WHO: Theodore Nott & Ron Weasley WHERE: Library WHEN: Friday, late afternoon (12.09.96) WHY: Theo can't sleep unless, apparently, it's on a thestral RATING: PG atm STATUS: In progress
Theo was exhausted already. The only sleep he'd been getting for the past few days was the one or two hours before his body got up and started walking around by it's own accord, the sonambulism common but moreso the first few weeks before and after he returned to school from home; getting a nap during the day was difficult between homework and lessons and although he wasn't your typical teenaged boy Theo still needed sleep to function.
It had never gotten to the point where he'd actually fallen asleep in a lesson before, but the library, it seemed, was fair game. He'd been looking up something about thestrals (he didn't care that he was being childishly obssessed, they comforted him in a weird way. Not that he'd ever admit to needing comfort) and the words had gotten closer and blurrier until he'd fallen asleep with his face against the pages, managing to look like he'd meant to do so in that feline way he had about him. It wasn't a restful sleep though, as his fingers curled into fists against the pages and he shifted and mumbled something, sounding unhappy even locked in his dreams.
His father would have been disgusted to see Theo so vulnerable, but right then the boy was just too tired to even think about his father's instilled paranoia. The cold he always felt until mid-summer because of his bony little frame drew it's arms around him like a blanket and he slept on, his breathing quiet but distressed.