maidstone | stolen from another life { p h i l l i p }

Billie checked her hair in the bathroom mirror again, then undid her braids for the millionth time and redid them anxiously, looping a thin, pale blue ribbon through, nice and neat. When she was finished, she resisted the urge to re-do it again. Her pale green eyes flicked immediately to the clock on the wall as she moved out to the kitchen. There were still couple of minutes before he would be late; she told herself there was nothing to worry about.

Last summer, Kendrick had barely left her alone in the house. At first, she hadn’t noticed that he was doing it intentionally; he wasn’t always with her, just sort of around. When she had realised, though, she’d been more than grateful. After the upheaval of moving, and the shock of it all, the blonde had been fairly shaken, and Kendrick had been her guiding light. He had always been that for her; her guide. Her rock.

Today was the first day that she’d been alone in a house for a long time, and she hadn’t predicted that she’d feel like this. Her hands were sweating and she couldn’t stop checking the time. She reminded herself over and over again that this was nothing like that, and that Phillip would be here soon, but it didn’t ease her anxious mind very much.

It turned out, she wasn’t very good at waiting anymore.

She glanced at the Silvermans’ fireplace once more, her eyes flicking to the little place she knew they kept the pouch containing floo powder. It didn’t matter that she was alone in the house; their fireplace was connected to the floo network, so if neither Kendrick nor Jo came home, for some reason, and if Phillip didn’t show up, then she’d have an out. She wasn’t trapped here. She knew she was being incredibly irrational, but reassuring herself that she wouldn't have to wait indefinitely was mildly comforting.

She packed and unpacked her bag a couple of times, and paced by the front door while she waited.

Everything had changed since they'd gone to Ireland, and then barely talked about kissing, and then been invited to ice cream with Wini and Marin. It was different but Phillip didn't know exactly how. They had written so much after that night and he'd thought about bringing things up explicitly so many times. Asking the sorts of questions he should of been about where they stood now, what they were to each other, but he hadn't had to courage. So when he'd seen her in London he couldn't help but slide past it again. It wasn't like he was going to talk to her about those things with Wini listening in.

And now that they were hanging out again he wondered if it was too late to ask those questions. He worried about what she might have been thinking, feeling, about all of it. So much so that he was nearly late getting to her house to pick her up. They'd had this afternoon in the works since before they left school and despite everything else he found comfort in the fact that this plan hadn't changed. He finished gathering up all of the books he'd had stashed in his trunk at Wini's in London and tossed them into his back pack with some other things. He didn't exactly tell his Hufflepuff friend where he was going but he knew by the wiggled eyebrows she gave him that she knew he was going to see Billie. He smiled at the thought before tearing out of the house, not having enough time to deal with her seeing him smiling again.

He apparated to Kendrick's with ease and found his way to the door. He paused on the step, remembering the last time he was here and everything it had meant, and then knocked on the door.

Billie felt unreasonably relieved when he knocked on the door. She took a moment to wipe her sweaty palms on her dress, tuck a few flyaways behind her ears in the reflection of the toaster, and catch her breath. It was ridiculous, she thought. It’d been five years – a month off being exactly five – since Kendrick had found her alone on Sinnoway Isle. Five years! And she felt like this.

There were a lot of things that she was very aware she continued to carry with her from the past; grief from her losses, a disorienting sense of displacement. A longing for an uninterrupted childhood that came hand in hand with so much cognitive dissonance when she thought about her family. But her anxiety right now was very much trauma-related. Five years had passed, but she remembered the trauma of being left alone so acutely. It made her hands shaky.

She tried to steady them as she turned the handle to Kendrick’s front door.

“Hello,” She said, smiling as she saw him, and feeling a little flustered with the mix of emotions swirling inside her right now. Given the other anxieties she’d been swimming through this morning, she’d forgotten to feel nervous about this part. When she’d gone to Diagon Alley to meet up with him and his friends, they hadn’t really gotten a moment alone. They hadn’t talked, properly, since the other day, when they’d gone to the beach. It left her a little unsure about how to greet him; she remembered kissing him just here, outside this door, only days ago.

