[london] until it ends, there is no end. [billie]

As soon as she spoke, Billie knew she’d made the right decision. Seeing the way her answer lit him up from the inside made her chest ache, and she could feel her own tentative smile getting bigger to reflect his. She felt like she’d do anything for him in that moment.

Billie felt a little like she was dreaming, or like someone else was moving her body. She didn’t do things like this. Didn’t subvert expectations, or put herself in positions where people might be disappointed with her. The closest thing she could think of was staying out a little past curfew once or twice with him, but Phillip was a prefect, and she’d felt safe knowing he was in a position of authority.

She felt the adrenaline in her veins, spurring her on and making her want to laugh at herself, but making her anxious too. She followed Phillip in between two stalls, taking his hand and hoping he wouldn’t let it go as quickly as he had last time. In her other hand, she held the skewered chocolate strawberries tightly, not wanting them to get splinched or something because of her inattentiveness.

He asked if she was ready, and she nodded once, not entirely convinced it was true. She was doing math in her head - trying to work out distances between places - and trying hard not to think about whether Kendrick would be excited for her or annoyed at her for doing something other than the thing she’d said she was going to do. But he intertwined their hands just then, and she stopped thinking about other things.

And they were gone.

Billie gasped as soon as they appeared; wherever they’d apparated to, it was raining. The warmth she’d felt, surrounded by warm bodies at the fair in London, disappeared immediately and was replaced by cold wind and wetness. They’d apparated to somewhere open; the ocean was to her left and there were stones underfoot, and no shelter that she could see. Instinctively, she moved into him, against his chest.

Phillip couldn't remember the exact last time he had been to the Giant's Causeway, it had been a long time, but he could remember it well enough in his mind's eye that he felt confident bringing them there first. It was a magical place, away from muggles and especially free from crowds, and he thought she would like it. Something about the crashing waves on the rocks, the ocean in sight, it all seemed like something that Billie would enjoy. They left with a crack and he held onto her hand tightly as the world folded and unfolded around them until finally his feet were on the solid interlocking stones and he could hear the ocean.

He breathed deeply when they'd landed, feeling like the air here had a better smell than he remembered. It was certainly better than London, better than the fair, and despite the thundering sounds of the waves on stones it was quieter too. It was more them and less of everything else. It was colder here but the air had a fresh crispness to it that made him want to breath slower. The rain was already wetting his hair, making it seem darker than it was.

When she leaned into him he lost all train of thought and wrapped his arms around her. There was a silence between them that felt like home, his heart was racing because of their closeness, she must of heard it. He didn't want to move from there. He just wanted to keep her warm and safe for a while, but it was raining, and her hair was getting wet, and he felt bad about not bringing a jacket to give her. One hand slipped off of her back to reach his wand from his pocket. Moving as little as possible with his wand at his side he whispered the incantation for a magical umbrella type spell. It was invisible but it would hover above and keep the rain from soaking their clothes. It didn't provide much warmth though.

And Phillip wasn't ready to let go yet.

She shivered at the sudden temperature change, and stayed exactly where she was, pressed against him, arms folded up in between them. A heartbeat was loud and racing in her ears. Was it hers? His?. She felt a bit breathless, from the apparating or the cold, or the way he was holding her? It was impossible to extract one thing from another; the thrill of it all and the safety in being so close were blending together.

“Thank you,” she breathed, realising why the rain had stopped hitting her. The silky material of her top was sticking to her arms and more see-through now that it was wet. She was glad that she was wearing it underneath another layer.

Billie took a slow, deep breath, relishing the smell of the salty water and clean, wet air. The rain on the rocks. The sound of waves crashing. It was darker here, and they were alone, and that made things feel so much more intimate. She didn’t say anything, and neither did he, and she was grateful for that.

Any worries he had about coming here were rolling away with the tide as they stood so close together he could feel her breathing against him. He shut his eyes, just sinking into the feeling of comfort. He'd forgotten what this felt like, being close and safe to someone, feeling their warmth mixing with his.

"You're welcome." He whispered back, eyes still closed, arms still wrapped around her. In that moment he couldn't think of anywhere else he would rather be. Phillip Donnely, the wizard who was constantly trying to escape from wherever he was, wanted to get stuck in this moment for a while.

In time their breathing was almost rhythmic, matching each other and the coming and going of the sea. His arms tingled from the cold moisture in the air and nervous goosebumps across his skin. He was pretty sure he'd never had a better idea in his life than coming here.

Billie hadn’t expected to feel quite so overwhelmed by being by the ocean, but the smell of the water and the sound of waves was quite moving for her. It felt right, somehow, to be cold, and wet, and by the sea. And more right because she was with him.

