Chapter Text
Chapter Thirty-Two
Two Years Later
Adulthood.
It aches by, a mundane combination of bill paying, throbbing joints, and alcohol on the weekends. Men ain’t shit and women can’t be friends with each other, and no, Mom, I don’t want to have kids. Your Dad dies, but you don’t go to his funeral, because your relationship was non-existent and the phone goes both ways.
You work fifty hours a week for pennies on the dollar, and you cry to the car dealership on the phone begging them not to repossess your car. You binge-watch your favorite TV shows, and turn your streaming services off when you can’t afford them every other month. Your bank overdrafts at the end of each paycheck, your situationship ghosts you again, and you don’t go to the doctor because you’re afraid to make appointments over the phone.
Everything seems so complicated when you’re an adult, doesn’t it?
Hermione smiled down at her phone, reading the news article again. She’d never tire of it. Reading that Cormac, Carrow, and the others had gotten prison time was the sweetest back-to-college gift she could have ever received. They deserved to rot in there.
Still. Having to read her victim impact statement at Cormac’s sentencing had affected her more than she thought it would, and as such, she had been avoiding everyone as much as possible. If Draco didn’t live with her, she’d be avoiding him, too.
“Hermione, wait up!”
Hermione pretended she hadn’t heard Draco’s pleading, continuing her brisk pace down the sidewalk. The streetlights were dim, only barely illuminating the way beneath the moonless sky. A slight breeze was playing with Hermione’s fresh box braids, bringing with it the humid scent of rain, but she didn’t care.
Draco finally caught up with Hermione and rushed forward so he could step in front of her. Hermione glowered up at him, tear tracks staining her cheeks. He placed his hands on her shoulders and spoke.
“Why did you run away?” he asked.
Hermione looked away, pulling up her hood. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” Draco insisted, grabbing tight hold of her wrist.
“Let. Go,” Hermione hissed dangerously, narrowing her eyes. She didn’t like being so cruel toward Draco, but every time he touched her, her entire body screamed that he was going to hurt her. She’d had years of therapy and still, it had done nothing to heal her body’s knee-jerk trauma responses.
Draco’s face fell and his grey eyes shone through the darkness. He brought his hands to his sides and looked into her eyes for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do next. Hermione only stared back at him, her muscles tensed to run. She didn’t like feeling threatened by the man she loved, but she couldn’t help it. Not after she had nearly been murdered.
“Please don’t shut me out, Hermione,” Draco whimpered finally, rubbing the back of his neck gingerly and grimacing.
Hermione turned around and kept walking. Draco followed her, but this time, Hermione didn’t tell him not to. They walked in silence together all the way to the beach, up rural dirt roads and new suburban streets. They passed the ice cream shop from their childhood, and the movie theater that had showcased one-dollar movies when they were in elementary school. When they got to the beach, Hermione took off her shoes, left them on the parking lot pavement, and then padded softly across the sand.
The water was icy cold against her toes, but Hermione didn’t care. It was a refreshing reprieve from the constant burning she felt in every part of her body. She felt the waves licking her ankles and she closed her eyes, tilting her face up to the stars. She loved these waters. They reminded her of simpler times, before everything fell apart. They reminded her of when Draco was just a clumsy boy, trying to kiss her out in the ocean. Or of the time Draco had almost drowned because Cormac tricked him into jumping into the water from the dock when he had a broken leg from skateboarding, and Hermione had had to swim to save him. Yes, there were a lot of memories in these waters. A lot of memories for both of them.
“Do you remember that time, Draco?” Hermione suddenly spoke in a dreamy tone, eyes closed. The stars were so cold, so far away…how easy their lives must be, safe from all harm save their lifespan.
“Hm?” Draco had discarded his shoes on the shore and was now standing a little ways behind her.
“I said, do you remember that time? That time that we camped on the beach?”
Draco chuckled slightly. “Yeah. If I remember correctly, your mom made us bring two separate tents because she didn’t want us sleeping together.”
Hermione couldn’t help but giggle. “And you tried to roast marshmallows, but you couldn’t get them on the sticks without totally squishing them.”
“Shit, I remember that, too! And hey, it’s not like you were a better cook. I distinctly remember hot dogs so black that they crumbled like charcoal.”
