𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 .

‛  . . . looking down at the thick 
snow hiding from his eyes the 
place where the last of lily and 
james lay , bones now , surely, or 
dust , not knowing or caring that 
their living son stood so near , his 
heart still beating , alive because 
of their sacrifice and close to 
wishing , at this moment , that he 
was sleeping under the snow with 
them .  '

                   ( est . 2015 . )