B L I N D N E S S


She’s in his room again. He’s doesn’t know how she manages to sneak in so quietly, he always trips on Dean’s shoes on the way in and it’s broad daylight then. But she’s here and he’s here and there’s really nothing he can do but offer the sanctuary she seeks.

Sometimes he’s tempted to ask her why him. After all, isn’t it his fault that she nearly lost her life in the dark and musty Department of Mysteries? Isn’t it his fault that Voldemort brutally murdered her parents right before her very eyes? But he can never bring himself to ask because she’s always here and he’ll always be there like a moth to a candle flame.

There’s something different about tonight. She’s standing right next to his bed when usually she climbs right in. He can see her hand poised and ready to draw the bed curtain back, but she’s doing nothing.

“Hermione?”

His voice comes out as a whisper. He bites his lip and pulls the curtain back.

She’s crying.

She never cries.

“Hermione,” he tries again, offering his hand. Maybe she needs incentive, but the silence is starting to scare him. Silence reminds him of veils and veils remind him of what he’s already lost and he can’t handle death anymore.

She takes his hand and he gently tugs her into the warmth of his blankets because that’s really all he can offer her. There really isn’t much he can do to begin with. There really isn’t much he can to begin with.

He reaches under his pillow for his wand and casts a quick silencing spell for the two of them. He’s forgotten what his rituals were like before Hermione.

He sighs. “Nightmare?”

She nods against his chest and his arms tighten their hold around her. He can’t protect her from the nightmares.

“Want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head, but shifts and suddenly for the first time in a long time, he’s looking into her eyes.

Pure, unadulterated fear.

Raw.

Hermione wasn’t supposed to be scared. She was never afraid. She couldn’t be. And then it dawns on him.

“Herm-“

She shakes her head, a curtain of curls spilling onto her shoulders. She places a finger on his lips. He complies with the silence. If she needs silence, then he’ll forget the memories and give her silence. If she wants the world, then he would give her the world. Some things were meant to be that simple.

Was this how his dad felt when he looked at his mum?

He’s startled out of his thoughts when a cool hand gently brushes his cheek and he makes no move to stop her. Her hands tremble slightly against his face. The nightmare, he realizes with sudden dread. It was about him.

He wants to reassure her that he’s safe, but he’s learned that between the two of them words hold no meaning. So he lies back and gives her the reassurance she needs and that he needs as well. Her fingers dance over his eyes, his lips—

His hands are suddenly mirroring hers.

“Promise me.”

He looks up, startled, and his hand stops at her cheek.

She nuzzles his hand. “Promise me.”

“Promise you what?”

Her eyes fall on his own and he realizes that they’ve somehow reached a mutual understanding.

“Promise me that you’ll find your way back to me no matter what the circumstances.”

He licks his lips and his heart is pounding. They’re just words, but the meaning is so much more. Promises were enough for now.

“I promise,” he murmurs.

She smiles.

I still recall the taste of your tears

Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears

My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore

Scraping through my head 'till I don't want to sleep anymore

NIN, something i can never have

~*~*~

To Sarah [Bingblot], on her birthday, for being a fantastic beta-reader and her beautiful work… *glomps*