cigarette daydream || james potter

"funny how it seems like yesterday,"

The weather had changed dramatically overnight.

By the time Saturday morning arrived, a thick blanket of dark storm clouds had swallowed the sky above Hogwarts, leaving the castle wrapped in a dim, silvery light despite the late hour. Rain fell steadily from the heavens, drumming a gentle, almost hypnotic rhythm against the tall leaded windows of Gryffindor Tower. Every now and then, a stronger gust of wind swept around the ancient battlements, rattling the old glass panes in their frames before disappearing again into the maze of towers and chimneys. Somewhere far out across the mountains, thunder rolled quietly through the valley, soft enough to be comforting rather than alarming.

It was exactly the sort of morning that encouraged everyone to stay in bed.

Inside the seventh-year girls' dormitory, the warmth from the roaring fireplace several floors below barely reached the circular stone room. The chill seemed to cling stubbornly to the ancient castle walls, creeping across the wooden floorboards and curling around the four-poster beds. The air carried the faint scent of rain mixed with old parchment, polished oak furniture and lavender from someone's perfume bottle that had been left uncapped on a bedside table the night before.

Most of the dormitory was still asleep.

Soft breathing filled the room as the other girls remained cocooned beneath heavy scarlet duvets, their bed curtains only half drawn. One girl murmured incoherently in her sleep before rolling over, while another had somehow managed to kick almost every blanket onto the floor during the night, yet still seemed perfectly content despite the cold. The peaceful atmosphere was broken only by the quiet tapping of rain against the windows and the occasional groan of the castle settling with age.

Estella had absolutely no intention of leaving her bed.

She was buried beneath so many blankets that it was difficult to tell where the duvet ended and she began. Every inch of her was tucked safely beneath the covers except for the top of her dark hair, which spilled messily across her pillow, and the tip of her nose peeking out into the cold air. She had wrapped herself so tightly in the blankets that she resembled a caterpillar in a particularly comfortable cocoon, and she fully intended to remain exactly where she was until lunchtime if nobody disturbed her.

After all, it was Saturday.

There were no lessons waiting for her.

No essays due that morning.

No Quidditch practice to drag her out into the freezing weather.

No reason whatsoever to abandon the warmth she had spent the entire night creating beneath her mountain of blankets.

As far as Estella was concerned, the outside world could wait.

Resting comfortably on the centre of her chest was Oliver, who had evidently decided at some point during the night that she made the perfect mattress. The sleek black cat was curled into a perfect circle, his paws tucked neatly beneath him and his tail wrapped snugly around his body. His soft fur rose and fell gently with every slow breath, and a deep, contented purr vibrated steadily through his tiny frame.

Every time Estella absent-mindedly scratched behind one of his ears, the purring became louder.

The comforting vibration travelled through the blankets and into her chest, blending almost perfectly with the rhythmic sound of rain outside. Together, the two sounds created such a peaceful atmosphere that her eyelids grew heavier every passing minute.