like a force to be reckoned with. [billie]

a mighty ocean or a gentle kiss.

July 2002

It felt like it had been longer than it actually was since school had let out for the summer. They were barely into the break but Phillip felt like he'd been gone for ages. Every day he spent at Keithcairn was full of disappointment, boredom, and cobwebs. He moved about in relative quiet, keeping to himself and doing his never ending list of tasks he was fairly certain his guardian was just giving him things to keep him busy and hopefully out of trouble. He'd earned the list though, after getting into a fist fight with some boys in town only a few days into summer. No amount of elbow grease would ever return the shell of structure to the grand estate it once was. Very few rooms even had peeling wallpaper left, parts of the upper floors had literally collapsed, and he was no longer allowed in the library. Phillip was suspicious about the rate of decay, it seemed too rapid, but what did he know. During the day he did his part and at night he wrote letters to Billie in the journal that was paired with hers. When the day finally came that they were able to meet up he had some how, miraculously, convinced his uncle to let him Floo to Flourish & Blotts in Diagon to meet her. He had to agree to pick up a few things for the estate, of course, and be back before nine-thirty but none of that mattered. He would of taken any deal offered to him.

He was dressed casually but he still looked like a wizard in the lightweight charcoal summer cloak and tattered dark slacks. His pale green shirt was less appropriate with the logo of a wizarding wrock band splattered across the front. Phillip had combed his hair but the bruises on his knuckles and the dark circle under his eye told a different story. One he was much more familiar with. The cut on his cheek bone had mostly healed but with out Jacq and her charms he usually just let them heal on their own. Phillip arrived at the Flourish & Blotts in a puff of green smoke and flames and coughed a few times as he stepped out of the hearth. He felt like he'd swallowed some of the floo powder, he was still coughing by the time he made it outside of the little shop and into the jam packed street of the wizarding shopping village. He got out of the way of a pair of goblins carrying books that looked like the had to weigh twice as much as they did and then walked down the street. He found the large fountain that was in front of one of the abandoned shops and took a seat on the ledge, waiting for her just where he said he would.

Taking a look around he was glad they had picked this spot, it was far less crowded then anywhere else and Phillip hated crowds. He looked at his watch and realized he was earlier than he thought he would be. He considered going to one of the shops he needed to pick things up from but then decided against it. He wouldn't want to risk missing her. Instead he pulled the little book about transmutation he was working through out of his cloak pocket and began to read while he waited.

@Billie Fay

Sybil Sinnoway, or Billie Fay, or whoever she was now, made her way through Diagon Alley with a heavy heart. A soft cotton cape covered her pale shoulders, protecting her delicate, pale skin from the sun. A simple blouse, skirt and brown boots made the rest of her outfit. Her cape fluttered behind her a little as she walked through the crowd, but she paid it little attention. Billie had been yearning to see Phillip since she'd found out; a part of her just knew that he'd understand. Her housemate had felt all kinds of loss before, and she knew that she could share these melancholic parts of herself safely with him. A part of her felt like being around him might lessen the burden, as much as she disliked the selfish element to that concept. As she walked, her thoughts wound themselves around a rather morbid topic.

Funerals.

They happened so rarely and cut so deeply that it was impossible not to draw parallels between them. Sybil's father had died towards the end of spring. The flowers she'd placed upon his grave had been fresh and in bloom; she'd cut them from her garden herself, choosing only the most perfect ones for him. He'd been buried on Sinnoway Isle and that particular sunny afternoon had been one of the last times she'd been home before she'd moved away. Moved closer to here, in fact. Like her father, Ethelinda Fay had been buried in a small cemetery on the large block of land she'd owned. Conversely, though, there were no sounds of crashing waves at the second funeral. No squawks of ocean birds, no older relative holding her hand for comfort. The turnout was similar for both events; neither of her previous caregivers had had many friends - at least not many alive ones at the times of their deaths. Sybil was the only family member in attendance at both her father's funeral and her aunt's. Her mother had not been allowed to attend the former.

Even though her aunt was not a particularly maternal woman, and even though they'd never really been close, Sybil felt her loss like a punch in the chest. It was true that this death did not compare to her father's in terms of emotional weight, but she was older this time. Now, the wounds that loss carved into her were less naive. Her grief was less naive. This time around, the young blonde truly understood the way that pillars of security and permanence had been demolished underneath her; understood exactly how the visions she'd imagined for her future had been destroyed; was better acquainted with her own powerlessness and impermanence and fear. These things reflected deeper anxieties, too; in particular, new, subconscious superstitions surrounding her unfortunate last few years. After all, everyone who loved her was dead or imprisoned, weren't they? The common factor they shared was her. It was unsettling. Everyone was gone. Again.

Well... almost everyone. Kendrick wasn't blood, but right now, there was no one that she felt more comfortable with. That sense of safety came with its own troubles, of course; no matter how tightly she wanted to wind herself into his life, cling to him, she still didn't know for certain what would be happening to her in the future. Aside from that, a part of her worried for his safety now that she was under his roof. It wasn't the most logical fear - it was childish to think that he or Jocasta might also be murdered or die in a horrible accident or something just because she was sleeping under the Silvermans' roof - but it was deeply rooted. Regardless of all of this, however, Kendrick was the one person who had ties to her past, who knew her as Sybil and as Billie. The one person who cared about her. Someone she could trust. Someone she loved. She reminded herself constantly that she was lucky to have him.

