Oh, how I loved this fic! I have no idea how you orchestrate that beautiful bend of angst and romance - always dancing on the razor's edge! So perfect!
Potter is standing behind the chair and forgetting to think about his hands, which are gripping the top—not that it matters, as his disappointment is palpable. To Severus, it fills the entire room.
Such stunning writing. Dood, if it's even possible at this point, I love you MORE!