hogwartsexpress

[hogwartsexpress]

i'm  just  happy  i  get  to  see  you,  to  meet  you.  the  words  hit  lila  like  a  blow  to  the  chest,  knocking  all  the  air  from  her  lungs.  she  wants  to  say  something  profound,  something  worthy  of  this  impossible  moment,  but  all  she  can  think  about  is  how  young  her  grandmother  looks  —  how  alive,  how  real,  how  devastatingly  present.  the  polaroid  photos  and  pensieve  memories  hadn't  done  her  justice.  they  hadn't  captured  the  way  she  practically  glowed  with  vitality,  hadn't  shown  how  her  eyes  sparked  with  that  particular  shade  of  green  that  lila  had  seen  in  her  father's  face  every  day  of  her  life.

"  i  —  "  she  starts,  then  stops,  her  voice  catching  on  all  the  things  she  can't  say.  i'm  sorry  burns  on  her  tongue,  bitter  as  firewhiskey.  i  brought  you  back  screams  in  her  head,  relentless.  i  didn't  mean  to  fights  to  escape  her  throat,  even  though  she  knows  it's  a  lie.  she  had  meant  to,  hadn't  she?  perhaps  not  her  specifically,  but  she'd  wished  for  it  all  the  same  —  dreamt  of  this  moment,  and  now  here  they  were,  grandmother  and  granddaughter,  mirror  images  separated  by  death  and  resurrection,  time  twisted  into  knots  that  could  never  be  undone.

her  hands  shake  as  she  summons  the  tea  service  —  her  favorite  set,  delicate  china  painted  with  golden  flowers.  she  focuses  on  the  familiar  motions,  on  measuring  out  the  leaves  and  heating  the  water,  anything  to  keep  from  drowning  in  the  weight  of  this  moment.  "  dad  used  to  tell  me  all  these  amazing  stories  about  you,  "  she  says  finally,  proud  of  how  steady  her  voice  remains  even  as  her  heart  threatens  to  break  free  of  her  chest.  "  about  how  brave  you  were.  how  fierce.  "

she  watches  her  grandmother's  hands  wrap  around  the  teacup,  warming  fingers  that  still  hold  death's  chill,  and  something  inside  her  cracks.  how  many  times  had  she  imagined  this?  sitting  across  from  the  woman  she  was  named  for,  sharing  tea  and  stories,  existing  in  the  same  space  instead  of  living  in  the  shadow  of  a  legacy?  the  guilt  rises  in  her  throat  like  bile,  but  she  swallows  it  back,  forces  herself  to  meet  those  familiar  green  eyes  that  she  sees  in  her  father's  face,  in  old  photographs,  in  her  nightmares.

"  i  always  wanted  to  make  you  proud,  "  she  whispers,  the  words  escaping  before  she  can  catch  them.  "  to  be  worthy  of  your  name.  to  be  as  brave  as  you  were.  "  but  lila  evren  isn't  were  anymore,  is  she?  she's  here,  breathing,  alive,  twenty-four  and  beautiful  and  everything  the  history  books  said  she  would  be.  time  has  folded  in  on  itself,  leaving  them  here  in  this  impossible  moment,  where  grandmother  and  granddaughter  could  exist  as  equals,  where  the  dead  walk  among  the  living,  where  nothing  makes  sense  anymore. 

but  maybe  that's  fitting.  nothing  has  made  sense  since  her  father  died,  since  she  decided  to  tear  apart  the  natural  order  of  things  just  to  see  him  alive  again.  so  she  sits  here  with  her  grandmother's  ghost  made  flesh,  pouring  tea  with  trembling  hands,  trying  to  find  words  for  everything  she's  ever  wanted  to  say  to  this  woman  who  died  too  young,  who  loved  too  fiercely,  who  passed  her  fire  and  her  fight  onto  her.

"  i'm  glad  i  get  to  meet  you  too,  "  she  says  finally,  meaning  it  despite  everything,  despite  the  guilt  and  the  fear  and  the  crushing  weight  of  what  she's  done.  because  this  is  lila  evren,  her  namesake,  her  legacy,  her  ghost  made  real.  and  even  if  she  shouldn't  be  here,  even  if  this  is  all  wrong,  lila  can't  help  but  memorize  every  detail  of  her  face,  every  gesture,  every  moment.  she  hasn't  come  this  close  to  crying  in  years.  "  i  have  so  many  things  to  tell  you.  i  don't  even  know  where  to  begin  anymore.  "

lila lunara polat. her son named his daughter after her. chose to take something so precious and laid her name at it's feet. bestowed it like a crown fit for royalty and not some common word spat out the mouths of so many before. the truth of it erupts in her chest, a wildfire catching on the tinder of her bones, flames spreading through her veins, scorching and wild. she presses her fingertips to the space between her ribcage, her wild heartbeat seeming to echo her awe.

she stands in front of lila - she shouldn't even be here, she's not supposed to be here - like some inverted reflection. the same but so different. deep red hair, a colour so rich and vibrant it can only be inherited, a smattering of freckles across a pert nose and a fierce set to her eyes. she can count the differences - straight and sleek locks instead of curls, chocolate brown in place of deep green, a smaller built next to her taller frame - but the resemblance is undeniable.

they always said my dad had your eyes … she chokes out a watery laugh at that. all her life she's received endless compliments on the particular shade of her eyes - green eyes, rare as can be and yet somehow made even more so by their vibrancy. their rich deep colour; strikingly green, emerald green; forest, jade, summer grass green - and yet it's this small fragment of truth that hits closer to her tender heart than anything that's come before. gemstone green eyes she passed on to her son, to lila's father. "i wasn't sure he was going to get anything from me if i'm being honest.. those polat genes are something else." she wipes under her eyes with the corner of her index finger, catching a rogue tear. a smile tugs at her lips - despite everything that's transpired, all the chaos swirling around her since she awoke resurrected? or perhaps in-spite of it all - she's alive. she's here. "it is really great hair. i'd say you're welcome, but i think you mum had a hand in that too."

lila's words continue to tumble out, one after the other in a rush, almost tripping over one another, all trying to get out at the same time. her heart pangs in her chest, her fingertips aching, already reaching out to touch, to sooth. she halts at the last second, her fingers curling in slightly. what place goes a ghost have amongst the living? for so long she's been nothing more then a memory, a flame reduced to embers nothing but creased pictures and second hand memories to keep alive. "tea would be perfect," if nothing more then something she can warm her hands on - they been so cold, like the last dregs of death clinging to her skin, refusing to let her forget where she's been.

"i just-- i never thought--" a new mother, dead one moment and alive the next, frozen in time, preserved at the young age she perished, now equal with her own granddaughter. "i'm just happy i get to see you, to meet you."

[hogwartsexpress]

lila's  never  known  quite  what  to  make  of  draco  malfoy.  sometimes,  she  suspects  that  if  it  weren't  for  scorpius,  she  wouldn't  be  able  to  stand  him  at  all.  she's  heard  all  the  stories  —  none  of  them  good  —  whispered  around  dinner  tables  and  written  in  history  books  in  her  aunt  hermione's  neat  handwriting.  but  the  devoted  man  (  and  father  )  who  stands  before  her  now  paints  an  entirely  different  picture  than  the  cowardly  boy  her  dad  once  knew,  the  one  who'd  taken  the  dark  mark  at  sixteen  and  spent  years  trying  to  wash  away  its  stain.  she  feels  his  words  like  physical  blows,  his  grey  eyes  boring  into  her  with  an  intensity  that  reminds  her  so  much  of  scorpius  that  for  a  moment  she  can't  breathe  past  the  weight  of  it.

