Lemon Grass and Sleep

SPIRALLING

"Sorry for making your Christmas suck," I mumbled, leaning against Fred as we relaxed in our room.

"A Christmas with you could never suck," Fred replied, pressing a kiss on the top of my head. I kept wondering if he was doing that more often to comfort me, or because it must be so much easier with a fresh three inch advantage.

"Even if I'm all gloomy?"

"Even if you're all gloomy," he smiled, "Though I would daresay you're just tired, for good reason."

"Mm," I bit my lip, feeling around for any sort of dent or imperfection.

"You look fine," Fred brushed a finger over my lips, undoing the tension they held.

"You think I look fine no matter what," I muttered, letting out a frustrated huff.

My mind kept straying to Neville's parents despite my conscious effort to avoid those thoughts at all cost. His mother, wandering around with a scared sense of confusion, like she'd gotten lost in a grocery store far from home and had no idea where the exit was. Was my mother somewhere out there, with that same look in her eye? Did she have a gum wrapper she desperately wanted to hand me, as well?

Odd, I know it is, to want this sort of thing. To wish hopelessly that my mother and father have lost their minds--lost *themselves*--but they would still be here. I would know them. I would know more than their supposed death and vague faces. I'd know how their warmth felt against my skin and how their hair smelled when I hugged them.

I bit into my lip again, tangling my fingers together as I looked down to them. Did my mother's hands look like this, or did I take more after my father? I couldn't remember what they looked like below their necks, just cookie cutter figures.

"Stop," Fred reached up again to pull my lip free, "You'll run your skin raw."

"Sorry," I mumbled absentmindedly.

Mrs. Weasley had gone back up to St. Mungo's, to try and bring Arthur home today. She had become convinced on the walk back that if she left Arthur there for one more night, she'd be bringing him home covered head to toe in bandages.

Fred's hand rested on my thigh, something I'd also noticed him doing a lot more. That same song was always in his head, either hummed softly or tapped with his fingers. It was something I sort of wanted to know, to be in on the secret, but I'd never gotten up the courage to ask him what it was.

Maybe that's silly, to put so much thought into a song, though.

"I'm tired," I whispered, still looking down at my lap.

"Well, the bed's right here."

"I don't wanna move, though."

"Oh, you're such a baby," he teased, standing up and pulling the covers back, shoving me softly to lay down. "Come on, off to bed with you."

"It's only the afternoon," I protested, trying to push the blanket off of me as I devolved quickly into contagious laughter.

"Time for your nap," Fred continued, roughly tucking me into the bed, letting out quiet giggles. He crawled in, pulling the covers up and wrapping his arms around me to keep me trapped within this cocoon of warmth.

"We've spent too much time in bed today," I sighed, accepting my fate.

"Don't say that too loud now," he mumbled, resting his chin on my head, "Someone might get the wrong idea."

I felt my stomach drop when I realized what he was implying, letting out an embarrassed sound and digging my face into his chest to hide from the humiliation. My body didn't care, and I succumbed to sleep much more quickly than I expected.