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The all-too-familiar sound of one of your dormmates snoring is enough to drive anyone mad.
In actuality, you haven’t heard anyone else complain about it. Then again, they’ve all been bunking together for four and half years now--perhaps they’ve gotten used to it.
Or, more likely, you think as Amelia lets out a particularly loud snort mid-snore, they’ve all learned charms to ward off the sound. You make a mental note to ask Professor Fig about it--a mental note you’ve made and forgotten dozens of times now. Your days are far too busy, and in truth you never think of sleep until the moment you collapse in bed.
Now, though, in the middle of another drafty Hogwarts night, you can’t think of much else. Perhaps there’s an empty couch in the common room. Grabbing the knitted throw on top of your bed and wrapping it over your shoulders, you quietly slip out of the room, easing the door shut behind you.
You’re surprised to find that you’re not the only one awake at this hour. Sitting on a yellow sofa, knees to her chest, hugging a blanket around herself tight, is Poppy.
You can’t help but smile tiredly. Not wanting to alarm her, you pointedly clear your throat before descending the curved stairs and joining her on the sofa.
Poppy, brown hair mussed in the back, with dark circles under her eyes, gives you a tired smile in return.
“Can’t sleep either, can you?”
“Amelia snores.”
She lets out a short chuckle. “So I’ve heard.”
“What’s keeping you up?”
Poppy turns her eyes to the window, where moonlight spills onto the frozen blades of grass. “Oh, I dunno.”
You scoot closer to Poppy and lean back. “Worried about your beasties, aren’t you?”
She nods, gaze still distant. “Always am, aren’t I?”
“You know, there’s only so much you can do.” You hesitantly place a hand on her knee, causing her to look back up at you. You wait for her to move away, but instead she shifts slightly, turning her body toward you. “And you’ve done more than enough,” you continue. “It’s not all your responsibility.”
“But I feel as though it is,” she insists. “Because--well, you know why.”
She’s told you all about her childhood with the poachers, but that doesn’t change your opinion. “Right now, the best thing you can do is get some sleep, so you’re ready to face another day.”
“That’s just it,” Poppy says with a sigh. “Each day it seems to get worse. There’s always more poachers, going after more creatures. For every bit of good we do, something twice as awful comes along.”
You think for a moment. “I know how you feel. My childhood was like that at times as well. But the fact that I’m here is proof that it never gets too bad for me to handle, and the same to you.”
Poppy’s lip forms into a slight pout. She leans against you, resting her head on your shoulder. A warmth spreads through you, not just from her body heat, but from somewhere in your chest as well, spreading out to the tips of your fingers and toes.
“I’m tired of it,” she says in a defeated voice. “I’m tired of handling things.”
“I know,” you murmur. You wrap your arm around her, and adjust the blankets so they’re both over both of you, cocooning the two of you in a warm embrace. “When I was little, and everything felt awful, I’d pretend I was in a fairy tale.”
“Oh?” says Poppy, interest piqued. “What kind of fairy tale?”
“The kind where everything bad that’s happening is just a part of the story that needs to take place before my happily ever after.”
Poppy inches closer, and reaches her arm across you to pull you in. “Can you tell me an example of one? One of these stories? Please?”
“Of course,” you say gladly. You slip one arm out just enough to stroke her hair. You can smell it, lavender with a hint of knotgrass, as you take a deep breath in. After a moment’s thought, you begin.
“Once upon a time, a baby girl was born, the most beautiful baby girl. But the people surrounding her were not beautiful. Not because of their appearances, but because of their actions. Where they were cruel, the girl was gentle. Where they were greedy, she was generous. Where they thought only of themselves, the girl felt compassion for every living thing. All of this only became more apparent as she grew into a young witch. In short, where they were evil, she was good. And that made it quite an oppressive place for her to live.”
“Mmhh,” was all Poppy said, eyes fluttering closed.
“Her people made their living by catching and hurting innocent beasts. One day, the young witch met the most beautiful white hippogriff, and the two became fast friends. They had to keep their friendship a secret, or the hippogriff would be captured and sold. But eventually, they could take it no more, standing by, listening to the sounds of beasts in pain. So when night fell, they let every creature loose from its cage, then they flew away into the night.”
“And lived happily ever after?” Poppy guessed tiredly.
“Not yet.” You continued softly stroking her hair. “Though the witch escaped, she was sad to find that people were still hurting beasts all over the land. The few she had freed hardly seemed to make a dent. So, she started sneaking into hunters’ camps at night, and releasing their innocent prey. But for every beast she freed, it seemed ten more were captured.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Until one evening, all of the hunters and poachers in the land gathered together to taunt and pick on a dragon they had caught. The witch knew it wouldn’t be an easy task, but with her best friend, the hippogriff, at her side, she knew she could do it.”
“Mmm-mmm,” Poppy disagreed. Her eyes fluttered open and looked up at you in earnest. “I don’t think the hippogriff was her best friend. I think she met another witch who helped her.”
You smile, your heart warming at her words. “You’re right. The two witches were worried the hippogriff would get hurt, so they set off to rescue the dragon themselves. They risked their lives, not just among the poachers, but the dragon as well--they had no way of knowing if the dragon would understand that they were helping her.
“Once all was said and done, the dragon escaped, and burnt half of the poachers to a crisp. The two witches cheered, but they knew their task wasn’t quite done. They had found an egg, and they needed to return it to the dragon. What they didn’t know was that the remaining poachers and hunters were following them, hoping to be led back to the dragon.”
Poppy tenses under you.
“But thankfully, Highwing--I mean, err, their hippogriff friend--was more observant. Once they were alerted to the vile people trailing them, the witches were able to set a trap. They led them right into a pit trap, and watched as they all tumbled down into the darkness below.” Your voice takes on a sharper tone, forgetting the gentleness of the soul you’re with. “The dragon was smarter than anyone gave her credit for. She breathed her flames on the pit, until there was nothing left of the poachers but a pile of ash. Then she took her egg, and flew away.”
You glance down at Poppy, suddenly realizing how dark the story got. Surely she’ll be disturbed. But to your surprise, there’s a small smile playing on her lips as she snuggles closer to you, eyes still closed. “What did the witches do then?” she murmurs, her voice barely audible now.
“Then,” you say, letting out a sigh of relief. “They found a beautiful old castle on a hill, overlooking a lake on one side and a forest on the other. They moved into the castle, and opened its doors as a home to any creature who needed shelter. Sometimes, their dragon friend would even visit, eventually bringing her young to meet them. With the two witches watching over the land, and the power of a strong dragon mother behind them, no one dared poach anywhere near them, ever again.”
This time, when you look down, there’s an even, peaceful expression on her face. “And then they lived happily ever after,” you finish in a whisper, before closing your eyes, resting your head on hers, and falling asleep alongside her.