Claire Westbane (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} clairefree) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} ecorridor_rpg,@ 2009-04-12 13:16:00 |
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who: Claire and Wes
what: Easter-ing
when: Easter time
where: Easter bunny's house -- no, uhm, Claire's house.
rating: R
He arrived not long after dawn. She'd been waiting for him, sitting in the garden, a mug of hot tea nestled between her hands. Of all the places on the grounds, the garden was her sanctuary, as it had been her mothers. The gardener, knowing how she liked to spend time there when she was home, made sure there were always flowers blooming, always roses, always life and green. Claire appreciated it more than she could say.
Here, in the early morning light, everything seemed to be hazy shades of grey. Bleached and void of colour. While she waited she watched the last of the stars disappear, heard the morning chorus of the birds begin with a few irregular solo early risers, and reach a bittersweet litany within minutes; odes to the rising sun. The world smelled of dew and promise, and she relaxed, taking a sip of the sweet liquid to help stave off the foggy chill or the dawn.
She didn't know what she was expecting. Just him. He was enough. But as he stumbled over the horizon she could see how exhausted he was and guilt shot through her. She should've stayed with him.
Apparating quickly (tea forgotten next to her, now empty, seat), she took his bag and his arm without a word, leading him through the french doors at the side of the house and into her room. It took only a few moments to undress him, a kiss pressed against his bare back, and she nudged him into bed. There was relief as his breathing dropped into the familiar regularity of sleep before she'd reached the door.
There'd only been a few times that she'd checked on him; before lunch, before dinner (she thought his hunger might wake him). For the most part she spent the day with Elsa, who was making Claire's favourite foods regardless of how many times she was admonished by the younger girl. Claire helped, loving the domesticity of it all, how normal everything felt.
Her father wasn't here (back at work as though nothing had ever happened only weeks before) so she could come and go as she pleased. Luke had been banned since the day before after counting off on his fingers the ways in which he would make Wes Longbottom pay if he ever put a foot wrong where Claire was concerned. Love him though she did, Wes' sanity was her priority on this trip home and the pressure of meeting everyone that was important in her life was not a ritual she wanted to put him through this time. Elsa would do. She'd do nicely. Claire didn't think she'd seen anybody more excited or worked up at the idea of meeting someone. From the way the older woman was acting you would've thought the Minister for Magic himself was about to show up.
After the baking, cooking, eating, cleaning up, and chatter of the day, Claire was well and truly spent. It was fantastic to be home and not have to pretend anymore, and Wes was here which just made her a bit nervous. The last few weeks (well, months, really) had been exhausting and it was only now, having stopped rushing around and worrying about classes, tests, Wes, NEWTS, gossip, and homework that the impact of everything that'd happened truly hit her.
It wasn't long after dinner that she felt her eyes drooping, and heard Elsa tutting at her as she cleared her plate away ("Next thing I'll find you face down in your dessert, Miss Claire!"). Muttering in reply, Elsa then informed her that dessert could wait and sleep could not. Which was fair enough, in Claire's opinion, but she pulled out a pout for Elsa regardless.
Bidding the older woman good night, Claire shuffled her way through the house and into her room, glancing as a still-sleeping Wes as she closed the door. She didn't even think he'd moved. Quickly and quietly she pulled her pyjamas on and slid into bed next to him, careful not to disturb him. Vaguely, smiling sleepily, she realised that this was the first time they'd actually been in a bed without being in direct contact with each other. The beds at school made no allowances for personal space -- not that she minded. Still, at least he could sleep as long as he needed to without her having to worry about waking him.
It was with this thought, and with a final look at him (calm and baby-faced), that she closed her eyes, and promptly fell asleep.
what: Easter-ing
when: Easter time
where: Easter bunny's house -- no, uhm, Claire's house.
rating: R
He arrived not long after dawn. She'd been waiting for him, sitting in the garden, a mug of hot tea nestled between her hands. Of all the places on the grounds, the garden was her sanctuary, as it had been her mothers. The gardener, knowing how she liked to spend time there when she was home, made sure there were always flowers blooming, always roses, always life and green. Claire appreciated it more than she could say.
Here, in the early morning light, everything seemed to be hazy shades of grey. Bleached and void of colour. While she waited she watched the last of the stars disappear, heard the morning chorus of the birds begin with a few irregular solo early risers, and reach a bittersweet litany within minutes; odes to the rising sun. The world smelled of dew and promise, and she relaxed, taking a sip of the sweet liquid to help stave off the foggy chill or the dawn.
She didn't know what she was expecting. Just him. He was enough. But as he stumbled over the horizon she could see how exhausted he was and guilt shot through her. She should've stayed with him.
Apparating quickly (tea forgotten next to her, now empty, seat), she took his bag and his arm without a word, leading him through the french doors at the side of the house and into her room. It took only a few moments to undress him, a kiss pressed against his bare back, and she nudged him into bed. There was relief as his breathing dropped into the familiar regularity of sleep before she'd reached the door.
There'd only been a few times that she'd checked on him; before lunch, before dinner (she thought his hunger might wake him). For the most part she spent the day with Elsa, who was making Claire's favourite foods regardless of how many times she was admonished by the younger girl. Claire helped, loving the domesticity of it all, how normal everything felt.
Her father wasn't here (back at work as though nothing had ever happened only weeks before) so she could come and go as she pleased. Luke had been banned since the day before after counting off on his fingers the ways in which he would make Wes Longbottom pay if he ever put a foot wrong where Claire was concerned. Love him though she did, Wes' sanity was her priority on this trip home and the pressure of meeting everyone that was important in her life was not a ritual she wanted to put him through this time. Elsa would do. She'd do nicely. Claire didn't think she'd seen anybody more excited or worked up at the idea of meeting someone. From the way the older woman was acting you would've thought the Minister for Magic himself was about to show up.
After the baking, cooking, eating, cleaning up, and chatter of the day, Claire was well and truly spent. It was fantastic to be home and not have to pretend anymore, and Wes was here which just made her a bit nervous. The last few weeks (well, months, really) had been exhausting and it was only now, having stopped rushing around and worrying about classes, tests, Wes, NEWTS, gossip, and homework that the impact of everything that'd happened truly hit her.
It wasn't long after dinner that she felt her eyes drooping, and heard Elsa tutting at her as she cleared her plate away ("Next thing I'll find you face down in your dessert, Miss Claire!"). Muttering in reply, Elsa then informed her that dessert could wait and sleep could not. Which was fair enough, in Claire's opinion, but she pulled out a pout for Elsa regardless.
Bidding the older woman good night, Claire shuffled her way through the house and into her room, glancing as a still-sleeping Wes as she closed the door. She didn't even think he'd moved. Quickly and quietly she pulled her pyjamas on and slid into bed next to him, careful not to disturb him. Vaguely, smiling sleepily, she realised that this was the first time they'd actually been in a bed without being in direct contact with each other. The beds at school made no allowances for personal space -- not that she minded. Still, at least he could sleep as long as he needed to without her having to worry about waking him.
It was with this thought, and with a final look at him (calm and baby-faced), that she closed her eyes, and promptly fell asleep.