"  no  ...  "  she  says,  the  word  coming  out  softer  than  she  intends,  almost  gentle.  it's  strange,  being  gentle  with  draco  malfoy  of  all  people,  but  she  recognizes  the  raw  fear  in  his  eyes.  she's  seen  it  too  many  times  lately,  that  particular  brand  of  terror  that  comes  with  not  knowing  if  someone  you  love  is  alive  or  dead.  she's  worn  it  herself.  she's  wearing  it  now.  "  i  haven't  seen  him  since  —  "  she  cuts  herself  off,  unable  to  say  it.  since  death  tore  the  veil  open.  since  the  world  tore  itself  anew  and  everything  changed  ...  again.  guilt  claws  at  her  throat,  threatening  to  choke  her.  she  watches  draco's  hands  clench  at  his  sides,  sees  the  words  he  won't  say  ghosting  across  his  face:  please.  he's  all  i  have.

"  it's  going  to  be  all  right.  i'll  help  you  find  him,  "  she  says  finally,  her  voice  steady  even  as  her  heart  races.  it's  the  least  she  can  do,  after  everything.  after  all  the  times  scorpius  stood  by  her  side  when  everyone  else  stepped  back,  afraid  of  the  fire  that  burned  too  bright  inside  her.  her  hands  reach  into  her  pocket  for  her  phone,  about  to  send  urgent  texts  to  al  and  rose.  "  i  assume  you  already  checked  st.  mungo's?  "  she's  certain  she  couldn't  have  been  his  first  stop.  then  a  petrifying  thought  presses  at  her  throat,  cold  as  a  steel  knife,  and  her  stomach  drops.  “  ...  you  don't  think  he's  gone  looking  for  her,  do  you?  ”  scorpius  was  never  one  to  be  reckless  (  that  was  firmly  her  job  )  but  if  it'd  been  his  mother  ...  the  thought  makes  her  blood  run  cold.  she  knows  better  than  anyone  what  desperate  hope  can  drive  someone  to  do.  hasn't  she  already  proven  that?  hadn't  she  torn  apart  the  very  fabric  of  death  itself,  all  for  the  chance  to  see  her  father  again?

"  right,  "  she  continues,  already  typing  furiously  on  her  phone.  "  i'll  contact  the  knights  immediately,  and  we  can  check  the  department  of  mysteries  together.  you  have  clearance,  i  assume?  "  the  words  taste  almost  bitter  in  her  mouth  —  she  would  too  by  now,  if  it  weren't  for  the  war.  she  never  imagined  it  would  take  this  long  to  receive  her  auror  badge,  but  the  wraiths  taking  control  of  the  ministry  had  complicated  things  beyond  repair.  still,  she  pushes  the  thought  aside.  this  isn't  about  her.  "  don't  worry,  we'll  find  him,  "  she  says  instead,  with  a  fierce  certainty  she  doesn't  quite  feel.  "  whatever  it  takes.  "

23 / 12 / 2030   ━━   grimmauld place  lila polat | draco malfoy ( @lilys )

" ━━  is he here with you ?" voice resonant. greys were domineering. it wasn't meant to come off so abrasive, given that she was an ally. the father had numerous run-ins with the polat daughter, mainly all due to his son's bond with the crimson haired girl. he placed liability on that he hadn't seen scorpius since the veil had been diminished. dissipated. it unleashed those that were trapped behind it. even the ones that were meant to be kept there for the own sake of the wizarding world. tensions were raising in the stiffness of his neck & draco felt that his chest was constricting with the probability that his son was caught in the crossfires of a brewing war.

safe. he longed for him to be safe. 

it's what had him softening after his initial bark on the sight of her. " scorpius. is he here with you ?" he settled on, thick with a hint of remorse at his actions but never was he one to offer an apology. " he never made it home. i'm not sure if i missed him or if he's not returned but i need your help if you haven't a location on him. " 

please. he's all i have. 

however, those words were ghosts to his lips.

[hogwartsexpress]

meeting  ghosts  would  be  easier,  lila  thinks,  if  she  didn't  have  to  face  the  reality  of  her  own  sins  staring  back  at  her  with  familiar  eyes.  sirius  black  sits  before  her,  young  and  whole  and  unbroken,  like  a  photograph  of  better  days  come  to  life — yet  another  casualty  of  her  desperate  attempt  to  right  the  wrongs  of  war.  she  watches  him  take  another  swig  of  firewhiskey,  her  own  hands  itching  to  grab  the  bottle  and  drain  it  herself,  to  dull  the  edges  of  her  guilt  with  that  familiar  burn.

the  christmas  decorations  mock  her  with  their  cheerful  glow,  red  and  green  and  gold  creating  shadows  that  dance  across  the  walls  of  grimmauld  place.  this  house  has  always  felt  haunted  to  her,  but  never  quite  like  this.  she's  faced  wraiths  and  death  himself  without  flinching,  but  something  about  sitting  here  with  sirius  makes  her  feel  more  exposed  than  any  battle  ever  has.  he's  a  living  reminder  of  everything  she's  done,  every  line  she's  crossed  in  her  desperate  attempt  to  save  the  world.  to  save  her  father.  to  prove  herself  worthy  of  the  name  she  carries.

"  well,  "  she  says,  forcing  lightness  into  her  voice  even  as  memories  of  her  own  ghosts  press  against  her  skull,  "  your  mum's  portrait  is  long  gone.  we  had  to  tear  the  whole  wall  down  to  get  rid  of  the  ugly  old  bat  —  nasty  piece  of  work,  that  was.  though  i  suppose  the  house  is  still  haunted  in  its  own  way.  "  she  pauses,  taking  another  careful  sip  of  firewhiskey  to  steady  herself.  "  just  ...  different  ghosts  now.  "  the  words  slip  out  before  she  can  catch  them,  too  honest  by  half,  and  she  quickly  covers  it  with  a  crooked  smile  that  doesn't  quite  reach  her  eyes.  she  can't  think  about  that,  can't  bear  to  remember  the  haunted  look  in  her  father's  eyes.

"  anyway,  "  she  continues,  deliberately  brightening  her  tone,  "  let  me  show  you  what  we've  done  with  the  place.  you  won't  believe  what  we've  done  to  kreacher's  old  den  —  turned  it  into  some  underground  dueling  pit.  been  testing  out  new  combat  spells  down  there,  scorched  half  the  walls  black.  almost  fitting,  if  you  think  about  it.  "  far from her wittiest line. the  words  come  out  as  a  corny  joke,  the  sort  her  father  and  uncle  ron  might've  made  together  once,  and  her  heart  pangs  with  the  weight  of  it.  she  lets  out  a  laugh  that  sounds  almost  nervous,  already  moving  toward  the  door,  desperate  to  escape  the  weight  of  her  previous  admission.  "  it's  an  absolute  disaster  waiting  to  happen,  though  i  suppose  that's  nothing  new  for  this  house,  is  it?  "

25 DECEMBER 2030 / 𝟏𝟐 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄

sirius grins. there's a wild edge to the youngest polat that puts him in mind of lila, unfettered; in happier times, when she'd dance around the common room in her socks with a bottle in her hand and a laugh on her lips. maybe that's where the easy familiarity comes from. it's at once like meeting someone new and reconnecting with an old friend — someone he hasn't seen in a long, long time.

" that's big talk, polat. but if you think you’re up to the task then by all means, " he makes a sweeping gesture, gently taking the firewhisky from her outstretched hand and swigging it straight from the bottle. it burns the back of his throat, and he sighs, content, tipping his head back and basking in the feel of it — the confirmation that he is, against all odds, alive.

" it's fine, " he says breezily. " i'll figure something out. this place always gave me the willies, anyway. i'm half-convinced my mum's going to materialise and rip me a new arsehole for daring to darken her doorstep. " it's a partial truth. something about the house makes him feel ill at ease. it brings back memories of a time before, when he wasn't quite happy, and then a time after, when he was desperately trying to make peace with the growing distance between himself and the people he loved — unlovable though they were.

