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cold-eyes-ice-dive · 5 years ago

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Something that I was inspired to write after reading Coleridge's Kubla Khan

Warnings: Angst/ Smut/ Demon! Taeyong

***

As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

The cold midnight air stung your throat as you bemoaned his name. Hot tears, immediately turned ice cold as they ran down your cheeks. Your tired legs would have given out but you continued to hobble, aimlessly through the thick forest with only the moonlight to guide you.

It had been exactly five weeks since you last saw Taeyong. He promised he would be back for you and that it would only be a couple of days. However, it seemed as if he had vanished. You knew the dangers about sleeping with a demon but Taeyong had completely bewitched you, extorted your virginity and left you vulnerable without him. You didn't know how you let yourself get this far but the lust he had rooted in you drove you to his arms every time he called for you.

You gripped your hair in devastation as you finally fell onto the ground, sobbing pathetically. You had no energy left. You could only whimper his name, gasping violently without a reply.

Five weeks was too much. The demon that tormented you had probably left. Maybe an angel finally defeated him and gave your soul a chance of redemption and salvation. But you didn't want that. You wanted him. You opened your windows every night, you started to call out his name, you waited at the place where you first met him, all you efforts in vain. He never showed up. You wandered aimlessly every sleepless night, just to catch a glimpse of your demon lover. Nonetheless, you didn't dare tap into the dark realm in search of him, you would risk the chance of another demon lunging at you, dragging your soul to purgatory instead.

You knew you lost your sanity when you ran out of your home, barefoot and clad in your night dress in the dead of the night, just to call out his name one last time. The prick of twigs and stones on your feet didn't stop you, neither did the icy grip of the midnight air around your throat. You knew it the second you plunged yourself into the depths of the ominous darkness of the forest. It was either Taeyong or you turning yourself in to the church to meet your end.

You clutched your chest as your headache sank in. Your tears never ceased and your wails reduced to whispers of his name. You slowly knelt up, and stared at the star studded sky. "Is this goodbye? Won't you come back to me again?" You whined.

You didn't get a moment to feel the cold breeze against your tear stained cheeks. Instead, what you felt was your lungs being knocked out of breath as you were tackled down into the dewy grass. You didn't get a chance to process what was happening, all you felt was the strong grip of talons on your waist. You lifted your eyelids to see the unfamiliar appearance of your lover; Taeyong's eyes were blood red and his horns almost seemed as if they were piercing through his skull. His skin was livid and his veins protruded grotesquely. He gripped your jaw and violently kissed you, drinking in the blood that flowed from your lips.

You pulled back in horror and tried to crawl away from this unhinged demon, but Taeyong pinned your hands down and pushed his hot lips against yours again. You tried to kick him off and tear your body away, digging your nails into his bare chest.

Taeyong slowly let his grip loosen and you immediately scrambled away, standing up to view your too much changed lover. He was recognizable but the macabre character in front of you wasn't the image you remembered.

Sighing, Taeyong got up, his black wings spreading. Your blood ran cold as your eyes came in contact with his ruby red eyes. Your breathing slowed as you approached him. "Taeyong?" You called as you placed a gentle hand on his heated chest. "Why are you- what happened to you?"

Taeyong shook his head as he chuckled. "My little dove, you only want me in my human body, do you?"

Your eyes moistened after hearing his voice. You immediately pushed your body against his and embraced him. "Where .... where were you..?" You whimpered as your tears wet his chest. Taeyong held you tight as his wings covered your bodies into a webbed cocoon. Taeyong felt your heart pulsating against his chest and this only led to a deep tug at his own heartstrings. Ignoring the pain, he rested his head on your shoulder, drinking in your scent. His hands gently played with the ends of your hair, feeling them as if it were the last time. After a few sobs, you whispered "Do you not want me anymore?"

Taeyong pushed you back down onto the ground, holding the back of your head from hitting it. "Be quiet" he growled, gripping your neck as he smashed his lips against yours. You gasped from his sudden shift of demeanor and you involuntarily pushed him away as you felt his tongue against yours. You pulled away to look at him, once more. Your fingers slowly traced the protruding vein on his temple and you stared at his dark blue lips in awe.

"Y/n" he grumbled and looked away, clearly agitated by your actions. "So this is how you really look." You pushed back his sooty black hair from falling into his eyes and stared into his crimson spheres.

Taeyong's eyes shifted, indecisive as to whether he should look into your sparkling, wide eyes or into your rosey,bitten lips. With a groan, he pushed his lips back onto yours and continued kissing you. His large hand grabbed your thigh and wrapped it around his hip and he moved into you, trapping your moans into his mouth.

Distracted by his rough movements against your needy core, you shut your eyes and gripped his shoulders. Taeyong looked at you for a quick second before pulling away to kiss your jaw. You noticed a change in him; his shoulders slowly shrunk back to the frame you were used you. His body temperature no longer felt as if he bathed in the fires of hell albeit his warmth retained. He felt lighter, smaller and familiar.

You opened your eyes as his teeth sank into your neck. The bright moonlight shone upon the familiar figure which pulled away to look at you. "I don't want you to be repulsed by me." he admitted, sheepishly. You gazed at his face, love sick from its beauty. His eyes were back to their usual colour, but you could see the hint of red in his irises. His skin, like honey, soft and dewy. His hair was combed back to it's perfection. This was the Taeyong you were familiar with. You sighed and got up slightly, supporting your body with your elbows.

"Taeyong... I was never repulsed by you." You whispered as he tore your dress open and bit into your soft flesh. "Taeyong!" You gasped at the feelings of his teeth tugging your erect nipple. "Taeyong...." you whimpered as he continued to bite your chest. He pulled away and wrenched your legs apart, his veins protruding and hinting blue at his efforts. "Tae-" you couldn't complete the rest of his name as you felt his fingers roughly feel up the moisture of your cunt.

"So fucking wet, are you that needy, angel?" He chuckled as he gathered your essences to glide his fingertip over your clit. He leaned over to place a small kiss on your cheek. "Did you miss me this much?" You whimpered in response and held his shoulders. "I thought you would never come back to me."

Taeyong sat back down on the damp ground and pulled you up to straddle him. "How could I ever leave you?" He tucked a hair behind your ear and kissed you. "I am completely infatuated with you...." he admitted as one hand held your waist and the other reached into his pants to pull his cock out.

"But I am in love with you." You sighed and he slowly sank you down onto his member. "Oh God." You squealed and buried your face into the crook of his shoulder. The familiar burning in the pit of your stomach reignited. You didn't know whether sex always felt this exciting or if it was just Taeyong.

"Don't say that, little dove." Taeyong grunted as you moved your hips over his throbbing cock. You pulled back to look at him, only to see his expression distorted into one of pain. "Taeyong?" You gasped as you stopped your movement.

"Don't say that you love me, please, Y/N" he gasped out. He rested his forehead against yours. His hands gently moved your waist up and down his dick. "I know you do. I know." He hummed as he continued the pace. You moaned out and pulled him into a kiss. Wherever he gripped you, he burned into your skin, pleasurably. "Taeyong!" You gasped as he hit your weak spot.

"Fuck this." He muttered and tugged your hair back to look into his eyes. "I am in lov- fuck!" He winced and held you tight as his face fell into your chest. "Tae?" You called out, concerned. You paused your movements to take his face between your hands. Your thumb caressed his cheekbone gently as you relied on the glow of the moon to see his face clearly. He looked like he was torturing himself by making love to you. Taeyong pulled the back of your head into the crook of his neck and held you gently.

"You know what I meant to say.." he smiled weakly and hugged you tight. "You'll be the death of me." He mumbled against your hair. "Taeyong?" You asked but he hushed you and continued to fuck you. "You're mine, precious angel." He kissed the side of your head as your moans grew higher in pitch. Your body was going to experience an orgasm after weeks and Taeyong's fuck meant an intense, body trembling, ecstasy.

What you didn't know was the fact that Taeyong's heartstrings were getting cut, one after the other with each confession of his love for you. He failed his mission of bringing you into damnation. He fell deeply in love with you and instead of allowing the devil to let lust eat your soul away, Taeyong kept you out of his reach.

