A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 54: In the Soft Morning Light

Chapter 54: In the Soft Morning Light

Morning came quietly.

The Gryffindor dormitory was warm, filled with the steady sounds of breathing and the occasional rustling of sheets. The fire had burned down low, casting a dim glow against the walls. Somewhere in the distance, the castle was waking up—distant echoes of movement in the halls, faint voices, the shifting of stone staircases.

Anastasia hadn't meant to fall asleep.

Her body had betrayed her, lulled by exhaustion, by the quiet warmth of the room, by the impossible weight of last night still pressing against her ribs.

She barely remembered slipping beneath the covers. The last thing she remembered was James—his voice low, urgent, alive—his hands warm against her face, his breath ghosting against her cheek as he told her she had to stay alive. That there was still hope. That there would always be hope.

But now— now, it was morning, and reality was setting in.

Now, she had to leave. Before anyone noticed. Before someone happened to glance out their window and see her flying out of the Gryffindor Tower of all places. Before the whispers that already surrounded her turned into something far worse.

James stirred beside her, shifting beneath the blankets. She felt it before she saw it—the shift in the air, the change in breathing patterns.

"Morning," he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

She swallowed. "Good morning."

He didn't move.

Didn't blink at the sight of her, didn't look at her like she was something out of place in the golden light of early morning. He just lay there, watching her like this was normal.

He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Take the cloak," he said, voice still quiet.

"Thanks," she said softly.

The words felt strange in her mouth, small and fragile, like she had forgotten how to say them.

She shifted out of bed, slipping on her shoes, her movements precise and careful. The others were still asleep—Remus tangled up in Sirius's blankets, Sirius himself sprawled across the mattress like he owned it, limbs hanging off the edge. She would be fine if she moved quickly.

She stood up, adjusting her robes, reaching for the cloak draped over a chair.

"Wait."

James's voice stopped her.

She turned slightly, pausing, a crease forming between her brows. "What is it?"

"I just want to do something before you leave."

She frowned, bending down to grab the cloak, rolling it up between her fingers. "Well, hurry up, then."

As she straightened, she felt him.

The shift in the air. The warmth at her back. The presence she hadn't anticipated.

James pulled her in.

She let out the smallest, most involuntary gasp—too quiet for anyone else to hear, but he did.

His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a firm, solid embrace at her back, his forehead dropping to her shoulder.

Her eyes widened.

She hadn't even realised he'd moved. Hadn't heard him get up.

She felt his chest rise and fall against her back, felt the weight of his arms anchoring her in place, and for a moment—just a moment—her body stilled.