“I’ll just get my bag,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, before quickly nipping back to the living room to get the bag stuffed full of things she’d packed for today’s activities. She left the door open, but when she returned he hadn’t stepped inside – it shouldn’t have surprised her. The blonde closed the door behind her, slinging her heavy backpack over one shoulder as she fumbled with the handle.

“How are you?” she asked, straightening up and trying not to fix her hair again as she felt a wave of self-consciousness.

He felt flustered when she opened the door but he hoped he hadn't looked like it. He was nervous to see her after everything that had happened but he was also excited to do so. Phillip hadn't stopped thinking about her or their date since he'd left this stoop that night. Even now as she tucked away back inside the house he was thinking about it. Remembering what her hands around his neck had felt like. Remembering how much he had wanted to make her just a little bit later going inside. He took a deep breath as he tried to focus and peak inside the door she'd left ajar. He wasn't sure if Mr. or Mrs. Silverman were home but he wasn't planning on heading inside either. Not unless she asked him to.

When she returned he smiled at her from the stoop. That smile grew as she stepped outside and shut the door behind her. It was a little thing, the door between her and the home she shared with Kendrick, but it was enough to put the wizard a little bit more at ease. Nervousness and excitement willed him forward as he stepped toward her slowly, deliberately. "Happy to see you, how are you?" Even as he said it the words sounded foreign to him, it wasn't something he'd usually say even though he'd been feeling this way about being around her for some time now, even before the kiss. Phillip wasn't the type to express happiness openly, mostly because he rarely let himself feel much of it, but also because he didn't want anyone to take it away and had convinced himself if he hid it he could protect it.

He didn't want to hide it with her.

As he moved closer to her he stopped on the middle step, eye level with her again, and wanting to be closer. He thought about asking her all of the things he'd been worrying about. Deliberated in that moment whether or not he should try to get some clarification on what they were now. He hoped they were something more now, but he couldn't bring himself to say any of those more serious things. Especially not when he was standing so close and his eyes were already finding their way to her lips.

Leaning forward slowly he searched her face for some sign of approval before kissing her softly. Maybe he should have asked her all of his questions, but he'd much rather find out his answers this way.

“Yeah, I’m…” She would have said fine but it felt a bit disingenuous. Besides, he was walking towards her now, even as she moved away from the door towards him, and there was a look in his eye that was distracting.
                               
Her heart fluttered her chest as he stopped on the step in front of her, her mind spinning memories of their kiss right here, only a few days ago. She remembered the way he’d waited for her to leave first, and how she’d hated that but loved it at the same time. She felt a jolt run through her whole body as his gaze dropped to her lips. She moved forward, trying hard not to smile and break the moment.

He moved in slow, meeting her gaze again before he kissed her. She felt giddy straight away, hyperaware of her body and how it met his, the rest of the world sort of falling away insignificantly in comparison. When he pulled back her eyes stayed closed for a long moment. “Better now,” she breathed, eyes fluttering open. She just looked at him for a moment, taking him in. Then she shrugged the too-heavy bag from her shoulder and leaned down, placing it gently on the porch beside her.

Straightening up, she gave him a hesitant smile, feeling the remnants of anxiety in her body fade as she locked eyes with him. Her hands were still a little sweaty, and her heart still beat a little too fast, but these sensations were blending in and away with the way she felt when he kissed her.

She reached up to brush her fingertips lightly, tentatively, along his cheek, coming to rest just at the bottom of his ear, at the corner of his jaw. Her thumb traced his cheekbone, and she broke eye contact reluctantly to follow its path, enjoying being able to see him up close like this. She flicked her gaze back to his eyes, seeing all kinds of patterns in his irises that she'd never seen before. He was beautiful. "A lot better," she admitted gently, smiling.

