Harry/Hermione - PG, to be on the safe side (as always).
Word count: 992 (I don't know whether to be completely ashamed or utterly proud of myself).
Post HBP, but since I haven't read it I won't swear on the Bible this is all canon-abiding... Definitely not Deathly Hallows canon-abiding…
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SELF-INDULGENCE AND THE BATTLE LOST TO GRAVITY
"...but I ain't saying nothing you don't know..."
You watch her as she sighs and you try not to feel guiltier for being there, because the unadulterated truth is that you need it.
You barely sleep anymore; the nightmares have worsened as the time for the final battle approaches. So you take a nap every now and then and you wear yourself out until you pass out in a blessed dreamless sleep, which is only a couple of times a week. In the mean time you and Ron take turns at keeping watch at night because it makes you feel better, no matter how insulted she felt when you told her there would be no staying up for her ("I can still perform any spell better than EITHER of you, you know!").
And when it is Ron's turn, you watch her sleep.
It all started on a particularly rough night, back in the day, when you still slept. Cold sweat and piercing pain in the forehead, you went into the bedroom to check on her and you never found the strength to break that spell. Curious enough to steal a glance, you were mesmerized by the peace in her features, the softness of her breathing, her smell flooding the almost empty room. (She sacrificed every inch of space in her trunk to bring whatever books she thought might possibly help you and you love her all the more for it)
So the following night you waited until everyone was asleep to climb out of bed and you put on your invisibility cloak; you warded the room you share with Ron because Merlin knows what he might do if he found out, and you went back. And you did the same the night after that. And every other night ever since. (You are sure she must have restless nights, bad dreams like everybody, but you are yet to witness one)
In nights like these (which means almost every night, really) you make a supreme effort not to think of Ron, who is right outside thinking he is protecting you, or Ginny, whom you have left behind. ("For her own safety", you hear yourself say, and it is not enough)
You need to be selfish. You need the darkness, you need to allow yourself a weakness, and this is as good as any. This is bittersweet, and sad, and intense for some reason you cannot quite fully grasp. There is a sense of freedom to it, and the feeling that you can do something on your own, without consulting with anyone. The certainty that you can guard her sleep and make sure nothing and nobody disturbs it. A certainty that chases the daily helplessness away.
You need this.
And nobody will ever know it. Especially not her.
Summer passes quickly, and so does Autumn. Winter finds you watching her from across her bedroom in the new safehouse (and thank God for some reason there is a chair there).
You are proud that time has not made you reckless, but you soon realize it has not made you wiser either: tonight is probably the coldest night of the year, and you are only wearing your not-so-thick night clothes. The invisibility cloak is quite thin as well; you wrap it around yourself tightly but there's no use, you are still shaking - slightly, but shaking anyway.
That is when it happens. One minute you are carefully shifting on the chair, as silent as you have ever been, and the next you hear it.
"Cold?"
Her eyes are sealed shut, and she has not moved an inch. But startled as you are, you know her voice better than anybody else's, so you scan the room searching for the person she has just addressed.
There is no one.
You sigh and think that maybe this was not such a great idea after all, that it is getting more and more dangerous because your mind has started playing tricks on you. You stare at her, and she does not move... until she does.
Her eyes are still sealed shut, but she moves. She removes the covers of her bed and pats the spot beside her.
She has to be dreaming, you reason, because she cannot possibly be aware of your presence.
"Come on. It really is freezing tonight." (Still you could swear the temperature in the room has gone up at least fifty degrees in the last five seconds)
And suddenly she opens her eyes; barely, but there is no mistake as to the direction of her gaze. She looks at you in the eye and offers a sleepy, innocent smile.
"I always sleep better when you are here anyway."
So you oblige. You do not question the pull that holds you hostage now. You do not think at all. She has closed her eyes again, and you lie carefully beside her.
You are in her bed, under her covers, with her (the fact that you are not touching does nothing to put you at ease).
The mere thought makes you skeptical, skeptical enough to steal a glance at her. You are mesmerized by the peace in her features, the softness of her breathing, her smell flooding the almost empty room (and you know it is part of you now).
And you do not think of Ron, her boyfriend, who is right outside thinking he is protecting you. Or Ginny, whom you have left behind. You just don't.
But you have to make a supreme effort not to wonder whether you will wake up with her in your arms, or her head on your chest, or your legs tangled together.
You consider whether you should take off your cloak but her hand removes it for you, and with a movement of her arm she places it at the end of her bed before pulling the covers over you both.
"The room is warded" She mumbles.
Surprisingly enough, you don't have trouble sleeping anymore.
When you're beside her, you're nearly not so dead