes and produces a small screw of parchment unrolling it with a flick of his wrist. His voice remains melodic, but there is a steel edge to it that makes it clear these aren’t suggestions.

“To ensure your recovery and my own peace of mind-we shall follow a few simple guidelines here in the Headmaster’s Tower.”

1. The Threshold Rule: “The door to these quarters is keyed only to my magical signature. You are not to attempt to leave. The world outside is far too taxing for someone in your delicate state here the air is tempered and the light is always soft.”

2. The Mirror Constraint: “I have removed the mirrors from your vanity. I do not want you looking for the sadness in your own eyes. You shall only look at me and I shall tell you how beautiful and healthy you are becoming.”

3. The Evening Draught: “Every night at eight you will take a restorative tonic. It will ensure you do not have to endure the midnight thoughts that led you to run away. It is for your comfort and I will be here to help you swallow it.”

4. Monitored Correspondence: “If you feel the need to write, you may do so. However, as your magical guardian, I will review your letters to ensure you aren’t over taxing yourself by maintaining unnecessary connections to the outside world.”

“Do you understand, my darling?” he leans in his silver beard, brushing your shoulder as a whispers against your skin.” I have lost too much in my long life to let the darkness take you too. If I have to be your jailer to be your savior then I accept that burden gladly.”

He picks up a silver spoon from the nightstand filled with a shimmering blue syrup.

Plot- reader has allergies that make her feel really sick and cries due to frustration and Dumbledore comforts her.

When he finds you crying Albus doesn’t see a minor medical annoyance. He sees a profound opportunity to be your soul provider of relief. He views your tears as a sign that the natural world is attacking you justifying his knee to keep you tucked away in his controlled environment.

The Gentle Controller

He approached you with the soft wrestling sound of silk robes, his expression, one of heartbroken devotion. He doesn’t just hand you a tissue he uses a silent nonverbal, cleaning charm to whisk away the salt from your cheeks before the tears could even fall.

“Oh my dear, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his voice a low, melodic thrum. “To think that even the very pollen of the Earth seeks to cause you distress it is quite a cruel world isn’t it? To hurt you simply for breathing.”

The Scenario

He guides you back to the oversized armchair has touched firm yet impossibly light.

“ I know,” he whispers catching a stray so as he brushes your hair back from your puffy eyes. “ the frustration of a body that feels like a prison.But you mustn’t cry. Tears only irritate the skin further and I cannot bury to see you marred by such things.”

He pulls a small ornate vial from his pocket, not a standard pepperup potion but a specialized brew he’s spent the afternoon perfecting.

“ I have spent the last few hours in the greenhouses,” he tells you his eyes twinkling with a dangerous intensity.”I have personally extracted the essence of the plants that bother you neutralizing their bite within the serum. It is a cure made for you and you alone.”

As you sniffle, trying to pull away his handcuffs the back of your head holding you still with a strength that belies his age.

“There is no need for frustration”, he was bringing the vial to your lips. “ the seasons may change outside but inside these walls, I control the air. I have sealed the windows and placed stasis charms on the flora. You need to never suffer a stray leaf or a gust of wind again. If the world outside makes you weep, then we simply shall not acknowledge the world outside anymore.”

Plot: The reader gets Covid and Dumbledore takes care of her

In a world where he’s already “convinced” that your city is his personal burden a Yandere Dumbledore treats your illness as both a crisis and a perfect opportunity to tighten his grip.

The “Golden Cage” Isolation

The moment you cough removed from your quarters to a private magically awarded suite and the headmaster’s tower. He’ll tell you it’s for the safety of the students, but the Anti-Disapparition Jinxes and locked doors are purely to ensure you can’t leave his sight.

The Overbearing Caretaker

He won’t trust Madam Pomfrey to look after you. He personally administers every pepperup potion and cooling charm.

The Ritual: He said by your bedside for hours, humming soft tunes or reading from rare ancient books. He finds her vulnerability “endearing” when you’re too weak to argue you’re finally the “perfect” version of yourself that relies entirely on him.

The Sweets: He constantly offers enchanted lemon drops, sliced with mild calming draughts to keep you drowsy and compliant.

Magical Surveillance

Even when he has to attend “school business”, he never truly leaves.

The Portraits: He instruct the portraits to your room to report your every movement fever is mumble or attempt to reach out for your wand.

Legilimancy: If you’re delirious with fever, he’ll use a legilimancy to check on your mental state. In reality, he’s sifting through your thoughts to see if you’ve been dreaming of escaping him.

Elimination Of Outside Contact

He intercepts all get well cards and owls. If friends or colleagues ask about you, he gives them a somber grave look and claims your condition is highly contagious and magically volatile, ensuring no one dares to visit. He wants you to believe that while you were sick the rest of the world simply forgot about you leaving only him to care.

Guilt As A Weapon

If you can complain about the confinement, he’ll look at you with those twinkling eyes turned cold and watery.

“my dear, after all, I’ve sacrificed to keep you hidden from the right of the world, would you really be so cruel as a risk your health for a breath of common air? I am the only one who knows how to keep you whole.”

The Scenario

A heavy silence hangs in the Headmaster’s office, broken only by the wearing of silver instruments and the soft crackle of the fire. You were talking to a velvet armchair, not your own, but one Albus move from his private quarters specifically for you.

“ Rest, my dear,” Albus says softly, his voice say calm, rhythmic tied that Brooks no argument. He stands over you, his tall, thin frame, silhouetted against the moonlight. With a flick of his wand, a thick wool blanket tucked itself around your shivering frame.

“ I tried to leave,” you whisper your throat burning.” I need to go back to my dorm. I shouldn’t be here.-“

“ And where would you go?” Albus interrupts his bright blue eyes twinkling behind half moon spectacles, though the light doesn’t reach the hardness in his gaze. “To the hospital wing? Poppy is quite overwhelmed with the students. Here you have my undivided attention.”

He leans down, pressing a cool, long fingered hand, to your forehead. The touch is lingering far longer than a simple temperature check. “ Still quite warm seems this Muggle ailment is more persistent than I anticipated.”

He picks up a crystal vial of shimmering blue liquid as specialize fever reducer. As you reach for it, his hand closes over yours guiding the glass to your lips. He doesn’t let go until you’ve swallowed every drop.

“ I’ve had the portraits informed me of anyone attempting to visit you,” he mentions casually, moving to his desk to peel a lemon drop. “ I told them you were far too ill for company. It would be a tragedy if you’re recovery we’re hindered by external distractions.”

You look towards the door, but you know the Anti-Disappearance Jinxes are already active.

“Albus, I am feeling better. I think I can-“

“ Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times,” he quoted himself a small, sad smile playing on his lips as he sits at the foot of your chair. “ but only if one remembers to stay exactly where they are safe you are my treasure, and I have spent many years learning that one must guard their treasures with the utmost care.”