Then, as soon as they had come, the positive feelings that filled her emptied out all at once, leaving Hermione feeling hollow and mournful. The corners of her lips tugged downward and she lowered her gaze to the starlight-illuminated waters.
“Hey,” Draco said softly. He hesitantly reached out for her hand, but Hermione flinched away from him. He was visibly hurt, and he scratched the back of his scalp awkwardly. “Your food tastes good now, so don’t be sad over the fact that you didn’t do a good job back then. I’m happy that you make me dinner every night.”
Hermione turned away from him. She was sure he knew that her inability to whip delicious hot dogs up from scratch when she was twelve was not the reason why she was so suddenly upset. She gulped hard, struggling not to start crying again. Crying never got her anywhere, anyway.
“Hermione?” Draco whispered, his voice shaking slightly.
“Draco?” she acknowledged.
“I’m sorry.”
Hermione’s brow furrowed, but she remained facing out to sea. “For what?”
“For not making you feel safe.”
At this, Hermione clenched her fists. “Draco, we already talked about this with the psychologist. What happened to me, it wasn’t your fault. The stuff with Cormac, and the first time Cassius kidnapped me—none of that was your doing.”
“That isn’t what I meant.” Something in his voice had changed, and Hermione turned around in spite of herself. His eyes were glowing, shining with sparkling tears against the pools of endless grey. His white-blond hair was all over the place, falling into his eyes and sticking up in every direction. Now that she was gazing at him intently, she could see that he had cut some weight in the gym recently. His face was planes of sharp angles, though it only served to add to his handsome looks.
“Then what did you mean?” Hermione breathed.
“Hermione, I have done nothing but fail you,” Draco choked out, those shimmering tears threatening to fall. His fists were clenched at his sides but he was looking directly at her.
“Draco—” she started.
“No, let me finish,” he begged. “You don’t understand. I have done nothing but break all of my promises and hurt you. I’ve neglected you as my friend and my girlfriend, and I’ve let you slip through my fingers way too often. And every time you do, you get hurt. I swore to myself after I found you in that bathtub that I would never let you get hurt again, and I…I…” He began to weep bitterly, jamming his knuckles across his eyes viciously. When he looked at Hermione again, this time she saw a burning fire in his eyes that she recognized in her own heart.
Self-hatred.
Draco continued shakily, “And I just tried so hard to do it all the right way, Hermione. I’ve loved you for so long that I just wanted to keep you safe. I did whatever Cormac told me to do because I didn’t want him to hurt you. I pushed you away and kept you at a distance because I thought I was doing the right thing. When I helped cover up my uncle’s death, I thought I was helping protect you. And when Carrow almost killed you, the first thing I thought to do was put myself in front of you. I...” He was crying hard now, his entire body shaking as he sunk to the ocean and knelt in the foot-deep waters.
Hermione stood there, tears of her own beginning to course slowly down her cheeks. Draco had martyred himself for her sake, and she had nothing to give him in return but her weakness.
“Hermione, I don’t know how to—” His voice caught and he gazed up at Hermione on his knees on the sandy floor. He reached for her hands and held them, and it looked for all the world like he was about to propose to her. Tears flowed out of his eyes like waterfalls. “I don’t know how to ask for your forgiveness. I don’t know if you’ll ever find it in your heart to forgive me, or to trust me again. I wasn’t there for you. God, I wish I was there…”
Hermione wanted to speak, but she found that the words wouldn’t come to her mouth properly. She had a feeling that if she opened her mouth, she would erupt into a volcano of tears and emotions that might never cease. She loved Draco so much in that moment that she felt like her heart would dissolve. He was showing her the deepest parts of himself right now. He was laying it all out on the line for her, even more so than the many times he’d risked his life for her sake.
“Hermione, I love you,” Draco whimpered, hanging his head and weeping harder. “I would die for you. I would throw myself in front of a moving train if it meant you would be happy. I would—”
Unable to stand it any longer, Hermione fell to her knees in the bone-chillingly cold water and cupped his face in her hands. She searched his sad, sad eyes.
“Draco, I forgive you,” Hermione said sincerely, wiping his tears away with her thumbs. “I forgave you a long time ago, but I will say it again because I think you really need to hear it right now. And I also think that you need to stop for a second and breathe. I’m not hurt, all right? I’m okay.”
