Chapter Nine: Emily: The Bed

"What. The. Hell."

"What?" I said quickly, standing on my toes to reach and look over his shoulder. "What's wrong? Is there something in the room?"

"What the hell," he repeated, not moving as I tried to shove him aside. Seriously, what's going on? It's not that hard to answer me.

Unless he was in shock. In that case, I'd better slap him.

Smack.

"OI!" he spun around, trying to rub his back. "What?"

"What's going on?" I demanded, placing my hands back on my hips and glaring at him. "Move, will you? I want to see!"

"It's –" he cut off, looking behind me. "Rose."

"Rose? That's not their room –"

"Rose, I'm going to kill you," he growled, pushing me aside into the wall and lunging at her. Rose, having come out of her room upon hearing Al's dulcet tones, didn't falter in the slightest. She rolled her eyes and ducked effortlessly, obviously having much practice with that.

I might need to go to her for tips. Do you think Al would attack me?

… uh oh.

"Al, I know you're mad, but we really don't have a choice in this matter."

"You promised –"

"There isn't enough space for two beds in one room!" Rose said with finality before going back to her room, cursing under her breath. She shut the door with a snap, and Al's face crumpled.

And I burst into laughter.

Hey, I never said I was the most sympathetic of people.

His eyes fled to me in annoyance. "What are you laughing at?"

"What does it look like I'm laughing at?" I countered, chuckling and leaning against the wall, crossing my arms in front of me. "You're ridiculous."

A smirk rose on his face. "Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" My eyes turned to slits.

"Piss off," I said coldly, pushing myself off the wall and entering the small room. I suddenly felt a little claustrophobic, and shook my head. Get a hold of yourself, Emily. It's just a bed.

The bed of doom…

No, no. It's just a bed. It's just a bed.

"Oh, come on," Al whined, following me with a look of dismay scrawled across his face. "You wanted to move here!"

"Yeah, so we didn't have to act in love any longer!" I spat back, unable to resist the urge to spin around and face him. "Go sleep on the couch."

"No way!" He glanced downstairs. Were my eyes deceiving me, or was he paling slightly? "Have you seen that thing? It's lumpy and small – you're short, why don't you take it?"

I scoffed, turning to my trunk to where it was plopped against the wall. "I wouldn't be able to fall asleep on that thing. It's my first day at St. Mungo's tomorrow." I kicked the suitcase, letting it spring open and reveal neatly folded clothes. My eyes sprung with embarrassing tears, and I quickly blinked them out. Now is not the time, especially when Al is right behind me.

Truth is, I already miss my family. I miss the neatness, the quiet house in the mornings and the dinner conversations. It's strange, considering I haven't been homesick at Hogwarts since I was eleven, but… this was different, for some reason.

Makes me stupidly emotional.

We'd just gotten to the new house literally fifteen minutes ago. After Holly left the party (I'm still wondering how she got in), we tried very hard to stay calm.

Okay, I tried very hard to stay calm. Al couldn't get his heart rate up if he was dropped from a cliff without a wand.

We managed all the smiles, the speeches and the goodbyes before Rose and Scorpius brought us here. The house was located in a muggle suburb, and Rose had insisted on keeping any changes to the house as muggle as possible, in case any neighbours visited.

Pshhh, as if they'd come to a house owned by four teenagers.

By the time we got to the house, we took a quick glance around the house, determined it was very small and badly in need of decorating and demanded sleep. A person can only survive so long without rest.

And thinking, but I really doubt I could stop worrying this much anytime soon.

"I have work too, you know," Al said, suddenly sounding very tired. "I mean, just because I might not be saving lives, it doesn't mean I don't need sleep – what are you doing?"

I quickly shut the lid of the leather trunk, clutching pajamas and a t-shirt in my hand. "Nothing."

"Because it looked like," he continued, bending his neck and trying to peer at my face, "you were wiping your eyes on your pajamas." I blushed uncontrollably.

"I wasn't," I mumbled, trying to push past him, but he blocked the door, looking… concerned?

Nah. He probably just wants me to feel uncomfortable again.

He really likes doing that to people. Creep.

