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Waking up	By : Pegasus Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 2782 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter characters. I gain nothing from publishing this, no money, no fame, no fortunes.

Chapter List
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Chapter 8
Sophie waited for him. Her mother had told her that he had been there and had promised to come back later. But he didn’t. She waited the next day also, and the day after that but he never showed up. She couldn’t even be angry at him. She knew it wasn’t a pretty sight to watch her slowly deteriorating. But she had so gotten used to him. His dry and biting humor, his intelligence and even his short temper. She found much in him she liked and much that amused her. She also liked his voice… it was so wonderfully deep. She loved to listen to him. Sometimes she asked him questions about plants just to her him speak. Not that she wasn’t interested in what he said, but mainly she just wanted to have these warm deep notes wash over her in the calm and controlled way he spoke in. And she loved his presence. That same calmness radiated from his entire person. It made her feel safe and protected… not that she had to be scared of anything or anyone, but his presence made her feel like nothing in the world could harm her. How ridiculous to think like that. And to feel like that.
Sophie had always been alone. She had gone out on dates and had tried to meet men, especially in the last few years when she noticed her time to start a family of her own was running out. But she had never wanted a closer relationship with any of the guys she had dated. After two or three dates she always knew they weren’t right. Or at least she had thought she knew it. She had wondered if she was going about it the right way. Was there anything like what she was looking for? She always had thought that if she met the right man, she would automatically know it. She would just know he was right. She was sure it must be like shopping for shoes. You go from one shop to the next and you can do that all day but in one shop you will see them: the one pair that makes you want to scream with joy and call out “You were made for me!”. And she had waited for this same feeling to come with the right man. But it never had. So was there anything like this? Or was love different? Was it more like finding someone you could tolerate and then just being open for more and see where it led? Waiting for a feeling of being in love to come with time? She had prayed about it, prayed for God to send her an answer, or, preferably, the right man. But neither had an answer come, nor the right man. And then she had received her diagnosis and her whole search for her future had come to an end. She had thought then that this was the reason why God had not send her a partner. He had never meant for her to be here for that long. And so she had accepted it. She had accepted that she would never know what it felt like to be loved by a man, to feel the passion and lust that the right person could invoke or to feel the giddiness when he entered the room and smiled only at you.
And then Sam had come along. Sam, with his sarcastic smile and his dark eyes. His long, black and wavy hair, the beard with the hints of gray. The long, crooked nose, which she found so aristocratic. She felt so drawn to this man. In a way she had never felt for anyone. And she was angry at herself that she did. Now, right now, when her life was coming to an end her stupid heart had decided to fall in love with someone, who, even if she was to live, would probably not even think twice about her. At least not in this way. She had thought he only came down to see her because he felt sorry for her… or maybe she was really just a subject to study for him. But no, she had really had the feeling that he had enjoyed the time with her. So why wasn’t he coming anymore? She was fading. And fast. She knew it wouldn’t be long now. And she so wished he would be there. So wished she could hear his voice and feel his soothing presence. But maybe he couldn’t face it. Witnessing death was not something everybody could stomach. She would just have to let go of him like she had let go of everything else. At least her parents were still with her. Now that the time was getting closer she was getting a little scared. And she was thinking about what would come. Would it hurt? Would she feel it when her heart stopped beating? Would she see the blinding white light? Would there be total darkness and nothing more? Or would she really be facing God and be judged for her sins? He would have a lot to judge then. Would he be forgiving? She had felt God’s presence in a lot of moments in her life, she silently prayed he would be with her on this last moment as well. She didn’t really feel fear anymore. She felt nervous. Along with the pain that was the hardest thing to feel. It was like she wished it would already be over but the next moment she was scared of what would come then and then again she wisehd she could be rid of the pain and be done with it. It was a constant up and down and thinking of him sort of took her mind off of these thoughts. And how much easier to bear would it be if she had him to talk too? She couldn’t tell her parents that she was scared. It would break their hearts and they would be feeling even more helpless. But she longed for someone to talk to about it. Someone, who would not look at her with pity and sorrow. So in a way his detachment when they had discussed her condition, had always helped her. Where was he now? Her father had carried her outside and she was sitting in the garden. She tried to look up to the coastal path to where she knew he had always walked down when he came to see her. Strange, she had never asked him where he lived. And lots of other things she had never asked about after he had rejected her first attempts to learn more about him. She hoped he hadn’t thought her insensitive or self-centered when she hadn’t asked any more questions about him. Her thoughts kept spinning around in her head in this manner and she wouldn’t come to a conclusion. It felt like her brain was in overdrive, as if it was desperately trying to use the little time it still had to run on full power. She thought she could imagine now how a hyperactive person felt. Her thoughts just wouldn’t stop. And together with the morphine and the tiredness it was a strange combination. She was tired and yet not able to calm down. She was feeling like walking up that cliff path to find him and tell him how disappointed she was that he left her alone in her last days but she knew she wouldn’t even make it out the garden door. She looked out over the ocean and tried to find some calm there.
At the same time not too far away he was watching her from his garden. He had worked all day. Only stopping every now and then to drink some water. But just like the days before he hadn’t been able to stop himself from occasionally looking down into the cove. He told himself that he had always done that and that as the person he was it was his custom to always be vigilant and know what was going on about him. But he had stopped working when he saw her father carrying her outside and settling her down in a deckchair with a mass of blankets. She looked frail and almost lost in that sea of fabric. Her father went inside and she peered up the hill. And for a moment he thought she was looking straight at him. But that was ridiculous. His wards where such that she couldn’t see into his garden. And she couldn’t see him in there. It was impossible. At the same time he wished she could see him. All of a sudden he felt a deep sense of longing like he had only known it once before. He wanted to be down there with her. He wanted to sit next to her and listen to her chatter. He wanted to look at her and see her smile. It was a burning sensation within him that brought tears to his eyes again and threatened to consume him. He threw his little shovel against the wall of his cottage in a helpless and angry attempt to quell those unwelcome emotions. He was master of himself and he had decided. He walked back inside and locked the door behind him. He spent the rest of the day and a great part of the night working on his latest potion order until he fell asleep on the work surface.
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Waking up