Heirs & Nightmares

Chapter 33

This Chapter is split into two different perspective, so be on the lookout for that. But don't worry to much the new perspective is in bold, so you can all clearly see it.

Up above are our main characters for the chapter, Charlie & Miles up top, Zefra and George on the bottom and Harry in the middle.

"Italics in quotation marks means parseltongue"

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Harry's POV

I had quietly taken George up to the Room of Requirement, he was disillusioned, and I was under my cloak. Thankfully, Silver Fang understood my need to speak to him, and had made sure no one came looking for either of us tonight.

Arriving, I paced quickly, all the while pleading in my head for 'somewhere that I'm safe and where no one can hear our conversation.' it was a regular sized door that opened, nothing like the large carved double doors, it usually became, when Hermione, Neville and I usually stopped by. The room itself was also a lot smaller, than the one that was typically conjured up.

The room was pretty simple, there were four walls, done up in dark reddish-brown wood. The floor while still stone was mainly covered by a huge white fluffy rug that sat in front of the massive U-shaped couch. The couch itself was a caramel brown, and had lots of fluffy and comfy pillows and blankets thrown on it. In front of the couch was a stone fireplace, the fossil grey stone pillar rising all way to the top of the roof. The fire was already lit and blazing, engulfing the whole room in a comfortable fuzzy warmth.

The room was dim as well, it was the perfect in between, with it being neither light or dark enough to hurt our eyes. There was a predisposed atmosphere of calm, the blank walls quelling my anxiety about being overtly overheard. George steps in first, be-lining straight to the couch, but I move in more hesitant, checking around for anything that points to us being overheard or watched. Finding none, my shoulder loosen slightly, and slowly I make my way over to the couch, sitting down in one of the corners, facing George. His head his turned to face me, his body still angled to face the roaring fireplace.

He's stretched out, arms leaning on either side of the back pillows, while I was sitting cross-legged still too anxious to really sit normally. Smiling shyly at him, I finally sink more into the soft couch, reminding myself to relax, mentally running through several breathing exercises to calm me down. Through all this, he doesn't move, allowing me as much time as I need to settle my racing heartbeat and for my nerves to settle. Plus the quiet was nice, and if I didn't need to talk to him, I'd be more than content to just sit here with him, basking in each others presence.

Finally, relaxed and settled enough, I manage to speak, my voice soft, still unwilling to disturb the peaceful serenity that surrounded us. "What's your favourite colour?" He just owlishly looks at me, his face changes from befuddled to a soft grin, his eyes filled with affection and laughter.

"Honey Yellow."

"Why?"

"Because it's bright and cheery, but it also has a warmth to it. It's not so bright that you have to look away from it after a while. And you, what's your favourite colour?"

Blushing I look away, unable to verbalise the answer, too embarrassed by it. George, of course, notices, shuffling closer, his grin widens to one of mischief, his eyes sparkling with playfulness. "What has little Harrykins blushing so. Is it the question, or the answer that has you in such a state. Ooh, I bet the answer has something to do with me, you never blush like that unless you're around someone you find attractive or you're being teased about your love life. Spill little one, don't make me use force, I will..."