"I mean, I might've noticed when it looked like you wet yourself, but –"

"Just a long night," I muttered irritably, not relenting my efforts in getting out of the room. "Will you move?"

"Could you just tell me why you're crying?" he asked, not moving an inch. Stupid muscles. I sighed and stepped back, blowing hair out of my face.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't want you to know that I was crying, nitwit!" I shot back, feeling more and more annoyed. I wish there was more than one exit to this freaking tiny room. "You already think I'm some emotional basket case, what more do you want?"

He ran a hand through his hair, stretching his tux a little. "I don't think that."

"You're lying," I said, knowing it was a hundred percent correct. "You think I'm mental."

I mean, it may be true – but I didn't want him to believe it!

Yep, deceiving people has always been a talent of mine. Sort of.

"Okay, maybe a little." I nearly snorted; he didn't even try to deny it! "But that doesn't mean I don't –"

"Care?" I asked sceptically, looking up at him with a quirk in my eyebrow. "That's not going to work on me. I knowyou don't care."

"Now why would I marry you," he said with a glimmer of humour in his eyes, "if I didn't care?"

"Because you're using me," I replied easily, crossing my arms awkwardly while still clutching my clothes. The grin that had been on the verge of stumbling onto his face faded.

I seem to have a talent for making that smile disappear.

Why doesn't that make me feel any better?

"You're using me, too," he answered, swallowing. "Look, I don't think you're mental –"

"Still lying –"

"Okay, I don't think you're completely mental. But it's probably because I don't know you." I frowned.

"I'm not very hard to read," I pointed out, as if the statement was obvious and his miniscule mind couldn't catch on. "I'm Emily. Slytherin. Smart."

He laughed, incredibly. "I think there's more than that. You think too much; you've got to be hiding something."

"But I'm not," I whined, practically stomping my foot. "Al, I just want to get out of this dress." He slapped a hand to his forehead, immediately grinning.

"Why didn't you just say so?" he exclaimed, putting his hands on my waist and pulling me towards him. "I could help, you know." My mouth opened indignantly. I shoved him in the chest and he went toppling onto the bed.

He's got some nerve…

"I thought we went over this?" I demanded as he propped himself up on his elbows, laughing. "We're not doing anything." He cocked his head, shaking it a little.

"I was joking. Why are you so resistant?" he asked, looking very curious now.

"I don't see you in that way."

"But for the wedding," he clarified, sitting up properly. "It was one kiss. It's not a big deal for most people – why does it matter?"

I sighed. "Does it matter? The contract doesn't care if we kissed of not."

"But why does it matter so much to you?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Haven't you kissed someone by now?"

"Yeah," I answered, shrugging, "but I don't like the idea of kissing someone I don't know, or like." I avoided his eyes, and knew that was the blunder I made.

Amateur mistake. Always keep eye contact when you're lying.

"Alright, there's something else," he concluded confidently, standing up. "What, are you in love with someone?" I sighed and met his eyes.

"Nope."

"Did someone assault you?"

"Nope."

"Are you a bad kisser?"

"Nope."

"Do you think I'm a bad kisser?"

"Bloody hell, you've got a big head," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Do you want to know that badly?"

"Yes," he insisted. I sighed again.

"I was cheated on," I said very quickly, not quite hiding the humiliation creeping up on my back. Whatever Al was expecting, it wasn't that.

"Really?"

"Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Was it a big deal to you?" I shrugged, trying to shake off hot tingling feeling that was uncomfortably pushing me to tell the truth. Why would I tell Al, of all people? I mean, it's not as if he's my husband or anything.

Bloody hell, I have a husband.

Kill me now.

"It must've been a big deal," he pondered out loud. "I mean, why else would you go to such lengths to avoid a stupid kiss?" His eyes burned holes into my face, desperately searching for answers I wasn't willing to give. "Aren't we, as teenagers, supposed to be overly hormonal?"

My lips twitched. "Did you write an article on that?"

"Yep," he said, grinning. "So you're in love with him."

"I was," I admitted.

"Until he cheated on you."

"That, and he was using me." You know, it would be very nice if my mouth didn't spew words around against my own will.