His punishment was severe, each time he admitted his feelings verbally or mentally for you, his chest pulled into an excruciating pain. But he didn't care at this moment. You were with him, he was with you. There is no saving him, but that doesn't mean he would let the same happen to you.

"I love you, my little dove."

#nct taeyong #nct scenario #nct reaction #nct angst #nct u #nct #nct au #nct smut #nct imagines #taeyong scenarios #lee taeyong #taeyong scenario #taeyong #taeyong smut #taeyong angst

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scenarihoes · 6 years ago

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Hi, odd request and I suck at explaining so write whatever you what on this, just need more of my bird boy here. Tokoyami having a crush on a support course student and he writes a edger Allen Poe/speakpeare sort of journal about his thoughts and has a page on his feelings for her and compares her to the Greek goddesses athena and Persephone. Just being a real sappy boi and his crush somehow finds out about this and they sit on his bed while she reads it and he is just absolutely dying. (Sorry)

CUTE CUTE CUTE CUTE CUTE

nights in white satin

tokoyami fumikage // reader

————

Fingers drag over satin bedsheet, hair and feather splayed over the surface. Unlike you, content albeit abashed with a notebook caught between your fingers, Tokoyami feels like his heart may truly leap from his chest. Everytime he watches your eyes scan the lines of text his pulse grows just a bit quicker- anxiety, anticipation. With the words you read written from the very pencils bound by his hands, he may as well be naked before you. He feels exposed- but he’s unsure if it’s uncomfortably so.

She is Athena

The first line read, scribbled, hasty.

Courage, wisdom, time and strength

and to whom do I owe the thanks

of placing her beside me, of planting her feet to the soil

rooting and blooming inside me, within this beating heart

and within this empty chest concaved to build a garden

in its wake, and to turn tragedy, to beauty.

Rib to vine, just as fear to growth.

Although he feels like he should say something to burst the heavy silence, he does not. He can’t bring himself just yet; you aren’t done reading. Instead he decides to wait until the cue is given. Like a statue, he lays beside you and swallows hard.

A soft, gentle sigh escapes your lips and he makes his stomach do flips. Your free hand points a finger at the lines you read along with internally.

“I like this one,” You murmur happily. “Do you really think of me like that?”

Quickly he glances at the line in question.

If she is not Athena, than she is Persephone

and I shall be Hades.

Once again a harsh swallow forced Tokoyami’s throat to constrict. His mouth feels like it’s full of cotton- he clears his throat and says, “...Yes.”

You smile. Cute. Silence as you drag your finger along the pages of scribbled words upon the notebooks worn paper.

I will bleed pomegranates dry on her tongue, sprawl the flowers in her crown

In her mane and upon her cheeks

and I will let her breathe a new life into me

One of color

Of trust and lacking in dripping decadence.

“You have such a beautiful way of words.” The ends of your sentence are dulled with an exhale. Even though the bedroom is dark, only lit by the dullness of his candles, he doesn’t need to lay eyes upon your expression to understand your benevolence. The warmth in your tone makes his stomach stir in a sort of delight he hadn’t anticipated before.

From the very moment you’d asked him if you could explore the poetry he’s written, you in mind and muse, he’d felt like he was drowned by emotion. Tenacity, anxiety, affection. Even if you hated the poems he knew you well enough to know that those malicious thoughts would never see the light of day. It comforts him just as much as it makes him cautious.

His words had always been the largest part of himself. Poetry lay at his core, watchful eyes searching for muses. He always settled upon you- his favorite subject.

You flipped the page and he’s choking all over again.

“Can I read more?” You ask, and though he feels like there’s weight in his chest, he remembers the garden. Petals scratch the back of his throat.

“You may.”

How you can even read the messiness of his writing, he’ll have to spend the rest of his life guessing. Sometimes he writes so fast even he himself, the composer, cannot understand the scrawls of pencil on paper.

Dove and crow, a pitfall and pit full of feathers.

“I like that line, too. Am I the Dove?” Looking up at him, he’s sure if he wasn’t feathered in black you’d see the flush on his face. He nods once, and you giggle such a sweet laugh that he has to shut his eyes and relish in the sound. Not just cute, adorable. Astounding, staggering, breathtaking. A sound that he couldn’t go without hearing, again.

The gears in his mind grind- he can feel a new poem mapping out within his mind as you continue your quest through his recorded thoughts.

For the first time

I touch stars and I feel light

Eating and splitting and driving me into two,

Two halves of myself, a strike down the center

and For the first time,

I shine within the darkness. I beacon amongst the shadows,

and I do not see the monster shrouded in black,

But feathers.

Tufts of angelic white and a thousand shimmering halos

a thousand different raptures.

I see her and the outstretching of my arms, the unhinging of my jaws,

The golden blood bleeding from petal and thicket sewing me back to one.

For the first time,

even in the chaos,

I am whole.

Slowly, slowly, you turn to see him. He can feel the intimacy of your gaze, as well as he can sense the vulnerability. You look at him as he looks at you- the holder of everything. Star catcher, star eater, the center of such a great broad universe.

It’s then he realizes that this is a moment he could have never gone without. The fear urges him to look back and remember just how tenderly you look up at him with your finger still lingering at the final word of his poem.

“This is...” Your head turns forward, eyes scanning over the lines all over again. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“It’s just-...” You swallow. “These are so beautiful, I-I don’t... Do you really think of me like this?”

Love swells in his chest. Carefully he reaches out and plucks the notebook from your hand, closes it and sets it on the empty space between him and the wall.

“All of that and more,” His voice is much steadier than he’d thought it would be. “I think of you as everything, and more.”

Your hands close around nothing. Rolling over to face him, you lay on your side, look up at him with awed eyes. The candles light paint them with spectacular hues.

“How do you come up with all that? Does it take a while?”

“Not usually. I often write just as the ideas come into my head.”

For a long moment, your eyes leave in him sudden contemplation. He reaches out and touches his hand to the side of your face and let’s his eyes fall halflidded when you look up at him warmly.

“...Can you come up with anything on the spot?”

Tokoyami’s eyes rewiden all over again. “Right now?”

You nod. “O-Only if you want to!”

It’s a lucky moment in history when he know’s exactly what to say. Since the moment you’d began reading he’d been building his lines in his head, waiting for the moment to write them down. He takes into account the words, the expressions, the lucidity of your eyes tracing his pensmanship so brutal even he the creator has troubles recreating the ideas in the depths of his mind.

His eyes soften as he pets your cheek. You still stare at him like you’re in trouble just for asking.

“Okay,” He takes in a breath, and begins.

“You’re the flower that outmatches the raging winds. Petals that bloom even without the rays of lights, thriving within the darkest depths and the most fearsome corners. With you, there is the light, and hope. All that touch you feel the dust of your pollen on their fingers, like moth to flame, like humankind to warmth. Even against the face of time and change you remain steady, a symbol of love, of kindness and bravery and shelter to those too afraid to face the light waiting for them.”

It’s flows from him without skipping a beat.

His eyes close, body going lax. Speaking the words out loud rather than writing them feels foreign on his tongue, but he welcomes the oddity.

“Out of this entire world, I consider myself the luckiest person to be at your side. You strike me as light strikes darkness, as good strikes not evil, but the lost.”

“You considered yourself lost, before you met me?” You ask in such a small voice.

“I considered myself not lost, but without. I hadn’t realized what I was missing before there was you. After the moment you were a presence in my life I felt drawn to you as night is drawn to day, always chasing. I was afraid, in the time before you approached me, that I would never understand what it meant to be a person within your life. Such a beautiful creation could never have been mine.” Tokoyami runs his hand through your hair and shuts his eyes. “I believed that I bound to nothing but darkness, but you’ve certainly convinced me otherwise.”

A hand catches his wrist and he peeks his eyes open, looks down to see your figners wrapped around him. You smile.

“I’m happy that I could convince you otherwise. You really are amazing, you know that?”

