mahogany ; d.m

45 - nightmares

Athena awoke with a start.

Her head was pounding and sweat plastered the nape of her neck. She was breathless and disorientated, puzzled at first by her surroundings. Her hair was tangled, unkempt, and she was incredibly flustered.

Draco was no longer beside her. It bothered her. The room was still pitch black and she could not tell what time it was. Perhaps only a few hours after she fell asleep, or a few hours before she would've had to wake anyway.

She hung her head in her hands, misery and exhaustion filling her being, making her feel extremely drained.

She'd had another nightmare.

After last night she hadn't expected to, but that was only wishful thinking. It seemed like they would never go away.

It was a never ending cycle. One she so desperately wanted to break.

The bathroom door in Draco's dormitory swung open and she snapped her head up in shock. He stalked out, a cold, stern look masking his expression. She rapidly pulled the duvet around her half exposed body, concealing herself from him. He was already dressed for the day, his uniform neat and perfectly framing his body.

He halted in his steps when he saw that she was awake, and his expression flickered. Guilt, she thought it seemed.

He evaluated her appearance for a moment, lingering just outside of the bathroom door. She did not look at him, rubbing her hand over her forehead, feeling the hot and damp skin beneath her palm.

She wondered why he was up so early.

After a few seconds, Draco trudged over to the bed to sit on the mattress beside her. His brows were furrowed deeply into his eyes and a frown dragged down on his lips. He was concerned for her.

"What's wrong?" he uttered, looking at her intently. She would not meet his eyes.

"A nightmare," she replied, her voice quiet and timid. "They happen frequently. Nothing to worry about."

She shrugged it off, shifting uncomfortably under his stare.

"What are they about?" he asked, his voice calm.

She still avoided his eye contact. Her hands began fidgeting absentmindedly, while her jaw trembled slightly. She wanted to cry, but she didn't see why that was. No one had ever asked her about the nightmares before. Everyone saw it as impersonal. She'd never had a chance to open up, keeping them buried deep within her mind.

"At first they were repetitions of the miscarriage. The trauma of it all, I guess—replaying whenever I would fall asleep," she sighed, maintaining steady breaths.

His eyes widened slightly when she mentioned it. They had never directly spoken to each other about the miscarriage. By bringing it up, it was almost as if she were awakening something. Hitting a nerve or ripping a band aid from an old wound.

"But they're different now. More realistic and worse in some way. Frightening even," her voice was wavering slightly and her hands began to fidget even more chaotically. "The same one reoccurs. Worsens every time I have it. I read somewhere that nightmares tend to reoccur if they come from trauma. PTSD. But they aren't things I recognise. They haven't happened yet. I can't think why—why would the same nightmare be repeating itself if it hasn't happened? As mental as it sounds, sometimes I think I may be precognitive."

She let out an abrupt laugh as she said the final part. Tears threatened to escape her. Draco just stared, pain lacing his features.

She looked away from him, and down to her restless hands instead. She was trembling now, a cold chill trickling down her spine.