"For what?"

"Snogging, and potentially shagging." WHERE ARE THESE WORDS COMING FROM?

I swear, Al brings out the worst in me.

I mean, telling the truth? So overrated.

"But it didn't get that far?" he asked while leaning back, obviously pleased he was finally getting some answers.

"No, I wouldn't have sex until after I was married."

Oh.

Well, this is awkward.

See? This is why I don't speak without thinking.

He popped onto his feet, the mischievous grin returning to his face. Have I mentioned how annoying it is for someone to be this confident all the time? And that look.Merlin, it's creepy. "Still need help getting out of that dress?" he asked suggestively, hands sliding back to my waist. Before I could shove him off again, he brought his arms from my waist and around me.

"Al?" I questioned, feeling my arms flop rather awkwardly in mid-air. "What are you doing?"

"I knew you weren't used to affection," he said cheerfully, squeezing me and bringing me closer. "I'm sorry he used you. And cheated."

"It's not your fault," I said quietly, wishing he would let me go so I could let my face decrease in temperature.

"Nope," he said, "but everything that happened tonight might've been." I pulled away, trying not to make it seem as if I cared about all that.

Ugh, tears are just so inconveniently uncontrollable.

"So you think a hug is going to make everything better?" I mumbled, blinking rapidly. He shrugged, turning to rummage through his own trunk. I could see the smirk appearing again.

"You should hope so," he replied, pulling out his own clothes and leaving the messy trunk wide open. He stood again, winking at me. "You're in for a rough night."

I childishly stuck my tongue out at him.

Hey, it's the best retaliation I've got.


"So why do you hate sharing a bed?" His body was tense and stiff as he lay beside me, not bothering to put on the covers in the searing heat.

He's actually worse than me –and that's saying something.

"It's a long story," he muttered, his arms crossed very tightly around him. "Lily and James played a stupid prank." I raised an eyebrow, but thought nothing more of it. He obviously didn't want to tell me.

At least his mouth didn't spew words of its own accord.

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep on the couch?" I asked hopefully. He shook his head, barely moving his neck and scrunching his eyes closed as if he were in pain. I sighed.

I guess it's fair. That couch would give us a lifetime of backache.

"It's really hot." I glanced at him as he spoke and spotted beads of sweat on his forehead. I nodded in agreement, staring back at the ceiling.

"Are you going to try and sleep anytime soon?" I asked.

"No."

"But it's one in the morning."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe you could keep talking and distract me?"

I groaned. "Al, I'm tired."

"I'm probably not going to stop talking until I fall asleep." I resisted the urge the strangle him.

Alright, that's it. I'm going to help him so that I won't be a zombie at work the following morning. So I need a plan.

… where do I start?

"What do you want to talk about? The ministry?" I nearly slapped myself. Clearly, current politics and how it affects our situation was a calming topic. That wouldn't keep him awake at all.

Such a fail.

"Hell no," he said, proving my guess correctly. "I want to talk about you."

You've got to be kidding me.

"Again?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"We have to get to know each other more," he said, making a very good point. "For the meeting in a few days." I sighed.

I'm too tired for this.

"Maybe in the morning?" I inquired sleepily. He shook his head at my hopeful tone, and I groaned in resignation.

"How about we start over?" he suggested, flipping onto his side to look at me. "Completely. As if we don't know each other."

"What for?"

"Because we met in broom cupboard," he pointed out, clearly trying not to laugh. "And while that's extremely suggestive, you were crying your eyes out one minute, laughing hysterically the next and altogether trying to destroy me."

Merlin, that's embarrassing. Did I really do all that in front of a stranger?

Just leave it to me to make a complete fool out of myself. I'm practically a Hufflepuff. Just lock me in the tower with the Fat Friar and watch me shrivel into a ball of fluff.

Actually, please don't. I'd probably make the jolly ghost cry.

I felt my face turn bright red and hot. "I wasn't trying to destroy you," I mumbled, looking away, "and I don't normally act that way."

"I noticed," he said, lifting himself so he could hold out his hand. "So let's start over. Hi, I'm Al."