Tokoyami is frozen in his place for a moment, staring. Then, suddenly, he brings you close to him. He tucks your head underneath the feathers of his chin and feels content, he feels peace. You make happy sounds in the back of your throat and pet over his softness with soft hands.

He still isn’t sure who to thank exactly for allowing him such a blissful moment, such a person to welcome in his arms. His entire life spent jaded in such a casual way that only a watchful eye could see it, just for all those hard edges to grind and preen and erode until you could touch him without worry.

More poem worm their ways into his mind. They always will, until the ends of his time. He sighs sweetly againt the top fo your head and pets down the length of your back, feels you melt against him.

Just as light will always find the darkness, you will always find each other.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #imagine #scenario #tokoyami fumikage #x reader

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fultontheauthor · 5 years ago

Text

A Good Day

Sunrise

When did a sunrise become the ultimate symbol for life’s fresh out of the package moments? Daylin Hutchinson saw God’s little, bouncy ball pop up every morning with nothing new attached to it. It was just the same urine-colored rays of light that disrupted the sleep of the free roaming pack of bums near her bus stop. Daylin often wondered why people got all hung up on celestial bodies. Centuries of ink jockeys were just too afraid to look down at all of this shit, she thought to herself as she watched an old man simultaneously scratch his groin and spit.

“Behold! A new day,” she laughed, lifting her hands dramatically towards the sky. The old man turned in her direction, blinked a few times, and quickly shook his head in disbelief. He shuffled towards her, but Daylin had no desire to be in flea-jumping distance. She quickly stood and waved her arms and started babbling in Latin. The geezer did an about face and dove head first into a nearby cluster of sea grape bushes screaming,

“I’ll get off the shit, Lord. I swear! Call back your Holy Ghost!�� Daylin sat there laughing hysterically. When she first started taking the bus from Ft. Lauderdale to her new job at Books on the Beach in the boggy bosom of downtown Miami, she didn’t realize that the bushes surrounding the plastic canopy were junkie condos. They would scurry up behind her and tug on her hair while asking her if she was for real. Daylin delighted in these watered down philosophical musings, but she could not stand anyone touching her without her authorization. Once, she had to deliver a little, hardcore cogito ergo sum[1] in the form of some pepper spray. She had never seen a dope head move so fast and in such a perfectly linear fashion, no less. However, years of Catholic-school-strength guilt made her find him the next day, apologize, and give him twenty bucks worth of good faith. After that, she decided it would be more economical to use her natural charms instead. Lucky for her, the difference between a ghost and a surly albino becomes blurred after you’ve been behind the eight-ball for a few years. She heard the hiss of the number 12 before she saw it snake across three lanes of traffic to reach her stop.

“Good morning, child,” the bus driver, a high-spirited Haitian woman, shouted. Daylin gave her usual silent gaze and small nod combo. It was way too early for cheery sentimentality. Daylin often thought the words “good” and “morning” should start to see other people. Her boss, Ben, was an AM junky and insisted that the bookstore be open at precisely 0700 hours. Ben claimed that his days as a drill sergeant had forced him to look at every morning as being chock full of possibilities. Daylin chuckled to herself, because not once had they ever sold a book before ten. She suspected that another reason Ben opened so early was to catch a glimpse of Miss Maggie, the owner of the salon next store, who just so happened to have a serious hard-on for mornings as well.

“I wonder if Ben has been shot down yet,” she whispered, pulling a newspaper out of her purple satchel. She loved finding connections between the obituaries and the birth announcements. One time she found a family that cut a cord and pulled a plug all in a matter of two days. She had the articles framed and mounted over her bed and next to her Kama Sutra poster of The Milk and Water Embrace. Before she could even get past the wedding announcements, she felt a dozen eyes trying to undress her medically. She lowered the paper and watched as everyone pretended not to be looking at her. This little game of peek-a-boo went on for about 15 minutes, before someone finally whispered the A-word, and put the clinical debate to rest. Except, for two pre-teens who were convinced that she was one of Dracula’s hoes. Normally, Daylin enjoyed a good Stoker reference, but this time it was accompanied by little, gaping mouths and a father too busy scrolling through his phone to correct and check their insensitivity. She had gotten used to the staring by the time she reached adolescence, but when people found it necessary to unhinge their jaws at the sight of her, she took it personally. When the bus pulled up to her stop she made her way up the aisle at a zombie’s pace, rolled her eyes back at just the right moment, and added in a little werewolf drool. They both quickly scooted back in their seats and knocked their noodles against the glass. Daylin thought this was a perfect contraceptive commercial moment. She caught herself smiling in the overhead mirror, as she waited to exit. Her teeth matched her flesh tone, and her eyes were that special type of lavender that only the Cheshire Cat could pull off. It attracted the attention of the bus driver, who slapped her on the shoulder and laughed,

“Nice trick, Pretty Girl.” Daylin winked and vanished in the morning sun.

Morning

Daylin only got about three feet before she felt like smearing barbecue sauce across her breasts and thighs. She quickly dug into her bag for her sun hat and Cyclops shades. When she was born every pediatrician told her parents that they should consider moving to a state where the word “sun” wasn’t used for advertising purposes. Her parents refused, they loved Florida, and they wanted Daylin to be able to stand up to anything, including Mother Nature’s bright and steamy PMS. She remembered her mother basting her in sunblock, placing a sombrero-sized sunflower hat on her head, and sending her off to her first encounter with the school system. Needless to say, Daylin developed an elephant-sized backbone by the time she was six. The only time it wavered was at her father’s funeral. She couldn’t approach the casket without feeling mousy. Her mother wasn’t feeling anything, except for her new fiancé’s bulbous thigh.

When she reached the parking lot of the Starlight Plaza, she was in no mood for pleasantries. She spotted Ben helping Miss Maggie carry some supplies from her car and complimenting her on the condition of her 67 Eldorado. Ben struggled under the weight of the stuffed plastic bags, but he was determined to see this He-Man tactic through. Daylin could tell his arthritis was waging war with years of military-grade pride. Her father had the same cast iron ego. His years on the police force had made it so he had lost his ability to flinch before taking a hit and conceive of a world where damsels could drive past ten o’clock at night. She feared that Ben could only communicate through heroics, and Daylin knew from experience that this was a dead language.

She snuck along the edge of the lot, but she ran into something louder than a chicken with a firecracker up its ass.

“Watch where you going!” Selena Castillo snarled, chasing after her purse. Daylin started to make a grab for it, but Selena snatched it up and hissed,

“This is Prada, Casper… Chica estúpida!” Her heels angrily dug into the cement as she took off towards the salon. Daylin was about to let the fur fly when she spotted Ben making a final attempt to impress his Jamaican Juliet. He was balancing all the bags in one arm and opening the door with the other. His snowy comb-over looked hung-over, and she couldn’t tell if he was blushing or having some kind of allergic reaction. Daylin thought if she were to lodge her foot in Miss Maggie’s best beautician’s ass, his odds would be completely shot. Instead, she decided to take it out on an innocent copy of Candide when she entered the store. Selena had been flying around in her ointment since the day she started working at the bookstore. The two businesses shared a courtyard out back, and it was impossible to take out the trash without bumping into her or one of her acrylic laden sidekicks. Daylin had swallowed a large dose of Cyrano syrup by the time she hit puberty. She could take an insult, whip it right back, and have the whole room laughing in a NASCAR minute. Also, Daylin wasn’t afraid to throw punches or the occasional blunt object. But, again, she didn’t want to be the reason that the only other heart left in this military vet’s life was purple.

“I think… I’m wearing… that little lady down,” Ben huffed, as he came through the door. Daylin smiled and laughed,

“If you keep it up she’ll be the Grand Canyon before she’s your girlfriend.”

“I know, but it’s different for grown folks. You twenty-year-olds date like it’s a raunchy game of musical chairs. Where’s the subtlety? Where’s the woo?” Ben said, unlocking the register.

“Woo?” Daylin replied, with her eyebrows in full arch mode.