It took him a few moments to calm down but even as he did, he still clung to her.
“Don’t worry about me,” Draco said, seeming more than a little embarrassed at his breakdown. “I’m okay. Wanna head home?”
“Can we just sit on the shore for a bit, and look at the stars?” Hermione asked hopefully, gazing up at the twinkling jewels above them.
Draco studied her face for a long moment, a small smile on his features. His face glinted from the drying tear tracks on his face, though he was no longer upset. He wrapped one arm around Hermione’s shoulder and nuzzled his cheek against her hair.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Hermione couldn’t help but smile, turning her attention back to the quiet night, the salty sea air, the whispering waves, and the shining stars. There were many times that she had watched the stars with Draco, but never had it felt like this. Those times, Draco had only been her friend, and the unspoken feelings between them had made things tense, awkward, and over-sensitive. Now that their feelings were solidified, watching the stars with him on this beautiful, clear, moonless night was simply and romantically lovely.
She was sure she would not forget this night, not ever.
Later, Draco had to gently shake Hermione awake so they could get up to leave. Sleepily, she yawned and smiled up at him. He was standing up, holding out his hand to help her. She wordlessly took it and he helped her to her feet. They stood there for a long moment, hands entwined and eyes fixated upon one another.
They set off for the parking lot to retrieve Hermione’s forgotten shoes, their sides pressing close to one another and their hands brushing lightly. Every time their fingers touched, Hermione felt an electric shock running up her spine. Something about Draco always made her feel butterflies, and it was intensified with what a peaceful night they’d ended up having.
The walk home was slow and serene, their conversation quiet and their fingers laced. Hermione had her free hand wrapped around the arm of his hand that she was holding, holding him close. For the first time in a long time, she actually felt normal. To any outsider, they would appear to be a young college-age couple on a simple evening stroll after a nice beach date. There was no fear, no anger, no sadness. Only peace.
“So have you written any new songs?” Hermione asked.
Draco nodded, and his hair tickled the top of Hermione’s head. “A couple. But I haven’t showed them to anyone or figured out any melodies. So I don’t think we’ll be able to perform any of them tomorrow.”
“Do you have any ideas what you guys might like to do for your set?”
“Oh, I don’t know. We have a couple of old songs that were Kyo’s favorite to play,” Draco said with a wistful grin. “And I think there was one song Blaise really wants to do with Theo’s new stuff.”
“Good idea, Draco,” Hermione said, patting his arm fondly. They rounded another corner and were on their home street.
“There’s a little guitar solo I love to do at the end, you know.”
“I think that’s perfect,” Hermione said, sliding her hand down to clasp Draco’s between both of hers. “I think you might feel a bit of closure if you perform, as hard as it might be. Since Blaise is leaving, and everything. You’ll find someone to take Blaise’s place, I’m sure.”
“You’re right,” Draco agreed. They were almost home. “And maybe watching me perform will get your mind off of…things, at least for a bit.”
“Yeah,” Hermione said softly. She didn’t want to think about things. She wanted to have her mind utterly and totally eclipsed by Draco. He was the only one who could make her forget about the nightmares her victim impact statement had brought up.
“Well, when we get inside, I guess I better go join them.” He gestured to the window on the far left of the front of the house, the room where the studio was. The light was on, and loud, heavy guitar riffs and laughter could be heard coming from within.
“Do you have to join them right away?” Hermione asked innocently as they ever-so-slowly reached the front door. Hermione was in front of Draco, so she stopped on the welcome mat and turned around to face him. He loomed over her, over six feet tall and looking devilishly handsome in the light coming from the windows.
Draco slowly moved forward, walking Hermione backward until her back hit the front door. Just as slowly, he placed one hand on the wood next to her head and used the other one to caress her cheekbone. His smile was the smile of a trickster.
“Why?” he asked quietly. “You got something you wanna get into?”
Hermione nodded her head, her hands hanging limp at her sides. She gazed up at Draco through her lashes. If there was one thing that could rid her mouth of the taste of sadness, it was Draco’s lips. She wanted to feel the desire coil in the pit of her stomach. She wanted him to caress her gently. She wanted him to paint lines of passion on her skin that burned like flame, wanted him to go slow as he truly showed her his love for her. She couldn’t believe her thoughts were going in this direction, but she wanted so desperately to erase the memories of Cormac that she was craving Draco’s body in a way she never had before.
