Chapter Three-A Warmer Bed

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They returned at sunset, the breath of the forest in their throats. They walked up the stairs in the desolate house side by side; in the fashion that they had been for hours now. The servants were in separate parts, and Manuela had gone shopping. A chill not uncommon for the nights rang sharp in the air.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Cerise spontaneously suggested, adjusting her lavender crown to stop it from falling. "In my bedroom," she added for further clarification.

"Ooh, movie night," Harry appraised, cheekily sticking his tongue between his teeth as he grinned.

Cerise laughed genuinely. "Change into your pajamas and be there in ten,"

Harry needed no further convincing.

~

They lounged on her luxuriously soft bed watching The Lion King. Harry sniffled a few times during the movie and Cerise caught his lips twitch thrice, but the waterworks she had hoped for never came.

After the movie ended, she realized what an odd position she was in. Sometime during the movie, they had unconsciously managed to end up only a few inches away from each other, the duvet covering both of them. She could feel the heat radiating from his body as her cheeks glowed red.

Harry let out a soft moan of relaxation as he turned on his side to face her. "Your bed is so warm," he told her innocently, his fathomless eyes convincing her of his good intentions.

"Would you like to sleep here tonight instead, then?" she offered immediately.

Harry beamed at her. "Yes please."

"Alright then," His smile was contagious. She began to leave. "I'll go sleep in your bedroom."

He grabbed her arm the same way he had three days prior, but with more urgency. "Please don't leave." he whimpered.

Her heart dropped to her stomach as she saw the fear in his eyes. He's still afraid, she thought to herself. How could I have been so insensitive?

"I won't," she croaked in reply, lowering herself back in. She turned her back so as to uphold even the slightest of proper decorum.

The warmth of the bed enveloped her; as did a pair of arms only a few moments later. She quietly gasped, before reasoning it was his trauma speaking and holding the arms in her own. She snuggled into him, molding their body shapes comfortably. She could feel his breath against her neck and the tickle of his curls, but she tried to ignore it. It felt so perfectly right. My heart feels like it will burst, she thought, alarmed. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep.

Faint scents of lavender drifted into her olfactory senses as she dozed off to sleep. She filled her mind with thoughts of dancing and nursing her flowers to push away the thoughts of Harry she deemed too romantic for a boy she had only met--who happened to be traumatized.

It was working. She was about to slip into blissful slumber as she felt something hot and wet on her neck. She felt Harry's body shaking slightly as more of the liquid came.

He was crying.

He was so frightened. She hadn't realized until then the depth of his trauma. Slowly, she turned around to face him. His eyes were pressed shut and his nostrils kept flaring. A sorrowful sound came from his throat, and his lips quivered like thin blades of grass in a storm. She cradled him in her arms as he sobbed into her chest. 

It was the first of many nights that Harry fell asleep in Cerise's arms.

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