Adult
Adult
Charl
Widowed
/
Bisexual
Writer, Quidditch Scout 39 years old
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Post by Ginevra Molly Weasley on Jul 27, 2019 22:56:10 GMT
last edited Jul 29, 2019 12:09:45 GMT by Ginevra Molly Weasley
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Post by Ginevra Molly Weasley on Jul 29, 2019 12:08:37 GMT
2013
Ginny woke up with a yell, drenched in sweat. Harry wasn’t there, and she bit back the disappointment with forced relief - no one would have heard her scream. They’d had muffliato on their room since the children had been born, both too prone to night terrors (and at one point sex) to leave it off.
It was snakes, again. This was an old one that she’d only recently started again, only since they’d started Hogwarts shopping for James. She and Harry both were sleeping worse - without admitting it to the other, of course, their shared ongoing determination to quash emotions with stubbornness - and had been ever since the letter had come through. She loved that castle, she honestly did, but whenever she thought of James there the shadows in every corridor seemed to follow him around.
Her quiv was on her nightstand, and she picked it up. It was 3.47. There was something from Harry, she was surprised to see, a ‘didn’t want to disturb you, in the spare room’. She rolled her eyes, as if this was any less disturbing, and picked up her wand in her other hand.
Muttering a lumos, she padded as quietly as possible across the house, into the spare room - determinedly squashing the anxious thoughts with ‘at least he’s here’ and ‘at least he’s alone’.
Ginny woke up with a yell, drenched in sweat. Harry wasn’t there, and she bit back the disappointment with forced relief - no one would have heard her scream. They’d had muffliato on their room since the children had been born, both too prone to night terrors (and at one point sex) to leave it off.
It was snakes, again. This was an old one that she’d only recently started again, only since they’d started Hogwarts shopping for James. She and Harry both were sleeping worse - without admitting it to the other, of course, their shared ongoing determination to quash emotions with stubbornness - and had been ever since the letter had come through. She loved that castle, she honestly did, but whenever she thought of James there the shadows in every corridor seemed to follow him around.
Her quiv was on her nightstand, and she picked it up. It was 3.47. There was something from Harry, she was surprised to see, a ‘didn’t want to disturb you, in the spare room’. She rolled her eyes, as if this was any less disturbing, and picked up her wand in her other hand.
Muttering a lumos, she padded as quietly as possible across the house, into the spare room - determinedly squashing the anxious thoughts with ‘at least he’s here’ and ‘at least he’s alone’.