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If J.K. Rowling had created a character that was very religious as their main defining trait she would have named them Trinity Santos. The holy trinity: The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit and on top of that, all the saints.
For Trinity this is just another burden she must carry, a name that promises something she cannot fulfill. She has never been a good christian and she doubts that she ever will. Even if she somehow found faith again, she would be forever tainted by things she can never forget.
She gives up on religion somewhere in her teens and focuses on the cold, hard facts of science in medicine. Most of her peers are atheists or at least agnostics, if people ask she tells them she was raised catholic and leaves it at that. For a long time this works. And then comes Dennis Whitaker.
She doesn't really know what came over her when she invited him to live with her. Maybe it was pity. But maybe it was the voice in her head that said I was a stranger and you invited me against her will.
Weeks later, as Whitaker starts to grow a spine around her, they bicker about bedside manner. Contrary to popular belief, Trinity does care what people think of her.
"I'm just not a naturally nice person," she laments with a groan, collapsing on their couch.
Whitaker walks in behind her, carefully toeing off his shoes to neatly put them next to the ones she kicked off carelessly.
"True," he admits, and Trinity groans, "but you are kind and that's way more important."
"What even is kindness, if not being nice," she scoffs.
And without hesitation comes the answer, true to form for a former theology student.
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
to bring the poor and homeless into your house,
to clothe the naked when you see him,
and not to ignore your own flesh and blood?
That's from Isaiah but she won't let him know she knows. They don't talk about what kindness is again, but she accepts that he has seen this part of her she keeps so close to her chest. She also accepts the fact that she trusts him to not exploit her for it.
Dennis is an open book in many ways and a mystery in others. It's obvious that he grew up very religious, but the same can be said for her if you know what to look for. He makes the sign of the cross after patient deaths, when no one is looking. She's often seen him look up towards the sky the way she used to do herself when saying a quick prayer.
Every one of his gestures is so deeply familiar to her, but he lacks the judgement that usualy comes with them. He doesn't react in a meaningful way when she casually tells him she's gay. He doesn't fault her for being lazy, or jealous or greedy. He's nothing like them.
When christmas rolls around both of them end up working. Neither of them have family to spend it with anywhere close by or willing so it's for the best. It's a grueling, exhausting shift after which they stumble back to the apartment with their sad looking, small (stolen) christmas tree.
"Do you have any particular traditions for christmas?" she asks him, just to be kind. Because he is stuck with her on this holiday that's meant for spending with your loved ones.
"We usually read the Christmas Gospel, took turns every year," he admits hesitantly. She can tell that this is only a small part of it but she doesn't prod.
"According to Luke?" she asks instead. And when he nods she admits, "I read it every year too."
So they sit down next to their measly tree with a few stale cookies and half burnt candles and Dennis reads the christmas story with the serious demeanor of an altar boy.
In those days it starts and Trinity thinks back to those days when life was simple and she still believed in things. But her life has beaten the faith out of her and she doesn't believe in god enough to blame him for it.
Like clockwork every year there comes the time where she has to throw out all her razor blades and spends to much time on the roof and it's the first time in her life that someone cares enough to notice.
"Do you think about killing yourself?" he asks her, because of course he does.
"I would never do that," she responds. Because killing yourself is a sin.
She can tell that he believes her but he still goes after her often and his razor vanishes from the bathroom. It's thoughtful in a way that makes her stomach turn.
"I wish I could do more," she tells him, after one of those cases. They are walking home today, because it's nice outside and traffic is stressfull anyways.
"Sometimes all you can do is hope and pray," he responds.
She doesn't really know how to anymore. But even though she stopped really believing in anything years ago, there are moments when she comes back to praying. Because sometimes it really is all you can do and it would feel wrong to do nothing.
"Do you talk to him when you pray?"
"Not really," he shrugs, "I don't believe in him per se."
"You don't believe in god?"
Dennis shrugs again and kicks a pebble into a nearby puddle. The ripples are perfecly symmetrical, spreading out from the point of impact.
"I believe that there's something greater than us out there. And to some people that might be god and to others it's astrology, or karma or the math of the universe aligning just right."
This, precisely is what turns Trinity away from faith because when things happen for a reason, what does it say that horrible things happen to you? Why god, why is a question that's been haunting her ever since.
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
"So, how do you pray then. If you don't talk to god?"
"Mostly I just speak things into existence and hope they persist."
When she tells him the hip crowd calls stuff like that manifestation he just rolls his eyes. And then, when the next one of those cases rolls around she can only hope and pray again. This time, she does. She's not sure if it helps but it's probably better than nothing.