shoccolat
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"Sirius," Harry cautiously began. "I've been thinking about what you told me before. About everyone having both light and dark inside of them."
"Yes?"
"Do you still believe it? That people are capable of making a better choice?"
"Most people, yes. Though there will always be the lost causes," Sirius paused, eyeing the faces on the wall. Then he added, quieter. "Is this about Draco?"
Sirius had gotten good at telling what was on Harry's mind. It was actually a bit scary sometimes.
"Yeah," Harry admitted. "I've just been feeling a bit conflicted. I'm not sure if helping him is revealing the light in him, or the dark in me." -
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“I'd do anything for you,” Vox breathed, chest tight, ribcage constricted around his lungs in a twisted pretzel of fear, pain, heartache, and overwhelming adoration. Oh, how truly fucked he was.
“Anything?” Alastor finally spoke. His smile curled over jagged teeth. “That’s quite a dangerous promise, my dear."
“I know.”
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After one too many failed missions, you reach a breaking point. Zayne comes to your aid.
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For the first time, Rafayel asks for your help with his latest painting.
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Mark was not happy.
Between getting arrested and being smashed through a brick wall, the odds were stacking up hard against him. His smile had faltered, dimmed by the dark clouds that crowded around him, and you were no longer betting on his optimism to get you both out of here. (Though, judging by the cold shoulder he had been giving you since he’d been released from the infirmary, as well as the casts and bandages that now covered his body, you figured there probably wasn’t much optimism left in him by now, anyways.)