What was it about the night that you used to fear? Was it the pure and unyielding darkness, protecting evils from your eyes, like a shield? Or maybe the stillness of the air, making your every breath echo too loudly, too unnaturally in your ears? Or could it have been the things lurking in the shadows that frightened you most? Creatures in black robes with matching black hearts underneath, relishing the sights and sounds of squirming bodies and piercing cries -
Suddenly, you're awake.
It takes a moment for your pupils to adjust to the light, emanating eerily from the moon through every window in the Common Room. Around you, Gryffindors sigh and shift unconsciously. Sleeping bags shuffle gently against one another, sounding almost like whispers. Whispers, bruised and scarred during battle. Whispers, darkened by the memory of each lost life. Whispers, victorious whispers. Still too tired to celebrate, but still too shaken to sleep alone.
You stretch. Your aching limbs pop softly. You roll over onto your side.
She's curled in the sleeping bag next to you, her bushy hair pulled back, her body merely inches from yours. Her eyelids flutter. Her breath tickles your freckled face. Her skin glows, illuminated by moonbeams. Is she real? You shiver.
Just to be sure, you kiss the tip of her nose. The corners of her mouth twitch involuntarily. You exhale slowly.
She's alive. You all are.
The darkness is banished. The heavy stillness eases. Every menacing, black figure disappears.
The war has ended.
The moon smiles.