Draco leaned down to brush his lips against hers ever-so-slightly, breathing a laugh when her over-heightened senses caused her to gasp. He brought his hand to the side of her throat, where his fingers grazed her lightly.
“I want to erase him from your skin,” Draco whispered. “Will you let me?”
Hermione nodded once and then tilted her head to expose the other side of her tender throat. Draco kissed her lightly once, twice, thrice, moving his way up her neck and down her jaw. She felt her muscles tensing with lust as her thoughts of him intensified and she brought a shaking hand up to the back of his head, combing his hair lightly. Draco hummed pleasantly at the feeling of her fingers on his scalp, and he breathed hotly into her ear. She shivered and arched her back up into him.
“I want you,” Hermione said in a small voice.
“I’m already yours,” he whispered into her ear, causing yet another shock to ripple throughout her body. He nibbled on the outer shell of her ear, and the sensations were so overwhelming that Hermione’s mouth fell open. It took everything she had in her not to cry out, due to the fact that the TV in the living room was on, and Lavender could be heard chatting amiably with Imani and Romilda. All three were visiting for the sleepover they were supposed to be having.
“Draco,” Hermione hissed when he pulled the neck of her hoodie aside and kissed her bare shoulder. She twisted her hand in the front of his shirt.
“What?” he teased innocently, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her ear.
Hermione whimpered. “Let’s go inside, to your room. P-please.”
“Are you sure?”
“I want to forget,” she breathed. “I want you to make me forget.”
That seemed to be all he needed to hear, because quick as a flash and all while looking deep into her eyes, he reached behind her and opened the front door. Hermione grabbed his hands and continued to walk backward in the direction of their room, the two of them so lost in each other’s eyes that they didn’t even hear Lavender greeting them. Not even Memory’s excited yipping or Blaise hollering at Draco down the hall from the studio could interrupt their little world.
Draco shut the door behind them, plunging them into darkness. He kissed her hungrily, giving her no second chances to breathe or change her mind. Hermione barely managed to get a word in edgewise as he started to tear at her clothes.
“Draco, wait,” she whispered, and he stopped immediately.
“Do you want to stop?” he sounded a bit panicked. “We can stop if you want. I’m sorry...I was moving too fast, I...”
“No,” Hermione said, smiling even though she didn’t think he could see it in the dark room. “What I mean is...go slow.”
Draco was silent, and then Hermione felt his fingers against the side of her cheek. They traveled down, down, down. Along her collarbones, the swell of her shoulder, the crest of her breast, and stopped at her hip. Slowly, he tugged her flush against him and kissed her just the way she wanted him to. His tongue delved deeply into her mouth, studying every inch of her. Hermione moaned into him, tangling her fingers in his hair and keeping the pace slow. It was driving her insane in the best kind of way, and she could already feel the yearning gathering between her legs.
Hermione felt one of Draco’s strong hands running down the length of her back, cupping her left buttocks and massaging gently. It made Hermione gasp and kiss him harder, pulling his lips as close to hers as she possibly could. She loved this man so much. She loved him for everything about him, everything he loved, everything he said, everything he was.
“Tell me what you want,” Draco panted raggedly, stroking her sides as he kissed her throat delicately. “I’ll give you anything you want of me.”
“Make love to me,” Hermione breathed, looking up at him pleadingly. “Please, Draco.”
Draco grabbed her hips roughly for a moment, as though her words had nearly made him snap, but shakily, he took a breath and guided her over to their bed. He laid her down as light as a feather, and she relaxed back into the pillows contentedly. Draco straddled her hips, his fingertips lightly tickling the skin at the hem of her hoodie. He lifted it off over her head, leaving her upper body nude. Hermione closed her eyes and tried not to moan loudly when he started tracing lines in her skin up the length of her torso. He cupped her breasts simultaneously, grinding his hips against hers and leaning down to kiss the flat expanse of her chest between them. Her spine arched.
“You like it like this, don’t you?” he marveled quietly.
