A/N First attempt at Harry Potter, yay. I've been trying to do something like this for a while, and today inspiration struck. Need I say more? Well, I'm going to anyway. This vignette is the product of a half day of school and the reading of many wonderful gin'n'tonic fics. Enjoy.
Disclaimer; I'd love to be JKR, but alas, I'm not.
It had been a long time since she had gone to bed and woken up the next morning with nothing happening in between. No lying in bed for hours, staring up at the ever enveloping darkness. No fitful dreams, punctuated with shadowy figures cloaked in green and laughing that horrible, horrible laugh. No tired eyes watching the dark curtains, wondering how she could feel so cold amidst their warmth and wondering what use they were, really, when He could slip through so very easily.
Yes, it had been a long time and it might have even felt like forever if she didn't already have such a realistic view of how very long forever really was.
Some nights she managed to slip into the realm of sleep right away, but it was never the haven it used to be. Her dreams were no longer places of sunshine and daisies and blue skies up above. Now they were places of coldness and darkness and the only flowers in them were roses the color of blood.
Sometimes sleep was longer in coming, but when it did come it wasn't so much sleep as a tainted version of life. He was always in it, and anything where his dark malicious eyes were present could not rightfully be called alive.
She couldn't be, in any case.
And sometimes she lay hunched under the crimson covers until she admitted defeat, however much she hated to do so. On those nights she often got up and walked over to the window, where she stayed until the first signs of dawn appeared and the oranges and reds were reflected in her dark eyes.
Which ever way the night was passed it was all over in the morning and she could become normal again, or as normal as she would ever be. But she could never be the person she had once been, for bits of Him still lingered in her soul, larger bits than anyone, even her knew about. And then the night came, with all its darkness and splendor and the silver moon suspended in the sky, radiating frostiness. And He came with the night.
Tonight is one of the waiting-for-sleep-and-knowing-that-it-will-come-but-not-really-enjoying-the-thought variety. She always knows when slumber is near because of the chill that arrives, and the mists that become visible and look ever so slightly like Him.
She glances up, and notices the familiar apparition with a sigh of longing. Longing for her eyes to be closed and for them to see nothing but blackness, for her dreams to be nothing but dreams.
But she tells herself once again that longing and wishing are of no use, and that the only thing to do is lie back and pray for daylight. So she does so, and presently the mists disappear from sight only to reappear inside her head, soon her eyes are closed and her breathing steadies, interrupted occasionally by a small whimper, soon the common room is silent and soon the dawn will come.
A/N So, am I any good at writing Harry Potter? Let me know what you think of this, in an oh-so-wonderful thing called a review.