A/N: This was written for the hg_silverlining song lyric challenge. It was great fun to do, and I hope you all enjoy the results.
I could stay awake just to hear you breathing
Watch you smile while you are sleeping
While you're far away dreaming
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender
I could stay lost in this moment forever
The day has already been long. The memorial services for the heroes who had fallen at Hogwarts began at dawn and there are still several to come, including the hardest ones, those of the three who are closest to their hearts. This morning's memorials, of slight friends and acquaintances, were excruciating enough, and she'd had to fight hard against the tears that threatened. By contrast, he had been tight lipped during the services, his face white and drawn as they held each other. Now, they are the centre of attention, drawing the thoughts of others away from the purpose of this day. He is uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny.
She takes his hand and pulls him away from the milling crowd. Far too many people are trying to get a piece of 'The Chosen One.' She curls her lip as she looks at the rapacious reporters who have managed to intrude on this day of mourning, and are making the rounds, milking what they can out of the mourners' tragedies. Even as the pair move away, they try to follow, still thrusting questions and equipment with equal insensitivity into his face.
Less annoying, but harder to deal with, are the people who are swamped by gratitude and just want to say a few words to him. They touch his hand, thanking him softly for saving their world and defeating the great enemy. But even they are taking a toll on him. Their heartfelt appreciation eats at him; she can sense his reluctance to be here, to do this.
Both feel wrung out by the emotions of the day, and the well meaning public, with their desire to just be near him and talk to him, have finally overwhelmed him. She recognises the signs. He is nodding mechanically, but he has retreated into himself, cutting himself off from his emotions and from those around him. In this break between memorials, she decides they both need to get away, so she takes his hand and moves them to their favourite spot in the grounds. It takes her a little while to disentangle them from the well wishers, but soon enough, they are alone.
The tree they come to is solid, reassuring. It spreads its shade by the lake, sunlight dappling under its canopy. They are far enough from the castle that they already seem to be in a new world, their own world. Here, they can truly take time out, take time to be apart together. This has always been the place they come to rest, to be away from prying eyes, and it begins working its healing magic as soon as they arrive.
He sighs as they sink, exhausted, to the ground and lean back against the trunk of the old tree. With his eyes closed, he seems to be taking support from the age and stability of the solid shape behind them. His head rests back, and his face is bathed in the sunlight streaming down on them. His face is still tight, still filled with tension, but the lines are slowly seeping away.
She leans into him, drawing comfort from his presence in a way that no-one else can provide. Her mother and father, always the providers before, now seem inadequate to the task. Now, with one touch, he can give her strength to carry on, while also taking strength from her. This symbiotic relationship helps each of them as they sit here together and drift away from the harsh realities of the day.
She hears him sigh again, but this time there is something of contentment in the sound and she raises her head to look at him. His eyes are still closed, but his face is turned slightly towards her, basking in her presence as well as in the warmth of the sun. She reaches up and traces the line of his scar, still vivid on his face. Anyone else touching it makes him pull away, but when she does it he merely smiles and opens his eyes, green eyes locking with brown. Her touch is gentle, and her curiosity doesn't seem intrusive.
It comforts her to know that the scar is no longer a symbol of all that is wrong in his life. Knowing that the dark times are over is too new, too raw, too suffused with the grief of lost loved ones, but there is still a soft comfort in having that knowledge. Tracing the scar is her way of tracing the horror away. He understands and stills under her touch, melting into the caress. She draws her hand away, and his eyes light up in an almost genuine smile. They stay locked that way for an infinite time.
He still looks exhausted, so she sits up a little and pulls his head onto her shoulder. Her bright hair spills into his jet, the strands mingling. He makes another of those sighing noises. She knows each one intimately by now, and this one is pure contentment. For this brief moment in time he has moved away from the pain and horror they are reliving up at the castle. His ease relaxes her, too, and she is able to slip away from her own heartache, and the grief of what's to come, and focus on their small pocket of peace.
A slight breeze wafts up from the lake, and leaves flutter overhead as they sit, in a moment locked in time. She can't help but look at him as his eyes drift slowly closed again and the slightly rough sound of his breathing evens out into sleep.
She watches as the remaining lines, tight around his eyes, soften and disappear with painfully slow rhythm. She watches the tiny movements of his face as he slips into dreams and his mouth curves upwards. She watches as his breathing settles and his lips drop open, still curved in that slight smile. She watches, taking comfort from his release.
Her breathing slows until it almost mirrors his. Watching him smile while he dreams lifts her own lips without her knowledge. Seeing him so free of the burdens of mourning frees her too. She watches him, and her heart lifts a little … just for now, just for this eternal moment.