I took it and shook. "I'm Emily."

"I love chocolate." I burst into laughter. He looked pleased.

"I like…" I thought for a second, smiling at the summer memories that came in my mind. "Ice cream."

"Chocolate ice cream?"

"Vanilla," I retorted, my eyes sparkling from mirth. He smirked.

"Vanilla lover."

"Chocolate lover."

"I played Quidditch in school," he said, launching into his introduction. "Played Seeker, like my dad. That seemed to annoy James a bit, but I couldn't ever compare to him in skill. He plays for the Magpies, but he'll still play with me and Lily every summer." He lay on his back, mind barely in the room. "My favourite subject in school was Astronomy, and I work as a journalist at the Daily Prophet. I go running every morning."

"So do I," I told him, feeling flabbergasted that we actually had something in common. Who would've thought? "I played Quidditch in school because the team couldn't find a keeper. I…" I bit my lip, looking up at him again. "I can't think of anything else to say."

"Why do you want to be a Healer?"

"I admire my dad," I confessed after a pause, "and all the work he does. I really liked Potions in school, for some reason."

"Weren't you the one who blew up a cauldron on her first day?" he asked, sniggering a little. I laughed proudly.

"Every year since second." I pushed some hair out from underneath my back and over my pillow. "I really love helping people, too. I was a tomboy when I was younger, and couldn't exactly get out of that. My friends at school hated it."

"Who were your friends?"

"They were a group of Slytherin girls. Popular," I added smirking. "Liked to bully people, but I usually didn't join in. They kicked me out after –" I swallowed, trying to push the thoughts out of my mind. Al seemed to sense I didn't go on, because he didn't ask. I was grateful for it.

"I remember now," he said, nodding. "There were all sorts of rumours going around with how they used you to get to Scorpius.

I shrugged. "Tried. Didn't work."

"Evidently," he answered, lips twitching. "So you didn't have many good friends at Hogwarts, then?"

"Did you see anyone tonight?" I asked, laughing ironically. "They didn't like my fashion sense, either – I hate being girly."

"That would explain why you were complaining about wearing a dress all evening," he said in a bored voice, his eyes suggesting amusement.

"Shut up, that was a sweaty dress."

"And a tux isn't?"

"Touché."

"Thanks." We fell into silence again. Was it normal to act like best friends one minute and feel incredibly awkward the next?

We should have a code word for awkwardness so we can strike up a conversation immediately.

… or maybe not.

And now I was feeling wide awake. My plan was working in his favour.

Bloody Gryffindors, they always win everything.

Damn you, Albus Potter.

"My name's not Emily Goyle anymore," I realized out loud – almost as if I was seeking confirmation from the ceiling above me. I could see Al smiling in the corner of my eye.

"How does it feel, being a Potter?" he asked, holding a fist in front of my face like a microphone. I lightly pushed his hand away, which was hovering very close to my chest.

Don't think I don't know what's going on in that mind, Potter. I'm onto you.

Except I don't mean on top of him, because… never mind. Please ignore my sleep-driven mind.

"It feels... important."

"It does?" I smirked. I could tell I surprised him.

"When it's not," I added cheerfully, nudging him.

He scowled. "Oi!"

"I just think," I clarified, turning to look at him again, "that it feels more important than it should. I mean, 'Potter' is just a name."

Perceptive as ever, Al understood immediately what I was trying to say. "I hate the attention reporters give me."

"I noticed."

"I don't deserve it."

"I noticed that, too." He laughed and wiped his forehead of sweat again, yawning widely. I followed suit without thinking.

"So you really don't care that you're a 'Potter'?" he asked sceptically. I shrugged, feeling sleep overcoming me again.

"I do. 'Emily Goyle' sounds better."

"It sounds familiar.I like 'Emily Potter', personally." I scowled, internally squirming at the name.

"Are you purposefully trying to piss me off?"

"Yep. Is it working?" I took a deep, calming breath, trying not to get irritated again. I don't understand how we can get along so well one minute, and getting on each other's nerves the next. It was like the first time we really talked, the day the law was passed. It was the first time I had a little hope, because I thought we had become friends.