Hermione tried to speak, but found that she couldn’t. Draco’s thumbs were flicking her nipples lightly, making her cunt throb. He had never before made her feel this way. Normally they were a whirlwind of clothes being tossed around, biting and grinding, moaning and torturing each other, one dominating the other. Now, Draco had all the power in his hands. Hermione was giving herself to him in a way she hadn’t ever given herself to anyone before, and she hoped he didn’t shatter her gift.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Hermione,” Draco said softly, kissing her ear a few times as he continued to play with her breasts. He kissed them each affectionately before he sat up on her hips and pulled his shirt off. There was no trace of a smile on his face as he leaned down again to catch her mouth in another mind-numbing, toe-curling kiss. This time, Hermione couldn’t hold back her moans, and she ran her fingers lightly down his bare back. He shuddered and sighed against her mouth, placing his hands on either side of her on the mattress, boxing her in.
“Draco, please,” Hermione murmured. “Touch me. I want it to be you who does that to me, not him.”
Draco lifted himself up on his hands and knees, still on top of her, and reached between them. He dipped his hand beneath the waistband of her sweatpants and stroked her heated, wet core. It was enough to make Hermione’s mind spin out of control. She tried to spread her legs more, but the position of Draco’s legs on either side of hers made that impossible. She threw her head back and moaned his name, the sensations shooting through her body feeling like euphoria incarnate.
“Is this the way he touched you?” Draco asked, and Hermione detected the slightest hint of anger in his husky tone. “Slow like this?”
“No,” she practically sobbed. “Not like you.”
“I’m the only person who can make you feel like this, aren’t I?” Draco slipped two fingers inside of her, and she cried out in bliss. “Aren’t I?”
“Yes,” Hermione moaned, pressing her hips against his hand in rhythm with his movements. “Only you.”
“You’re mine, not his. You’re my precious girl,” Draco said, and he sounded sad.
“I’m yours,” Hermione placed one hand on his chest and raked her fingernails down his toned abdomen. She could feel the pleasure in her body growing and growing, swelling to that familiar release she so craved from Draco. This was nothing like the horrible things Cormac had done to her.
Suddenly, Draco pulled his fingers out of her, removed her pants, and unzipped his jeans before Hermione had even realized what happened. Hermione could feel him teasing the outside of her, and heat reached the apples of her cheeks. She wanted him so badly. She wanted him inside of her, where he could wash away her pain and sorrow with his love.
Draco hissed, one hand beside her head and the other on her hip as he looked down between them. He positioned himself at her entrance and looked at her through his hair. His grey eyes were dark with lust, and Hermione reached up to pull him down into a kiss. The second his lips met hers, he thrust himself inside of her so deep that Hermione thought they were one. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder.
“Please go slow, Draco,” she pleaded, tears filling her eyes at the sheer emotion thrumming through her veins.
“Sweetheart, don’t cry,” Draco whispered, turning his head so he could kiss her tears away. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t ever do to you what he did.”
Hermione nodded, nuzzling against his nose and kissing him. He growled low in the depths of his chest and began to move, setting up a torturously slow rhythm that made Hermione’s heart swell with each thrust. He was filling her to the brim, leaving no room for Cormac’s poison to thrive. He was suffocating all of the evil within her, bringing light with him to eradicate the darkness in her heart. Even though he’d asked her not to cry, she couldn’t help it. She loved him so much, too much for her to handle.
“Fuck,” Draco snarled through clenched teeth. It was a struggle for him to go slow. He was gripping her hip so hard that she was sure it was going to bruise. He continued to thrust deep into her, his body shuddering and slick with a light sheen of sweat. He was trying so hard to be careful with her.
“Oh, God, Draco,” Hermione moaned, throwing her arms over her head to grab the bars of the wooden headboard. She was done torturing him. “Draco.”
“Hermione, fuck, can I...can I...please?” he panted desperately. He paused in his movement, his heart beating loudly in the silence.
So Hermione said the words that she knew he wanted to hear.
“I want you to fuck me now, Draco,” she said in a contradictorily innocent tone, looking up into his eyes. “Take it all away. All of it.”
Her gaze hardened and she tightened her fingers around the headboard bars in preparation.
“Erase him.”