“Yes, woo! Whatever happened to paying ladies compliments, sharing umbrellas, and all that jazz?”

“Jazz?”

“Okay, okay! I get the point. I’m way past my skirt-chasing expiration date.” Daylin could feel a dirty cottage cheese joke forming on the tip of her tongue, but she quickly swallowed it when she saw Ben’s eyes drift over his wedding band the way her fathers’ used to when she would bring up her mother’s dating exploits. He sat down on one of the old, reading couches with a defeated sigh.

“You could just ask her.”

“God, I want to! It’s just…we’re both widows and I’m waiting for the right moment��and I want her to feel properly courted,” he stuttered between coughs. Daylin only hoped that this moment was in the near future. An oxygen tank would make for a very squeaky third wheel.

“We got a new shipment of those romance novels in the back. Why don’t you go unpack them, and I’ll take the first watch.” Daylin nodded and went to sort things out among the sexy covers and the silk sheet plot lines. Who am I to be giving out love advice? She thought to herself, as she tore open the boxes in the back room. The only real example of a relationship she had ever witnessed was her parent’s Hindenburg romance. The flames and the fallout were the backdrops of her adolescence. Her mother discovered the independent Cosmo-girl lifestyle after menopause delivered her into the hands of a very free-spirited and handsome life coach. Her father was a Rockwellian montage of fifties sitcoms; he didn’t stand a chance. Daylin fought back the memory of the day when he committed the ultimate samurai taboo. She shook her head and dropped the subject, along with a few books. She always wanted to remember him as the man who reinvented the Sinatra serenade and the purveyor of the lost art of rose covered apologies.

Her own personal experience with love was divided between having some random guy feel her up at a concert and her sixty-page master’s thesis on Jane Austen’s greatest hits. Regardless, she wanted Ben to be happy and for at least one romantic to not end up so God damn hopeless. Daylin found herself assuming the market crash position, along with the rest of the graduating class of 09. College programs wouldn’t touch her without a doctorate, high schools were slashing budgets, and newspapers were sucking on the dot com tailpipe. Ben’s ad in the classifieds saved her from a suffocating waitress uniform and going through serious book withdrawal. This job offered her a safe place to regroup, and she wished she could repay him for taking a shot on someone with no real life experience.

“Don’t worry, darling. We deal in fiction,” he laughed when she brought it up during their first interview. After she finished unpacking the books, she took the boxes out back to the dumpster. She had to pass through the courtyard and a tropical blend of palm frowns and Pall Mall smoke. Selena was perched up on the communal picnic table playfully flicking her ashes into her friend’s half-eaten empanada.

“Mierda![2] Somebody call the Ghost Adventures team,” Selena laughed. She playfully swept back her out-of-the-box blonde tendrils. Daylin continued on and pretended like she didn’t hear her. On the trip back, Selena’s flunky called out,

“You should let us fix you up!”

“We don’t have enough hair dye for that,” Selena snickered.

“You must have used it all on your mustache,” Daylin whispered.

“What was that, snowflake?” Selena shouted. Right before Daylin was about to turn around, Miss Maggie stuck her head out the back door and yelled,

“Luisa, don’t yah be leavin’ that relaxer on Missus Truman. Las’ time you almost burnt her scalp clean off!” The other girl quickly vacated the premises. Selena followed her comrade laughing and acting like her scalp was on fire. Daylin wished she could have provided her with some real motivation, but she had just recently quit smoking.

“Good… Day! Tell your boss I said hello,” Miss Maggie laughed.

Afternoon

Only her father ever called her Day, but Miss Maggie said it with all the same warmth and affection. Daylin wished Ben would step up his game before some geriatric Romeo started wandering around in her garden at night. Miss Maggie was about Ben’s age but was one of those women who defied the hourglass. Time had only managed to scratch up a few crow’s feet and a beautiful nest of silver braids. Daylin always admired the power of Personality Botox. Just as she shut the door to the rainforest of mentholated mist, Ben came scrambling into the back room.

“Listen, I’ve got to go run a few errands. Keep an eye out for our new Twilight display,” he said, putting on his old army cap. Daylin rolled her eyes at the thought of a bunch of pubescent protozoa squirming about looking for their next “hottie” fix. As usual, Ben sensed her disgust with the teen trend.

“I know, but at least they’re reading. Tell you what, I’ll place it next to the Self-Help section, so there’s room for improvement,” he laughed, ducking out the back. Daylin smiled and headed up to the front desk, where Ben had arranged pieces of literature on Doctoral programs.

“He never gives up, does he?” she whispered. Ever since she brought up her degree, Ben had turned the store into an application minefield. He even went as far as leaving a few in the ladies room, which definitely helped loosen up her bowels. The thought of another four rounds in academia made her want to instantly shit her pants. She was exhausted from her first tour of duty and was enjoying her life free of theoretical barbed wire. Daylin knew he meant well, but she was just not ready to commit to anything yet. Suddenly, the door opened and in came the living incarnation of all commitment issues.

“Hi, I’m looking for some books on Van Gogh,” he said, running his hands through his blond buzz cut. Sure you are. Daylin thought as she motioned towards the art section. This guy was a regular and a regular piece of work at that. He would come in every week with a new piece of arm candy and then give the poor swizzle stick the slip a few days later. Today he was flying solo, which meant this was a fishing expedition. His tribal tattoos and his coffee house demeanor caused Daylin to keep stock in tissues. The jilted ones would always return to the scene of the crime hoping to see the little worm. Daylin whipped out her reading glasses and decided to take her frustration out on Ben’s copy of Don Juan. She always enjoyed finding hundred-year-old grammatical quirks and awkward phrasing. She barely made it through the first canto when the reflection from his nasal piecing scurried across the counter.

“I can’t seem to find anything biographical,” he announced as if he had just discovered electricity. She quickly flipped a snarl into a smile and replied,

“I’ll go check the back for you, sir.” Ben was big on customer service, and Daylin had to learn how to fake orgasmic-level sincerity. She checked a few boxes and scaled to the top of the corner bookcase where Ben had a tendency to house the overflow. The Victorian section, in particular, seemed to multiply faster than their customers’ curiosity. She smiled as she glanced over at Dorian Gray and Dr. Jekyll who were within virtual make out distance.

“You boys play nice now,” she snorted. This caused her to inadvertently move a little and the old, off-balanced stool beneath her toppled over

“Oh, crap!” she yelled, grabbing onto a shelf. The bookcase buckled and everything came crashing down in a title wave of Nineteenth-Century Decadence. She opened her eyes to find three copies of Madame Bovary straddling her face.

“Sorry ladies, you’re not my type,” she whispered, trying to lift the case off. It was wedged between the back wall and a crate, and Daylin’s efforts only invited more books to join the claustrophobic orgy. She screamed for help as she heard the front doorbell announce that any would-be Lancelots had officially left the premises. Maybe he’s going for help. She thought as she searched her pockets for her cell phone. Suddenly, she heard her “Ebony and Ivory” ring tone laughing at her from the other room.

“So…not…happening,” she screamed. After an hour, it became painfully obvious that no one was going to save her. The thought of that cunt juggling Casanova strolling merrily on his way made all her tears sizzle up.

“I understand I’m not Disney damsel material, but I’m in distress, damn it!” Another hour rolled by, and she started to wonder if her current situation was perhaps some form of a messed up metaphor for her life. Then she decided that, if it was a metaphor, God needed an editor. Yeah, she was obsessed with books, but this lacked any sort of originality. There isn’t a red pen big enough for this shit! Daylin thought as she felt her anger boil over into the worst type of memory froth. She saw her father in the arms of his gussied up hunting rifle with his frontal lobe open to a wide array of tragic theories and interpretations. What was left of his face held a happy sort of frown with a hint of nostalgia. He decided to face oblivion while facing his favorite photo mantle. This was the only time his dress uniform was anything less than spotless. It was his weekend on the divorce rotation schedule, and Daylin was ready with a fresh list of grievances about her mother’s new boyfriend. She always hated how that paternal poser called her his Little Snowball.

