Midnight

He crept along as quietly as he could, minding the rocks and fallen branches along the way. It had never occurred to him just how far it was from his cabin to theirs - though it probably felt further because it was dark, his internal voice of reason reminded him. He was trying hard not to focus on how similar this was to the Forbidden Forest - which was, after all, forbidden for a reason. The biggest dangers around here were stubbing your toe in the dark, or being caught out of bed by an adult. He'd rather the former than the latter, though, which was why he was taking the risk of tripping by keeping his wand dark. Even the danger of caught was insignificant, though - he had a mission.

She hadn't been herself since she got here, nearly five weeks ago, and he was worried. It would probably cause his roommates - and hers - a mild fit of hysterics to imagine him worried enough about her to venture into the forest late at night. To tell the truth, even the most optimistic romantic on Earth would throw their hands up in despair over him; he was far from the 'rescuing damsels in distress and carrying them off on a white horse' sort of person. And the number of times he'd called her a know-it-all to her face (let alone the uncountable number in the privacy of his own mind) would no doubt convince anyone that if he were to spontaneously develop such knight-in-shining-armor tendencies, they wouldn't be about her.

But he really was worried - and with good cause. She had shown up a week after her friend had - and her friend had shown up after losing both parents and seeing her house blown to pieces - and refused to speak to him for four days straight. At first he thought it was something he'd said or done; he had a bad habit of saying precisely that one thing which would make her absolutely furious at any given point in time. But no, she was like that with everyone except his sister and her friend (they were roommates for the summer, now). After about a week, she did begin talking to him, but she was guarded, wary - she didn't trust him any longer, that much was clear. She was even worse with the men in the village; she wouldn't look them in the eyes and sat apart from them at meals. All he knew for sure was what his brother had told him, the day she had arrived - it wasn't safe for her at home, or more precisely, it wasn't safe at home with her there, and so their school headmaster had decided it was best if she come to stay here. She hadn't picked up a book since she arrived.

Despite his Very Good Reasons (by his reckoning, at least) for checking up on her in this most unorthodox and possibly inappropriate way, he had to admit a certain level of curiosity - and, dare he even think it, thrill - with the idea of sneaking into the girls' cabin at night. He'd never spent time in a girl's room while said girl was actually sleeping there, except for his sister (and, as anyone can tell you, sisters don't count). This time, there would be two non-sister girls sleeping there; it was a bit like skipping a level of school, or something - the sort of thing that she was known for, not him. This was manifestly not taking it slow by any stretch of the imagination - which is why he kept those Very Good Reasons firmly fixed near the front of his thoughts (right behind Just Don't Get Caught and Try Not to Trip). This wasn't a pleasure cruise, he had a job to do.

The plan was simple, really. A simple camouflage spell (it really only worked if you stood absolutely still), to make sure she was sleeping; a cursory inspection to see if there were any really obvious signs of angst or suffering (he still wasn't sure about that point - if he saw her journal lying open, ought he read it, and would his sister kill him for it in the morning?); and then the coup de grâce: an enchantment he'd learned from some of his eldest brother's work manuals. Classified information, that, hardly the sort of thing a six-year-old ought to get his hands on. Only one had stuck in his mind, and it had seemed absolutely useless at the time, except for getting his older brothers to tell him where they had hidden his things: the Sleeping Confession spell. He'd only tried to use it once, and it had backfired - his brother had been awake the whole time, and he had gotten in quite a lot of trouble for having swiped his father's wand. But he'd never really forgotten the spell, exotic as it was, and it had come to his mind yesterday, after yet another non-conversation with her. If she wouldn't tell him what was bothering her while she was awake, he'd have to get her to tell him while she was asleep.

From what he could tell, legally speaking, it wasn't the same sort of spell as Imperius or a truth serum; the confessor had to actually want to tell someone what they were confessing (with a weaker casting, they had to want to tell the person who had put the spell on them). Besides, that, he knew what Imperius felt like, thank you very much, and had no desire to inflict that sort of thing on one of his best friends.

The last few yards were the trickiest; they were in full light of the torches by the doorway (which was at present covered with a curtain, thanks to the high temperatures). All the rest of the cabin was warded, so he couldn't climb through a window or anything - not that he'd want to, as he was wearing ragged bunny slippers he'd borrowed from his elder brother at the last minute. In any case, he had also swiped one of the pass talismans from his brother, so he could go through the wards at the door safely despite not being a lawful resident of the cabin So the only problem was getting through that lit area without being seen. He paused for a few moments in the shadows just outside the boundary of light, debating his course of action. It was decided for him when a loud cracking noise rang out behind him, startling him into the light and forcing him to make a run for the doorway and the safety of the wards - the largest creatures in the area were of course barred from entering the camp, but you didn't have to be large to be dangerous, and there were good reasons why he wasn't supposed to be strolling about the village in the dark, alone.