Oh, and then he pissed me off again.

"No." I settled in my thoughts for a few moments. "It is really hot."

"I know I am." I snorted as Al let out a laugh, relaxing just a tiny bit more.

My plan is working!

… now, if only I can get him to fall asleep…

"Do you mind if I take off my shirt? It really is too hot." I glanced at him, surprised by his request.

He wasn't he serious, was he?

When he took my silence as confirmation, he quickly went to the hem to take it off – before I stopped him, feeling absolutely horrified. How does he not understand the simple concept of sharing a bed?

"Bloody – yes, I mind!" I spluttered, my hands still over his. He looked confused.

"You do?"

"Of course!" I insisted, plopping back on the right side of the bed again. "Contrary to what you may believe, I'm not actually attracted to you."

Or, possibly, I'd never be able to sleep if he was shirtless. Or stop myself from drooling.

Rare occurrence, but I'd rather not risk my chances.

"You're not?" His voice was laced in so much disbelief, I had to face him and wonder how large his ego really was.

"No," I told him, eyes narrowed. "I barely know you."

"Known me for two weeks."

"More like one, since you avoided me."

"You don't have to know me to be attracted to me," he decided, crossing his arms. "And besides, if you don't think I'm attractive, then you shouldn't care."

I tried not to stammer. "That's ridiculous."

"So you are attracted to me."

"No."

"Well then," he said, his smirk dancing in front of my eyes, "what's the problem?"

"I just think it'd be awkward," I told him, blush creeping up my neck.

"More like distracting."

"Al," I groaned, covering my face with my hands.

"What?" he groaned back, making it sound sexier than I'd like to admit.

"If you're so hot, go sleep shirtless on the couch!"

His face screwed up in indignation. "If you have a problem, why don't you go?"

"Why don't you?"

"I can't fall asleep on a couch, and I have work tomorrow!"

"So do I!"

"Well, then," he said grumpily, crossing his arms. "I guess we'll just have to keep sharing the damn bed, then." I took another look at him and burst into laughter.

Merlin, the boy was pouting!

Did you know that boys could pout? It's rather amusing.

Al regarded me wearily, lips twitching. "Emotional, much?"

"Shut up, I'm not," I chuckled, shaking my head in disbelief. "We're just really spoiled." I looked over to him again to see a grin finally cracking on his face and laughing with me.

It was true, wasn't it? We were two seventeen-year-olds, barely out of school, used to being cleaned up after and food magically appearing on gold plates. We slept in warm beds that we couldn't bother to make ourselves and lived in a bloody castle for seven years.

This was going to take some getting used to.

Maybe we should find a house elf.

… on second thought, let's not subject the poor creature into meeting the demands of some spoiled teenagers who happened to be married, living in a house and hiding from the ministry.

I closed my eyes, trying to forget.


I hate him. I hate him so much.

My plan completely backfired. Now he's snoring (and let me tell you: I have no idea how my mum stood my dad's snoring for all these years), and if I were sleeping, I'd probably be unconsciously kicking him by now.

Yep, I kick in my sleep.

I don't feel guilty in the slightest. Want to know why?

BECAUSE I CAN'T SLEEP!

And you know the worst part? He's only been asleep for five minutes,and I'm already pissed off. For someone who supposedly can't sleep when sharing a bed, he fell asleep rather quickly. Perhaps he's just exhausted, like me.

But he's not really sleeping. I mean, he's sleeping, but he hasn't let his guard down. It's almost unbelievable, but his body is still stiff and tense, he thrashes around a lot, his snoring is so loud…

I groaned and stuffed my pillow over my face. Damn him. Damn him to hell.

Do you think it's acceptable to strangle your husband?

I sighed. He's smart, I'll give him that. 'Starting over' really was a good way to get to know each other, even if it was nowhere nearwhat we should know. I was hoping the ministry would buy it.

And Holly Birch.

It didn't help that my so-called friends at Hogwarts had harassed and humiliated her just a couple of years ago (this was before her father became Minister of Magic). It didn't help that right then, at that moment, she was burning in jealousy over a husband that I don't want. It didn't help that she, out of everyone, knows our secret.

