Time and space cannot replace this feeling

"-oh!"

Clair's voice was loud enough to wake him up.  He lazily slipped a hand between his thighs, while he etched the rapidly fading dream onto his mind.

Once the job was done, he rolled out of bed and headed for the shower.  Or rather, the mirror.  There wasn't enough time in the mornings to spend hours examining your reflection, but he only needed a glance to see that he looked exactly like he'd hoped not to.  

He lifted a hand and traced over the bags under his eyes.  His face was no longer wet, but he could see the marks.  And even if he hadn't, he could feel it in his throat and chest.

He stepped into the shower.  Did his thing.  Stepped out.  He was still a bit flushed, but he could live with that.  He wasn't a first year hiding from his brother anymore.  

Down in the common room, there was hardly anyone else about, except a few night owls who'd passed out studying and were only now making their way up to the dorms.

Clair settled down on a couch and began reading.

Margo was seriously considering flunking her classes and sticking around another year. Lily Potter had done it - she certainly could. She would be even better than Lily at it, especially if she tried. It was probably the only way she could beat the Potter girl, in truth. That could be fun. Something to lord over her. And Merlin the look on her parents' faces. And her brothers' jokes! Those were enough to make her seriously consider it.

The only problem was the rules. Out in the real world she might have bills and a job, but she wouldn't have a curfew, wouldn't have to be careful about tiptoeing into bed drunk.

Right. That was the whole start of that line of thought.

Kathryn Jericho hadn't really meant it. Somewhere Margo knew that. It was something friends said, especially the friend you could get plastered with while she studied. Kathryn had gotten two and a half essays done in the time it took Margo to finish the bottle of wine, and that said a lot more about how quickly Kathryn could write than it did Margo's drinking speed. And that wasn't even counting the bottle of vodka she had done a number on.

Kathryn hadn't meant it, but there it stuck. "Man, I wish you weren't graduating."

The girls had stumbled back to the dorms but Margo had the spins, so half an hour later she was descending the steps, her heel missing the final one, making her slide until she landed on the step on her arse, causing a laugh to burst out of her lips. She clapped her hands over her mouth and giggled into it, before steeling herself once more and standing up. She dropped her arms, her hands lifted slightly aloft like a model.

And glide.

Merlin was she in luck.

She could tell him because even the back of his ears brooded. She used the spins to her advantage, circling the couch so she could flop against the arm rest, back hitting the cushions as the back of her head landed square in his lap. She reached up a hand towards his face, wanting to squeeze his cheeks. "You need to be tipsy like me."

Tipsy. That was a laugh.

Clair snapped the paperback shut and used it to fend off Margo's grasping fingers.  His morning had become almost calm, so obviously, fate would throw her at him.  Them's the rules.

"Some of us know better than to get tipsy before midday," he said.  "What've you been up to?"

He tried to keep his tone light, but he wasn't just asking from curiosity, though there was plenty of that too.  Clair never drank before midday.  He never drank alone.  If Margo was just as careful, then she was a damn fine actress along with it.

She pouted a bit but dropped her hands, stretching to find a more comfortable spot for her head on his leg. She narrowed her eyes and tried to read the book in his hands hands, trying to read it before giving up.

She let out a long yawn, absolutely graceless in execution. "Couldn't sleep. Or, stay asleep rather. Dragged Kathryn out of bed so we could hang out. That was at like... four a.m. I think? Thought some wine might help put me to bed. But now I can't sleep because it's too boring."

She squinted suspiciously at him. "Why are you up so early?"

"Uh huh," Clair responded. "Sounds like a good way to end up an alcoholic."

He doubted Margo would care. Maybe he had a new errand for Darcy. That kid was turning out to be way more useful than he'd anticipated.

"I couldn't sleep either. Weird dreams."

Margo frowned up at him. Coming from most people, she would have laughed and made some sort of joke about alcoholism being synonymous with good party times. But Clair didn't hold his punches with her. As far as she knew, they were honest with each other.

"Well, you're in a mood."

And it was perhaps a bit more defensive than she meant it to be.

She gave him a bit of a reproachful look as she asked, "What kind of dreams?"

"I am not in a mood."

He wasn't. Not until Margo came bouncing in here with her laissez-faire attitude toward alcohol consumption. All things in moderation. It was the only thing he'd ever taken his father's advice about.

What kind of dreams? He didn't want to tell her. It would be so much more convenient if she'd known legilimency and could see it for herself. Because it wasn't that Clair didn't want her to know, exactly, he just didn't want to have to say words, to try to describe it, and inevitably fall short and make the whole thing seem ridiculous in the light of day.

He sighed.

"Julian."

That would get her attention.

She once again hit a brick wall with him and her lips tightened, not in her usual look of playful judgement. If she had been able to see herself, she might have seen a familiar look, one often worn by her mother when Margo had to face the latest consequences of her actions. And if she had seen this, it would have horrified her.

But she sat up, giving him a reproachful look, swinging her legs forward so she didn't have to look at him. "Fine," she said, trying to sound lightly. She put her palms on the edge of the sofa, ready to push off and leave him alone with his thoughts and the mood he claimed he didn't have.

But then he said it. And her head whipped towards him so quickly that her neck would be sore the next day. And with the most serious look she could keep, she said, "Tell."

"Don't look so excited," Clair smiled. "I told you, it was weird, not... whatever you're thinking."

"We were on a beach, I think. I know there was a pier, but I didn't see it. It was one of those dreams where I just knew things, y' know?"

"Anyway, Julian was there, and at first he didn't know I was there, and I had to try and find him. Or catch him, or stop him from doing something. It was like, I knew if I didn't catch up with him, I'd never see him again."

That wasn't exactly what it had been like, but it was the closest explanation he could come up with that would make any sense.

"And then something happened. There was a time lapse, or it turned into another dream or something. But then, he was right there, only about a metre away, but he was facing away from me. I could have said something, but I didn't because I knew he knew I was there. And it was like, I suddenly knew he'd known I was looking for him the entire time. And then he started walking away, and I was just willing him to turn around, and he didn't."

Clair forced out a laugh and scratched the back of his neck. He'd known telling Margo about the dream would sound weird, but that last part sounded way more pathetic than he'd anticipated.

"See? It's dumb."