Stepping past a young family comparing broomsticks through the window of a sports store, Billie spotted her housemate. He was sitting casually, leaning against a decorative stone fountain. It had only been a month and a bit, but it felt like so much longer since she'd seen him. Despite their busy class timetables and curfews and various obligations, they'd always found time for each other while at school, and it was surprisingly difficult to only be able to communicate to him via writing. The nerves surrounding coming her alone and finding her friend in the crowd dissipated as soon as she saw him. Her anxiety was replaced with relief. It was Phillip. Her heart swelled with emotion and Billie felt her eyes start to water. Quickly, she blinked the tears away before they could form properly.

"Phillip," she said, approaching him slowly, tentatively. There was a bashful element here; speaking to him for the first time in what felt like forever had her feeling a little shy. It wasn't uncharacteristic for Billie, but it was sort of unfamiliar to feel with him. After a moment's hesitation, she moved in to hug him tightly, lingering for a moment too long with her face buried in his chest. Her eyes were still wet, but she closed them tightly. Billie took a moment to collect herself right up against him, relishing the simple comfort before the inevitable moment where she knew she would start to second guess the hug. Hopefully he wouldn't notice the little wet patches she'd accidentally leaked onto his shirt.

Not realizing how captivated he had become in the book he was reading Phillip felt strange when she surprised him. He heard her say his name before he realized she was approaching and cursed himself for not paying better attention to his surroundings, especially in such a public place. Standing up to greet her he tucked the book that was no bigger than the palm of his hand back into his cloak pocket just in time for an unexpected hug. Unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. He wrapped his arms around her and smiled for what was probably the first time in weeks. He hadn't noticed that she lingered for longer than normal, he was just happy to see her.

When she pulled away he took a half step back and paused for a moment. She'd told him about what had happened to her aunt and it was not something he knew how to bring up. He wanted to comfort her and say the right thing but he didn't know what that was. Phillip had never dealt with his own loss and he didn't know how to help anyone else deal with theirs. His hands fell back beside him as he stared awkwardly at her for a moment before finally finding some words to say. "Billie... I'm so sorry." He told her, really meaning it. They might not of been friends for all that long but he felt like they knew each other well enough by now. He felt strangely honored that she had shared her pain with him and told him about what had happened. He hated that she was in pain though, he wished he could fix it for her.

Instead he motioned toward the fountain, forgetting about whatever they might have had planned for the day and spoke quietly. "Do you wanna' sit for a little?" He asked, wanting to be a good listener if she wanted to talk about it. He normally wouldn't of bothered to ask someone how they were doing or how he could help but nothing about their friendship was normal. It was better than that. And he wanted to be a better friend, for her.

She took a second to just lean into his chest, finding solace in the proximity.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she said, even though it clearly was not okay. The blonde smiled a bit, wiping under her eyes with her forefingers. “Sorry,” she said. She shook her head, took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Maybe just a moment.” The blonde moved slowly towards where he’d been sitting and took a seat beside him, trying not to think about funeral flowers and long stretches of stone beaches.

Only a couple of tears had spilled over, and with some even breathing and intentional relaxing, the girl found her composure again relatively quickly. She wanted to try to explain that those tears had just been tears of feeling overwhelmed. Happy to see him. Relieved to see him. Sad too, but she wanted to emphasise somehow that it hadn’t just been sad. She couldn’t find the words, though, and stayed quiet a moment.

The blonde played with the tie of her light cape, flattening out the little string bow she’d tied there absentmindedly. “How have you been?” she asked, smiling again as she glanced at him, worrying quietly about making him uncomfortable. “I haven’t seen you in over a month,” she said, sounding a little surprised despite the fact that they hadn’t even known each other for a year.

When she leaned against him, he stood still, not because he was tense from the contact, but because he wanted to be steady for her. He had never seen her like this; they had shared plenty of things, sad, awful things, but seeing her crying had pulled him in a new way. It made him want to comfort her and say something even though he didn't know what, but he struggled to find the words. Instead, he just stayed still, he might not know how to help her with what she was going through, but she could lean on him for as long she wanted. He thought about hugging her, about wrapping his arms around her tightly, but the moment passed before he caught the nerve, and he followed her back to the fountain. He'd beat himself up about it later.

Apprehensively he watched her silently as they sat and wondered if he should inquire. Phillip never shied away from talking about real things when it came to her, but he always felt off when asking her about herself. Somehow he had convinced himself that she'd tell him when she wanted him to know things and that by not asking, he was respecting that privacy. With most people, Phillip didn't care about their stories, what happened, what they were feeling, but with her, it was the exact opposite. He desperately wanted to know what she was feeling and who she was. He wanted to know all of it, but he wouldn't pressure her into it, he was willing to be patient. She was worth the wait.

