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Summary
"Mine," he whispers, firewhiskey on his lips and your heart in his hands, his grip possessive. He holds you like a promise, and he's never broken his promises.
You smile at him, sliding onto his lap. Your hands are in his hair, combing through the lucious locks and he smells of sandalwood and adventure and in this moment, you really are young gods.
"Yours," you breathe, leaning in, your lips ghosting over his, "Forever and always."
Or
The year is 1977. You’re a socially awkward sixteen year old, thrust into the heart of the war and tangled within the heart strings of three very different boys from very different worlds. Will you conquer Voldemort’s war, or will you be conquered by it? Only time will tell, and time can be the one bullet from behind that kills you.