[hogwartsexpress]

vulnerable  confession  prompts !

prompts  for  angsty  conversations !

be  my  valentine !

in  character  character  development  questions !

ask box. accepting for lila lunara polat, lydia longbottom, rose granger-weasley & freya greyback !

[hogwartsexpress]

Stoker (2013) dir. Park Chan-wook

[hogwartsexpress]

Spanish translation: “How do you expect me to talk if you are always insulting and yelling at me and you want to abandon me?!” (credit: @pimpstormtropper)

[hogwartsexpress]

POSSIBLE FUTURE AU:  LILA  DIES  TO SAVE THE LONGBOTTOM TWINS

orion  lestrange  was  nothing  if  not  relentless,  moving  through  hogwarts'  halls  like  a  shadow  made  flesh.  he  had  come  with  one  purpose  alone:  to  finish  what  his  parents  had  started.  " time  to  rid  the  world  of  the  pesky  longbottoms  once  and  for  all, "  he  had  declared  with  chilling  certainty.  " show  everyone  what  happens  to  bleeding-heart  revolutionists. "

the  great  hall  now  lay  in  ruins  around  them.  shattered  glass  from  the  enchanted  ceiling  rained  down  like  deadly  stars,  and  the  house  tables  had  been  reduced  to  splinters.  the  floating  candles  that  normally  illuminated  the  space  had  been  extinguished,  leaving  only  the  cold  light  of  dawn  filtering  through  the  broken  windows. when  orion  stood  over  the  incapacitated  forms  of  ollie  and  daisy,  his  cold,  cold  smile  sent  shivers  down  lila's  spine.  there  was  no  light  in  his  eyes,  no  trace  of  humanity  –  just  nothing.  black-clad  and  wearing  his  mother's  death  eater  mask,  he  cut  a  figure  that  might  have  been  death  himself,  come  to  collect  his  due.  the  silver  serpents  etched  into  the  mask  seemed  to  writhe  in  the  dim  light,  giving  his  face  an  otherworldly  quality  that  made  him  barely  human.

" no, "  lila  whispered,  the  word  tearing  from  her  throat  as  she  rushed  forward.  her  wand  moved  in  a  deadly  arc  as  she  cast  a  diffindo  straight  at  orion's  head  –  a  spell  meant  to  kill,  to  sever  his  brain  from  his  body  before  he  could  harm  her  former  friends.  the  cost  didn't  matter.  she  couldn't  let  it  end  this  way  for  them,  not  when  they  deserved  so  much  more  than  death  at  the  hands  of  a  madman's  son.  not  when  they  still  had  so  much  life  left  to  live.

he  met  her  spell  with  an  expelliarmus,  and  emerald  light  collided  with  scarlet  in  a  shower  of  crackling  sparks.  the  force  of  their  colliding  magic  sent  tremors  through  the  floor,  rattling  the  remaining  windows  and  sending  more  shards  of  glass  cascading  down  from  above.  the  air  around  them  seemed  to  hum  with  a  kinetic,  raw  energy,  making  lila's  hair  stand  on  end,  a  brilliant  shock  of  copper.  she  gripped  her  wand  like  a  lifeline,  like  the  last  tether  keeping  her  anchored  to  this  world,  but  she  couldn't  withstand  the  raw  power  behind  his  disarming  charm.  her  wand  ripped  away,  spinning  through  the  air  before  clattering  uselessly  in  some  distant  corner.  she  was  left  defenseless.  no  weapon.  only  herself.

without  hesitation  –  without  even  a  moment's  thought  for  her  own  safety  –  she  positioned  herself  in  front  of  ollie  and  daisy,  making  a  shield  of  her  own  body.  behind  her,  she  could  hear  their  shallow  breathing,  could  feel  the  magical  binds  that  held  them  immobile.  their  eyes  were  wide  with  terror  and  desperation,  silently  pleading  with  her  to  run,  to  save  herself.  but  she  couldn't.  she  wouldn't.  " no!  don't  touch  them  –  i  won't  let  you  – "

" don't  be  stupid,  little  girl, "  orion  sneered,  attempting  to  force  her  aside.  his  hand  was  cold  where  it  gripped  her  shoulder,  fingers  digging  into  blanched  skin.  lila  pushed  back  with  everything  she  had,  every  ounce  of  strength  she  could  summon,  immovable  force  against  unstoppable  object.  her  feet  almost slid  against  the  stone  floor,  but  she  held  her  ground and remained rooted in place.  the  smell  of  ozone  and  dark  magic  filled  the  air  around  them,  making  it  hard  to  breathe.  " it  doesn't  have  to  be  your  time  too  –  not  yet  anyways. "

" not  them! "  the  words  ripped  from  her  chest,  ragged  and  desperate.  memories  flashed  through  her  mind  –  summers  spent  by  the  lake  braiding  daisy's  hair,  sharing  secrets  like  sisters.  a  gentle  kiss  under  moonlight  with  the  boy  she'd  always  loved,  his  hands  trembling  as  they  cupped  her  face  with  a  tenderness  she'd  never  experienced before. she'd never let orion wretch that sort of goodness from this world.  " take  me,  kill  me  instead! "

his  laugh  was  a  mockery  of  mirth,  sharp  and  cruel.  it  echoed  off  the  walls  of  the  great  hall,  multiplying  until  it  seemed  to  come  from  everywhere  at  once.  " gryffindors  –  polats  –  and  their  heroics! "  he  proclaimed,  voice  dripping  with  disdain.  " what  good  does  it  do  you  in  the  end?  that's  the  problem  with  your  lot.  you  never  learn. "  he  shook  his  head  wryly,  almost  pityingly.  behind  the  mask,  his  eyes  glittered  with  a  dangerous  light.  " this  is  your  final  warning,  polat, "  he  murmured,  raising  his  wand.  " step  aside,  unless  you  want  to  become  like  your  father. "

in  that  moment,  a  profound  clarity  washed  over  lila.  the  fear  drained  away,  replaced  by  a  bone-deep  certainty.  she  understood  now  –  knew  what  she  had  to  do.  she  had  already  been  doing  it  instinctively,  following  in  the  footsteps  of  her  namesake  who  had  protected  her  father  all  those  years  ago.  this  was  what  it  meant  to  be  a  polat,  to  be  a  protector,  to  choose  what  was  right  over  what  was  easy.  her  heart  beat  steady  and  strong  in  her  chest,  a  reminder  of  the  love  that  flowed  through  her  veins  –  love  for  her  family,  for  her  friends,  for  all  that  was  good  and  worth  protecting  in  this  world.  behind  her,  she  could  feel  the  twins'  presence,  could  sense  their  struggles  against  their  bonds.  their  lives  were  worth  everything  –  worth  any  price  she  had  to  pay.

" no, "  she  said again,  lifting  her  chin  in  a  final  act  of  defiance.  her  voice  carried  across  the  ruined  hall,  serene  and  clear  despite  the  chaos  around  them.  " you'll  have  to  go  through  me. "  her  voice  was  firm  and  unwavering.  this  was  it  –  her  purpose.  she  could  feel  it  in  her  marrow,  in  every  fiber  of  her  being.  the  magic  of  sacrifice,  of  love,  began  to  build  around  her  like  an  invisible  shield.

when  the  killing  curse  came,  a  serpent  of  green  light  seeking  her  heart,  she  neither  moved  nor  flinched.  time  seemed  to  slow,  and  in  that  endless  moment,  she  thought  of  her  family  –  of  her  father  who  had  taught  her  that  love  was  the  greatest  magic  of  all,  of  her  mother  who  had  shown  her  what  it  meant  to  be  brave.  she  thought  of  the  twins,  of  all  the  moments  they  had  shared,  of  all  the  moments  they  would  yet  have.

she  let  the  curse  strike  her  square  in  the  chest.  the  green  light  enveloped  her  like  an  embrace,  and  as  consciousness  faded,  she  thought  she  heard  someone  screaming  her  name,  his  voice  cutting  through  the  haze,  achingly  familiar.  but  still,  she  was  almost  smiling  as  the  darkness  took  her,  knowing  that  her  sacrifice  would  create  a  protection  more  powerful  than  any  spell  –  that  in  spite  of  everything,  the  twins  would  live.