Instead of asking how she was feeling or wanted to talk about it, he waited and then spoke. "I've been okay.." He answered slowly, his eyebrows narrowing a little and then relaxing as he hesitated to answer. He never answered "I'm good" to those sorts of questions, mostly because he never really was, but also because he hated small talk. He hated the little conversations no one paid attention to, and the cynical teenager just assumed most people only asked so they could wait for you to return the question and the discussion to them. On principal, whenever asked, he never returned the question, taking a small victory in robbing them of the opportunity to talk about themselves. He knew this wasn't what she was doing, but like he always did, Phillip avoided the return. It seemed insensitive to parrot back that question, especially right now.

"Feels like forever." He said softly, feeling more than he thought he had been. Maybe everything about her aunt had brought up some old emotions he'd been keeping burying, he was no stranger to loss, or perhaps it was just seeing her like this, but Phillip felt especially lost right now. "I'm glad you could make it to Diagon, did you have any trouble getting here?"

“That’s good,” Billie replied politely, despite the trailing end of his sentence. She looked at him anyway though, trying to read if he meant what he’d said. She’d been very self focused; it was sort of understandable given the consequences, but still felt wrong, for her. She really, genuinely, did want to know how he was, and how his summer had been.

Their eyes met as he spoke again, a look in his eye that she hadn't been expecting. "Oh," she said, feeling suddenly a little flustered under the intensity of his gaze. Silently, she scolded herself – it really wasn't okay to feel so light and floaty when her aunt had only passed away weeks ago. It wasn't okay that they were talking here, now, because of that – only for her to feel like this – the fluttery sensation, when he verbalised exactly what she'd been thinking, moments ago. Morgana, she was blushing, though. She looked away, across the square, frowning a little. "It really does," she admitted, hoping he felt how much she meant it.

Outside of the little world she felt like she was in with him, Billie could see lots of people going about their day, shopping and meeting friends. Going to work. Getting coffees. “Oh, no, I was dropped off,” she answered, her voice a little distant. “No trouble at all,” she added. She felt a little dislocated from the picture before her, but when she glanced back at Phillip, she felt grounded again. Billie gave him a small smile, feeling an echo of that overwhelming, swelling feeling she'd felt before. She wanted to touch him, put her hand on his arm or something, but they didn't really do that, so she refrained.

The way she felt looking at him now might have felt like too much, some inappropriate level of intensity, if he didn't have a similar look in his eye. Time moved slowly for a moment, and she really felt like he knew how she felt. It felt like relief and weight at the same time. After a moment too long of lingering eye contact, she spoke. "I'm a bit... hungry?" she said tentatively, though her intonation indicated a question.

There was a feeling that came over him when she agreed with the statement, the look in her eyes causing a wave of warmth to wash over him. In the back of his mind he was trying to remind himself where this intensity had come from, why everything felt so much deeper right now, but in a way, he'd always felt like this around her. It wasn't chaotic or hectic but their friendship had a depth that was rare to achieve, even for as little time as they'd known one another. From the very beginning he'd felt it, some level of connection to her. It was more than just the fact that he believed they'd both lost their families at the hand of death eaters, it was a bond that felt so secure even while he knew very little about her. Like they had some kind of kindred spirit, not that he believed in that sort of thing.

Phillip stared at her even as she gazed across the street and around them for a moment, his eyes were glued to her face. Watching the last of the wetness in her eyes as she blinked it away and turned back to him. "Do you want to grab something to eat?" He asked her, assuming that was what she was implying, but finding the need to voice it anyway. He moved forward an inch, still sitting, but showing he was ready to go if she was.

She felt his eyes on her and wondered if this was how it was going to be for the rest of the day. A little more distantly, she wondered if she’d feel guilty about it every time too – guilty that she liked it so much, and that liking it shouldn’t really be at the forefront of her mind right now. The blonde played with the tie at her chest absentmindedly. It had been obvious, but she was still thankful when he inferred what she meant.

Billie nodded silently, and they stood in sync.

“Thank you, Phillip,” she said, hopefully imbuing the words with the right kinds of emotions. She wanted him to know all of the things she was feeling, but she couldn’t say them out loud right now. Instead of talking more, she let him lead as the pair set off into diagon alley together.



/end

Phillip nodded sharply when she thanked him, feeling like he understood what she was saying. Or at least, putting meaning behind her words that made him feel better for not prying. When his father had first passed after, he'd spent a week at the ministry trying to get anyone to listen to him, and then a month at a stranger's home because he had nowhere else to go, the thing he hated most about returning to Hogwarts was all of the questions. Even though everyone had been through so much, it wasn't just him who had lost someone; he still felt bludgeoned with the number of questions. The number of people who wanted to hear his story but he wasn't ready to tell it. Even if they thought they were helpful, Phillip always wished they would have just left him alone to process.

It made letting Billie tell him things when she was ready to make that much more sense to him. It was never because he didn't care to ask, or that he wouldn't want to listen, it was because it was her story to share. Not his to request.

"I know a place," he told her, even though he was sure they'd both been to Diagon Alley plenty of times, and most of the shops had been here for centuries, it felt good to take control of something. He made a path for them, walking a half step ahead of her to try to make sure no one bumped into her as they did, and led them to a quieter cafe.

/end