Now he was inside, and the moment of truth was at hand. He had, at least, the presence of mind to cast the camouflage spell on himself; he was standing in relative darkness (the wards conveniently keeping the light from the torches from penetrating the room), but there was enough moonlight coming through the windows that anyone who looked this way could see him easily, unless he were hidden by magic. He put his wand back into his pocket again; there was no need for it while he was looking around.

The girls were asleep; though none of the three snored (his sister had, thankfully, not inherited that trait), they were all breathing slowly and evenly. The room itself he had only been into once this summer, before either of the other girls arrived and while his sister had had it all to herself. Quite a lot had changed - now there was a bunk bed, with his sister in the top bunk and the other girl in the lower bunk (she was, he knew, afraid of heights). The bed his sister had been using was now hers, and she was lying there, covered in a thick blanket and curled into a tight ball, with her back to the room. The other two girls, by comparison, were spread out, and barely covered by thin sheets - it had to be at least eighty degrees, even before the influence of the dragons and the perpetual bonfire in the center of the village were taken into consideration. She was off to one side, and the difference between her part of the room and theirs was obvious. There were no books or any of the other things he was used to seeing in her room (though, truthfully, he had only been in it twice in his life, at school), just a thin journal open to a half-filled page and a beat-up stuffed bear, which he could just see - she was clutching it as though it were a life-preserver. He resolved right then not to read the journal; he was absolutely certain his sister would kill him for it. Not to mention, he had a definite hunch that she would be hurt by it - and she looked pretty hurt, as it was.

She was shivering despite the blanket - the sound her teeth were making was clearly audible, and now that his eyes had adjusted to the light in the room, he could see her shaking, ever so slightly, under the blanket. He had never been one for comforting lost children or hurt animals, but seeing her like this made him want to hug her, or give her some tea, or something. All thought of the Sleeping Confession spell was lost as he watched her, torn between morbid fascination and sad affection. Strangely, he didn't feel pity - but he did feel regret. Why she hadn't found comfort with her girl friends, he didn't know - but he knew perfectly well why she couldn't confide in him. He was a boy, and a bit of a pest and dunce when it came to this sort of thing, and she probably expected, with cause, that he would laugh at her - or simply not understand. That was a reasonable assumption for her to make. He wondered if what he was feeling now were the first stirrings of him actually wanting to understand this sort of thing, or if they were something more. The sort of something more that their other friend - blissfully ignorant of this whole thing, back in England - liked teasing him about.

He sat down on the floor - unlike in his brother's cabin, this floor had been covered with a thick rug - and continued watching her, thinking all the while about the last few weeks. It wasn't long before his thoughts turned back further, to last year, the year before that, all the way back to the very first time he'd met her. Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it, he'd said. He meant it, too, in that I-don't-care-for-girls-under-any-circumstances-really sort of way that he'd meant almost everything he'd said about her until they were both fourteen. And even a few times since they were fourteen. She hadn't been the only one to tell him he really needed to grow up, after all.

It was mesmerizing, watching her. As a clock somewhere (such as the one in Charlie's cabin) sped past midnight, then two in the morning, and then four, she relaxed somewhat, kicking off the blankets and rolling over. She still clutched that bear, though, as though her life depended on it - as far as he'd known, the bear was a relic of her childhood; at school, it had been on a top shelf overlooking her bed, complete with a bow around its neck and mismatched eyes. His sister had something similar, a hippogriff which no longer had a tail. He spotted it floating at the foot of her bed, probably as the result of a charm to keep it from falling to the ground when she kicked it away.

It was absolutely pitch black outside - though he wasn't paying attention, normally he would know that dawn was coming soon - when she folded back into herself, clutching at the blanket blindly (that was a tense moment for him, but he was quickly reassured that she really was asleep), and resuming the shivering from earlier in the evening. He frowned - she had made no noise, had not flailed her arms about or otherwise caused a scene - but he was certain that whatever dreams she was having now were far from pleasant. He wondered irrationally for a moment if she was suffering this way, in her sleep, because she wasn't crying or screaming or doing whatever you were supposed to do when something bad happened to you, while she was awake (he, himself, was fond of blowing things up to relieve stress, but he suspected she wouldn't quite enjoy it the way he did). He shivered himself - whether that was from the drop in temperature overnight, or from empathy with his friend, he couldn't say, and hugged his knees to his chest, watching her shiver on the other side of the room.

He had almost dozed off when his sister began to stir. His breath caught in his throat, and he tried not to make a sound as she groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He had to suppress a smile - she was no more a morning person than he was. He looked over at her; she was still shivering, and had her back to the room again. It was definitely getting lighter inside the room; the sun was up, and he could hear the stomping of restless animals in the pen outside the village. It was definitely time to leave.

He stood carefully, trying not to make a sound (which was difficult, now that his muscles were sore from a night of sitting up against the wall). He paused once he was fully upright, taking one last look at her before leaving.