[hogwartsexpress]

POTENTIAL FUTURE AU:  BEST CASE SCENARIO

❛  you have  SUFFERED  enough  &  warred  with yourself. it’s time that you  won.  ❜

when  the  war  was  won  and  all  was  said  and  done,  the  forest  called  to  her  father  one  final  time.  harun  jan  polat  walked  the  familiar  path  through  the  forbidden  forest,  his  steps  light  with  purpose,  ready  to  make  his  last  sacrifice.  the  morning  mist  curled  around  his  ankles,  and  the  trees  seemed  to  bow  their  branches  in  recognition  of  what  was  to  come.  this  time,  this  sacrifice,  he  was  not  surrounded  by  the  specters  of  jan,  remus,  sirius,  and  lila  but  his  living  loved  ones  –  his  sprawling  family  tree,  branches  that  had  grown  despite  the  shadows  of  war,  spreading  wide  and  strong. his parents had been at peace for nearly a month now, returned to the land of the dead where they could finally rest. now it was his turn.

he  had  already  said  his  farewells.  to  ron  and  hermione,  who  had  walked  beside  him  through  every  trial.  to  ginny,  who  had  given  him  more  love  than  he  could  ever  ask  for.  to  the  weasleys,  who  had  given  him  the  family  he'd  always  yearned  for.  to  his  children,  who  carried  pieces  of  his  heart  within  them.  when  death  enveloped  him  once  more,  it  wasn't  with  the  cold  grip  of  fear  but  with  familiar  warmth,  like  how  he'd  always  felt  under  the  protection  of  his  father's  invisibility  cloak.  somewhere,  in  the  distance,  he  could  hear  his  parents  calling  out  for  him,  their  voices  carrying  the  promise  of  home,  of  arms  waiting  to  embrace  him  at  last.  jan's  laugh  echoed  through  the  trees,  as  bright  and  clear  as  it  had  been  in  life,  and  harun  knew  he  was  making  the  right  choice.

death  reclaimed  both  harun  –  the  only  soul  who  would  ever  truly  be  its  master  –  and  his  deathly  hallows.  in  exchange,  neville  longbottom  was  returned  to  life,  breathing  and  whole  and  joyously  alive,  as  he  was  always  meant  to  be.  the  world  shifted  back  into  its  proper  alignment,  and  this  time  when  they  whispered  that  all  was  well,  everyone  knew  it  was  true.  the  prophecy  had  come  full  circle,  and  the  boy  who  lived  had  finally  found  his  peace. 

lila  lunara  mourned  her  father  –  missed  him  with  every  fiber  of  her  being  –  but  she  had  been  granted  what  so  many  others  lost  to  war  never  received:  a  proper  goodbye.  she  could  recognize  it  for  the  gift  that  it  was,  the  beautiful  miracle  she'd  been  given.  sometimes,  she  could  still  feel  the  warmth  of  his  last  embrace,  hear  the  soft  timber  of  his  voice  as  he  told  her  how  proud  he  was,  how  much  he  loved  her.  it  made  acceptance  possible,  almost  easy.  her  grief  could  flow  naturally  now,  like  a  river  finding  its  path  to  the  sea.  he  would  forever  remain  in  the  brightest  corners  of  her  heart,  but  now  she  could  begin  to  heal.

under  hermione  granger-weasley's  leadership  as  the  new  minister  for  magic,  the  knights  and  erinyes  received  their  pardons  –  a  decision  that  sparked  controversy  but  stood  firm  under  neville's  urgency,  his  forgiveness.  freely  given,  without  a  second  thought,  his  absolution  struck  lila  to  her  core.  when  he  extended  it  with  a  gentleness  that  echoed  her  father's,  she  could  not  stop  tears  from  streaking  down  her  ruddy  cheeks.  " we  all  made  choices  in  war.  what  matters  is  the  choices  we  make  in  the  aftermath. "  he  had  said,  his  voice  as  steady  and  sure  as  she'd  always  remembered.  " lila,  everyone makes mistakes. i  could  never  hate  you  for  doing  your  best  to  be  good. "  it  would  take  time  –  several  years  –  until  she  truly  forgave  herself.

she  repeated  her  final  year  of  university,  and  then  she  went  on  to  do  what  she  always  said  she  would.  she  became  an  auror.  it  was  long,  arduous  work,  but  it  was  rewarding  ...  for  a  time.  the  thrill  of  the  chase,  the  satisfaction  of  protecting  others  and  shaping  the  world  into  a  better  place  –  it  filled  a  void  she  hadn't  known  existed.  until  she  began  to  learn  how  to  live  again  –  truly  live,  not  fumble  through  the  motions  of  survival.  until  she  settled  down  into  a  strange,  mystifying  sort  of  peace  and  started  the  family  she  had  always  wanted  (  three  children  like  her  mum,  with  her  firstborn  named  after  harun  ).

then  slowly  but  surely,  like  dawn  breaking  through  after  its  darkest  and  longest  night,  she  understood  herself and her heart – the girl she'd become in this new, forgiving light.  she  realized  she  no  longer  needed  to  spend  her  life  fighting  an  endless  war.  a  new  dream  took  root  in  her  heart,  leading  her  through  law  school  and  into  a  role  as  a  nonprofit  advocate,  defending  abuse  survivors  in  court  –  completely  free  of  charge.  with  her  inheritance,  she  had  more  than  enough  money,  too  much  of  it.  the  true  reward  was  helping  people  who  shared  stories  with  her  father,  herself,  and  others  she  had  loved.  she  was  still  making  the  world  a  better  place,  like  she  had  always  wanted,  but  this  time,  it  was  on  a  smaller  yet  more  personal  scale.  she  saw  herself  in  their  eyes  –  the  fear,  the  determination,  the  hope  for  something  better.  and  in  helping  them  find  their  voice,  their  strength,  their  way  forward,  she  found  her  own  healing.  she'd  spent  years  fighting  a  war,  but  somehow,  this,  this  fight  meant  so  much  more.  no,  it  meant  everything.

[hogwartsexpress]

Okay…enough of this. I get it, you want me to admit what I want from you, but you’re wrong. I’m at peace with my dad. Yes, he died because of me, but that was his choice. I’ve come to terms with it. I don’t need to know anything. 