She wondered if he would pull away, or speak, but he didn’t and neither did she. Was he thinking of his sister, she wondered? Or did he feel the soft stillness that she did? Was he here, present with her, or in the past? Or both? She didn’t need his focus, but she felt a certain kind of quietness, a safe feeling, and she wanted to share it.

The girl felt her heartbeat slow after a while, back to its usual resting rate, and she caught her breath too. There was a tightness in her chest that came from feeling a lot of things very strongly, though, and she didn’t think that that was going to loosen anytime soon. Not while they were by the ocean.

She opened her eyes finally, but didn’t move, blinking away raindrops and seeing what she could see from here, tucked into him as she was. Wet stones and waves. Rain hitting smooth surfaces. Grey sky. After a moment, she asked softly, “how are you?” wondering how being here was affecting him. She wanted to wrap him up with care, the way he was doing for her now.

He felt her shift against him before she spoke and it broke him from his own thoughts. Being back here was doing a number on his mind, pulling up memories he long thought forgotten, but surprisingly he wasn't trying to push them away like he usually did. Something about being here with her made it feel less scary to remember. Less frightening to miss them. He didn't feel alone.

"I'm," he paused, a lump forming in his throat, "I'm alright." He told her and it wasn't a lie. He was coping, managing, and he had her to thank for that in some part. He had been excited to come back here because it represented something he'd been missing but now that he was here he realized it was so much more than that. It wasn't just what he had lost, it was part of who he was, and ultimately, where he was going. Ireland would always be his home.

"We used to sit over there for hours." Phillip spoke quietly, like half of him was somewhere else, as he stared off toward the edge of some of the rocks near a shallow pool. In his mind he could see them, his family, sitting and laughing and having sandwiches, and it made his chest ache. He looked back down at her, easily enough with how many inches he had over her, and spoke again. "Thank you for coming here with me."

She couldn’t see where he was looking, but she could picture it. He’d showed her a photograph of his sister, once. She could imagine them sitting by the ocean with their parents. Walking along the water’s edge. Skimming rocks on a calm day, perhaps, or with a blanket a few metres back, eating picnic food.

She was so there with him, too. Caught up in the picture he painted with only a few words, caught up in his grief, his longing. She let it wash over and through her, feeling that familiar ache in her chest. She really, really felt his pain, when he let her see it. But it wasn’t just pain, either. This time it was a lot of things at once for him, just like it was for her; nostalgia, joy, calm, hurt. The list went on.

He looked down at her, putting just a little distance between them. Her hands remained flat against his chest, his arms remained around her body. She could see the blurred space above his head where his charm was keeping the rain off of them, like an invisible umbrella. She could smell the ocean. His sincerity was intense for her, she could feel her eyes getting a little wet, and it wasn't from the rain.

“No, of course, Phillip, I...” She shook her head slowly, not understanding how he could be thanking her, when she felt so grateful. She'd go anywhere, she wanted to say. She wished she could show him himself through her eyes, through her feelings. "I want to see," she said, trying to express more than her inadequate words were expressing.

Phillip felt like he was floating. There was something freeing about being here again, especially sharing it with her. About letting memories he'd been keeping buried for so long finally come to the surface. It was like a weight off of his shoulders. It was like he was letting go of something he didn't know he'd been holding onto so tightly. He wasn't giving up, he wasn't going to stop looking, but maybe just this once, he could think of the good things. He could find comfort in the memories he was still lucky enough to have rather than missing things he'd never get back.

Thanking her for coming had felt right but in reality he had so much more to thank her for. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. And not just because she had agreed to apparate with him on a whim this afternoon. But because she gave him the strength to want to come back. He wouldn't of come here alone, he would of just kept pushing away any sense of healing.

Her hands on his chest grounded him and as he stood there looking into her eyes he felt a shiver run up his spine. It wasn't from the cold. He realized in that moment they had never been this close, for this long, and he knew he didn't want it to stop. He felt another lump forming in his throat as his mouth went dry. He knew he didn't need to say anything more. He always knew that with Billie, just being there was enough.

Phillip stood still, bracing against the wide and the mist from the waves, feeling the warmth from her hands like it was radiating straight through him. His eyes dared to find her lips, just for a moment, before returning to meet her gaze.

She could sense his history saturated in this place like the water that rose and fell here, and she reflected it too. Like the calm surface of a lake, she reflected everything he was feeling back at him with clarity; the sadness, and the hurt, and the love, and the history. She reflected the longing for family. For true home.