Even though he knew it was silly to think Phillip could of spent the rest of the afternoon standing here on her porch like this. He'd of been perfectly content with it too, which was saying a lot considering what they had originally planned to do today. Fleeting thought or not it was the first time he'd ever let himself pick being happy over struggling to find his lost family. He never put himself first, his happiness was secondary, always. And it was all because of her. She was more than just a close friend or a witch he really enjoyed kissing. She was the reason he was moving forward, letting go, and finding hope. Billie changed everything for him.

As their lips met he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer yet until their bodies were pushed up against each other. Just like before he got swept up in kissing her, lost in being so close, in feeling so connected, that he'd nearly forgotten to breath. When they finally pulled apart he took a deep breath but didn't back up to far. His hands hung lightly on her hips and he watched her keep her eyes closed with a smile. She was beautiful in every sense of the word and though he'd noticed it so many times before he felt it hitting him hard in this moment. His heart raced when she whispered, her sea-green eyes finding his, and he was powerless against it.

His hands lingered on her waist as she dropped her bag and reached up to him. Her touch made him smile again, his eyes watching hers. "Me too." He admitted fondly, his thumbs idly tracing small half circles on her sides. He stood there for another moment, quiet, staring into her eyes and trying to remember to breathe. It wasn't until he heard some sort of noise down the street that he snapped out of the sort of trance that had overtaken him and he sucked in a quick breath. Blinking a few times he smiled again, big and bright, showing off his rare dimples, before he finally let his hands fall from her waist. He leaned down to pick up her back pack and slung it over his shoulder, it plopped on top of his own unevenly but and he kept hold of the strap to keep it from falling.

"Are you ready or?" do you want to stay here and keep kissing for a while longer? Phillip didn't finish the thought out loud even though he wished he could. He'd looked up the directions she'd given him on a map so logistically he was ready to apparate them to Maidstone whenever she was ready. But he wouldn't of minded hanging around here a little longer.

“I had an anxious morning,” she admitted quietly, flicking her gaze from one eye to the other, wanting to share it with him even though all she could think about right now was his hands on her waist. Did he know, she wondered? The way her stomach felt tight, or that she had goosebumps all the way up to her shoulders? He touched her so casually, but internally, she felt like she might just fall over any second. She was so aware of her hips, her waist, everything. There were a couple of layers between his big hands and her skin, but her imagination was running a bit wild…

She shook her head, finally breathing again when he leaned down for her bag. Her hands moved back to her sides too, and she worked a bit to keep acting like things were normal, and he wasn’t bowling her over every single time he looked at her. “Yes, I’m ready,” she said, a little breathless, not inferring the rest of his sentence at all. She reached for her hair self-consciously, but stopped herself partway and held her hand out instead, so he could apparate them both. She gave him a small smile, grateful that he’d taken her bag too. She was blushing profusely.

Billie took a deep breath, closing her eyes at the last moment, just before everything disappeared and they were suddenly somewhere else. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking a couple of times as her body adjusted to the shift. She exhaled, feeling a bit inside-out. It was a little warmer here, but the sky was full of thick clouds instead of clear, with sunlight streaming through the gaps, highlighting sections of the vast landscape before them.

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, coming here. The fields of yellowish grass were the same. The dense, enchanted forest bordering the property was the same. The tall house, standing right in the middle of it all, the matching glass greenhouse a little way away, and the stony path connecting the two seemed totally unchanged by time. Even the garden beds and fruit trees, which hadn’t been tended to in a year, were perfectly alive and well.

Perhaps she’d thought it would be a little more decrepit and falling apart. That was how she imagined her house on Sinnoway Isle, anyway; a relic of the past, overgrown and eroded by time. Even if her imaginings for that place were accurate, however, the same could not be said for this one; this place had only been empty for one year, not five, and besides, the weather and the elements were kinder here.

She gave Phillip’s hand a squeeze, glancing up at him with a small smile.

When he felt her warm hand in his he shut his mind off from wandering thoughts. It was easier said than done, he kept wanting to sneak a peek at her while she had her eyes closed, lips pursed, waiting for him to apparate them. He took a deep breath, the magic finally taking hold after a short delay, and he felt them being folded into time and space. He closed his own eyes and concentrated on Maidstone and the descriptors she'd given him and finally opened them when his tennis shoes felt hard-packed earth beneath them. Phillip kept her hand in his as he took a beat to look around. For a long time now he had been under the assumption that she had come from a Pureblood family with a bit of wealth and this place fit that bill to a tee.

