who: @marloweprewett where: a guest bedroom at the Black Scotland Estate when: around 1:30 am on January 28th, 1983
Sirius rubbed his eyes as he fought to stay awake. It was getting late, nearly one or two in the morning if his internal clock was correct, but he didn’t want to sleep yet. His body ached for rest, but he wasn’t going to give up.
For the past four days Sirius sat, or sometimes paced, by Marlowe’s side as she slept. He knew that from a factual standpoint she wasn’t actually sleeping, but he preferred to think of it that way. If she was just sleeping, then she could be dreaming, thinking about better times, and she could wake up at any moment. Every aspect of the current situation was happier if he thought of her as just sleeping.
Sirius himself had slept during his watch, but his restful moments were far and few between. He wanted to be there the moment she woke up. Not rushing in front a different room, but there, ready. He wanted to be the first thing she saw. He wanted her to know that she was safe.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the tops of his thighs and his head on the small platform his interlocking fingers made. Sirius wasn’t praying but, just as he had every moment since the attack, he was hoping with everything he had for her to wake up.
And then her eyes fluttered open.
Sirius leapt up from where he sat and ran over to the bed. He didn’t want to get too close and startle her, but he also wanted her to know that he was there. That he had been the entire time.
“Hey, Mar,” he whispered as he gently took her hand in his. “Everything’s alright, you’re at my place. How are you feeling?”
