A weird little oneshot that was begging to be written. My muse and I are debating whether or not to turn this into a fullblown fic or not (she wants to… I don't.) It's from Ron's POV, after a Quidditch accident. I think the rest is fairly self-explanatory.
Need I explain that, no, I am not JK Rowling and, thusly, her characters are not mine?
Stolen moment
Kyra
He lies there, his eyes closed and his face peaceful. I watch him, knowing I shouldn't be here and not caring. I don't care for rules anyway, and this time I care even less. After all, when it's a choice of following the rules or being with him, the choice doesn't even exist. No rules can keep me from him, especially not at a time like this.
He stirs, and his face changes, the peace vanishing and pain replacing it. I freeze, watching as he tosses and turns, wondering what's wrong. I know he's having another nightmare. How many nights have I lain awake, watching as he tosses in his bed, aching to wake him but not being able to?
He cries out, thrashing under his covers, and one of his hands flies free. I want to touch it so badly, but I can't bring myself to disturb him. He clearly has more than enough on his mind. He doesn't need to worry about a boy who loves him. After all, it's not like he knows how I feel. If I thought he returned the feelings, it might be something, but he's been joined at the hip with Malfoy for years. Oh, they won't admit it, but I know. Everyone knows.
His mouth opens, and he whimpers, his breath coming in short, painful gasps. He speaks, and I wince at the pain in his voice. "No!" he whispers. "No, please! Don't!"
I want to comfort him so badly, but I can't. I can't make myself touch him, can't make myself disturb his perfect flesh with my touch. And why would he want me? He has Malfoy, a thousand times better for him than I would be. I'll never admit it, but I envy Malfoy. No, not for his money or his family's power, those don't matter to me. No, it's his closeness to the boy I love that I envy. I want to be the one to comfort Harry, want to be the one to hold his hand and sooth away his tears. But I won't be. I will never be.
He thrashes again, and the blanket comes all the way off. Against my will, I reach over and smooth it back over him. He sighs slightly and seems to calm down. My hand doesn't move away like I want it to, and I touch his exposed hand. A small smile creeps across his face, and I smile back, even though I know he can't see me.
The clock strikes midnight, and I start. I didn't realize it had gotten so late. With a sigh, I pull my hand back and look at him. He lies, not quite still, but not quite restless either. I have no choice but to leave, which I do reluctantly. As I close the door to the infirmary, I take one last look at him, at the boy I love. There is a smile on his lips and his breathing is steady. I close the door behind me, smiling. He will never know I came, and he will never know how I feel about him. I don't need him to. It is enough that I can watch him like this, when he does not realize it. I will be content with this. I must be. It is all I will ever have.