He noted the main house, absently counting the number of dormer windows and imagining how big it probably was on the inside. And then his gaze followed the stone path that led behind the house, toward the treeline, and he was impressed by the greenhouse. All in all he thought it was a perfect place for them to work on their little project but for a moment another thought struck him. He turned to look at Billie with his hand still in hers and tilted his head a little to the side. He was looking for something in her face, any sort of expression that might give him a clue about what she was feeling. He wondered what it was like for her to be back here after so long. After everything that had happened with her Aunt last year.

Giving her hand a gentle squeeze before he spoke, breaking the soft silence that had fallen between them. "You okay?

"Yes,” she breathed, still smiling just a little. Then, “I think so.” She glanced from him back to the house, a little unsettled by how easy and familiar it felt to be back here. She’d thought it might feel stranger, more foreign; she’d thought it might feel like a place she’d visited a long time ago, with the same sort of eerie presence she imagined her island to have, but it was just a house. Just the house she’d lived in for the past few years, until a year ago. She wet her lower lip with a flick of her tongue and started walking.

The stony path was uneven, and a part of her wondered how her aunt had managed to walk up and down it most days. She’d been over a hundred years old, after all… Billie didn’t speak as they walked, her thoughts ebbing and flowing quietly, lingering somewhere between the feeling of his hands at her waist and reliving older moments, like the night that Kendrick had found her, or the day that she’d met her aunt for the first time.

As she ascended the wooden steps up to the front door, Billie subconsciously stepped around the parts that creaked. She didn’t even realise she was doing it until she heard a creak from just behind her and noticed that he was not doing the same. It felt strange to notice little details like this. She glanced at him, the corners of her lips tugging in the tiniest of smiles.

Whether it was the morning she‘d had, spent reliving some of the worst weeks of her life, or the other, obvious thing, she felt a bit nervous approaching the front door. As they got to the top of the stairs, she let go of his hand, moving behind him to get into her backpack, where she retrieved an old and worn brass key. She didn’t look at him as she moved towards the door, the hand holding the key hovering just in front of the lock it would slide neatly into. She hesitated there for a moment, her arm suspended in front of her.

The moment stretched and then she let her hand fall back to her side. “Sorry,” she said, blinking, her gaze lingering on the lock. “I don’t know why – I just need a second?” she looked at him then, giving a small smile that sat somewhere between puzzled and apologetic. She felt a bit self conscious; she didn’t want him to suggest they leave or something. She did want to be here. It was just a bit strange walking up those steps, opening this door.

Phillip followed her as she brought them down the path and up to the porch. He hadn't noticed her carefully move over certain parts of the steps that creaked. Not until he'd stepped on them, feeling the wooden boards shift under his weight as they squeaked, and seeing her little smile. He shrugged a little and took the last two steps at once to join her on the porch. When she let go of his hand and moved to the backpack he had slung over his shoulder he took another moment to survey the surroundings. He peeked through the front windows. It was dark inside but he could see the silhouettes of white canvas and sheets covering furniture shaped blobs.

Turning back in time to see her hesitate at the front door he instinctively took a small step toward her. Even though she had said that she was okay he wondered if she really was. He moved to her side, so he could see where her hand was hovering above the lock and the expression on her face. "Take your time." He responded softly, wanting to reach out to her but waiting. He wasn't in a big rush to get inside but even if he was he would wait as long as she needed. He could imagine what she might have been feeling at this moment. He could put himself in her shoes, considering everything she had told him and the pain they'd shared with each other. Phillip had never returned to his family home after everything that happened. Part of him thought that must have been easier, he never had to face any of it, but he also wished he had gotten the chance to say goodbye. Even if it was just a house.

