Eglantine was lying in bed already when her husband finally entered the bedroom. She had been staring at the ceiling, trying to recall the words of the spell she'd been working on this afternoon. She had been absently turning the golden band on her left ring finger and ultimately failing in her ponders. She propped herself up on her elbows when she heard the sound of the door opening and closing again.
"Where were you?" she asked as the seemingly exhausted Emelius sat on his side of the bed and slipped off his slippers. "I was getting worried."
"Were you?" Emelius asked tiredly, and it seemed to his wife that he had not really been listening to her. He carried an air of sombre fatigue with him and he looked a lot older than when he'd left for the bathroom, as if Eglantine had been lying here for a decade at least.
"What happened?" she asked with alert timidness in her tone. A lurking dread had made its way into her heart, for Emelius was way too quiet.
Emelius looked up now, as if he'd just realized Eglantine was there, and managed a little smile. "Nothing, my dear," he said quietly, reaching out and patting his wife's hand gently. "Carrie had a nightmare." He spoke as if he'd been the one to suffer the bad dream himself and not one of their children. But then, he had grown deeply caring towards them—a stranger would never have thought the three children had been adopted.
Just as Eglantine was about to ask what the girl had been dreaming about, Emelius shook his head wearily and answered her unasked question, "It doesn't matter. She's asleep now." He took a moment to heave a heavy sigh. "And, quite frankly, I'm dead tired," he added, and it really looked as if he wasn't even up to pulling his legs up to lie back on the mattress.
In addition to her great compassion for the man for having to deal with a teenage girl's bad dreams, there was a certain pride and happiness Eglantine felt in her heart, for no matter how late they would sometimes get to bed or how many troubles solve during the day, this beat lonesomeness by far. She leaned over to her husband's ear and whispered, "Oh, I know what you need." And she muttered the incantation with sweet sensuality in her tone.
Before her husband had a chance to react, Eglantine picked up the freshly appeared white rabbit and brought it with her as she lowered herself comfortably back under the covers. She pulled the rabbit close to her chest, careful not to hurt the little thing, and placed a tender kiss at the top of his head. "Nothing like a nice cuddle," she muttered against its soft fur.
A couple of minutes later, by which time both occupants of the bed had already fallen asleep, the rabbit turned back into the original man. His arms were wrapped safely around his wife, her head nestled comfortably against his shoulder. And they rested with peace and happiness in their hearts, knowing that no harm or bad dreams could come to either of them as long as they had each other to hold.