Billie had been displaced, too. She knew what it was like to have everything fall away from underneath, to grasp for it when it was long gone. All of his feelings rang through her, and shone out of her in turn.

And there were other things, too.

Under his gaze as she was, there was more. There was something in his eyes that reminded her of the way he’d looked at her at the ball over a year ago. She didn’t like to make the comparison, because this felt like it mattered, whereas that hadn’t mattered at all - or perhaps it had only “mattered” to her, in the sense that she had, actually, been impacted by their almost-kiss - but there was something real to that comparison.

She felt and reflected these other feelings too. The solace in being so close. The wanting to be closer.

His pretty green eyes flicked down to her lips and back, and her breath caught in her chest. Did he want to…? Was he going to…? Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Billie’s gaze dropped to her hands, one still holding the skewer she’d brought from the fair. “Um, I got some chocolate on your shirt,” She said tentatively, then belatedly moved her hand away. She held his gaze for a moment, then took a small step back, her eyes flicking to the ground before she was ready to look at him again. Her cheeks were tinged pink, and her face felt warm.

Billie offered a small smile, then took his hand, sliding her fingers in between his. "Really," she said gently, trying to be reassuring. She wanted to make sure he knew that she meant it, that she really was here because she cared about him and wanted to share whatever he would share with her. That she would cherish it.

Phillip didn't believe any of that romantic crap he'd heard the teenage girls in the common room gushing about but damn if he didn't feel like time was slowing down in this very moment. He'd thought about kissing her before, and not just about the awful mess he'd accidentally made of things during that dance. Just another reason he hated those types of events. He'd thought about it after that too, about what it would be like, about whether or not she'd want to, about if their age difference was a problem. But he'd never done anything about it, right then though, he thought he might.

And then her eye's shifted and he followed her gaze, seeing the strawberries she was still clinging on to and absently wondering where his popcorn had landed while they were apparating and he'd let it go. "Oh," his two letter word had a lot more meaning than just the realization of chocolate on his shirt. He couldn't care less about his shirt.

She moved away and it was enough to make him shiver in the new air between them. He was quiet, looking out into the ocean and blinking a few times, until she intertwined her fingers with his and he smiled. "I want to show you something." He said, pulling her toward some of the tallest of the stacks of basalt rocks. They climbed into the sky, each one a little taller than the last like some pipe organ for giants. The waves crashed against the wall, a bit of sea spraying toward them as he led her across the bridge and right up to the rock wall. There were names, and dates, and little things etched all over the stone. He looked for a moment, his grip on her had relaxing as he got caught up in it, until he found what he was looking for.

The Donnellys were here

He pointed to it and waited for her to step closer to see.

“I’m sorry,” she offered unnecessarily. He didn’t seem to care.

She felt shy suddenly, and a bit silly again. Truthfully, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to know what that would feel like with him. But she was nervous too, and not even entirely convinced that that’s what would have happened if she’d just stayed still and not interrupted their silence. More than the physical kissing part itself, she wondered if he wanted to kiss her. And secretly, the wanting was probably the thing she wanted the most. She blinked a couple of times, clearing her eyes of wetness that had been welling there a moment ago.

Whatever he wanted to show her, she wanted to see.

Now that she was no longer in his arms, Billie felt a bit cold again. She’d adjusted somewhat, but the cold breeze drew goosebumps up her bare legs, and her sleeves were damp. She hoped that she looked okay; she could feel loose strands of wet hair clinging to her face. Billie didn’t say anything more as they walked, and neither did he. The silence was comfortable, and she was content to sit in all of their feelings - both shared ones and her own. She had to focus a little to keep her balance on the slippery rocks anyway.

When they go to their destination, she searched the stone’s surface as he did. Naturally, he found what he was looking for first, and her oceany eyes followed where he directed her. “Did you do that?” she asked, smiling. The writing was uneven; it didn’t look like the work of an adult. Despite the sad notes in the image before her, the fact that the writing was in past tense, and that Phillip was the only person left who knew that this existed - well, almost the only person, now - she could imagine the scene so clearly that she had to smile. She gave his hand a squeeze.

His hand was resting on the rock wall, a literal touch stone linking him to his past, as he waited for her to take a look. He remembered the day they had added their names to the wall and his eyes glossed over as it seemed to play on a loop in his mind. His sister had wanted to go swimming, but the waves were too rough, and she had been throwing a tantrum. He'd tried to help his parents and keep her distracted by bringing her to this wall and writing their names in it. She was so young at the time, he'd held her hand to make sure she didn't slip.