So Draco did just that. He threw all caution to the wind, sat up on his knees, grabbed hold of Hermione’s thighs, and rammed in and out of her so fast that she could hardly catch a breath. With every thrust, he hit that sweet spot inside of her that made her scream, and her eyelids fluttered shut. She sobbed loudly, not caring if the entire house heard them, and thought only of Draco and his wildly dancing hips. He leaned over her and buried his face in her neck, groaning loudly in her ear and making her whimper.
“You’re so tight,” Draco whined. “You feel so good. Such a good girl, laying there and taking it like that.”
“It f-feels—” Her breath caught in her throat and she cried out again. “It feels so g-good...”
“Yeah?”
Draco grinned mischievously and picked up his pace, hitting her hard and fast. He reached between them and massaged her clit ever-so-gently, a delicious contrast between his ferocious thrusting. She could feel her muscles twitching and tensing. She was close, and judging by his heavy, labored breathing and small moans, so was he.
“That’s it,” he whined, his head dropping back. “Take me just like that. Make me fucking come. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Hermione’s entire body stilled its movement as his thrusting became erratic and he moaned loud enough to rival her. She felt something inside of her snap and the ecstasy washed over her in intense, teeth-chattering, mind-numbing waves. She gasped and drew furrows of blood on his back as she clawed at him, pulling him in deeper as she climaxed just before he did. He collapsed against her, their sweat mingling and their hearts pounding in tune with one another.
They laid there, a tangle of limbs, for what felt like forever, listening to each other breathe. Hermione liked the way it felt to have him lying on her like this, tired and prone, as though he was relying completely on her for comfort. She combed her fingers gently through his hair, practically eliciting purrs from the depths of his chest.
“Hermione?” he said after a while.
“Hm?” she said, smiling contentedly.
“I’m so glad we’re together now. I can’t imagine my life without you, and I honestly don’t know what I would have done if things would have continued the way they were going.”
Hermione stayed silent. They both knew exactly what would have happened if things had continued, with Draco being cruel. She would be six feet under, having killed herself with a razor or a bottle of pills.
Draco rolled onto his side and propped himself up onto one elbow. He gazed down into Hermione’s eyes with more love and adoration in his eyes than she’d ever seen before. He cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone in an affectionate way.
“If things keep going the way they are like this, I think I might want to wake up next to you every day for the rest of my life.” His voice was strong and sure, his eyes pure. “I know we’re young, but...after everything we’ve been through and how long I’ve loved you, I...I hope we stay together long enough for me to make you my wife.”
Hermione’s heart stopped. “Are you proposing to me?”
“Not really. Sort of. I’m just letting you know how far I’m willing to take us, if circumstances allow.”
“I love you, Draco. I really, truly do,” Hermione whispered, tears filling her eyes. “I never thought I was worth anything; that nobody could ever love me. That I was useless. But you make me feel like I have meaning. So yes, to your ‘not-really-a-proposal’. Keep making me feel wanted and loving me, and maybe someday, I will become your wife. Someday.”
Draco instantly leaned down to steal a kiss, but a knock at the door interrupted them.
“Wow, okay,” came Abraxas’s voice from the other side of the door. “I’m pretty sure the last time I knocked on this door while you two were on the other side of it, I walked in on some hot action. Now, I’m damn sure there was some hot action going on, because you guys are loud as fuck. Now, Draco, are you coming to practice like you promised, or not? Kyo’s tribute show isn’t gonna practice itself.”
Draco rolled his eyes and sighed in amusement, rolling off of Hermione. He glanced at her briefly.
“Guess that’s my cue.” He sat up and moved to grab his jeans. “Why don’t you shower and go to sleep? I’ll come to bed after practice.”
“Okay,” Hermione said, patting his back fondly and crawling across the bed to grab her last used towel. “Make sure you don’t take too much time. You need your rest before the performance tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, swooping down for a chaste peck, and then leaving the room.
Hermione stood there for a moment, brushing her fingers over her lips. She was beginning to think that there was hope for her and Draco. That maybe someday they really could get married. She knew that it was silly to talk of marriage when they were still in college, but it was nice to have a dream to hold on to when all your other dreams had been shattered.
She headed to the shower, all images of Cormac replaced in her mind by images and memories of Draco. They would worry about their other problems tomorrow. At least for tonight, they could live normally.
At least for tonight, they could sleep with the light off.