Starry Serendipity || R.A.B

26. Valerie and fears

January 1976

The echoes of laughter and music from the party still linger in the air as the night comes to an end. The Potter manor, once bustling with celebration, is now adorned with traces of the festivities – confetti scattered on the floor, half-empty glasses on tables, and a general air of content exhaustion. But despite my mother's warning to rest, I find myself unable to resist the urge to help clean up.

The soft glow of the lamps casts warm shadows across the rooms as I move about, picking up discarded napkins and gathering stray decorations. It's a quiet task, and the occasional sound of clinking glass or the rustle of paper serves as a soothing backdrop to my thoughts.

As I carefully stack plates and tidy up, my mind drifts back to the game of Veritaserum or Dare, the laughter and shared moments with my friends. Even the embarrassing truths and outrageous dares seem like a distant memory now.

I can't help but smile at the memory of Sirius attempting to do the moonwalk as his dare, much to everyone's amusement.

The clock on the wall ticks away, the minutes passing in a tranquil rhythm. The house seems to exhale with contentment as we gradually restore it to its pre-party state. It's a quiet sense of accomplishment, a peacefulness that settles over me even as weariness tugs at my muscles.

Finally, when the last of the tasks is completed, I take a deep breath and head to my room, feeling a sense of satisfaction and a touch of rebellion for defying my mother's orders to rest. I slip under the covers, the warmth of the blankets enveloping me in comfort. The moon's gentle light filters through the curtains, casting soft patterns on the walls.

But as I close my eyes, hoping to find solace in sleep, my mind seems unwilling to grant me that wish. The memory of the accident at the frozen lake resurfaces, the cold water seeping into my thoughts once again. My heartbeat quickens as I recall the darkness beneath the ice, the frantic struggle to find an escape.

And then, the nightmares come. I'm plunged into a swirling abyss of water, the weight of it pressing against me, dragging me down. I gasp for air, my lungs burning, but no relief comes. The icy tendrils of panic tighten around me, and I thrash against the invisible bonds that hold me down.

Suddenly, I'm jolted awake. My heart races, and I find myself drenched in sweat despite the coolness of the room. I sit up, trembling, and run a shaky hand through my hair. The nightmare's grip on me slowly loosens, replaced by the reality of my room – the familiar surroundings, the dim light, the softness of the bed beneath me.

I take a few deep breaths, willing my racing heart to calm. The residue of fear still lingers, but I remind myself that it was just a dream, a product of my mind. Gradually, the adrenaline subsides, and I lie back down, staring up at the ceiling.

The hours pass in a restless haze, my mind caught between wakefulness and the edges of sleep. The soft light of dawn begins to filter into the room, casting a gentle glow. At five in the morning, I finally decide to surrender to the day, pushing aside the blankets and sitting up. Weariness tugs at my limbs, but I force myself to stand, determined not to let the nightmare define my morning.

The early morning light filters into the room, I stand by the window, gazing out at the serene beauty of the dawn. It's a moment of quiet contemplation, a respite from the tumultuous dreams that have haunted my sleep. But even as I find solace in the sight outside, my thoughts drift back to the chilling memory of the accident.