"How can you tell?" Phillip said sarcastically with a little smirk. His hand writing hadn't improved much since then.

He had been watching her face as she looked at the stone but now he was returning his gaze to the etching. "Yeah, with Aoibheann. She must of been six or so at the time... it was one of the last times we came here." He finished the thought quieter than he'd started. He blinked back moisture that was threatening to pool in his eyes, refusing to let it happen, and took a breath.

Absently Phillip took a step to the side, standing closer to her than before, their shoulders touching and grew quiet again. He was lost in his memories, it was hard not to be back at this place. And even though they made his chest ache from longing he found comfort knowing he was making new memories here again. Memories he'd share with her.

Not for the first time, Billie wondered what it was like to have a sibling. She hadn’t ever had the chance to ask her father (and couldn’t exactly ask her mother) why he and her mother had only had one child - were they trying for another? Had they planned just one from the start? These were the kinds of inane things that she felt like most people had access too; the little things that made her sad.

She did a little mental math, worked out that Phillip would have been about nine, or ten, then. She couldn’t help but imagine a younger version of him here with his family, smiling - really smiling - slipping on the stones and eagerly carrying out his little act of vandalism. A part of her couldn’t believe that she was actually here, in a place that seemed monumentally important in a way that made it feel fictional. Perhaps she was leaning too hard into the comparison between here and her old home. Her own ten-year-old self would have liked this place.

Billie looked up at him, hearing a little strain on his voice. Her gaze dropped down to their intertwined hands, noting several little scars on his fingers, and she ran her thumb over his reassuringly. Her eyes were wet again; she could feel his swell of emotion, and she tuned into it automatically. When he moved a little closer, she rested her head against his shoulder.

She stood there beside him for a little while, cold and damp but unwilling to move. After a while, she made herself take a bite of the chocolate dipped strawberries she’d bought at the fair. She tried to hold in little shivers, but they got the best of her before long. “Did you want to write something?” she asked softly, not looking at him but ready for a negative answer. Would he see that as something irreverent? “Something new?” she added.

There was a calm in the silence between them, he'd felt it before, but never so strongly as he did right now. Phillip breathed easy as she laid her head on his shoulder. Like they just fit together this way, in the quiet, in the rain, each of them drowning in their own tragedies but managing to keep floating some how. Feeling her shivering beside him he sighed, he should have brought a jacket or something. He thought they'd be in London, which was ungodly warm in July, he never would of guessed they would end up here. But he was glad that they did.

He was about to reach for his wand when she spoke and he took a moment to think about what she had asked. He looked at the wall, at where he'd written so many years ago, and wondered. After a beat he thought he knew what he'd want to write, but he didn't want her to think he was stupid for writing it. Phillip wasn't as easy to say how he was feeling as others. It was difficult for him, but he knew that even if she did think it was silly, she wouldn't say so. Billie was the nicest person he had ever met, in all the time he'd known her he couldn't remember her ever saying a bad word about anyone.

Phillip looked at her for a moment, considering everything, and then nodded. He took his wand out from his pocket and used the slicing charm to etch something new into the wall. Something for the two of them to remember in the years to come. And for a wizard who never looked forward, never hoped for anything, he found peace in the idea of a future with her in it.

"BF + PD are here"

She didn’t know why she was nervous, but as soon as he started on the second curve of the capital ‘B’, her heart started beating a little faster. His words were neater than the ones he’d written as a child, but honestly not by much. The thought made her want to smile; it made her think of their journals, and the disparities between their writing styles. Hers: small, cursive, slightly italicised. His: uneven, messy, sometimes illegible.

She would have offered to write something herself, but she still wasn’t allowed to perform magic outside of school. Besides, she thought, watching him start on the words after their initials, this was what felt right. It occurred to her, seeing their names laid out beside one another, that in another world, they might have written SS + PD, but the thought felt dissonant here, like it didn’t belong. She banished it, instead letting herself swim in the feelings that seeing the two lines beside each other elicited. Made by the same hand, years apart.

Billie didn’t miss that he’d written this one in present tense, and wondered for a moment if he’d done that on purpose, quickly concluding that he must have. She read over it a couple of times, feeling each word far too deeply than was appropriate for a simple line etched into rock, but figured he was probably feeling it strongly too. The rain had eased a little, but was still falling, and everything was damp with sea spray. She had cold, salty air in her lungs. Goosebumps on her skin. We are here. It was appropriate.

Billie reached up silently and wiped away a small tear that had just spilled over with the back of the hand holding the strawberry skewer.

"It's good," she said quietly, feeling his eyes on her. "Perfect," she breathed.