I actually read and voted for this back when it was originally posted for the games, but then I proceeded to re-read it at least twice and ruminate over it for roughly six months before finally summoning the capacity to tell you that for this games, it was the one that left the deepest mark on me for the longest period of time. It has in fact entered into my stock catalogue of stories that have resonated with me in this particular fandom, no matter when and if I move on. Considering I needed to de-lurk (and now there is a strange visual involving flashes, bangs and rabbits) to comment, there is no excuse for my extraordinarily slow commenting period.
Perhaps the only thing I can do is to outline why it took so long, and hopefully through this manage to give some sort of review. Initially when I first read it, I read it so fast (a problem that I have when I first meet a story that I know I will enjoy) that I failed to take in so much of the world you build in the story and the emotion behind it, in particular the way the story moves from one very deep and involved scene to another, sometimes (at least for speed readers) without an apparent segue. Apart from an overwhelming urge to ask, beg and plead with you to expand on the world and the original characters, all I had to say was a somewhat incoherent textual hand wave reflecting the pleasure I got from the sheer density of visual images, and the sharpness of characterisation. In my opinion neither of these are an adequate response to go with such a ... painfully beautiful story.
Thus I determined to read in a way that would at least do the story justice. So, on my second read through I took a day and immersed myself completely, reading some scenes over and over and over again until I could smell the roses, the dust in Grimmauld Place and almost reach out and feel the currents flowing between the characters. Unfortunately this left me so unable to withdraw myself from the story in order to write a vaguely objective review, all you would have got would have been endless quotations of your own writing accompanied by alternated squeeing and literary examination. This is of course after I had managed to quit swanning around for a week just revisiting the marvellous twisting feeling the ending (and middle parts) invoked in my stomach. Or stopping and getting struck by a single solitary image, of roses, of Snape, of Hermione, of fire and heat. Of the metaphors, literal and implied that twist and wind throughout.
Then I had the thought that because my visualisation was so strong, perhaps I could draw you feedback. Only one draft in, I recalled my dismal track record of finishing works of art before the recipient drops dead from heart failure in a nursing home some thirty years after my beginning. Plus the Snarry_Games already provided you with art, and perhaps unsolicited art from nowhere comes over as a wee tad stalkerish. So here I am, many inarticulate words later, attempting to write you adequate feedback. Whilst I don't think I have succeeded (and doubt I will without a line by line breakdown), I hope you have some idea of just how glad I am you wrote this particular tale.