I moaned. This was never going to work. We're screwed.

"Will you shut up?" I lifted the pillow off my face and realized I'd woken up Al with my excessive whining noises.

Hehe. Whoops.

"You could stop snoring," I shot back, turning around and stuffing my face back into my pillow. "I'm bloody exhausted."

"Then sleep."

"Don't you think I would have if I could?" I snapped. I rolled back over on my side, facing him as he spoke.

"You woke me up."

"You'll live."

"But now I won't fall back sleep."

"You can live without sleep."

"Not for long. And as a Healer, you should know that." I groaned.

"You have no idea how much I despise you at the moment," I grumbled, trying to push away my nerves for tomorrow morning. "What time is it?"

"Dunno," he answered, yawning and giving into his sleepy senses. "Too bloody hot."

"Wish we had a fan."

"I'll get one tomorrow," he promised, rubbing his eyes. "Anything else we should know about each other, then?"

I put my hands behind my head, enjoying the slightly cool feel of the pillow on my neck. "I don't think so…" I contemplated, trailing off as I watched him wipe sweat from the back of his own neck, his shirt lifting up a little from the movement.

Damn. Maybe I am attracted to him.

… I'm delusional. Sleep deprived. Pay no attention to the nonsense forming in my mind.

Emily," Al said suddenly, rolling back over to look at me properly. I blinked, trying to avert my eyes.

"What?"

"Are we really going to get any sleep tonight?"

"I'm hoping to."

"But realistically…"

I sighed. "What do you want?"

"Can you tell me what Scorpius said at the reception?" I stiffened.

"Were you waiting for the right moment to ask that?" I asked, trying to avoid answering and letting out a laugh. He ignored me, unfazed.

"Why were you so upset?"

I turned my back to him, feeling my smirk droop. "It was stupid."

"Bet it wasn't."

"How'd you figure that?"

"You've always had a good reason to be upset." I turned to see the sincerity in his expression – and it was probably the thing that made me tell him.

I am a failure as a Slytherin.

"Scorpius told me he didn't think I should've gotten married, and it was just a reckless an action as sleeping with you. And," I whispered, my eyes burning a little, "that I wasn't myself anymore, being this irrational." I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice.

Al exhaled a breath he'd been holding. "He's wrong," he said firmly. I hated how he could sound so sure of himself. "The last word to describe this all is irrational."

"Tell that to me when you're okay with sharing a bed." He let out a soft laugh that danced through the darkness, drifting and lazing in the truth behind Scorpius' words.


"You go running, too." He opened his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping, so I didn't feel guilty about bothering him this time.

At least, not too much.

"Yep, he said dully. "Every morning. I choose my work hours, so it's usually an hour before I leave."

"Have you ever run in the rain?" Silence followed my words. He was either:

1. Surprised I actually started the conversation (I'm not that antisocial)
2. Didn't understand the question (I'd bet on this one)
3. Trying to figure me out (like he'd been trying all night)
4. Snoring (wait… nope)
5. Thinking of ways to escape (I can't blame him, honestly. I'm a bloody bore)

… or maybe I was over-analyzing. As usual.

Yeah, bet on that option instead. Rake in the galleons.

He exhaled loudly. "You're really strange."

"That's not an answer –"

"I mean, first," he said dramatically, ticking off points on his fingers, "you tell me you're a vanilla lover –"

"I resent that," I interrupted, biting back a smile. "There are many who like vanilla." He ignored me.

"Then you tell me you've been cheated on –"

I narrowed my eyes. "How does that make me strange?"

"Your group of friends?" He raised an eyebrow. "They scared half the school. It would be a little strange for you to be cheated on when you have them behind your back."

"I was kicked out before I was cheated on, if that explains anything," I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. "Next point."

He sighed. "I don't mean to keep offending you."

"It's not my fault you have the sensitivity of a monkey." He went quiet for another moment, and I squirmed in the uncomfortable silence.

"I haven't gone running in the rain before."

Well, look at that. He did remember the question!