Her father always listened, smiled, and inserted his usual “tally ho” and “sally forth” commentary when he felt it was appropriate. He had this way of laughing at life that felt like there should be a Live TV Audience sign haloing above him. At his funeral, Daylin couldn’t stomach all the questions surrounding the point of impact. When a fatalistic-looking priest entered into the muffled debate, Daylin decided to quash the impending divinity diagnosis.

“Spoiler alert! God didn’t do it,” she shouted. For months, she had teased him about dating out of some childish fear that she would morph into the world’s strangest looking second fiddle.

“Wanted: A woman who digs bald spots and Viagra,” Daylin laughed when her father brought up the possibility of joining one of those fifty and over dating sites, a few weeks before he decided to roll credits.

“Serve ‘em up,” he laughed, polishing his dome. Daylin should’ve remembered that heroes could only admit to weaknesses in the form of well-placed quips, and that’s only if “The End” was lurking a few pages away. The bells on the front door handle brought her back into thinking in the present tense.

“Daylin, could you come give me a hand,” Ben yelled.

“Unfortunately, no!”

“Why no—Oh, Jesus” he yelled, rounding the corner. Ben dropped the new display and quickly set to work trying to free her. He wedged an old piece of wood between the case and the wall and pushed. Then, he set about untangling fact from fiction.

“Are you all right?” he asked. He removed the last of the femme fatales and a rogue piece of the fallen shelf. She didn’t respond and just laid there listening to the wind wiggle its way under the back door. It sounded so soothing, but Selena’s laughter quickly broke up this elemental text message, before Daylin had a chance to pull some meaning from it.

“Post-modernistic, bitch!” She whispered, climbing to her feet. She headed to the door with every intention of dumping a camel load of last straws down that girl’s throat.

Sunset

“We should really go to the hospital,” Ben yelled from the doorway. Daylin appreciated his concern, but it had to be temporarily pushed into her emotional slush pile.

“Mira[3], it’s the Pillsbury puta,” Selena whispered. Her friend playfully spewed her Cherry Fanta, while laughing.

“Yo, did I just hear pops ask you out. Bedpans and catheters are so romantic,” she laughed.

“Does he make you wear a nurse’s uniform?” They all started to playfully thrust their pelvises. At that point, Daylin stopped and turned to see Ben blushing enough for the both of them. Originally, she was just going to tell Selena off, but now the bitch had taken a shot at Ben’s rusty sense of self-esteem. Daylin knew Miss Maggie was probably within hearing distance, and there was no way that Selena was going to pass up an emasculation smoke break. Daylin decided she would disguise a rescue in the form of what she termed Explosive White Girl Syndrome. She stopped about a foot short of her quarry and activated her patented silent time bomb. Daylin’s particular brand of backbone had made it necessary for her to procure a certain amount of legal knowledge from her father. He always told her to never throw the first punch and let the other person provide you with just the right amount of evidence to justify an assault. Now, it was just a matter of getting Selena to wrap her loose lips around the hook.

“What? You gonna do something?” Selena said, getting up. Her friend retreated to the shade and shouted,

“That pendeja[4] is not worth it!”

“What!? She--ain’t—goin’--do nothing’” she screamed, poking Daylin in the shoulder. It had been her experience that most women respond to silence as the ultimate middle finger. Daylin narrowed her gaze to give it a flashing red exclamation point. Selena immediately lunged and grabbed a hold of her throat. Daylin grabbed her wrists and gasped,

“Ain’t… is not a word!” Then, she pushed down and kneed Selena straight in the jaw. She flew backward screaming something that sounded more like ancient Theban than Spanish. She got to her feet and spit out a tooth and some blood-spattered obscenities.

“Dat's enough now!” Miss Maggie shouted, running out into the courtyard.

“Call the cops,” Selena hissed.

“I don’t think so. I saw you lay hands on her,” Miss Maggie laughed.

“Bitch… I run this,” she said. Selena frantically pointed to the salon.

“Cock mouth kill cock! You’re fired,” Miss Maggie shouted. Selena froze and let out a Chihuahua-sized whimper.

“You may be good, but you’re not worth all dis here drama. Besides, you take breaks like you own da place. Time is money and da bank is not stealing my Daylight savings,” Miss Maggie laughed. Selena screamed and headed down the back alley with a matching pair of blue bruises and broken pumps.

“I’m gonna call you, The Editor,” Ben laughed, scrambling over to Daylin with a first aid kit. He started to tend to her acrylic neck wounds when Miss Maggie called him over to the shop. Daylin assured him she’d be fine and ushered him over to his Juliet. She looked up and watched as a few sun-burnt clouds stood toe to toe with the receding sun. She always preferred sunsets because it took more guts to descend into complete darkness.

“She wants to have dinner!” Ben shouted, jutting back across the courtyard.

“You should go get ready,” Daylin smiled.

“You’re invited too, Champ. She wants to apologize for that girl’s behavior. You’re my in, Missy! She even wants to introduce you to one of her doctoral-type nephews,” he said, playfully elbowing her.

“You just don’t quit, do you?”

“Nope,” he said. Daylin playfully saluted him as they laughed their way across the courtyard and into the darkening store.

“Hey, I found this in the debris,” Ben said, handing her a photo of her parents. Daylin took it and looked at her father’s smile. It must have fallen out of her satchel when she fell.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“A little, but like my father always said… tomorrow is a new day.”

[1] Cogito, ergo sum is a Latin philosophical proposition by René Descartes usually translated into English as, "I think, therefore I am."

[2] The Spanish word for “shit.”

[3] The Spanish word for “look.”

[4] The Spanish word for “asshole.”

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marauderingbad-blog · 7 years ago

Text

One Was Gold

A Chronology of Lily and Severus’ Friendship: Year Three

Part 4/7

Read the Full Story on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11690688/chapters/26319129

Snow was falling in clumps that littered Severus’ black cloak with icy flakes. He didn’t mind the cold very much, though. What he did mind was the abundance of human bodies crowding the narrow streets and shops of Hogsmeade. There was only a week left until the Christmas holiday and so the village was packed and peppered with extra exhilaration.

Severus stood in front of Honeydukes' showcase window wearing an irritated scowl. He was hoping to enter and purchase Lily a small christmas gift with the limited funds he possessed, but the shop had been so crowded that all he could do was bounce about from body to body. Plus, Potter and Black had barged their way in, and confronting them was sour enough when they weren’t basically on top of one another. He left the shop unaccomplished.

Mulciber and Avery eventually climbed their way out from the store with their arms filled with assorted candies and treats. They had even begun to shovel handfuls of peppermint toads and Bertie Bott’s beans down their throats.

Severus eyed them with both humor and envy. He couldn’t fathom having the kind of gold that could allow you to indulge in such gluttony. He couldn’t help but laugh, though.

“Have you two bought out the store?” he sniggered.

“Not yet,” Avery grinned. “But I’m close to getting my dad to negotiate the deeds with the owner.”

“I’m sure,” Severus smirked.

Avery dipped into his rucksack of sweets and dumped a few boxes of chocolate frogs into Severus’ palm.

“For your secret girlfriend,” Avery snickered.

Severus glanced down at the chocolate before meeting Avery with with a raised brow.

“I don’t have a secret girlfriend,” he replied firmly.

“Sure you don’t. You’ll just be disappearing off to yet another Slug Club meeting tonight, eh?” Mulciber chimed in.

Severus pocketed the candy in his cloak and left his hands there to keep warm. He had kept his word to Lily this term. At least once each week he dedicated a night to spend with her. It also helped that the two actually were in the Slug Club, which gave them extra time together. Severus had to admit he had been growing sloppy with his excuses for his absences, but he had been so happy being with Lily. He had even been starting to wonder if it were at all possible that she was starting to see him as more than a friend. Stranger things have happened, after all.

“Let’s get out of here. I can’t stand it so packed.”

