A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 30: Falling Asleep

"James?" she whispered hoarsely, blinking the nightmare away. Then, as the realisation of where she was—and who was holding her—sank in, sobs welled up all over again. Without thinking, she pressed her face into his chest, clutching fistfuls of his sweater and breathing him in like a lifeline. James didn't flinch or hesitate; he just enveloped her in a protective hold, cradling her as though she might break at the slightest touch.

He held her tightly, whispering words of comfort that felt woefully inadequate in the face of her suffering. "I've got you. It's okay. You're safe," he murmured, over and over, as if the words could somehow shield her from the nightmares that pursued her even into the waking world.

They stayed like that for some moments, her breathing gradually evening out from frantic gasps to trembling sighs. The stark white walls of the infirmary seemed to shrink around them, muffling the sounds of other patients and the distant clank of Madam Pomfrey's trolley.

After what felt like hours, Anastasia finally spoke, her voice muffled against his sweater. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" she began, but James cut her off.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. I'm just glad I was here," he said, his voice firm with conviction.

They remained in silence for a while, the quiet of the infirmary enveloping them like a cocoon. It was a silence filled with unspoken questions and the fragile beginnings of understanding, a tentative bridge spanning the distance that had grown between them.

Eventually, Anastasia pulled back, wiping away the tears that had streaked her face. She looked up at James, her eyes still haunted but grateful. "Thank you," she said quietly.

James offered her a small, reassuring smile. "Anytime," he replied, simply.

Finally, Anastasia let her head fall back onto the pillow. Her eyes, still red and swollen, flicked toward James. "You caused a scene again," she said quietly, a hint of wryness in her tone that masked how drained she felt.

"Ah," He forced a small smile, hoping it might lessen the tension. "Right back at you," he teased, voice gentle but tinged with relief at seeing her awake and speaking.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but it quickly faded. Silence settled between them, dense with unspoken thoughts. After a moment, James cleared his throat, gaze dropping to the blanket bunched around her. "Look...you don't have to worry about what anyone thinks. They'll just say my saviour complex kicked in again." He paused, something uncertain in his expression. "And if they suspect anything else, it's obvious how little you want to do with me. They'll assume it's all one-sided. Which... I guess it is." He chuckled at the end, a self-deprecating sound.

Anastasia looked at him then, really looked at him, seeing the mix of concern, self-mockery, and genuine care that James often hid behind his jokes and bravado. His admission, though delivered with a chuckle, held a kernel of truth that neither of them could deny—the imbalance in their relationship, the distance she had put between them, often out of necessity, sometimes out of fear.

For a moment, she considered dismissing his words with a witty retort, to rebuild the walls she had momentarily let down. But something in James's expression, the open honesty and vulnerability, stopped her. Instead, she chose silence, allowing his words to hang in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the complex emotions and unsaid truths that lay between them.

And so they sat in silence. James was the first to break it, his voice carrying a weight that seemed at odds with his usual demeanour. "I realise now that I've... I've been pushing unwanted feelings on you..." He trailed off, unable to maintain eye contact, his gaze fixed on some indeterminate point on the floor.