Emerson Wilmore was an exemplary Ravenclaw student, known for her unwavering dedication to academics and an unyielding moral compass. However, things took a twisted and deviated turn in her life after her boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, was murdered by L...
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For most of the night, Emerson slept more deeply than she expected to. Whenever she surfaced from sleep, it was only briefly and when she did, the first thing she did was check Mattheo. It became instinctive before she was even fully conscious, her eyes opening just enough to find the dark shape of him beside her and make sure that the Dreamless Sleep Potion was still doing what Enzo had gone to so much trouble to obtain.
The first time she woke, Mattheo was lying almost exactly as he was when the potion finally pulled him under. His arm remained wrapped loosely around her waist and his face was turned towards her pillow, the tension that usually lived between his eyebrows entirely absent.
Emerson stayed still for a while and watched him, admiring how peaceful he looked. There were still bruised shadows beneath his eyes and the unmistakable wear of too many sleepless nights, but for the first time in what felt like months, he was resting without fear visibly chasing him through it. She wanted this for him for so long that seeing it finally happen was almost painful.
He didn't stir once which told her how deeply the potion had taken hold. Ordinarily, Mattheo woke when somebody moved too sharply across the dormitory, when a door opened, when Theo's alarm went off or sometimes seemingly because the silence changed. Tonight, Emerson could move her hand through his hair without his breathing catching once.
Seeing Mattheo so completely still should not have felt unusual, but it did. She grew accustomed to sleep being another battle he fought which never seemed to offer him the restoration it was supposed to. Even when he managed several hours, he normally woke looking as though he spent all of them running from something.
She tucked the blanket higher over his shoulder, settled back against him, and closed her eyes. Mattheo shifted closer in his sleep, his arm tightening as though even unconscious he'd noticed her pull an inch away, and Emerson smiled into the dark before sleep found her again.
When she woke a second time, the room changed only slightly but Mattheo was still asleep. He hadn't moved much. His head fell closer to her shoulder during the night, and one of his hands was resting between them, fingers curled loosely against the fabric of the hoodie she was still wearing. She slid her hand into his without waking him and felt his fingers answer, closing weakly around hers.
It became a strange rhythm throughout the night. Emerson knew it was irrational to keep checking him, but after watching him deteriorate so visibly from exhaustion, she couldn't help it. Every peaceful hour felt borrowed, and some quiet part of her was afraid that if she stopped paying attention, the nightmares might find their way back in.
She was right to think so.
At first, her sleep-heavy mind didn't understand it. She remained still beneath the blankets, hovering somewhere between waking and dreaming when she heard a straight sound which made something inside her immediately recognise that it was wrong.