[hogwartsexpress]

@wartorns

[hogwartsexpress]

[  astronomy tower.  25  january  2031.  @nprisc ] the  astronomy  tower  wore  its  emptiness  like  an  open  wound.  the  room  felt  different  now  that  the  telescopes  had  been  removed  —  barer,  colder,  like  everything  else  the  war  had  touched.  lila  pressed  her  spine  against  the  parapet,  knees  pulled  to  her  chest,  trying  to  find  solitude  in  the  quiet  night  air.  but  peace  wouldn't  come,  not  when  her  mind  kept  dragging  her  back  to  the  dungeons.  a  looping  nightmare,  her  body  refusing  to  stir  itself  awake.  abi  falling  —  the  distance  too  great,  her  legs  too  slow,  her  magic  too  weak.  the  killing  curse  had  painted  the  stone  walls  an  impossible  green,  a  color  that  didn't  belong  in  nature,  didn't  belong  anywhere  but  in  her  nightmares.  then  came  the  sound  of  stone  giving  way,  and  abi's  last,  desperate  gasp.  that  sound  followed  her  now,  echoing  through  dark  &  empty  corridors,  haunting  her  dreams  and  waking  hours.  another  person  she'd  failed  to  protect.  another  name  to  carve  into  her  conscience,  alongside  her  father's,  alongside  hagrid's.  the  list  kept  growing,  and  she  was  so  tired  of  watching  people  die. abi  had  been  there  from  the  first  meeting  of  the  knights,  the  sturdy  glue  that  held  them  together  with  her  brilliant  mind  &  quiet  determination.  she'd  been  the  voice  of  reason  that  stopped  them  from  charging  ahead,  kept  them  from  falling  into  the  abyss  of  their  own  rage.  they'd  balanced  each  other  perfectly  —  lila's  fire  &  abi's  pragmatism,  impulse  &  reason.  now  she  was  gone,  and  the  world  brutally,  bitterly  kept  on  turning.  the  knights  were  her  responsibility,  her  chosen  family,  but  they  kept  slipping  through  her  fingers  like  water,  like  smoke.  she  should  have  been  better,  faster,  stronger.  should  have  found  another  way.  there  was  too  much  that  she  should  have  done,  too  many  moments  she'd  repeat  in  her  mind  long  after  death.  there'd  be  no  peace  for  her,  not  after  this,  not  after  everything  she'd  done.  (  she'd  let  him  go.  she'd  seen  what  he'd  done,  met  his  eyes  in  the  bitter  dark,  and  she'd  chosen  to  let  him  go.  ) a  footstep  on  the  stairs  cut  through  her  spiral  of  regret.  her  hand  moved  to  her  wand  out  of  raw  instinct,  before  her  brain  caught  itself  up.  she  recognized  that  walk,  could  have  picked  it  out  of  a  thousand  others.  “  you  shouldn't  be  here,  "  she  murmured,  her  voice  stripped  of  its  usual  sharp  edges.  “  they're  watching  us  all,  especially  now.  it's  not  safe for you.  ” a  short  pause.  a  breath  that  carried  the  weight  of  too  many  war  wounds,  too  many  graves,  too  little  hope.  a  moment  of  vulnerability  seeping  through  her  brass. it'd been weeks since the last time they'd been able to find a quiet moment to properly speak — were the two of them too far apart now to find comfort in each other's arms?  “  i  miss  her  too, pris.  ” i miss how it used to be between us all. i miss everything.

[hogwartsexpress]

[  outskirts of hogsmeade,  hagrid's funeral.  23  january  2031.  @percys-perfect ]

the  passage  behind  the  one-eyed  witch  had  never  felt  so  narrow,  its  walls  pressing  close  like  a  tomb.  lila's  hands  trembled  slightly  as  she  lit  her  wand,  and  she  clenched  them  tighter,  forcing  herself to steady.  she  knew  every  crack  in  these  stones,  every  turn  of  this  path  from  countless  missions  —  smuggling  students  to  safety,  passing  intel  to  order  members  waiting  in  the  dark.  but  those  trips  had  all  had  clear  purposes,  direction.  this  was  different.  this  was  goodbye.

her godfather hagrid  had  been  woven  into  the  fabric  of  her  life  since  before  she  could  remember.  he  was  the  steady  hands  that  had  once  held  her  as  carefully  as  a  dragon's  egg,  the  laughing  conspirator  who'd  helped  her  smuggle  a  three-headed  puppy  into  the  castle  during  her  third  year,  the  immovable  guardian  who  seemed  as  eternal  as  hogwarts  itself.  a  world  without  rubeus  hagrid  felt  impossible.  she  kept  expecting  to  turn  a  corner  and  find  him  there,  beaming  beneath  his  wild  beard.

they  couldn't  bury  him  at  hogwarts,  though  that's  where  he  belonged.  the  castle  he'd  called  home  for  over  fifty  years  had  twisted  into  something  unrecognizable  under  the  wraiths'  reign.  instead,  they  would  lay  him  to  rest  where  the  village  met  the  wilderness  —  close  enough  for  students  to  mourn,  far  enough  to  keep  them  safe.  even  at  the  end,  he'd  been  exactly  who  he'd  always  been  —  protector,  teacher,  guardian.  his  final  breath  spent  saving  her  father's  life,  as  he  had  so  many  times  before.

the  winter  air  bit  at  her  face  as  she  emerged  from  honeydukes'  cellar,  and  she  welcomed  the  sting  —  it  gave  her  something  to  focus  on  besides  the  storm  building  in  her  chest.  her  fingers  moved  through  the  motions  of  the  disillusionment  charm,  muscle  memory  taking  over  where  conscious  thought  failed  her.  the  spell  settled  over  her  as  she  moved  through  empty  streets,  past  dark  shopfronts  that  watched  her  pass.  her  reflection  caught  briefly  in  a  window  —  red  hair  turned  starlight-silver,  dark  circles  under  eyes  that  burned  with  quiet exhaustion & relentless grief.  how  many  more  would  they  bury  like  this?

the  gathering  at  the  village's  edge  surprised  her  with  its  size.  order  members  stood  guard  over  clusters  of  students  who'd  risked  everything  to  be  here.  she  recognized  faces  from  the  knights,  from  her  classes,  from  countless  battles  —  all  of  them  wearing  the  same  expression  of  dolor.  the  sight  of  so  many  pulled  something  tight  in  her  throat  —  hagrid  would  have  blustered  at  such  attention,  would  have  shuffled  those  massive  feet  and  mumbled  about  making  a  fuss  over  nothing.  her  uncle  percy  waited  apart  from  the  others.  she  found  herself  moving  toward  him  before  she'd  made  the  conscious  choice,  her  steps  quick  and  purposeful.

"  uncle  percy.  i  didn't  expect  to  see  you  here.  "  there  was  a  hint  of  accusation  in  her  voice.  she'd  heard  lucy's  whispers  about  their  uncle's  loyalties,  but  something  in  her  —  that  same  stubborn  hope  she'd  inherited  from  her  father  —  refused  to  believe  he'd  truly  turned  his  back  on  them  again.  not  after  everything.  but  there  would  be  time  for  those  questions  later.  right  now,  only  one  thing  mattered.  "  where's  my  dad?  is  he  safe?  " the  words  came  out  steadier  than  she  felt,  years  of  practice  at  hiding  vulnerability  serving  her  well.  but  her  hands  had  curled  into  fists  at  her  sides,  nails  biting  into  palms,  and  she  could  feel  her  heart  hammering  against  her  ribs, heartbeat like birdsong.  is-he-hurt-is-he-hurt-please-tell-me-he-isn't-hurt.

[hogwartsexpress]

𝐲𝐨𝐮  𝐠𝐞𝐭  𝐨𝐧  𝐚  𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧  ...  𝐲𝐨𝐮  𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫.  you  write  your  name  on  the  window  ,  you  disappear.  there  are  places  like  this  everywhere  ,  places  you  enter  as  a  young  girl  from  which  you  never  return.  [  @hogwartsexpress  ,  penned  by  sarah  for  @nobodyssoldier  ]

𝙻𝙸𝙻𝙰 𝙻𝚄𝙽𝙰𝚁𝙰 𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙰𝚃 …  24 years old  ,  cis  woman  (she/her)  ,  halfblood  ,  gryffindor  ,  student  (auror  track)  ,  knights 𝙻𝚈𝙳𝙸𝙰 𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶𝙱𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙾𝙼 …  24 years old  ,  queer  (she/they)  ,  pureblood  ,  hufflepuff  ,  student  (healer  track)  ,  knights 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝚈𝙰 𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚈𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 …  26 years old  ,  femme  genderfluid  (she/they)  ,  halfblood  ,  slytherin  ,  student  (unspeakable  track)  ,  erinyes-wraith  double  agent

[hogwartsexpress]

his  words  hit  her  like  a  curse  —  stop  that,  stop  saying  that  —  and  she  flinched  despite  herself.  there  was  something  in  his  voice  she  couldn't  bear  to  hear,  something  that  made  her  chest  ache  with  a  pain  firewhiskey  couldn't  touch.  "  what  else  am  i  supposed  to  think?  i  know  you  want  revenge.  i  know  that  you'd  rather  it  had  been  me  who  died  that  night.  "  or  maybe  that  was  what  she  wanted,  in  her  heart  of  hearts.  better  herself  than  anyone  else.  "  why  wouldn't  you  want  me  dead?  i  would,  if  it  were  me.  "  her  voice  cracked  on  the  words,  raw  and  honest  in  a  way  she  hadn't  allowed  herself  to  be  in  so  long.  i  do,  sometimes.  want  me  dead,  she  almost  said  but  held  herself  back.

