A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 32: 5th Time's a Charm

"Wha—" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as he squinted up at her. "Anastasia?"

She straightened, crossing her arms in a feigned attempt at nonchalance. "You're not dreaming, Potter."

He sat up, his hair even more disheveled now, and stared at her, wide-eyed and confused. "What—what's going on? Everything ok?"

She hesitated, suddenly aware of how absurd this was. "I, uh... wanted a cigarette," she said, her voice quieter than usual. Even to her, it sounded ridiculous.

James blinked at her, processing her words. "You flew through the window," he said slowly, gesturing vaguely toward it, "in the middle of the night... for a cigarette?"

She shrugged, trying to maintain her composure despite the heat creeping up her neck. "Apparently."

For a moment, he just stared at her, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn't decide whether to laugh or question her further. Finally, he settled on a lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, it's... definitely creative."

She rolled her eyes, stepping back slightly. "If it's a problem, I'll leave."

"No!" he said quickly, his hand shooting out to stop her, though he didn't actually touch her. "I mean... no, it's not a problem."

Her lips twitched, though she covered it quickly. "Good."

James leaned back against the headboard, his grin softening into something more genuine. "Are you gonna make a habit of this?"

"Don't count on it," she replied, though there was no real bite in her tone.

He tilted his head, studying her for a moment. "Well," he said finally, his voice quieter, "my window's always open for you. You know, in case the urge for a cigarette strikes again."

Something flickered across her face—surprise, maybe, or something deeper—but she didn't let it linger. "How generous of you," she said dryly, though her words lacked their usual sharpness.

James chuckled softly, running a hand through his already messy hair. "You have no idea."

She shook her head, stepping back toward the window. "I'll be gone before anyone notices."

"Stay," he said, the word out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

She froze, her hand resting lightly on the windowsill. "Why?"

He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Because... it's late. And you're already here."

Anastasia stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she sighed and stepped away from the window, crossing her arms again.

"Fine," she said, her tone begrudging. "But if Sirius wakes up, I'm leaving."

James grinned, shifting over to make room for her. "Deal."

She climbed onto the bed, sitting stiffly at the edge while he leaned back against the headboard. The silence between them stretched, broken only by the faint rustling of blankets as James shifted slightly. Anastasia sat at the edge of the bed, her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the far wall. She looked composed, but James could see the faint tension in her shoulders, the restless way her fingers tapped against her forearm.

He watched her for a moment, his expression thoughtful, before speaking softly. "You didn't come here for a cigarette."

Her head turned slightly, but she didn't meet his eyes. "You're awfully perceptive for someone who just woke up."

James leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I mean it, Anastasia. Why are you really here?"

She sighed, her lips pressing into a thin line as if weighing whether to answer. When she finally spoke, her tone was guarded. "I couldn't sleep."