Filling An Empty Bed
(EDEMIA)
Drummond expresses his grief as he talks about his late wife's death with his fiancé, Pomfrey.
Drummond found himself lightly shaking as he stood in the doorway to his bedroom. A bedroom he had hardly slept in in years. His fiancé laid curled up on the bed, her wings draped over the bed sheets, wearing an elegant nightgown. A horrible sense of despair and foreboding clawed at his chest as he gently shut the door and flicked off the lights. The room now only illuminated by the lamp at his bedside. Pomfrey smiled at him, then, seeing his expression, frowned.
"Drummond dear, is something wrong? You look sick."
Drummond's knees wobbled as he dragged himself toward that horrible bed. He wished he could enjoy the sight of Pomfrey lying there so beautifully, but instead it only hurt him more. He felt as though all his energy left him as he fell into the bed. Pomfrey quickly scooted over to him, cradling his head in her arms. Drummond looked up at her through blurry, tearful eyes. "Drummond?" She asked, her face plastered with concern. A tear ran down Drummond's cheek.
"I've slept alone for fourteen years, Pomfrey." He whispered. "The last- ..." He couldn't speak. A fit of sobs slipped out at he tried to. Pomfrey pulled him closer. "...The last time I shared this bed with someone, she was dead when I woke up!" Drummond wrapped his arms around Pomfrey and squeezed her, burying his snout in her feathers. An unreasonable, but burning fear that the same thing would happen again tortured him. But Pomfrey's chest continued to rise and fall, and her heart continued to beat. She ran her talons through his fur and rubbed his back, gently hushing him.
"...You don't need to force yourself Drummond... I know it's hard." Pomfrey whispered after a few moments of letting him weep.
"She was all there when we went to bed. She was weak, but alive. And warm. And when I woke up, she was as cold as a stone in my arms." He continued, blubbering. Pomfrey still didn't know what to say, so she just squeezed him harder. Enveloping him in her wings. She scooted him around, adjusting his position and placing his head against her chest and his hand at her waist.
Running her hands through his hair and stroking him, she spoke. "Well I'm not going anywhere, Drummond. You don't need to worry about me."
The couple laid together that night in that bed, clinging to each other. Pomfrey almost as sleepless as Drummond. Thoughts of the past and anxieties of the future plaguing them. Another struggling step toward healing, and a new love. But progress all the same.