"  you  don't  know  me  anymore?  "  a  bitter  laugh  escaped  her  throat.  "  that's  a  lie  and  we  both  know  it.  we've  known  each  other  our  whole  lives. "  she  swallowed  hard,  fighting  back  the  words  that  threatened  to  spill  out.  "  even  now,  after  everything  —  "  she  cut  herself  off  before  she'd  said  it:  you  still  know  me  best.  it  terrified  her,  how  he  could  still  see  right  through  her.  he'd  always  been  able  to  cut  to  the  heart  of  her.

why  didn't  you  ask  me  to  stay?  it  echoed  in  her  mind,  stirring  up  memories  she'd  tried  so  hard  to  drown  in  firewhiskey.  her  hands  gripped  the  counter  harder,  knuckles  going  white,  as  if  she  could  anchor  herself  to  this  moment  and  keep  from  being  swept  away  by  the  tide  of  regret  threatening  to  pull  her  under.  memories  flooded  back:  the  way  he'd  looked  at  her  that  last  day,  like  she  was  something  unrecognizable,  something  monstrous.  she  deserved  that  look.  she  deserved  so  much  worse.  that  look  haunted  her  dreams  more  than  any  kill  ever  had.

"  i  wanted  to,  "  she  whispered.  the  firewhiskey  had  dangerously  brought  her  emotions  right  to  the  surface,  and  now  everything  was  bubbling  over.  "  but  i  —  i  didn't  have  the  right.  not  after  what  i  did.  not  after  your  father.  i  thought  i  was  doing  the  right  thing,  letting  you  go.  "  her  fingers  trembled  against  the  counter.  "  i  thought ...  i  thought  maybe  if  i  let  you  go,  you  could  heal.  be  whole  again.  "  without  me  there  to  break  you  further,  she  didn't  add.

the  truth  of  it  burned  worse  than  any  firewhiskey:  she'd  helped  orchestrate  the  resurrection  that  had  torn  their  world  apart,  had  been  one  of  the  ones  to  push  for  it  the  hardest.  she'd  been  so  certain  she  was  doing  the  right  thing,  so  desperate  to  fix  everything,  to  bring  back  her  own  father,  that  she  hadn't  stopped  to  think  about  the  consequences.  about  what  it  would  do  to  everyone.  she'd  been  so  focused  on  her  own  desperate  need  to  make  things  right,  that  she'd  forgotten  what  it  might  cost  others.  the  road  to  hell,  they  said,  was  paved  with  good  intentions.  she'd  learned  that  lesson  too  late.

"  i  thought  i  was  helping,  "  she  continued,  her  voice  barely  above  a  whisper.  "  i  thought  i  could  make  everything  right  again.  but  i  just  made  it  so  much  worse.  i  keep  doing  that.  trying  to  fix  things  and  just  breaking  them  more.  "  she  felt  that  familiar  burn  behind  her  eyes,  the  threat  of  tears  she  hadn't  allowed  herself  to  shed  in  years.  she  couldn't  look  at  him  as  she  spoke,  couldn't  bear  to  see  the  hatred  or  worse  —  the  emptiness  —  in  his  eyes.  instead,  she  stared  at  her  hands,  remembering  how  they'd  once  felt  tangled  in  his,  how  he  used  to  hold  her  when  everything  felt  like  too  much.  before  she'd  ruined  it  all.  before  she'd  become  the  very  thing  she'd  always  fought  against.  how  many  nights  had  she  spent  remembering  those  moments?  how  many  bottles  of  firewhiskey  had  she  emptied  trying  to  forget?  sometimes  she  thought  she  could  still  feel  the  phantom  warmth  of  his  touch,  a  ghost  that  haunted  her  more  persistently  than  any  wraith.

"  you  were  right  to  leave,  "  she  admitted.  "  i  would  have  left  too,  if  i  were  you.  sometimes  i  think  —  "  she  cut  herself  off,  biting  back  the  words  she  couldn't  say:  sometimes  i  think  you  should  have  killed  me  that  day  instead.  it  would  have  been  easier,  wouldn't  it?  cleaner.  he  could  have  had  his  revenge,  and  she  could  have  paid  for  what  she  did.  her  fingers  traced  the  scar  of  her  unbreakable  vow  before  she  could  stop  herself.  "  look,  you  can  hate  me  all  you  want,  "  she  said  quietly.  "  but  don't —  "  she  caught  herself,  steadied  her  voice.  "  don't  throw  your  life  away  because  of  what  i  did.  your  father  wouldn't  want  that.  "

he's never believed killing could make someone a monster. he's never believed it because of her. she didn't need to tell him what had happened, and he knew, even back then, he didn't need to know. anything lila did, he would forgive. that was what he'd thought. perhaps he'd found his limit. why was he still so afraid that she might find her limit with him? " it had to be done. " he repeated. did she think that was how he felt about her? something to put down and be done with. the thought made his stomach curdle. " stop that. stop saying that. i don't know what you want to hear, but you won't hear it from me. and you didn't make anything easier for me. " terrified, so terrified, that the truth might creep out. he could not kill her. he would lay his life for her, still, despite everything, if he had to. he was always at his weakest when it came to her. you can't die. how funny, that he could have said the same to her. his mouth parted, closed. he wanted to say her name again, but he was afraid that it would say everything. admit all he could not. it was why he'd taken to calling her polat, even in private : he needed the distance, or else he was taken over by memories. by that feeling she invoked within him that had never gone away. the thought of her wanting him alive made him feel ... strange. he tried to lesson the true intent of his words, knowing she could see through him. " a war means everyone's at risk. i have to think realistically. " he had no response for what she said next. two, three, four beats of silence before he finally spoke again. " you don't know me. we barely know each other anymore. " weak-whispered lie. there was something tying them together that didn't have a name : he would always know her, and she would always know him, and that was their little cycle of tragedy. he should try to snip it right here and now. but the only way to do so would be to be truly cruel, and his tongue might be a knife, but it could only cut lila so deep before he'd rather turn it on himself. instead, he allowed himself another moment of vulnerability, if only because he was so sick of hours spent wondering. " come back? why didn't you ask me to stay? the day i told you i was leaving. "

[hogwartsexpress]

lila  watched  through  half-lidded,  chestnut  eyes  as  scorpius  checked  her  pupils  with  the  candlelight,  fighting  the  urge  to  flinch  away  from  his  careful  examination.  it  was  almost  uncomfortable  being  held  up  to  the  light  like  this—a  strangely  vulnerable  feeling  that  made  her  want  to  crawl  out  of  her  own,  freckle-dusted  skin.  the  candlelight  felt  too  bright,  too  exposing  in  the  dim  of  night.  could  he  see  her?  really  see  her,  past  all  her  carefully  constructed  walls,  past  the  brave  faces  and  sharp  smiles?  could  he  see  the  cracks  inside  her,  how  darkness  had  started  to  consume  her  from  within,  the  way  she'd  begun  to  welcome  it?  and  if  he  could—if  he  could  see  all  of  that,  all  her  repulsiveness—why  was  he  still  here?

