17 Jul 2:00
3 years ago
♥ 9 notes

He could no longer control his own trembling. It was not, after all, so easy to die. Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool air on his face, was so precious: To think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it dragged, and he was clinging to each second. He pressed the golden metal to his lips and whispered, “I am about to die.”

The Forest Again, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

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