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She’s been a little too busy lately, juggling responsibilities that keep her moving from one thing to the next. He, on the other hand, has been on edge, his mind restless with a dozen worries that never seem to leave him alone. Despite everything swirling around them, they’ve found a way to communicate, slipping between the lines of the day in secret messages only they understand.
"My door’s unlocked," one of his notes reads. "Just come in, I saved a spot for your head on my chest."
And so, she does. Every time, without fail, she finds him waiting, arms open, heartbeat steady beneath her cheek. She calms him with her presence, a balm to his anxieties, while he slows her frantic pace, helps her catch her breath. She’s starting to notice how her body responds to him now, how she’s begun to feel sleepy in his arms. Even in class, with the buzz of conversation and learning around her, she finds her head tilting toward his shoulder, eyelids heavy.
James, ever attuned to her, lets his fingers drift through her hair, a soothing rhythm that lulls them both. His touch is soft, unhurried, and she fights the urge to close her eyes, though it’s a losing battle. In those moments, the rest of the world fades into the background, leaving just them—quiet, calm, safe.
And then night comes, and with it, the unbearable distance between them. She should be able to sleep alone, to sink into her bed and let the day dissolve into dreams, but the emptiness beside her is a hollow ache. She waits, sometimes longer than she’d like, before finally giving in, padding down the stairs to find him still awake, his focus on Quidditch plays spread across the table.
"I don’t mind," he reassures her with a soft smile when she urges him to take her to bed. He never minds, not when it’s her asking.
It’s strange how time slows when they’re together. The rush and chaos of their lives melt away the moment his arms wrap around her, grounding her in a warmth she didn’t realize she craved. Never has she felt safer, more at peace, than she does now, held tight against him.
”I feel safe,” she admits, “when I’m around you.”
"Why do you feel safe?" he asks, his voice soft in the darkness as they lie together, curtains drawn, the outside world forgotten.
"It just comes with being around you," she whispers back, her voice barely more than a breath against his skin.
They’re older, thank Merlin. No longer the teenagers who used to steal touches in secret, hearts racing at every glance. Now, they’ve settled into something deeper, something steady. He holds her heart in his hands, as if aware of its fragility, knowing it could shatter with the wrong move. But she trusts him with it, every piece. She wants him to keep it, to take all of her, because she knows he’ll keep it safe.
And the world feels scarier, heavier with each passing day. She can hardly keep up with it all, the weight of what’s to come pressing down on her.
"I can’t stay away long," he tells her, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead “not that I ever want too.”
She’s learning, slowly, that good love takes patience, and sometimes, all you need is the safety of a haven.