A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 30: Falling Asleep

Silence descended, thick and tense. James stared at her, an array of emotions battling for supremacy in his eyes—hurt, frustration, confusion. He slowly dragged a hand through his hair, messing it further. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke in a low, subdued voice.

"You think I don't see you for who you are?" James asked quietly, his voice steady but heavy with emotion.

Anastasia didn't meet his eyes. She stared at the folds of the blanket draped over her lap, twisting it between her fingers as though it might anchor her. "I know you don't," she said finally, her voice low and measured. "Because if you did, you wouldn't be here right now."

Her words were sharp, meant to wound, but they only seemed to steel him. A long silence hung between them, filled with the soft sounds of the infirmary: the distant clinking of vials, the rustle of fabric as Madam Pomfrey bustled about in another room. Then, to her surprise, James took a step forward and sat on the edge of her bed.

The sudden movement made her flinch, and his eyes flicked toward her, registering the reaction. He leaned back slightly, giving her space, but didn't retreat entirely. "Anastasia," he said, a faint chuckle escaping his lips, though there was no humour in it. "Don't you get it yet?"

She didn't respond, her body rigid, but he pressed on. "I'm in too deep. Even if I wanted to leave you alone—which, believe me, I've tried—I couldn't."

Anastasia let out a soft, exasperated sigh. "What is it you want from me, Potter?"

He didn't answer right away. His gaze held hers, unflinching, as though he was willing her to see something she didn't want to acknowledge. Finally, he said, simply, "I want you to be happy."

For a moment, Anastasia froze, his answer catching her off guard. She stared at him, trying to detect some layer of mockery or pretence in his expression, but there was none. Just an earnestness that unsettled her more than any sarcastic jab could have.

"And how, pray tell," she said at last, her tone brittle, "do you think you can achieve that? You talk like it's something you can just hand over."

James let her words settle, his shoulders rising and falling with a slow breath. "I know I can't give it to you," he admitted. "I know it's not that simple. But I just...I want you to have the chance to breathe without your nightmares choking you. To feel safe for once, instead of looking like you're ready to bolt at any second."

Safe. The word lingered in the air, heavier than anything else he'd said. Anastasia felt it settle deep in her chest, pressing against the walls of her ribs. Feeling safe—it had been so long since she'd allowed herself to feel anything close to that. Her mouth opened slightly, but no response came. She looked away, hoping he wouldn't see the flicker of vulnerability that crossed her face.

James leaned forward just enough to catch her attention again, his tone quieter now, almost imploring. "I'm not saying I can fix everything, or that I even know how. But I can hold you when the nightmares get too bad. I can listen if you need to vent, or sit in silence when you don't want to talk. I'd distract you when you need a break from everything. And all of it—" He paused, his gaze steady but softer than she'd ever seen it. "—free of charge."

Her lips twitched, almost as if she wanted to smile but didn't dare. Instead, she looked away again, shaking her head. "You're exhausting, you know that?"

"Yeah," he replied without hesitation. "And I'm also stubborn. So you're kind of stuck with me."

For a moment, silence stretched between them again. Anastasia's chest felt tight, her mind racing with thoughts she didn't know how to articulate. She didn't want to believe him, didn't want to trust that he might actually care without strings attached. But something about his presence, the steadiness in his voice, chipped away at the walls she'd so carefully built.

Finally, she spoke, her voice softer than before. "You don't even know me, Potter."

James leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful but unwavering. "Maybe not," he admitted. "But I'd like to."

The simplicity of his answer left her disarmed. She let out a long breath, her grip on the blanket loosening. "And what happens," she asked quietly, "when you find out I'm not the person you think I am?"

He didn't hesitate. "Then I'll get to know the person you really are."

Anastasia stared at him, searching his face for any sign of deceit, any crack in the sincerity he was offering. But all she found was that same frustrating, stubborn determination.

Eventually, she inhaled, drawing in the faint medicinal scent that lingered in the infirmary. "Fine. You can stay," she said, voice subdued. "But don't expect me to be...grateful."

James let out a small, wry laugh. "I know better than that." he replied, sliding off the bed to settle into the nearby chair.

"It's not entirely your fault, I suppose," she admitted. "It just happens that you always seem to be there when I'm... like this, it's infuriating really, how many times you've seen me in this state."

James smiled faintly, squeezing her hand. "I guess I have a knack for showing up at the most opportune times."

Anastasia chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You do have a talent for that, don't you?"

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them slowly dissipating.

"It feels like every time I try to hold it together, you're there to see me fall apart," she continued, her voice softer now.

"We can start over, you know. Just... friends? Secret friends, obviously. No expectations, no pedestal, I'll just be rooting for you in the shadows."

She smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. "Didn't you know, Potter? I don't engage in something as pedestrian as friendship."

James grinned. "Ah, but our friendship is already anything but pedestrian. So, friend, how about we get you some proper rest? No more flying until you're back to full strength."

Anastasia rolled her eyes. "I'll take it easy."

"Do you want to talk about the nightmares?" James asked gently, his eyes searching hers.

Anastasia hesitated, then shook her head. "No... I can't."

"Whenever you're ready," James said, his voice soft and reassuring.

Anastasia nodded, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. As they sat together, the silence between them was no longer filled with tension but with a newfound understanding and friendship. Anastasia knew she still had a long way to go, but with James by her side, she felt a little stronger, a little more hopeful.

"Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?" James offered, his voice gentle.

"Couldn't stop you if I tried."

James smirked and settled into the chair beside her bed, watching as she closed her eyes, her breathing gradually evening out. He stayed by her side, a silent guardian, ensuring she found the rest she desperately needed.

And as Anastasia finally drifted back to sleep, the soft sound of her breathing filling the quiet room, James remained by her side.