"Besides running the risk of getting pneumonia, it's really breathtaking," I whispered, the words pouring out of my mouth by their own accord. "Everything beats down, and sometimes it gets stronger, louder. It's irregular," I added, remembering. "It's just the smell of everything coming alive around you, and you just keep running and running and running…"

"Away?"

This boy never ceases to surprise me.

"I try not to run away from things."

"But we all do," he whispered reasonably. "I once wrote this article on a lady who witnessed a crime, but didn't go to officials for fifteen years."

I reached to my hair and twisted it. "Don't tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone what?"

"I'm afraid. All the time." If he was surprised by my confession, he didn't show it.

Oh, how could he be surprised? It's pretty damn obvious.

"You really confuse a guy, Emily," he said, still speaking to the side of my face. "One minute we're fighting, another minute we're laughing and the next, you come up with this."

"Running in the rain?"

"Telling the truth."

… oh.

I hadn't meant to do that again.


Poke.

"Al, go to sleep," I mumbled sleepily, wandering slowly back into a state of unconsciousness.

"I can't." His voice was reproachful.

"Why not?"

"It's too hot."

"Take off your shirt if you really need to," I said grudgingly.

"I already did." What the hell?

"I told you not to!" I exclaimed, trying not to smack himself. Or him.

Smacking him seems like a very good option at the moment.

"You were sleeping; I didn't think you'd notice."

"You're the one who told me," I muttered, yawning. "Al, why would you wake me up?"

He sighed from behind, twisting me around by my shoulders so he could speak to my face. "I'm anxious."

"For what?" I asked, my eyes fluttering closed.

"I don't know," he answered, sounding extremely frustrated. "Fix it."

Is he delusional?

It's been a long day, I suppose.

"Go eat chocolate. I'm not doing anything at five in the morning."

"It's actually only two." My eyes snapped open.

"You mean to say you woke me up after I fell asleep for twenty minutes?" I whispered menacingly, lifting my head off the pillow. He ran a hand through his hair, smiling sheepishly.

"Don't kill me?"

"Just because I'm a Slytherin, it doesn't mean I'll kill you," I said, trying not to let my eyes wander to his bare chest. I shut my eyes and lay on my back, hoping he wouldn't notice my face heating.

"Emily, I'm not going through this every night. If you can fall asleep while knowing you're in danger, at least share how you do it." I sighed in resignation.

He wasn't going to let me sleep, was he?

"Lie down." I felt him shift beside me. "Close your eyes and clear your mind."

"Clear my mind?"

"Stop thinking," I clarified, already drifting asleep. He poked me again.

If he pokes me one more time…

"You're always thinking. How do you stop?"

"If it helps, think about one word and repeat it in your head."

"Like what?"

"I dunno, just pick one," I said irritably, trying to fall back until unconsciousness.

"All that's coming to mind is Ministry, Minister, Dementors…" I groaned.

"Are you trying to be difficult?"

"No, I'm just…"

"Spit it out."

"Nervous," he confessed guiltily. I peeked at him again; he really did look distressed.

And built – I mean, I'm not looking at his chest. I have self-control.

Shut up.

Merlin, why did he take off his shirt?

"If it helps, nothing's going to happen to you no matter what," I told him truthfully. "It'll be my family in trouble, not yours."

"That doesn't help at all, Em," he said, and I saw hurt in his eyes. "Do you really think that's who I am?"

I bit my lip. "You have no reason to care, Albus."

"But I do."

The words hit me like a wave of shock. He might've been too tired to notice, because he merely wiped sweat off his forehead before flipping onto his stomach and stuffing his face in his pillow.

"I think we should be friends."

Once I had deciphered the muffled words, I cleared my throat. "Why?"

"Because I'd rather go through this with a friend than an enemy. And before you say it," he added quickly, lifting his face, "we're not enemies. But in your twisted, Slytherin mind, we somehow are."

"That's bullshit."

"You're bullshit. Friends?" I bit my lip again to keep myself from laughing and giving him the satisfaction.

"Friends," I agreed. He yawned and rolled over, leaving me wide awake with something pulling uneasily in my chest.

It was a strange thought, Albus Potter feeling concern for me.