Severus led them through the crowds of the windy narrow streets back towards the image of Hogwarts, which at such a distance appeared almost completely shrouded in white. All the while he wore a small, happy expression as he replayed those words, secret girlfriend in his mind attached to Lily’s face. They weren’t kids anymore...Severus and Lily would turn fifteen the next month--and they were both spending the christmas holiday at Hogwarts this year. Perhaps things could change…

He had been so lost in his imagination that he failed to notice the small blonde girl walking in the snow just a bit in the distance. They had exited the village by now and had made it to the outskirts of the grounds. The snowfall had picked up, and brought with it a howling wind.

“Oi!” Mulciber called out, pointing to the figure. “Isn’t that one of the Gryffindor mudbloods?”

Avery peered ahead as Mulciber called out, “McKinnon,” he identified. “Half-blood, but just barely,” he snarled. “Her father is on the Wizengamot, he’s a mudblood and a loud-mouth, doesn’t know his place.”

As if that decided it, Mulciber bent down and made a snowball--then he murmured a spell to harden it and used all the strength and aim he’d gained as a chaser to launch it at Marlene’s head.

With her guard completely down, oblivious to the boys watching her, the snowball took Marlene unaware and collided with her right eye. The impact knocked her clear off her feet and the air left her lungs entirely as she landed painfully on her side.

“What the fuck?” she cursed, panic rising as she tried to open her eye, then touched her fingers gingerly to her eyelids to find that they were already swelling shut. It occurred to her that who’d ever done it was probably still in the vicinity--normally, Sirius and James were the ones who initiated impromptu snowball fights, but she knew from the viciousness of the hit that it hadn’t been them. If they’d hit her in the eye by mistake, they’d already be running over and apologizing, not cackling.

Marlene spun around in the direction of male voices laughing loudly, her wand now out and pointed. She felt her stomach drop as she saw it was Mulciber’s Slytherin gang.

“What are you lot on about?” Marlene yelled over, trying to sound tough, but it wasn’t so easy with her right eye swollen shut and a tear running down her left cheek from the pain.

Severus witnessed this scene play out with white horror on his face. Lily was friendly with most people at Hogwarts by now, but Marlene was one of her closest friends. Really, they could have picked almost anyone else in the school and this would have been fine--possibly even humorous.

“You idiot!” Severus called out suddenly, turning to Mulciber with a relentless glare.

Avery suddenly stopped laughing and watched Severus with confusion. “What are you going on about, Snape? She’s a half-blood and a bloody Gryffindor…” he said with astonishment.

Severus turned to Avery with the same glower. “SHE’S LILY’S FRIEND!” he burst out suddenly at both of them. Immediately he regretted this when he saw the blank looks on Avery and Mulciber’s faces. “...Which means she’ll go to Dumbledore,” he hastily added, looking away with embarrassment at his impetuousness.

Mulciber shrugged indifferently. “Let her. Dumbledore’s a crackpot old fool, let him try and expel me,” he sneered, then turned back on Marlene.

He took four long strides towards her without saying anything at all--Marlene fought the urge to step backwards as she stood her ground, lifting her chin slightly in a look that she hoped was defiant.

“Tell your father that if he doesn’t want something like this happening to his daughter again, he’ll shut his Godric-damned mouth,” Mulciber said, raising his wand. “Or better yet, resign...there’s no place for filthy, half-witted mudbloods in our government.”

Marlene gasped, her wand now shaking furiously, “Loco-” she began to say, but Mulciber swiftly beat her to it, muttering something as he sent a stinging jinx right at her face, then blasted her backwards with another swift "Impedimenta!"

“Nice one, Mulciber,” Avery smirked.

Marlene landed hard in the snow, painful welts cropping up all over her face, blinding her completely as one sprouted over her left eye. She moaned from the pain to the back of her head, unthinkingly touched her face to assess the damage, only to find the welts hurt worse at the touch.

“That should teach her, and hopefully her rotten father as well,” Mulciber said indifferently. “Let’s go.”

Severus stared down at struggling Marlene with vacant alarm. She needed to be taken to the hospital wing. This was Lily’s friend...she needed help. Without a second thought, he crouched down adjacent to her.

“Don’t--Don’t use your hand...The snow...it’ll hel--”

“SEVERUS. Hurry the bloody hell up!” Avery boomed as the two began to run through the snow back towards the castle.

Severus found himself standing up. He didn’t understand why it was happening...he needed to help Lily’s friend. The antidote was simple...but he needed to take her to the hospital wing…

Although his mind was screaming to stay, his body was already taking him away from Marlene. He grabbed her wand quickly from the snow and shot off red sparks high up into the air just above her. Then, Severus gave Marlene one long apologetic look.

“I’m sorry…” he uttered breathlessly before turning around completely and running away in his friends’ wake.

~~*~~

James was trying to walk and toss pepper imps into Peter and Sirius’ open, willing mouths at the same time, bumping into people as they tried to catch the flying candy--they failed more often than not, leaving a trail of fallen imps that fizzled and let off little puffs of steam as they landed in the snow.

Remus, evidently, was too dignified for this, though he wasn’t too dignified to laugh at the display.

When Peter caught one, smoke emerging from his ears and nose as the mint candy hit his tongue, James let out a triumphant “whoop!” and highfived him.

“Alright, satisfied now?” asked Remus with an amused grin.

“Hardly,” James said, ripping open another imp and tossing the candy in their air. “I’m practicing off-pitch, don’t you know? Shacklebolt is going to love it when he hears.”

“I highly doubt Kingsley is going to love this,” Remus countered with a smirk.

James was just about to toss the pepper imp over at Sirius when a burst of red sparks in the distance caught his eye.

“Ooooh,” he said, looking up. “Wonder what’s going on over there…”

Sirius’ jaw was still unhinged and tongue outstretched, anticipating the throw when he, too, observed the sparks.

“Dunno, I thought that only happens when Remus lets one rip,” Sirius replied, shooting Remus a rapid smirk, to which Remus rolled his eyes.

Peter, meanwhile, gaped at the sparks with a far more serious expression. “Red means trouble! My mum taught me to do that if I’m ever assaulted!” he squeaked.

Sirius snorted at Peter. “Honestly, Pete, who would ever assault you. And you don’t need sparks, all you’d have to do is sit on them.”

Peter ignored Sirius and tugged on James’ jumper. “I mean it, James, sincerely! Red means trouble!”

James regarded the sparks wearily--red meaning trouble sounded about right, he had to admit.

“Alright, well, let’s go have a look,” he said. “Even if it’s just a laugh, it’s probably some place we want to be,” James reasoned, and tossed Sirius the last pepper imp.

Sirius dove for the imp, tumbling into a pile of snow. He emerged cheering with a toothy grin as steam erupted from his ears and nostrils.

They then began to head off towards the sparks. Sirius had taken up the lead, his interest peaked by the investigation. Peter sulked a bit behind. He hadn’t realized that bringing the danger to his friends' attention would make them head towards the danger rather than away from it. Though, he really should have expected that one by now.

The boys made it just outside of the village when they found the source of the sparks. A crumpled body lay writhing in the snow just ahead. A Gryffindor scarf was vibrantly visible in the snow.

Sirius’ intrigue instantaneously hardened into alarm when he absorbed the shape before them.

“What the…” he began, meeting James with a disconcerting stare. “...That’s a student!”

James frowned, his brow furrowed deeply as he met Sirius’ look. He took a step closer, as Remus knelt down in the snow next to the girl. James kneeled beside him.

The girl’s face was so swollen and covered in welts, it was hard at first to tell who it even might be.

Remus peered a little closer, then turned back suddenly to look at his friends. “I think it’s Marlene,” he said.

James started and jumped back to his feet--for a terrifying moment, he watched as Marlene stopped moving, and he thought she might be dead--her face was so bloated and puffy, she looked like she’d drowned and washed ashore.

But then, Marlene let out a whimper.

“What happened to her?” Remus asked quietly, his eyes still wide from the shock.

James shook his head, “It looks like dark magic, whatever it was was clearly violent. I don't know a spell that could've done that,” he said grimly.

