Prisoners of Azkaban, Probationary Diaries August 2009, Prisoners #19-09-1979 and #09-01-1960
oooOooo
August 13, 2009
Severus never came back to bed last night.
I woke alone, curled up in a corner of our four poster bed. As far away from the door as possible. Waking alone was…difficult. I—cannot say how long I cowered, counting the four posts of our bed over and over and over again. Getting out of bed wasn't any easier. I—cannot say how often I crossed and re-crossed the space between windows, wall, and door, counting the floorboards, again and again and again, although I really wanted to leave the room. And I knew I could leave the room. Rationally. I knew I was in our bedroom. In our house. But—
When I finally made it downstairs, I found Severus sitting in the kitchen, staring at a burnt down candle, his diary in front of him, his right hand resting in a puddle of bloody ink.
I must have screamed.
He dropped the quill, jumped up, spun around. And blinked at me with the dazed confusion of someone woken from deepest slumber.
"Why didn't you come back to bed?" I asked.
"But I—" he started. Bewildered, he looked from me to the desk, taking in the candle stub, the diary, and the bloody ink on the table, slowly drying into a brown, flaky crust.
"—I did come to bed," he muttered.
"I kissed you good night," he whispered. With a slow, unsteady gesture, he raised his hand. "I sketched our rune on your forehead to keep you safe, to ward off nightmares…"
I shook my head. "Not here," I said. "Not here."
We left it at that.
The rest of the morning we spent outside, working in the garden. The house came fully furnished; so we have tools, and even some old packages of seeds. Though it's too late in the year to sow anything but sunflowers. They take well to Growing Charms and should brighten up our September.
…if we're still here then, that is.
Although it's the wrong time of the year for gardening, it felt good to be outside. To move, to breathe, to go inside—to have a drink of water, or to eat an apple—and then to come back outside. A…remarkable experience. Exhilarating.
Around noon I began to feel uncomfortable, though. Edgy. I couldn't tell why. My skin crawled. When I looked at Severus, he was just as tense—although much better at hiding it.
"How about something to drink?" I suggested.
"Good idea," he agreed. A raised black eyebrow indicated that he saw straight through my strategy.
In the kitchen he didn't wait for my question.
"Someone's watching us," he said. "I can't tell who, or how. But I'm certain of it."
"Evil? An enemy?"
He paused—shook his head—shrugged. "I'm not sure. It—" He frowned at his instinctive choice of words. "Whoever it is feels…different. Not friend or foe. Alien."
We did not go back outside. But the disturbing presence remained…until the Patil twins arrived to check on us.
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A/N: Many thanks to Mia Madwyn for looking this over.