After Remus had woken up, Dee waved him off to go back to the compartment with his friends, he would meet up with him in a minute. Then he made some comment about needing to pee and that seemed to do the trick. Except, the minute the door closed behind Remus, Deaglán curled himself into a ball and pressed as hard against the wall as he could. The tips of his fingers felt like they were tingling and his stomach was in absolute knots. If he could take back most of the last few hours he could. The whole talk with Remus, then James, then Peter, then, then, then, people just kept coming. People that didn’t care about him, just the boy sleeping on his leg. He should have kept his mouth shut, shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, none of it.
In the depths of his anxiety, Deaglán never heard the compartment door open or a voice directed at him. He could only feel the tears threatening his eyes and the gentle quaking of his hands. It wasn’t until he caught the form of a person out of the corner of his eye that he jumped and looked up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. Can I help you?” The form was still blurry through Dee’s tears, so he didn’t know who it was.
