a belated birthday gift to my dear friend @sallowsoul, one of the kindest people I had the pleasure of meeting and befriending in this fandom🖤 I know this oneshot is fairly short, but there are more parts to your gift coming soon🥰
@lyra-prag’s and @amus2110’s bbs are also briefly mentioned here so I guess I’ll tag them too🤭
It was late at night, and Savina was alone in the graveyard. To anyone else, that might sound morbid, perhaps even disturbing; but to Savina, graveyards provided an odd sort of comfort. They were quiet, there weren’t many people around, save for the dead, and it was essentially a spot of eternal rest.
When she came here she oftentimes found herself wondering if Severa was at peace. She hoped so. She hoped her twin sister was happy now, wherever she was. She hoped she didn’t feel the depths of the dark cling to her and slowly drag her down little by little with each breath; with each step.
This stormcloud, this hollow, this weight; it had followed her relentlessly for many a years now. She imagined the sensations it brought– hopelessness, guilt, longing and grief– were closer to the idea of death many others seemed to imagine.
In her experience at least, with the ghosts, death wasn’t as terrible as many believed it to be. They could sometimes be found here out as night, floating here and there and making conversation like any living person would. Except any living person wouldn’t have moonlight reflected through them while they shared stories of grandchildren and nosy neighbors from their past lives.
The spirits weren’t here tonight. That was alright. She enjoyed their company, though for this particular eve, she felt rather relieved for her solitude.
It had been a bad day. For a multitude of reasons she didn’t much care to reflect upon much now. She instead gazed at her own reflection in the lantern she’d brought.
She could always use the Lumos spell of course; but she found a sort of satisfaction at lighting a lantern, letting the flickering candle inside guide your way through the dark. She found her usual spot by the tree with the gnarled branches and protruding roots. She nestled against the wood, smoothing out her cloak and setting the lantern down beside her.
A chill passed through the graveyard, and she tucked her hands closer to her by instinct. She’d forgotten to bring gloves. Her fingers were already freezing; but when were they ever not? She and many others had always felt she was halfway there in joining her ghost friends.
She breathed on her hands, warming them up just enough to return feeling and open her satchel. Privately, a part of her enjoyed the cold pinpricks poking at her pale fingers: it made her feel a little more…alive. To be touched by the cold, it was proof you were still part of the corporeal world.
She found inspiration strike her then as she carefully undid the clasp to her notebook and began to write. The scratching of quill against paper joined the other quiet sounds of the otherwise silent resting place. The chirp of crickets, croaks of frogs, occasional hoots of owls, and the whisper of the earth’s passing sigh were a song she knew well and found reprieve in.
She squinted at the parchment to see better what she was writing, completely absorbed in her own world. She almost didn’t hear the sound of quietly approaching footsteps until a figure came into view of her periphery.
She glanced up, her eyes easily readjusting to the dark as she identified a familiar silhouette. Long, unbrushed hair, a lanky figure swallowed by a sweater, and an unmistakable rhythm to their awkward stride.
“Mund. You’re here,” Savina says softly in greeting as he steps fully into view into the candlelight. This wasn’t the first time they’d happened to meet up at the graveyard.
It had been a surprise for her the first time, to discover there was another student at Hogwarts who actually enjoyed nighttime walks in the graveyard. Especially one who spent most of his time with two of the most happy-go-lucky people at Hogwarts.
After that first meeting in the graveyard however, they began running into each other more often. They even began talking from time to time, when they happened to pass in the halls, spot each other in the library, or share a class.
Well…talking was mostly on her part for the first few weeks. He was quiet. Very quiet. She quickly figured out he only spoke to those he knew well; she’d only heard his voice the first time a few days ago, and him talking was still a rare occurrence.
She didn’t mind though. If anything, she understood. Talking was difficult. Very difficult. She never knew what she was doing when it came to conversation; the best she could rely on was trying to mirror other people, in hopes she’d pass as normal.
Being normal was exhausting. Which was why she came here so much. And probably why he did too.
He nods in response to her greeting and glances at the spot next to her in a silent question. She scoots over to make room for him before returning to what she was doing earlier. They didn’t talk much when they spent time together like this. There was never any need to.
She could feel him watching her write on her parchment before he took out a paper of his own from his pocket. She could hear the sounds of paper being folded. He must be working on origami again. She found out early on that was one of his favorite pastimes, and he often gave the finished product to her as gifts.
She kept her eyes on her own parchment and continued to write. They could both see what the other made after they were done.
As if in sync, they both finished at around the same time. They locked eyes briefly before breaking eye contact again, silently handing each other their finished work. She immediately recognized the shape of the origami animal he’d made this time: a lamb.
She stroked the top of the origami lamb’s head, gaze softening on the animal illuminated by the candle. The smallest of smiles graces her lips.
Not long after, she can feel an all-too familiar ache enter her bones. Something cold and sad; a melancholy that drifted over her at any time without a clear reason. It was something of an old friend now; one that she’d accepted into her life and paradoxically found an odd sort of comfort in,
She feels the smallest of touches on her shoulder and she looks over to see Mund watching her. His expression still appears fairly neutral on the outside, though the look in his dark grey eyes is one of understanding.
The heavy cloud eases on her somewhat, alleviated with knowing she isn’t the only one with one. She offers a small smile in return before settling back into comfortable silence with him.
Another chill passes through the graveyard. The two move slightly closer to each other without a word, their shoulders pressing together in the smallest form of contact.
