A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 16: The Astronomy Tower

James tilted his head back, letting his own gaze wander over the stars. "It's nice up here," he said after a while. "Peaceful. I can see why you come."

"It's quiet," Anastasia admitted softly, surprising herself with the honesty. 

James's smile faltered slightly, a pang of something unspoken twisting in his chest. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, taking in the faint shadows under her eyes, the way her fingers rested loosely on her stomach as if she lacked the energy to even fold her arms.

"You should come to our dorm sometime," James said lightly, though his tone was careful. "It's the opposite of quiet. Might distract you from all those thoughts."

Anastasia gave him a sidelong glance, her brows raising slightly. "That sounds like a nightmare."

James chuckled. "Fair point. Sirius alone would probably scare you off forever."

She let out a soft hum, the sound barely audible over the wind. "I doubt it."

For a moment, James wondered if she meant Sirius or herself. He didn't press, though. Instead, he let his head tilt back again, the stars blurring slightly as he relaxed.

"You know," he said eventually, his voice quiet, "I don't think I've ever seen you like this."

"Like what?" Anastasia asked, her tone almost lazy.

"Relaxed," he said, glancing at her. "Not glaring at me, not telling me off, just... here."

She huffed a soft breath, almost a laugh, though it lacked its usual bite. "Don't get used to it, Potter."

"Wouldn't dream of it," James replied with a small smile, though he didn't believe her for a second.

They didn't speak much after that, allowing the silence to envelop them, a comfortable blanket woven from the threads of their conversation. It was a silence that spoke of mutual respect, of the tentative beginnings of trust, and perhaps, the dawning recognition of the common ground they shared beyond the labels of Gryffindor and Slytherin.

As they lay there, side by side, the vast expanse of the night sky above them unseen but deeply felt, James and Anastasia found a moment of peace, a respite from the complexities of their lives. It was a moment of simple human connection, fragile and fleeting, yet undeniably real—a reminder that sometimes, the most profound connections are born not from grand gestures, but from the quiet willingness to simply be present, to listen, and to offer companionship in the stillness of the night.

As the night stretched on, James and Anastasia remained in their shared space, sometimes engaging in soft-spoken conversation, but more often enveloped in the companionable silence that had settled between them. The intimacy of the moment, framed by the vastness of the night and the isolation of the Astronomy Tower, seemed to create a bubble around them, shielding them from the realities waiting beyond its walls.

James found himself stealing glances at Anastasia every so often, watching the way her eyes traced constellations or how her lips would twitch faintly when he said something particularly absurd. There was something about the moment, about her, that felt suspended in time, like the outside world didn't exist here.

As the quiet deepened and their conversation faded, James felt a soft nudge against his shoulder. He turned his head and blinked, surprised to find Anastasia leaning slightly against him, her eyes closed, her breaths slow and even. She'd fallen asleep.

The sight of her in repose, so close to him and yet so deeply lost in her own slumber, stirred a protective warmth in James. They only had a few hours left before the first light of dawn would breach the horizon, signaling the start of another day at Hogwarts and the end of their shared solitude.

For a moment, he didn't move, didn't even breathe, as if afraid that any motion might wake her. Her face, usually guarded and sharp, was now soft, almost peaceful, the faintest trace of vulnerability lingering in the lines of her features. He doubted she allowed herself many moments like this—moments where she could simply... be.

The faint beginnings of dawn were still hours away, but the chill of the early morning air was creeping in, raising goosebumps along James's arms. He glanced at her again, taking in the way her posture had relaxed entirely, her head now resting lightly against his shoulder.

"Well," he whispered to himself with a faint smile, "can't have you freezing out here."

Reaching for his wand, he murmured a quiet Accio, summoning a blanket and pillows from the Gryffindor common room. The soft whoosh of fabric arriving broke the stillness briefly, and he froze, glancing down at Anastasia. She shifted slightly, nuzzling against him, but didn't stir.

James let out a quiet breath of relief, then carefully unfolded the blanket. He draped it over her, tucking it gently around her shoulders before sliding a pillow under her head. He settled back down beside her, mindful not to disturb her, and found himself smiling again as she instinctively curled closer, her head leaning against his chest.

He didn't know how long he lay there, listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing, but he found himself staring up at the stars with a different kind of wonder. There was a quietness in him now, a stillness he hadn't felt in years, as if the world outside this tower no longer mattered.

***

The cold stone beneath him was uncomfortable, and the bite of the early morning chill lingered despite the blanket. 

James let his own eyes drift closed after a while, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the blanket covering them both. The stars above seemed to blur as exhaustion crept in, and he allowed himself to simply exist in the moment.

When he stirred awake, the faint warmth of dawn was creeping into the Astronomy Tower. The soft, golden light cast long shadows over the stone floor, illuminating the now-empty space beside him. He blinked groggily, his mind hazy from the peaceful night, but the absence of her presence struck him almost immediately.

Anastasia was gone.

James sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his gaze lingering on the empty space besides him.

For a moment, he stared at it, a strange, hollow feeling settling in his chest. He didn't know why he'd expected her to stay—not really. She wasn't the kind of person to linger, not when it came to moments like this.

Still, he couldn't help the faint twinge of disappointment.

James stood, stretching his arms as the stiffness of the night began to ease from his limbs. The sound of birds chirping outside filled the silence, and he glanced out over the horizon. The castle grounds were bathed in the gentle glow of morning, the world slowly waking from its slumber.

As he gathered the blanket and pillows, a faint smile tugged at his lips despite himself. 

James ran a hand through his hair, chuckling softly under his breath. "Of course she slipped away," he murmured, shaking his head. "Classic Gaunt."

Still, the thought of her resting there, unguarded and peaceful, was enough to warm him as he made his way back down the tower steps. The memory of her soft breathing, the way she'd leaned into him without hesitation in her sleep—it lingered like a faint echo in his mind, a secret he held close.

As he crossed the quiet corridors back to Gryffindor Tower, he realised one thing with certainty: he would wait. Whatever walls she rebuilt in the light of day, whatever sharp words she threw his way, he'd wait for the next moment when the stars aligned, and she let herself be seen again.

Because now, James Potter knew for certain—he cared. And he wasn't going to stop.