“Don’t worry, Marly. It’s James and Remus and Sirius and Peter. We’re going to get you help,” James assured her, snapping back to his senses. He pointed his wand at her and murmured, “Wingardium Leviosa,” and she floated up easily. Marlene kicked her legs limply, as if resisting the magic. James kept his wand trained on her so that she didn’t float too high up.

“Grab her arms to steady her,” he instructed. “Then let’s go.”

Remus nodded, wrapping one of Marlene’s arms around his neck and holding it against his shoulder as she floated beside him.

Sirius rested Marlene’s free arm around his shoulder and held her lame wrist in his hand. He surveyed her injuries with a grave expression as they began to trudge through the snow.

“I’ve heard of dark jinxes like this. My cousin Bellatrix would go on and on about them. Never heard of her actually using one on a student at school, though--and she’s a maniacal loon.”

He turned his stare to James. “You know who did this.”

James followed at a brisk pace behind them, keeping the spell on Marlene. He glanced away from his wand for only a second, expression livid as he met Sirius’ eye.

“Snape, most definitely,” he agreed, looking away as he turned his focus back to his wand work and keeping Marlene steady and afloat. Snape and his whole lot were dark arts fanatics, and as much as James despised them, he had to admit it would take someone pretty skilled at jinxes and magic in general to do a thing like this. Snape easily fit that criteria.

“Why Marlene, though?” James asked angrily. “She doesn’t give them shite,” he said, shaking his head. “Those bloody jerks probably just wanted someone to try it on.”

“I grew up knowing loads like Snape,” Sirius explained darkly as they approached the main entrance of the castle. He reached into his back pocket to retrieve his wand then flicked it towards the door, which made it burst open.

“Blood is their excuse for everything.”

~~*~~

Lily was frantic as she made her way through the hallway towards the Gryffindor common room, Mary and Dorcas walking swiftly at her sides. Marlene had never made it to the Three Broomsticks where they were all supposed to meet for lunch; this in and of itself wouldn’t have been so alarming, but Lily had heard rumors earlier that Black and Lupin and the rest had carried a girl back to the castle who was so badly jinxed or hexed as to look unrecognizable. She couldn’t be sure it was Marlene, but she had a sickening feeling that it was.

Tumbling out of the portrait hole, Lily was met with a somber common room. Potter was there with the rest of his crew, but he was also surrounded by several members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Kingsley Shacklebolt looking both grave and angry at once.

“What’s happened?” Lily asked, looking between Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew. “Is it Marlene? Tell me you didn’t do something ridiculous.”

“Evans…” James said sympathetically, knowing she didn’t yet realize the severity of the spell. “This wasn’t us. We’d never do something like that to Marlene, she’s my friend and teammate, too,” he said, taking a breath. “It was dark magic.”

Dorcas covered her mouth with her hands.

“Is she okay?” asked Mary. “Who did it? It wasn’t...one of those Death Eaters, was it?”

Remus had stood up from his seat on the couch the moment the girls walked in. He frowned as he looked to Mary, Dorcas and Lily. His gaze steadied on Lily.

“She’s in the hospital wing now. Madam Pomfrey said she’s going to be alright,” he explained firmy to all three. “And we don’t know with certainty who cast the jinx yet--”

“Yes we do!” Sirius suddenly spat as he jumped up from his armchair by the fire. The entire common room (including the lion portrait on the mantle) all turned to watch him.

Sirius approached Lily with his arms crossed. “We all know who is best at hexes and jinxes in the school. And who would target a Gryffindor girl with some muggle lineage,”

“Sirius…” Remus frowned, attempting to interject.

“It was Snape,” he finished sternly.

“It was not Severus,” Lily said hotly.

Mary and Dorcas exchanged a glance behind Lily’s back--they didn’t look so convinced.

“Lily…” Dorcas began tentatively. “He does fancy the dark arts.”

“It. Wasn’t. Severus,” Lily insisted through gritted teeth.

“How can you know that?” demanded James.

“How can you?” Lily spat right back.

“Alright, settle down you lot,” Kingsley said in his firmest Quidditch captain voice. “Whoever did this will be found out soon enough, and they will face the consequences,” he said, then cast a pointed look at James and Sirius, “From Dumbledore,” clarified Kingsley. “It’s not up to any of you to play auror.” He turned to this rest of his team for support--they offered some half-hearted nods as if they weren’t quite on board with the let-the-adults-figure-it-out plan.

“Yeah, alright,” said James in a tone that plainly said he wasn’t actually on board at all. Kingsley glared.

Sirius gave Kingsley an unforgiving glare of his own before he stormed out of the common room and disappeared up the spiral staircase to the boy’s dormitory. The sound of a door slamming was heard moments after.

Remus sighed and turned back to Lily, Dorcas, and Mary. “Madam Pomfrey says you can visit her in the morning. She’s going to be okay,” he assured them.

Lily’s jaw tensed as Sirius stormed upstairs. She leveled a look at Potter that could make even a grown man cower.

“Don’t make this worse,” she told him fiercely, then headed up to her own dorm with her friends behind her.

“James,” said Remus imploringly, but more gently than Lily had. He shook his head in response. Remus could tell just from his look that this wasn’t the end of it. He followed James upstairs, with Peter trailing behind them. Remus was sure he and Sirius would start plotting tonight, and he’d try to stop them, but Remus didn’t expect that he’d succeed.

~~*~~

Lily, Mary, and Dorcas were up at the crack of dawn--none of them had slept very well, not with Marlene’s bed empty. The girls dressed and killed some time in the common room, staring gloomily into the fire as they waited for the clock to strike an hour they thought Madame Pomfrey would deem acceptable. They settled on seven-fifteen, then headed out.

None of them spoke as they made their way to the Hospital Wing--they were too tired and raw from a long night of worry, frustration, and anger to talk.

Once they entered the Hospital Wing, they could see that Madame Pomfrey looked much the same. Her face was grave and pale, as if she hadn’t slept well herself. Madame Pomfrey had seen no shortage of gruesome injuries in her tenure at Hogwarts--mainly from the barbaric sport of Quidditch, though. She’d rarely seen a student do something so vicious to another student. Madame Pomfrey had noticed with more than a little bit of alarm that attacks on students by other students seemed to be on the rise ever since the creed and deeds of the Death Eaters and their infamous leader had made their way into the public consciousness--the students were channeling this violence and division into their own lives, Pomfrey thought.

“Ms. Evans, Macdonald, Meadowes,” she said by way of greeting. “I trust you’re here to see Ms. McKinnon?” asked Madame Pomfrey.

The girls nodded.

“I’ve just administered a potion, so she’s up, but she very badly needs rest. I’ll give you a few minutes, though,” she said.

“Thank you, Madame Pomfrey,” Dorcas said, and the girls made their way over to Marlene’s bed as Madame Pomfrey pulled the curtains back.

Lily was shocked by what she saw, and this was actually an improvement from the state she’d been in originally. There were still some welts and swelling across Marlene’s face, but it’d gone down considerably overnight.

“Marlene,” Lily said, her voice tight. She sat down in the chair beside her friend and took her hand.

Marlene’s eyes welled with tears when she saw her three best friends approach her. She quickly blotted her eyes gently with a soft towel before the tears could further irritate her skin.

“It’s much better now..” she assured them, though her voice was shaky. “Madam Pomfrey says the swelling will go down in a day or so. And it mostly doesn’t hurt anymore,” Despite the trauma of her injuries, Marlene was much more concerned about assuaging her friends' anxieties.

“I hope you all weren’t too worried--I’m fine, really,” Marlene explained, but couldn’t quite meet the girls’ eyes as she spoke.

Dorcas tossed her braids over her left shoulder so that they wouldn’t brush Marlene’s face, then wrapped her firmly into an embrace.

“We’re so glad you’re okay,” she told her, then pulled back. The three girls looked between one another carefully--none of them quite wanted to upset Marlene by having to relive what happened, but it seemed important to know the truth.

“What happened, Marlene?” Lily finally asked, cautiously.

Marlene’s expression grew a bit weary at the question but she nodded.

