#i was sort of thinking harry?? or remus?? maybe?? just bc i mention social expectations and preconceived notions

[quuma]

“SILENCE SPEAKS THE LOUDEST”

[not proof read - just forewarning you LOL goodluck,, there's likely many mispellings and inconsistencies in structure and past/present tense]

“silence speaks the loudest.”

a phrase that the boy had never fully understood. how could the lack of noise ever make comment? ever express itself? [he was never one to enjoy symbolism – preferring the objectiveness of facts. unfortunately, symbolism was something he needed to know for his final assessments. when one does not understand, they can do nothing but learn. alas, he had to try.]

sitting together in the common room one late night, air weighed down by the pressure of the upcoming O.W.L.s - silent, still; thinking. him, gaze fixed straight ahead, enraptured by the glowing fire in front of him, parchment and quill long abandoned and spilling in waves onto the cold floor below. [his hand aches, as does his head. unintelligible words bounce around, vaguely connecting to others before disappearing. he can’t remember anything he’s read in the past 2 hours.] you, tucked away in a corner, scribbled work illuminated only by a curtain of reflected moonlight creeping through the alcove windows and the lone candle melting above. drip, drip. the flame almost tickles the end of the wick – forewarning of the late hour. but neither of you make any sudden movement that suggests the intention of leaving anytime soon.

the room had once been full, bustling with frazzled teenagers and their shared confusion. shouts of questions juxtaposing aggressive hushes for silence. his friends had once been there too, now long retired to the comforting confines of their bedsheets. he cannot help but be jealous. [but a small part of him is guiltily glad to be away from them. don’t get him wrong, he loves his friends and fellow housemates, but sometimes he just needs space.]

seconds pass. minutes pass. wax drips to the floor one final time, announcing light’s departure. his eyelids struggle to remain open - fighting a losing battle - but his hands are still. his gaze is finally torn from the hypnotic fire, lethargically flicking around in a half-hearted attempt at waking himself of the enticing trance that orange light brings. they eventually reach you. you, now staring back at him.

the two of you had never been particularly close. it was no personal slight against one another, of course. you were friends of friends - skirting the edges of one another’s social groups, but never each other. there was simply no need to. no magical spark, no unexplainable invisible might bringing you together, no forced proximity in classes – he didn’t think he’d ever even accidently locked eyes with you before this.

silence. a heavy sigh escaped a pair of lips [he couldn’t tell if it had been yours or his, mind too fuzzy from hours of memorising equations, wand movements, and literary techniques.]

no words passed through that night air, but the message was still clear.

you looked away. so did he. movement ensued once more; quills flicking lethargically, eyes hesitantly blinking, the crackle of the fire filling the air.

silence, silence.

time had continued to run its course.

the night (or morning, as the faint light of dawn had replaced the moonlight) had ended with you suddenly rising from your chair, startling the boy from the half-asleep daze he hadn’t even realised he had slipped in to. upon realising that you were leaving, he too clumsily collected his things and stood. by the time he was done (which, admittedly, took an embarrassingly long amount of time. but who could blame him? he was attempting to function off less than an hour’s worth of half-conscious sleep) you were long gone. the sound of the common room door thumping gently behind you, paired with your fading tip-toed footsteps were all that reached him.

in the hours, days, months after that moment of eye contact, that moment of mutual understanding, nothing eventful followed. there were no sudden deep discussions, there were no shared inside jokes – but there was that passing moment. there was that presence. there was that tranquillity. there was that shared struggle of staying awake. there was the recognition of unspoken words; “i’m glad was not alone. i’m glad it was you. no expectations, no forced discussion, no preconceived notions. just two people, sitting, experiencing; living. normal, together. thank you.”

no words ever of acknowledgment of that moment ever cross either of your lips – no one admits the comfort of that silent scene. [but there are now locked gazes. there are now small smiles shared. there is now proximity. the social circles you two skirted are now closer, closing in on one another.]

but you both know. you know, he knows.

he thinks he understands now.