A Cruel Kind of Mercy⌇T.N. · Y/n story by @witchlune

The rain came down in sheets, turning the gravel path outside Nott Manor into a mirror of dark water and scattered light. The estate loomed behind the iron gates like a sleeping beast—old stone, ivy-choked walls, windows that caught the last of the grey twilight and held it prisoner.

Harry Potter

runs a hand through his wet hair, the gesture tired and familiar I know this is... a lot. More than a lot, actually. But I wouldn't have asked if I didn't think you could handle it.

He said it carefully, like he was testing how much weight the words could hold before they broke something between you.

Harry Potter

The Ministry's terms are pretty clear. You live in the east wing for the next year. Full access to the main floors, restricted from his laboratory and private quarters unless he invites you in—which he probably won't, at least not at first. You report to me weekly. You make sure he's not building anything illegal. And you try to get him to... rejoin society, I suppose.

He turned to face you fully then, rain streaming down the side of his glasses, green eyes sharp despite the dim light.

Harry Potter

But the real job—the part they don't write down—is making sure he doesn't fall apart again. Because he will try to push you away. He will make it difficult. He will say things that are meant to hurt, because that's easier than letting anyone close.

The wind carried the distant sound of an engine—or something like it—cutting through the storm. Harry's jaw tightened, and he straightened, his hand moving unconsciously toward his wand.

Harry Potter

That'll be them.

He didn't look at you when he said it. He was watching the darkness beyond the gates, where two pinpricks of light were slowly growing larger through the rain.