“My head's gone foggy…” she explained with a slight frown. “I remember leaving the castle to meet you three...and the next thing I remember is Potter and Black standing over me in here.”

Marlene looked off into the distance as she poured through her available memory. “I think I remember something else though…” she uttered quietly.

“I remember a voice, someone talking to me. They were scared--maybe trying to help me. I think...”

She turned, looking right at Lily now. “...I think it was Severus.”

Lily didn’t know whether to feel relieved or horrified--she settled on feeling both simultaneously. For Marlene to confirm that Severus was there at all made her feel sick--how could he allow this to happen? But then, if he really was helping her...maybe he’d just gone to get a professor. Maybe he hadn’t just left Marlene there.

“Well…” Lily began uncertainly, feeling Dorcas and Mary’s gazes upon her. “I’ll talk to him. We have to figure out who did it,” she resolved. “Whoever did this can’t just get away with it.”

“I’m sorry, Lily,” Marlene frowned, she knew how much Severus meant to Lily--they all did. Even though Marlene, Dorcas and Mary were always wary of him, none of them wanted Lily to be hurt.

“I’m sure he left for a good reason…” she added.

~~*~~

Lily couldn’t get Marlene’s revelation off her mind. She knew the day would be wasted until she could speak with Severus, so after Madame Pomfrey had shooed them away, Lily ate a half-hearted breakfast with Mary and Dorcas, then set off to find Severus.

Just like when they were back home at Cokeworth, Lily usually knew where to find Severus when she needed him. It was a quiet Sunday morning, and it would be even quieter in the library as the rest of the student body had already slumped into the winter break stupor, forsaking their studies for long lie-ins in bed or snowball fights out on the grounds. An empty library was, perhaps, Severus’ favorite spot in all of Hogwarts.

As she entered the library, she found it just as she expected--there wasn’t a soul around apart from Madame Pince, who guarded over the empty stacks like a sentry nonetheless. Lily softened her tread so as to not disturb the librarian.

The library had a blue-ish, wintry tint as the morning sun bounced off the snow and cast a glow through the tall windows.

Lily walked deeper into the library, knowing she wouldn’t find him right up front; surely enough, she found him at a table near the partition of the forbidden section.

“Severus,” Lily said urgently, standing beside him. “We need to talk.”

The incident with Marlene had lasted mere minutes and yet each moment, each detail had been spinning in Severus’ mind since the very instant he left her behind. His shame over leaving Marlene had refused to let up, even after he heard that she had been found and brought to the hospital wing shortly after his departure.

Nevertheless, in abandoning Marlene, Severus had made his decision. It was a cowardly one, which he had to admit, but he was now committed to it. And besides, the girl was going to be fine. He was familiar with the jinx and knew that the symptoms were treated early enough so that there would be no residual scarring.

Severus looked up from his Numerology and Gramatica text and faced Lily, expressionless.

“Yes, I’m sure we do,” he replied calmly, gesturing to the chair beside him. “I was sorry to hear about Marlene. How is she?”

Lily remained standing. She was taken aback slightly by the blank stare and how he seemed to know precisely what it was that she wanted to talk about. Then again, Lily supposed he would have to know.

“She’s doing better. Healing,” she said, not quite meeting Severus’ eye. Lily paused for a moment, bracing herself for what she had to ask him, and the fact that she might not like the answer.

“Marlene said you were there,” Lily told him. “She said she thought you might’ve been trying to help,” she clarified. “If you were there, you must have seen who did it,” Lily pointed out. She didn’t quite accuse Mulciber outright, but she thought it was fairly likely it was him. There was Avery and Wilkes, too, but she didn’t think either of them capable of the type of magic used against Marlene.

Severus managed to suppress the alarm in his countenance when Lily told him that Marlene remembered him. He sniffed to give himself a moment to gather his thoughts. Many jinxes and hexes cause disorientation, and clearly Marlene had suffered severe memory loss. There was no sound evidence in a muddied memory.

“I wasn’t there, Lily,” he explained firmly with a frown, using his ability to mask his emotions against her. “Dark jinxes like hers often cause confusion and memory loss. I was in the village getting you a Christmas present, actually.”

Lily frowned, clearly still uncertain--she wasn’t sure to feel guilty for accusing Severus of something when he was getting her a gift...or if she should stand her ground, because she frankly wasn’t quite sure that he was telling the truth that he wasn’t there.

“It was the only thing she remembered,” said Lily. “I’d prefer that you tell me the truth--maybe you are--but Marlene said you were trying to help her. I’d like to know the rest of the circumstances, though” she said. “Where was Mulciber, for instance?” Lily asked, arching an eyebrow. “Not many students are capable of that type of magic.”

Severus sighed quietly. This was really stretching the limits of his loyalty to Mulciber. He really couldn’t stand lying to Lily, especially over something that had outraged him. Honestly, he just wished he could apologize to her for being a coward--but he felt it was too late for that now.

“He was with me.. I’m sorry, Lily.” His frown deepened. “I wish I could help.”

“Well, I sure hope they figure out who did it,” Lily said, folding her arms over her chest. “Because you’ve heard that Potter and Black found Marlene, right?” she asked. “They’re hell bent that you did it, of course. Black stormed up to their dormitory that very night with Potter close behind, they’re probably already plotting.”

Lily leaned in close to Severus, locking eyes with him. “I am unwaveringly, whole-heartedly positive you didn’t do this, and I told Black and Potter that in front of virtually all of Gryffindor,” she told him. “But I am not positive that Mulciber didn’t do it. If you tell those two, or let me tell them, they’ll redirect to him, I’m sure of it.” Lily leaned back. She felt vaguely uncomfortable--this felt an awful lot like blackmail, but it was true. Black and Potter were going to come after him for something she was sure Severus didn’t do...even if he was, perhaps, a bystander.

Severus kept Lily’s stare, even though he really just wanted to escape into his book. His anxiety slipped through his stoic demeanor when Lily revealed that he was on Potter and Black’s hit-list. It wasn’t surprising, all things considered, but he had no desire for that kind of attention from those two.

He swallowed hard and slid his quill nervously between his fingers.

“Tell them I said that If they’re looking for the truth they might want to have a chat with Mulciber,” he suggested, looking miserable. “But they will keep my name out of this.”

Lily finally slumped into the seat across from Severus, still watching him carefully. “I’ll tell them, and I’ll try to get them to back off on you. Maybe Marlene will tell them she thinks you tried to help,” she said. Lily pressed her forehead into the heels of her palms. She just sat like that for a moment, letting her hands carry the weight of both her head and her thoughts inside of it. She was exhausted--Lily had barely slept since the night before, sick with worry for Marlene.

“Did you help?” Lily asked again, thinking perhaps that Severus might be more inclined to honesty now.

Severus’ eyes flashed with irritation at Lily’s question. “I’ve told you too much already,” he spat bitterly before abruptly standing up. He violently shoved his belongings into his bag and gathered his books in his arm. After taking a few steps away from Lily, he stopped.

Lily practically launched herself around in her chair; I’ve told you too much already. What was that supposed to mean? Lily’s mouth was open, ready to pose that very question, her face twisted in indignation--then, Severus continued.

With his back towards her, he frowned--tears gathered in his eyes. “I didn’t do enough,” he admitted with despair before he disappeared behind the sea of bookshelves.

Severus was gone before Lily even had a moment to gather her thoughts. He’d all but admitted it to her. Lily turned back around in her seat to face the table again, then she quite simply lowered her forehead to the wood, her arms still lying limply in her lap.

She didn’t know whether to feel relieved that Severus had at least helped, or furious that he’d let it happen at all--and above all, she didn’t know if maybe Severus was right and he hadn’t done enough. How ever he’d helped Marlene, he didn’t pick her up and carry her back to the castle. He’d left that for someone else to do, and left Marlene in the snow in the meanwhile. Still, Lily knew she’d defend him from Potter and Black, anyway. She knew she’d try to get Marlene to talk to them, too, and Lily also knew that Marlene would probably do it.

Lily turned her head so that her cheek was now resting on the table--another thing she knew was that she was very, very tired.

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