Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Warner Brothers, and possibly a few others I've forgotten. No harm is intended and no profit is being made. This little drabble is for entertainment purposes only.
Author's Notes: I'm cleaning out my vault of old, finished pieces. I wrote this one ages ago for a 200 word drabble challenge at Third Floor Corridor.
When Harry Sleeps
At night, when Harry sleeps, I lie awake and watch him breathe. Often times he has nightmares and wakes, screaming, but other nights, his face is peaceful, and he is not troubled by the past, the things that have damaged his soul. I lie awake, memorizing the curves of his lips and the angles of his cheeks.
Sometimes, I am in awe of Harry. When he trusts me with his sleep, that he allows me to share his bed. When he opens his eyes and smiles, as if he is relieved that I am still there. That despite the ordeal his life has been, he still has hope, and he gives it to me.
Tonight, a tiny line creases his brow as he frowns in his sleep. He rubs his forehead and grunts quietly. I know the scar doesn't actually hurt now; it has long since ceased to be a threat, but he remembers in nightmares.
I nudge his hand out of the way and trace my fingertip lightly across his infamous mark. The wrinkle between his brows melts and he sighs in relief. How I love him. I place my lips to the faded scar and Harry smiles.