1 Work by FreyaB
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Summary
That was the magical thing about the marauders, each of their broken, warped and twisted souls interlocked together perfectly to create the beautiful illusion of fearless, joyful youth. Yet whoever wants to grow up? Especially in a time when growing up means taking your place in a war that doesn't quite feel like it's yours to be fought.
It’s always him, even when she was sure it wasn’t and couldn’t be him it was. Every moment she cursed herself ー it was still him.