The nightmares had never really left, Sloane had just stopped telling anyone about them. There wasn’t exactly anything she or those around her could really do about it. Most of the time she could breathe through it, could shake herself from the wisps of cold and suffocation long enough to pull out of the fear.

Tonight was different though, she was caught, stuck in the paralyzing fear that she was slipping under again. It felt so juvenile to sneak down the hall to her mother’s room and seek solace there. She was eighteen, an adult. Her brothers wouldn’t understand, they (well maybe not Harry) were all haunted by their own demons.

Sitting in her bed shaking was getting her nowhere, it was getting worse the longer she sat there and thought about it, the longer she dithered about how to get it to stop. Standing on unsteady legs, she didn’t even bother to toss on a dressing gown, or slippers, even with the cold outside. Sloane looked out her window only for a moment before flinging it open and closed behind her, clumsily crossing the branches to Lester’s room sheerly by muscle memory. She hadn’t thought to look to see what time it was, but it must have been the middle of the night, his light was off, but thankfully his window unlocked as she crept in.

This was madness, probably the worst decision she could have made, but she didn’t know what else to do. Her entry must have roused him, but Sloane didn’t wait for an invitation, carefully she climbed over him and crawled beneath the covers, situating herself snugly between him and the wall as if it was the safest place she could find. ”I can’t get it to stop.” She explained, holding her shaking hands between them, tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

"I had a nightmare," she whispered, barely audible. He was close enough to hear though, and it crossed her mind that she had crossed a line, but she couldn't think right now. "I can usually handle them," she went on, hands still shaking though her limbs had started to warm up a little. "But I feel like I'm drowning and I can't reach the surface. It's dark and suffocating and I can't get out of it." The more she talked about it the further she felt herself getting pulled under again.

Sloane looked at him helplessly, but she couldn't really see him. It was more  like she saw past him into the dark waters of the lake; the kelp and the creatures around the edges; the lightning flashing overhead. Her head ached and she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyebrows as if it would help but she just felt herself slipping further and further down.

The light caused her to flinch and though she could focus a little better she shook her head at it. Somebody might notice if there was a light on in his room at this time of night and she didn't want to be found here. "I don't know, Lester, I don't." If she'd known how to handle this she wouldn't be here right now. Her tone was a little miserable, anguished almost.

Her hands flattened out against her cheeks, still trembling throughout her entire body. Subconsciously she leaned into him, needing the grounding nature of  the contact, the warmth of something, someone to pull her back from the depths of her memories. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." This was a gross breach of their friendship, she'd crossed a line and she knew it, but she didn't know what else she could possibly do.