Night
Title / Prompt: Night / June #... 3, I think
Character: Alastor Moody
Pairings: Moody/Penny
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word count: 242
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: They're mine, because JKR sucks at sap writing. *pause* What d'ya mean, that's not a disclaimer? Fine, fine... Moody belongs to JK Rowling, though she doesn't really seem to appreciate him...
He wakes in the middle of the night, sometimes. There is no reason for this- no subtle tripping of a ward to alert him to something, somewhere, gone wrong. But he wakes, anyway, and listens to the ringing sounds of nothing. It takes him a moment or two to realize, and when he does, he smiles.
He wakes to be certain Penelope is with him, that he hasn't dreamed her warm body curled against his, the soft sound of her breathing, or the way that sometimes even in her sleep she seems to hug him closer, or her fingers seem to brush through his hair.
He wakes, and he doesn't move, barely lets himself breathe, because he doesn't want to wake her. He only wants to lie there with her, wants to listen to the soft sweet sound of not a thing wrong with the world, echoing in his ears. Wants to hold her, wants to savor the feel of her, of every inch of skin where their bodies touch.
Very slowly, very carefully, he pulls the blankets back up over her from where they've fallen. She stirs as the blankets settles over her, and he freezes, cursing himself for not being more careful. Then she sighs and seems to settle, and slowly he begins to breathe again.
He doesn't speak, because his voice will almost always wake her, only thinks his, I love you, and lets himself fall back to sleep.
Character: Alastor Moody
Pairings: Moody/Penny
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word count: 242
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: They're mine, because JKR sucks at sap writing. *pause* What d'ya mean, that's not a disclaimer? Fine, fine... Moody belongs to JK Rowling, though she doesn't really seem to appreciate him...
He wakes in the middle of the night, sometimes. There is no reason for this- no subtle tripping of a ward to alert him to something, somewhere, gone wrong. But he wakes, anyway, and listens to the ringing sounds of nothing. It takes him a moment or two to realize, and when he does, he smiles.
He wakes to be certain Penelope is with him, that he hasn't dreamed her warm body curled against his, the soft sound of her breathing, or the way that sometimes even in her sleep she seems to hug him closer, or her fingers seem to brush through his hair.
He wakes, and he doesn't move, barely lets himself breathe, because he doesn't want to wake her. He only wants to lie there with her, wants to listen to the soft sweet sound of not a thing wrong with the world, echoing in his ears. Wants to hold her, wants to savor the feel of her, of every inch of skin where their bodies touch.
Very slowly, very carefully, he pulls the blankets back up over her from where they've fallen. She stirs as the blankets settles over her, and he freezes, cursing himself for not being more careful. Then she sighs and seems to settle, and slowly he begins to breathe again.
He doesn't speak, because his voice will almost always wake her, only thinks his, I love you, and lets himself fall back to sleep.