Lucy closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the small pillow. Bringing a hand up to her temple, she kneaded the pounding flesh she found there. Always the same nightmare. Always about Azkaban.
The beatings and rapes at the hands of the prison guards nearly broke her. Nearly. Her nose had been broken but had thankfully healed straight. The only reminder was a small bump at the bridge. She had been branded by a particularly sadistic guard. All that remained was a large section of mottled skin on her left shoulder. Other than that she was uncharacteristically fine.
When her sentence was commuted and she was offered the opportunity to join the ranks of the Snatchers, she jumped at the opportunity. She would make no wage, but she would only endure five years of service and then her record would be expunged; her name cleared.
She silently studied the roof of the tent above, still feeling her heart rapidly beating in her chest. Stretching an arm behind her head, she rolled onto her side, glancing at the bed next to her. She was startled by the pair of piercing blue eyes trained on her.
"Nightmares again?," Scabior started, his head turned towards her. She didn't make a move to respond. He continued.
"You cried out. Startled me."
Lucy looked away. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to wake you."
"'s no bother," he started, turning his body on its side, away from her. "Get some rest."
Lucy nodded to herself and closed her eyes. She felt her shoulders tensing involuntarily.
"You really won't tell me what wakes you, will you?," he asked, mumbling into his chest, still turned away.
She treated his question as rhetorical. He knew she wouldn't say anyway. It wasn't that she wanted to hide things from him; quite simply she just could not bear to actually say the words. It made everything all too real. If she told him what happened it would be harder for her to escape the memories. And she did not want pity. She was a strong girl. But she had learned from experience to never let anyone in.
Lucy was glad she currently shared a tent with him. It was nice to have someone else there. It was nice to have him close by when she had those terrible dreams. Really it was nice to work with all of them. Once they got over the initial phase of catcalls, she became one of the guys; like a brother. As odd as it was for a group of mercenaries, they were always professional towards her. She didn't have to worry about sharing a tent with Scabior, or really anyone. They were a team, working together for a common goal.
She sighed and sat up, gathering her thoughts before sneaking over to the small table. There was a deck of cards strewn about and a bottle of firewhiskey. She sat down, eyeing the cards. She wasn't really in the mood for cards though. Crossing her leg over its mate, she picked up the bottle, rolling it in her hands before leaning back in the chair and taking a big swig.
"Lush," he spoke softly, his eyes still closed, his mouth set in a smirk.
Lucy smiled and tipped it back against her lips once more. The amber liquid burned its way down her throat and she relished the feeling of fire in her belly in this cold, cold night.
Taking the bottle with her she moved back to her bed, sitting on the edge. Two more swigs and she felt tired. Placing the bottle on the floor gently, she lay once more against the pillow, her wavy auburn hair stretching out behind her.
As she closed her eyes she heard his breathing, even and heavy, and the rhythm of it lulled her into a dreamless sleep.