Author's Notes: For those of you that know me from Birds become Dragons, I've broken a promise to myself and joined a forum. This is my first assignment and it's completely unrelated to BbD
Written for Task 3 of Care of Magical Creatures: Write about something rare
For the 365 Prompts Challenge - No Names
A Quiet Night
A rare event indeed, she thinks as she runs her fingers through his soft hair. She smiles when he angles his head, leaning it towards her hand, as if pleading for her touch. The touch he so much craves these days, the last thing capable of soothing him.
Tonight, for the first time since the Hogwarts Express dropped them at the platform in Hogsmeade after the summer, he sleeps peacefully.
Nothing moves but his chest and her hand. Both steady rhythms that soothe the other. She revels in his rhythm. No jerking, no crying, no pleading, no sobbing. Just easy breathing and deep, deep slumber, undisturbed by dreams.
Something changed tonight, she knows. She smuggled his dinner into the library, where he so often is these days. She found him there, with the usual books spread around him and a hint of joy on his lips. Her heart could fly at that, soar up high and out of her chest, even if the hint of joy didn't reach his eyes. Eating dinner involved no bargaining for once. He was hungry, he is always hungry and his body has become proof of it. He simply cannot eat. But tonight he did, everything. He left her with a kiss and a promise to return and then he was gone for hours, as he is wont to do now, to some place she does not know of.
So she had waited for him in the Common Room under the lake, watching the water draw patterns of light on the floor. He was still happy when he returned, the hint of joy now rang true, even in his eyes, the shadow gone. And that was different too. He had reached for her tenderly, without the usual urgency to erase his mind. They had walked amongst kisses to their usual retreat, and he had taken his time taking her, aware and reverent of her need, driving her over the edge time and time again before he joined her there.
Now he sleeps with his head on her chest, nuzzling a breast, limbs wrapped around her. She is used to staying up past him, until he awakes and then regains his calm, or whatever piece of it he can, after the first nightmare. Then they both sleep in between nightmares.
There will be no nightmares tonight, she knows. He had said something about things being okay now, about his father being proud of him, about his master rewarding him. He had been blissful. Still is, in his slumber. He never tells her anything, and she knows he is shielding her from whatever hell is life has become, and she knows he is shielding her because he hopes there can be something afterwards. So she sleeps too. But she dares dream of a future with him in a night with no nightmares.
In the morning, the bliss is gone with the first blinks of his eyes. It's like the happiness of last night has opened the door to a greater dread. The shadow is back in his stare, and growing.
As she watches him watching the mark on his forearm, she knows quiet nights like the last will not repeat themselves.