"Do you want to..." he started, blinking a few times in apprehension because he didn't want to pressure her one way or another. "We could sit out here a minute?" He said motioning toward the dusty wicker set that was beside them. "Or you could show me around the garden?" His eyebrows raised slightly as he said it, trying to give her an out if she needed one while a caring look played on his features.

“No it’s okay,” she said, but she didn’t move for a moment. She felt, rather than saw, him surveying the area, and she wondered what he thought of it. Was it what he’d been expecting? Was this the sort of place he’d imagined that she’d lived in? It was so strange to her that they’d known each other for two long years, and that this was the place their friendship had had taken them. She didn’t think she could have gotten to this place – the metaphorical one, she meant, but the literal one, too, she supposed – with anyone else.

They’d grown up a lot in the past two years, she thought, sliding the key into the lock, then turning it with a satisfying mechanical click. Billie knew she was still fairly naive, had so much to learn about so many things, but she’d been so much younger two years ago. More scared. More anxious. And Phillip, well he’d been her age when they’d met and... was an adult now. Strange thought. She pushed the door open, then adjusted her collar self consciously as she stepped inside.

It was more or less the same as it had been the last time she was here. The air was a little dusty, but again, not as bad as she would have expected. There were probably some anti-dust charms around the house. She glanced around the room tentatively, half expecting something to happen. Maybe she'd start crying or something. “Maybe leave those there,” she said softly, glancing his way and motioning to the bags before moving slowly to the stairs on the other side of the room. “For a minute.”

There was a small frown on her face as she stepped lightly up the narrow staircase, once more skipping the steps that creaked. There were other rooms, little doorways here and there, but she wanted to share the space with him that she’d spent the most time here. There were a lot of feelings moving through her right now, and she was sure she’d feel them all properly in turn, but this part felt important, somehow. 

The house got narrower as they went up three floors, and at the top of the stairs, there was a small landing with a ladder leading up to a trapdoor entrance to the top room. “It used to be my aunt’s room,” she told him, “but she stopped going up there as she got older, so when I came to live here it became mine.” She motioned for him to climb the ladder, conscious of the fact that she was wearing a skirt. When he was up, she climbed up behind him.

She smiled hesitantly as she straightened up, closing the trapdoor behind them and brushing her skirt with her hands. There were windows on all four sides of the room; she glanced at each of them as she did a small spin. The simple, pine four poster bed was still there, though the curtains were gone. The bookshelves were still against the opposite wall, minus the books. She moved to one of the windows, taking in the view. “Pretty, isn’t it?” she asked. The fields stretched out into the distance on this side. She exhaled slowly.

Even though he would have been fine sitting outside with her for a while, Phillip didn't protest when she put the key into the door and turned it until it clicked. He would follow her wherever she needed to go today. Phillip was going to be as supportive as she had been when they traveled back to Ireland last week. Letting the bags slide off of his shoulder after she'd pointed out a spot to set them, he dropped them to the floor. A little bit of dust kicked up when he'd done it, swirling around in the air, but not as much as he would have thought for a house that had been vacant this long. Silently he took another look around, half expecting to see a lonely house-elf sweeping away through one of the open doorways.

Standing back up and returning to her, Phillip followed her up the tight staircase. This time he followed her steps exactly, avoiding the ones she didn't step on in silence. They ventured up three floors, and he wondered how much higher they could go. Magical construction defied all reason, but even from the outside, the house had looked pretty big. Finally, they reached a small landing, and he moved to stand beside her as she motioned to a staircase and trap door in the ceiling. He raised an eyebrow at what looked like an attic door to him, silently asking himself why she'd be stowed away up there when the house was full of other bedrooms. For a split second, the pessimist in him wondered if she'd been stuck up there by her Aunt. He'd never heard her say anything wrong about the witch, but on principle, Phillip assumed everyone was awful.

