Sleep. Hard to come by these days. The Prefects must have some of the best beds in the whole castle, and yet....nothing. Tossing and turning, small figments of rest disrupted by stretches of pointless lying around...hoping to fall back to sleep again.

Tom felt something soft stirr next to him. He looked, only to find Rose there, curled up into a little ball beside him. She seemed so peaceful, so untroubled when she slept...like tomorrow was going to be just another school day.

Wouldn’t that be nice? He caught himself thinking as he stared up at the dark ceiling.

Of course he’d think that. To escape from the danger, just like everyone else did, secretly or openly. To just live a quiet life, untroubled and unfettered. Their whole future still in front of them. But here they were, all about to do the seemingly impossible...and yet Dumbledore made it sound like a walk in the park. The man had promised them allies...but would it be enough? Were they actually prepared for this? Any of them, really? For bloodshed...for death? Zane had made it painfully clear that they had no grasp of what they were truly facing...who knows what they’d use in their assault?

And then there was the ministery...how could they possibly fight the law and the LAM at the same time? It all seemed too much in the middle of the night...when he felt vulnerable.

His thoughts swam to his mother next, wondering what troubles she faced. And he couldn’t speak a word to her, not a one...
Would she be proud of him? Disappointed? What would she be doing right now? Would she break down the doors of the school, together with her Auror colleagues? Or was she with the people during the mass walkout? And if she did...what did that mean?

Questions, questions...’n too few answers. Why can’t things just be simple...?

His eyes were colorless in the dark, drifting out of focus...just like their collective futures...
Only days before had he looked on as the old, patched hat was drooped over the heads of a few eager eleven-year-olds. It seemed like a lifetime away. Had those kids stayed? Did they know what was going to happen to them if they did? Of course not...because the people that did know weren’t allowed to say anything. They were all preparing for war....

...But we’re not soldiers.

How in the world were they going to protect everyone? What could he really do once the walls were breached and panic ensued? How could Dumbledore offer them a sanctuary when he planned to use the place...

...As a friggin’ bunker?

Tom snorted...and then felt something hairy brush over his toes. He looked up with a start, only to find Garion sleeping at their four feet, completely oblivious of the danger heading their way.

Lucky, lazy bastard.

He smelled a small wiff of seductive perfume, her body soft and warm against his arm. He hadn’t even thought about what he would be forced to leave behind, should the worst happen. Drado reminded him...of the finality that their choices could have. But he couldn’t let that come to pass...not now. He wasn’t the reckless daredevil he had been a couple of years ago. He had responcibilities now.

...I ain’t gonna let my mom suffer another dead son.

The thought came to him by surprise...but it was there all the same. Terrence...he wasn’t about to visit him just yet. He’d never been a religious person, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his little brother’s spirit lived on, in some way or form. A calming force watching over him, giving him strength when he needed him the most.

As the pondering Prefect lay lost in thought the clouds shifted and a streak of silver penetrated the darkness, shining through a gap in the crimson curtains. Small particles of dust danced and hovered in the air....like it was already snowing. He slid out of bed and tucked the redhead in...she shouldn’t be cold at a time like this. He paced through the room, barefoot, the eyes of several watchful Quidditch players following him in his stride from the comfort of their posters. As he walked closer to the window (and after uttering a select few silent cursewords after he nearly tripped on one of the cat’s toys) a strange feeling of calmness overcame him.

It all looks so quiet...

But it was an illusion...a fleeting comfort. They should sleep while they could, laugh when the opportunity presented itself...because they were running out of time. He grabbed the red fabric and moved it aside just as Garion had decided to join him, sinuously circling around his legs.

The room became partually illuminated, the Quidditch Captain now basked in the pale lunar light. The moon was getting pretty round. Almost...circular.

A full moon...




He quietly mumbled something to himself as he shut the curtains quickly, turning his back on them and leaning against the windowsill...

“uh oh...”