"  i  didn't  realize  we  had  an  audience,  "  she  muttered,  trying  for  lightness  as  cleo  circled  them  anxiously.  but  her  attempt  at  humor  fell  flat,  broken  by  a  sharp  intake  of  breath  as  another  wave  of  pain  radiated  from  her  stomach.  the  venom  from  the  curse  still  burned  through  her  veins  like  liquid  fire,  making  her  head  swim  with  memories  of  that  suffocating  darkness.  of  fighting  blind,  of  healing  her  attacker's  wounds  while  her  own  still  bled.  why  hadn't  she  tried  to  heal  herself  first?  was  there  something  in  her  that  wanted  it—that  sweet  release  of  death?  that  refused  to  stop  chasing  after  it,  night  after  night,  duel  after  duel?  "  suppose  i  can't  sneak  anything  past  your  kit  these  days.  she's  like  a  bloodhound,  that  one.  "

she  reached  for  the  tea  with  trembling,  pallid  fingers,  more  to  have  something  to  do  with  her  hands  than  any  real  desire  to  drink  it.  the  familiar  scent—too  hot,  exactly  how  scorpius  always  made  it—helped  ground  her  in  the  present  moment,  pulling  her  back  from  the  edge  of  those  memories  she'd  rather  forget.  the  mug  warmed  her  ice-cold  hands,  reminding  her  that  she  was  here,  she  was  alive,  she  had  survived.  again.

"  i  had  it  under  control,  "  she  said  softly,  though  they  both  knew  it  for  the  lie  it  was.  her  stomach  wound  spoke  otherwise,  as  did  the  way  her  hands  shook  around  the  mug,  the  unnatural  pallor  of  her  skin  beneath  its  constellation  of  freckles.  "  really,  scor.  it  wasn't—  "  she  broke  off  as  cleo's  paw  tapped  against  her  shoe  again,  a  gentle  reminder  that  she  wasn't  fooling  either  of  them.  the  kit  had  always  seen  right  through  her  masks,  just  like  her  owner.  "  okay,  fine.  maybe  it  got  a  bit  dicey  towards  the  end.  but  i  handled  it,  like  i  always  do.  "

she  didn't  tell  him  about  waiting  in  that  suffocating  darkness,  trying  to  heal  the  wraith  while  her  own  blood  pooled  beneath  her,  the  copper  scent  making  her  dizzy.  didn't  mention  how  the  unbreakable  vow  had  felt  like  it  was  strangling  her,  how  she'd  almost  welcomed  it—like  maybe  this  was  what  she'd  been  looking  for  all  along  when  she  made  that  vow.  not  redemption,  but  punishment.  not  protection,  but  permission  to  let  go.  didn't  speak  of  how  the  darkness  had  clawed  its  way  inside  her  chest,  leaving  her  feeling  hopelessly,  helplessly  alone,  wondering  if  this  was  how  her  father  had  felt  in  his  final  moments.

instead,  she  focused  on  the  steady  movement  of  his  hands  as  he  worked,  the  familiar  comfort  of  his  presence  beside  her.  it  was  almost  like  being  back  at  hogwarts,  when  everything  was  simpler.  "  thanks,  "  she  whispered  finally,  the  word  catching  in  her  throat  like  a  confession.  for  the  tea.  for  not  telling  her  mum.  for  understanding  why  she  couldn't  stop  fighting,  even  when  it  might  kill  her.  for  being  here  in  the  dead  of  night,  patching  her  up  without  judgment.  for  seeing  her  at  her  worst  and  staying  anyway.  "  i  don't  suppose  you'd  believe  me  if  i  promised  to  be  more  careful  next  time?  "

Scor had on the soft kind of slippers, missing most of a sole they dampened the sound of his steps against the floorboards so that Cleo would stop nipping at his ankles in frustration when they haunted Grimmauld in the early hours. There were only so many times ones’ literal fucking soul could relay that you sounded like an Erumpant crashing around in a cutlery drawer before you submitted yourself to some mild indignity. 

It neared two in the morning as he shuffled up to the kitchen counter, he leaned forward with a creak to flick the muggle kettle on and the small red light turned his fingers briefly crimson. Scorpius fished out a teabag and plopped it into the bottom of a chipped Chudley Canons mug, the kettle's happy bubbling drowned out the sound of his long yawn. Cleo poked him none too subtly in the shin with her snout and he rolled his eyes. He turned to pry the lid off the tin of biscuits and tossed her a small chunk of ginger snap that she crunched on like he often starved her for days at a time. One teaspoon of brown sugar and a splash of milk followed boiled water and the mug steamed, a perfect tea tan. 

Furred ears swiveled and suddenly Cleo trotted away from him down the hallway toward one of the parlours. He only eased into a somewhat stiff lope after her when he caught what she whispered back to him with a twitch of her whiskers.

“I smell blood.”

Scorpius paused in the thin shaft of diffuse light in the doorway, his palm hovered against the wood while he took in the room. Stained russet cloth, a cluster of bottles on the table beside her. Nascent candlelight flickered and lit one half of Lil’s face, the other side cast by the dark in stark shadow, he let out a tired sigh and scrubbed his free hand over his eyes and forehead. He shuffled across the room and plunked the mug of tea down next to her, something of a peace offering, he cut his eyes to hers briefly to ward off any complaints. Too hot to drink just yet, it’s how he takes his tea, lump it. 

Scor couldn’t help the soft scoff at her words, shaking his head before producing his wand and starting to trace it gently around her. The gash on her abdomen appeared fairly well sealed and there was a measure of the Blood Replenishing potion missing, which accounted for the slight coughing he’d heard before he’d come into the room. 

“Unless I can see through a bit of you, I’m not going to tell.” He murmured in placation while he flicked his wand, floating the candle and passing it over one cheek then the other, focused on the dilation of her eyes. 

In the scant few seconds that had passed Cleo seemed torn between wanting to comfort Lily and avoiding her. In the end she came up with something of a compromise and leaned her haunches against the redhead’s ankle, every now and then tapping the top of her shoe with a fluffy paw. She stood with a hushed whine and circled them a few times when nausea strayed too near, clearly worried about their dear friend. 

[hogwartsexpress]

lila  sat  on  the  edge  of  her  bed,  silver  moonlight  spilling  through  her  window  as  she  pressed  her  palms  against  her  burning  eyes.  every  moment  with  oleander  played  through  her  mind  in  a  vicious  loop.  merlin,  she'd  been  pathetic—voice  full  of  desperate  longing  as  she'd  practically  begged  him  to  come  home.  the  firewhiskey  had  made  her  soft,  made  her  forget  the  careful  fortress  she'd  built  between  him  and  her  heart.  his  gaze  on  her  palm  still  burned  like  fiendfyre  against  her  skin,  that  treacherous  flicker  of  concern  in  his  eyes  sparking  a  little  ember  of  hope—only  for  it  to  be  snuffed  out  when  he  left.

what  had  she  expected?  that  he'd  suddenly  forgive  her?  that  he'd  run  back  into  her  open  arms?  that  they  could  somehow  resurrect  what  they'd  been  before  she'd  helped  burn  his  world  to  ash?  a  sound  escaped  her  throat—something  between  a  laugh  and  a  sob,  too  raw  to  be  either.  some  gryffindor  she  was,  too  much  of  a  coward  to  keep  her  own  heart  behind  its  walls.

the  bottle  of  firewhiskey  called  to  her  from  her  bedside  table,  but  her  hands  shook  too  violently  for her to  open  it.  good.  she  deserved  this  knife-edge  clarity,  deserved  to  feel  every  jagged  piece  of  her  shame  cutting  into  her.  deserved  to  remember  exactly  why  oleander's  eyes  held  such  venom  when  he  looked  at  her  now,  why  he—

a  sudden  crack  shattered  her  spiral  of  self-loathing.  she  whirled  toward  the  sound  just  in  time  to  see  james  crumple  onto  her  pillow,  blood  staining  the  fabric  a  violent  crimson.  for  a  heartbeat,  she  could  only  stare,  her  alcohol-addled  brain  struggling  to  separate  nightmare  from  reality.  then  she  saw  the  bruises  blossoming  across  his  face,  and  something  ignited  in  her  chest,  almost  burning  away  the  alcohol's  haze.

