✦ᴀᴍʙɪᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴄᴇ✦ - 𝘚.𝘖.𝘉

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 66

𝕾irius shifted in his seat, fighting the urge to close his eyes and drift off to sleep in the middle of the Transfiguration classroom his favourite teacher was teaching.

He's not been sleeping the best for his own two reasons, night terrors torture him of his past, his family, his parents especially. He re lives the pain of their torment, however now he also sees James getting hurt by them, Remus, Peter, Noelle.....Regulus crying out for him, begging him not to leave. And Mallory.....they're always worse when Mallory is in them.

Usually, when couples have dreams of each other, it's ones filled with love and adoration, dancing in the rain, memories they've already made repeated over and over, but not him. He watches her suffer, whipped, stabbed, cruicioed, battered, bruised— she's half dead, lifeless with dark bruises decorating her pale skin, blood dripping out of her mouth along with her cursed stab wounds. It makes his heart throb and his throat tight just thinking about it.

Another reason, is because she seems to be in the exact same position, it's more or less every single night one of them wakes up the other thrashing around in a state of panic, whimpers and cries they've only allowed the other to see as they try to console each other, holding on tighter than they've ever done before. They sleep better in each other's company so he couldn't imagine how much worse his nightmares would be if he wasn't in her Slytherin dorm with her, feeling her heart beat synchronised with his as he held her— alive and breathing.

He glances to her out of the corner of his ear, her eyelashes fluttering slowly as she doodled lazily on her parchment, his eyebrows furrowing when he took a look of what she was doing, spying the numbers,

'1 9 8 1'

1981– why was she writing 1981 over and over? He rested his arm over the back of her chair, leaning into her with his forehead on her temple, not caring who could see them as he whispered lowly,

"1981, what's that about?"

"Pardon?" I asked confusedly, leaning further into the boy tiredly, feeling considerably weaker from his comforting scent invading my lungs even more, my hand slipping onto his thigh to hold him, his nose bumping my cheek as he repeated,

"1981, you've wrote it all over your parchment, Rory. Take a look"

I glanced to my parchment, holding it up to see the numbers like he said, scattered all over my page, '1 9 8 1', some numbers were big, some small, some bold, some faint. The point is, I don't remember writing them at all. I frowned, leaning back in my chair and slowly shifting my head to him when he pulled back slightly, flickering his eyes between mine perplexed, letting them wander all over my face when he murmured jokingly,

"Five years....what are you planning to do by then?"

"Still be alive" I answered flatly, his nose wrinkling up as he glanced away from me, my hand squeezing his thigh, a distant haze in his eyes that made my heart throb vulnerably in my chest. I smirked, looking around the classroom before going back to him, cupping his neck to bring him close as I whispered in his ear, "Do you want to have some fun?"