Breaking Free (Book 3 of the Lost Potter Series)

The Morning Of

Olivia often wondered why others seemed to enjoy sleeping. Usually, she was doing said wondering at the early hours of the morning after having woken up from some nightmare or flashback, trying to convince herself to go back to sleep. She knew people needed sleep, that made sense. But she'd never enjoyed sleeping-- she didn't want to sleep in or go to bed early, ever. She wanted to sleep as little as was necessary to keep her sane. She also was aware that her aversion to sleeping was completely due to the bad dreams, but they plagued her so constantly that she could not remember a night's sleep without them. Maybe there was a potion or something for that, a dreamless sleep. That could be nice.

The date is September 2nd, 1997. Olivia has waken up at 3:16am, hours before anyone else in the house. Her wonderings of the joys of sleep will continue until 4:31am, when she will decide that it's useless to pine after a good night's sleep. She does not leave bed until the ancient clock on the second floor chimes 5, though the time was only 4:53 in reality. By the time she gets ready and heads down to the kitchen to continue her reading, the time is only 5:26 and no one else is yet awake.

The book she is currently reading is borrowed from Hermione and it's titled The Essential Book of Defensive Spells, Charms, and Other Such Wandwork for the Astute Witch and Wizard. The book is less of a novel and more of an extended list of defensive spells, with the incantations, wand motions, and effects of each one. Olivia didn't have much opportunity to practice any of the spells, but she borrowed paper and wrote down those that seemed most useful in the hopes she would remember them when the time came. Occasionally, she would share her list with Hermione or Harry, who would circle the ones they preferred or those that were particularly good for dueling. In this moment, however, no one was awake or around to practice or consult, so Olivia wrapped herself tighter in her blanket and poured over the dry text.

Kreacher was the first one to speak to her, scuttling noisily up to her chair so as to not startle her but remaining at a distance, asking in his trademark raspy tone, "Does Mistress need anything?"

Olivia blinked out of the daydream that had overtaken her, in which Sirius, Remus, Harry, Draco, and her were struggling to cook as Sirius insisted doing it all the muggle way so it would be "family bonding!". She didn't remember where on the page she had stopped reading, nor when Kreacher had appeared in the room, but thankfully the daydream had calmed her usually overactive nerves. However, as she turned to address the waiting house elf, she found her mind had not yet left the daydream, for instead of dismissing him, she found herself asking:

"Kreacher, do you ever get lonely here, when we're not around? Do you ever miss your family?"

Kreacher took a step back and plastered his eyes to the floor, but did not answer.

Olivia shook herself out of it, "Sorry, you don't have to answer that. I don't need anything right now, thanks." Silence filled the space again, with Olivia moving to resume her reading.

" Kreacher does not get lonely. Kreacher misses Master Regulus sometimes, but Kreacher likes the quiet." He was away in the next second, accepting Olivia's implicit dismissal. She found herself staring at the tile he had stood on, mind once again flutter with images of family and home. Godfathers joking, brothers getting along well, under a safe roof. Just the idea was beginning to feel like nothing more than a daydream.

Draco was the next to talk to her that morning. He cleared his throat as soon as he saw her from the stairwell, also trying not to scare her (a vague thought of gratitude floated through Olivia's subconscious). Olivia smiled up at him, though her head was still in the clouds as he pulled up a chair across from her and started actually talking.

"Good morning Olivia, did you sleep well?"

Olivia found herself nodding briefly as she registered the question, then decided shrugging as a better response, "I've had worse. And you? How was an actual bed of your own instead of that moth-eaten sofa next door?"