human again / hp.

Chapter 89

The nightmare dragged me out of sleep once again, the familiar sense of dread flooding my senses as soon as I opened my eyes. My heart was racing in my chest, beating so fast it felt like it was trying to escape. I shot up in bed, gasping for air, my hands clenching the blanket like it was the only thing stopping me from falling into some abyss.

It was the same nightmare. It always was. The suffocating darkness of the Malfoy Manor, the sharp chill that seemed to come from every corner of that cold, looming place. My father's voice, distant but cutting, commanding me to kneel before him, his words like cold steel slicing through my skin. And Theo, that constant reminder of everything I hated about my past, standing there with his smug face and cruel voice. His words echoed in my mind like a warning: "Do you want to end up like Sirius Black?"

I couldn't breathe. The words rang in my ears, and the weight of them hung over me like a fog. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, my hands shaking as I tried to steady my breathing. My chest felt tight, as if something was pushing down on it, something that wanted out, but couldn't. I tried to focus, tried to shake it off, but the nightmare lingered, creeping into every corner of my mind.

The dormitory was quiet, too quiet. Hermione's soft breathing was the only thing that reminded me I wasn't completely alone. Lavender was snoring lightly from the corner, and the faint glow of the moon outside made the room look almost peaceful. But the silence? It felt deafening. It wrapped around me like a heavy blanket, suffocating in its stillness.

I knew I wasn't going to fall back asleep. Not tonight. Not with that nightmare still fresh in my mind, still lingering like a bad taste on the tip of my tongue.

I carefully slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake anyone. I grabbed my wand from the bedside table, the familiar weight of it a small comfort, though it didn't help ease the tension in my body. I tugged on my robe—it didn't do much against the chill, but it was something—and quietly padded down the stairs to the common room.

The fire had burned down to nothing but a few glowing embers, casting dim, flickering light across the room. The red and gold furnishings, usually so warm and inviting, looked dark and empty in the low light. I wasn't sure why, but it felt colder than it ever had before. I walked over to one of the armchairs by the fireplace, wrapping my arms around my knees as I sat down, trying to hold onto some semblance of comfort.

The night was so quiet I could almost hear my own heartbeat, the heavy thump of it in my chest. I pulled out my Transfiguration textbook, figuring I might as well get some work done while I was up. The thought of just sitting in the dark, letting my mind wander, was worse than dealing with another essay I didn't really care about.

I spread my parchment out on the small table in front of me, trying to focus on the words in front of me, but they just blurred together after a while. My quill scratched across the page as I tried to make sense of the assignment—something about switching spells, I think. Honestly, I wasn't even sure if I was writing anything coherent. I was barely paying attention to the paper in front of me. My thoughts were somewhere else entirely, tangled up in the nightmare, in the pressure of school, and the weight of the war that never seemed to go away.

The only sound in the room for a while was the faint scratch of my quill against the parchment, and I lost myself in the motion. I wasn't writing anything meaningful. I wasn't even sure if I could focus. But as long as my mind was occupied, maybe it would stop racing with thoughts I didn't want to deal with.

Suddenly, a voice broke through the quiet, startling me. "Celeste?"

I jumped, the sound of my name so unexpected that I almost knocked over the inkpot. My heart leapt in my chest, and I turned quickly, my eyes wide with surprise. There, standing at the foot of the boys' staircase, was Harry, looking like he had just woken up. His messy hair was even messier than usual, and his glasses were crooked on his face, but his eyes—those green eyes—were wide with concern.