"  jan?  "  her  eyes  blinked  rapidly  as  she  tried  to  force  sobriety  through  sheer  willpower.  "  what's  going  on?  what  happened?  "  but  she  already  knew,  could  see  the  truth  etched  on  her  brother's  face  before  she  forced  out  her  next  words:  "  did  ollie  do  this?  "

Where: 12 Grimmauld Place, Lila's Bedroom

When: 26 of December, late

Who: @lilys

A loud Crack! and Jan found himself collapsing head first onto Lila's pillow. His head throbbed and the familiar metallic sting of blood rang in his throat.

He had made a huge mistake. One of many.

He didn't know what he was expecting when he ran after Ollie, but he supposed this didn't come as a shock. A bruise was expected, even welcomed. He knew what that meant. It was the silence, the melancholy, the kind that his father now didn't--couldn't--show, that drove him insane. When he was younger, he knew exactly where he stood after a proper punishment was chosen for blowing up the kitchen or hiding the cat.

Now, he wondered if he walked in front of him, grabbed his face and screamed I hate this I hate this I hate me if it would elicit any sort of response. And he was too scared to try.

So it would result in some injuries. At the end of the day, it's what he deserved. Downstairs seemed to be silent, clean up from the dinner long gone. He groaned as guilt filled him, lifting his head delicately to let it sit between his hands.

[hogwartsexpress]

the  way  he  looked  at  her  palm,  at  the  hidden  scar  of  her  vow  —  her  skin  prickled  with  something  she  refused  to  name,  a  desperate  fire  of  longing  and  almost  hope.  for  just  a  moment,  his  gaze  held  that  old  softness,  that  familiar  concern  that  used  to  make  her  feel  like  she  was  worth  saving.  it  was  as  if  he  still  cared,  and  the  bitter  knowledge  tore  through  her  like  a  knife,  wounding  her  than  his  anger  ever  could.  so  what  if  —  underneath  all  that  resentment  —  the  love  was  still  there,  buried  deep  in  the  ground,  lying  right  beside  his  father's  corpse?  it  would  not  change  things,  would  not  erase  the  distance  between  them  or  wash  the  blood  from  her  hands.  she  had  forfeited  any  right  to  his  care  the  moment  she'd  helped  tear  his  world  apart. she  wanted  to  make  him  understand  that  the  unbreakable  vow  hadn't  been  about  disadvantaging  herself  in  battle.  it  was  about  stopping  herself  from  becoming  the  monster  she  feared  she  already  was,  about  preventing  herself  from  crossing  more  lines  that  could  never  be  uncrossed,  from  spilling  more  blood  that  could  never  be  washed  away.  but  most  of  all,  she'd  done  it  for  him  —  to  atone  for  what  she'd  done  to  him  and  his  family,  for  the  way  she'd  helped  break  something  that  could  never  be  fixed.  what  did  it  matter  if  she  died  in  the  process?  she  deserved  it.  after  everything  she'd  done,  death  would  be  a  mercy  she  hadn't  earned.  maybe  that  was  what  she'd  been  seeking  all  along  when  she  made  the  vow  —  not  redemption  but  punishment.  (  she  imagined  it  sometimes,  in  her  dreams:  oleander  killing  her.  he  was  always  more  merciful  than  she  deserved,  his  hands  steady  and  sure  as  he  ended  her  life,  his  eyes  holding  that  same  softness  they  had  now.  ) but  the  words  died  in  her  throat,  too  honest  to  be  spoken  aloud.  "  it  doesn't  matter.  it  had  to  be  done.  "  she  finally  said,  her  voice  barely  above  a  whisper.  his  words  rang  in  her  ears:  sometimes  killing  is  needed,  even  if  it  hurts.  it  brought  forth  a  memory  she'd  tried  her  hardest  to  forget:  the  first  time  she'd  killed  someone — her  ex-boyfriend, adonis — she'd  shown  up  on  oleander's  doorstep,  wrecked  with  guilt  and  self-loathing.  he  hadn't  asked  questions,  just  held  her  while  she  shook  apart  in  his  arms,  her  hands  still  smelling  of  smoke.  she'd  fallen  asleep  beside  him  and  left  before  sunrise,  too  ashamed  to  face  him  in  the  light  of  day.  "  somehow,  i  thought  you'd  be  happy  i  did  it.  easier  this  way,  isn't  it?  getting  the  job  done?  "  when  he  spoke  of  not  wanting  neville  to  return  until  he  was  gone,  lila  felt  the  words  like  a  physical  blow  to  the  chest.  the  implication  hung  heavy  between  them:  he  was  planning  to  die  in  this  war.  just  like  she  was.  they  were  both  racing  toward  their  own  destruction,  two  shooting  stars  burning  themselves  out.  "  don't  say  that,  "  she  insisted,  in  spite  of  herself.  "  you  can't  die.  "  what  would  this  all  have  been  for,  if  he  just  let  himself  die  in  the  end? the knowledge of his murder should've sickened her, should've pushed her away, but it didn't. not yet. "  ollie,  stop.  i  know  you.  i  know  you're  not  a  monster.  "  she  said,  fiercely,  vehemently.  "  if  you  killed  someone,  you  must've  had  a  good  reason.  they  must've  deserved  it.  you  don't  need  to  torture  yourself  for  it.  just  ...  come  back,  we  can  make  this  right.  "

perceptive eyes trailed towards her palm. not so long ago, he might have reached out, curled his hand over her own & traced his thumb right where her fingers touched. offering comfort to lila had never been an obligation to him : it came to him as naturally as breathing, once. now he stood there, almost awkward, wanting to break the distance between them and wanting her as far away from him as possible in equal measure. he used to make things grow, and now he only breaks what he touches. he was a danger to her. longbottom. it should make him happy, that she's stopped calling him by his name. she had no right to refer to him informally. they were enemies. and still it was so hollow to hear. " then you see what a disadvantage you've forced yourself in. " he was almost scolding her. another flash of rage rose within him, directed at her for all the wrong reasons : how could she have taken away a form of protection from herself ? " sometimes killing is needed. even if it hurts. " though he'd stopped feeling guilty about the blood on his hands a while ago. that was how he knew redemption had slipped away from him. it took a monster to fight monsters, and that was what he had become. he wanted lila to see that. he wanted her to put an end to him. wasn't it only fair for it to be her that killed him ? he might walk right into the knife if only she asked it of him. if only she hated him the way he needed her to. he leaned against the counter, the only way of stopping himself from reaching out and making sure she's steady. " i don't think i want him to come back. or if he does, i hope it's — " when i'm gone, he doesn't say. let the implication hang between them. she was right. his father would want him with his friends. he'd want him to take some vow to never kill and be good. for the first time, his gaze softened. " i can't leave daisy. " but it wasn't that simple, either. " you're wrong, lila. i am too far gone. being a wraith isn't the only way to be a monster. this — " his fingers brush over the wound. " i killed the person that gave me this, and i felt proud of it. i would do it again. that's why i didn't heal it. "