Restless [Curse/Arianna]

[Max Kameren]

Place Hogwarts | Time July 2023 | Characters Involved Arianna Kameren, Curse Kameren

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“Hmm. I don’t see it.”

“What do you mean you don’t see it?” Arianna’s brow furrowed, fingers grazing her swollen belly anxiously as she watched Curse’s green gaze dart across the page.

“Germania was hardly the only nomadic wizard people with runic tree rituals.”

Arianna’s brow furrowed from confusion to displeasure, dark eyes narrowing as she tried to decipher his analysis. “Their writings are the oldest documented case yet discovered, and there’s plenty of indication that the other Gaul nations likely adapted their rituals from Germania in a westward motion.”

“What about the Galati rituals?”

“That’s Third Century!” Arianna exclaimed, pushing herself further up in bed to rifle through the ream of parchment in her husband’s hands. “Did you even read the preface?!”

Bed rest was doing little for Arianna’s temper; though the couple agreed they wanted more children and were thrilled to find out she was pregnant, the process since had been anything but smooth. After bouts of cramping worried not only them but also the Healers, Arianna was prescribed – or sentenced, in her opinion – bed rest for the next few weeks to attempt to get their daughter over the finish line to a healthy birth. After the trauma of losing Ashlynn years earlier Ari was determined to do whatever was asked of her. If she had to forego teaching in favor of writing a few academic essays on bed rest so be it.

“I read the preface,” Curse replied as he pulled the pages from reach, “but the Galati rituals are also tree based, and even with two centuries between them topography could suggest they were independent – “

“They may be nomads but they’re still wizards!” Arianna exclaimed, leaning over further to snatch the pages out of her husband’s hands. Her dark eyes were firey with agitation as they darted along the neatly typed lines, trying to decipher how Curse’s thought process could have gone so far astray. “I specifically mention that the two regions share a commonality in their base characters – “

Suddenly Arianna stopped, her eyes narrowing as they flashed up to her husband. “Wait – are you being deliberately thick just to bother me?” His evil grin told her all she needed. Arianna rolled up the papers and whapped him hard on the shoulder and accenting her words each time she made contact. “I asked for a peer review, not a devil’s advocate!”

His hoarse laughter only fueled her fire and she finished him off with a particularly hard smack from the rolled-up papers before unfurling them and tucking them back between her arms and her pregnant belly. His laughing stopped and his gaze refocused on her. She met his eyes but her smile faltered when she stopped to really take a look at him. A hand rose up and cupped his cheek, running a gentle thumb over one of the dark circles that seemed to be etched below his eyes. “How’s Max doing, love? Still not sleeping?”

[Max Kameren]

“How’s Max doing, love? Still not sleeping?”

Just the question seemed to make Curse deflate into the exhaustion he was attempting to suppress, melting down to lay on the bed. His focus on his wife’s concerns look glazed over and his green eyes instead chipped into the arched stonework of the ceiling.

With only his work life Curse was already overloaded. Potions Master had been simple enough, but taking the mantle of Ravenclaw Head of House turned him from a father of soon-to-be-two to two hundred. As it turned out Mosrael had nothing on two second-year Ravenclaw girls out for blood. Add onto that the needs Siara had for her Deputy Headmaster, preparation for Curse and Arianna’s daughter, and now complications leaving the ongoing rebuilding of their home in Godric’s Hollow in his hands as well. Curse’s days were so full he didn’t get peace and quiet until he closed himself up in his quarters at night.

But then there was Max, the poor kid. Where the War had left their home destroyed and Curse physically disabled, Max came back a different. The sweet, carefree 10-year-old he had been when they met was gone, his youthful optimism replaced with constant fear of separation. Even under Hogwarts’ fortress of spellwork and with Curse only in the dungeons the fear reached him. When he slept Mosrael’s hands reached for him again, and again he was trapped in darkness. His night terrors got progressively worse over the coming year. Once his episodes started putting himself and other students in danger the Gryffindor Head of House thought it best Max sleep with Curse nearby.

It hadn’t helped much. “No, he screamed. Screamed. For over two hours; the therapist told me to try and wait him out but he lost his voice and started choking and I couldn’tjust leavehimthatway – “ Curse’s words ran together and he covered his eyes to hide from the horror of the memory. To Curse, there was no sound worse than Max’s screams. There was no greater pain than hearing him suffer and not being able to soothe him.

Curse took a breath, his tone evening. “When I opened the door he woke up and went into another panic attack, so I held him until it passed. After that he was so exhausted that he passed right out, but then I couldn’t sleep…”