i picked you up
and lifted your wilted frame into the sun
-daisy, the maine
"I don't want to do this anymore, Seamus."
Her voice cut into the dark, curtained Room of Requirement. They were the only ones still awake, and their hands were tangled together, closing the space between their two scarlet hammocks. Deep breathing that signaled sleep surrounded them. Lavender rubbed circles over one of his many scars with her calloused thumb. Tears pricked her eyes as she stared at the stone ceiling, waiting for a reply from the boy she was in love with.
"Neither do I, Lav."
She wanted to crawl over to his hammock and hug him and cuddle and assure him everything would be alright, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she dropped his hand, letting her pale one dangle in the blackness of the room, inches from his. He swallowed hard and continued talking.
"I think we're all over it. It's not a joke anymore, not some silly training session. It's real, and it's bloody scary. I can tell Neville's not into it as much anymore either. It's not fun. I know it sounds sick that I expected it to be fun, but bloody hell, Lav. You've seen them, you've seen the Muggle movies about war. It's different. It's portrayed as something completely different, but this is real. Realer than anything I've ever had."
Tears were streaming down her pale, scarred cheeks. He had taken the words out of her mouth.
"But something else here is real, too," he continued, his thick Irish accent breaking the silence.
That silence lingered for a few moments before he finished.
"We are."