He kicked those ideas to the back of his mind as he started climbing the ladder first, swiftly realizing that she had a skirt on, and it wouldn't be decent for her to travel up first. Not that he would of minded... He clenched his jaw as he climbed the rungs and lifted the trap door open. Crawling up on to the floor and then standing, he waited for her to join him while brushing a little bit of dust off the knees of his slacks. As soon as he looked around, he started to understand why she had stayed up here. He would have too, if given a choice. It was private, serene, and it had great views out all four sides. Not to mention the veritable library, she must have stocked on the now-empty shelves. In a way, it reminded him of the Ravenclaw tower, and he smiled at the thought of her up here. He could see it in his mind's eye, her with her nose in a book basking in the afternoon sunlight.

"Yeah, it's beautiful." He said softly, not following her to the window after she'd spoken. He wasn't looking at the view outside of her window, though; his adoring gaze was on her. As he joined her at the window he stood behind her, Phillip had a good few inches on her height wise so the teenager would have been able to see outside easily if that was where he was looking. He slid his hands around her waist, his chest brushing up against her back and whispered. "Thank you for bringing me here, Billie." He said appreciatively as the rosey smell of her shampoo greeted his senses.

Billie placed her hands on the deep windowsill; she must have grown a little in the past year, she thought, because the window’s lock didn’t seem quite so far away now as it had last time she’d been here. Then again, it might have just been in her head. She was old enough to know by now that memories weren’t exactly infallible. She tapped her fingertips on the wood lightly. “I used to sit up here with a pillow and read, but I was always nervous bec– oh.” she stopped talking as he appeared behind her. Goosebumps appeared from her neck down to her knees as he slid his hands around her waist.

It occurred to her – stupidly, for the first time – that they were all alone in a house together. After the morning she’d had, and all of the other stuff associated with this house, the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, and that fact made her feel a little silly. It was hard to think about much else right now, though, with him standing right there. “You’re... welcome,” she replied hesitantly, feeling nervous, but not in the bad way. It felt risky.

Had he thought about it, she wondered? Was he thinking about it now? Her heart was racing – was his? Billie wished she knew more about what he was thinking, expecting, wanting, feeling, but she didn’t know how to ask. Instead, she stroked his hand absentmindedly. “Um, sometimes I’d scare myself thinking about the height,” she finished her earlier sentence.

After a moment, she turned around to face him, a small, teasing sort of smile on her face. “Missed you,” she said, her cheeks tinged pink, a little sparkle in her eyes. She placed her hands lightly on his chest, waiting for him to kiss her again.

Phillip struggled to think about anything other than her, even when he was miles away. Keeping his wandering thoughts under control now, when she was so close, was nearly impossible. As much as he'd wanted to work on the project they had devised, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to focus on anything intellectual right now. He'd been thinking about her always since they had traveled to Ireland. Going home after they'd kissed in the dark on her porch had been so difficult. And then seeing her in London but not being able to act on the things he'd wanted to had been torture. Now that they were here, alone (which had indeed occurred to him!) in this empty house, Phillip was unable to think about anything else.

The Ravenclaw in him might have valued intellectual discussion and research, but every other inch of him was interested in something far more physical. He felt sparks run up his arm, where her fingers traced his skin. When she turned to face him, his face broke into a pleasant smile that reached his eyes. He'd been smiling more and more these days, so much so that it almost didn't feel real. His hands found their way to the small of her back again as she looked up at him. As she spoke, his eyes trailed down to her lips, and remembering what they had tasted like made his heart skip a beat.

Without much hesitation, Phillip leaned in once more to kiss her softly before pulling back only inches. "Missed you too," he breathed before returning to kissing her. Although it had been slow at first, the intensity gradually increased as his hands pushed up her back and brought them closer together. His mind was blank and racing all at once, eyes closed as he pictured what she must have looked like at this moment. His heart was racing, enough that he could feel it thumping in his chest. Nervousness about being here, about what they were together, and about the added freedom and pressure about being alone here, began to fade away as the moment swirled around him.

She couldn’t hold in a smile as his gaze flicked down to her lips. Just a small one. She closed her eyes as he leaned in, then opened them as he spoke, then closed them again when he kissed her again. With his lips on hers, and his hands on her body, she wondered how anyone in a couple ever got anything done.

She’d been thinking – fantasising, really – about kissing his neck since that first time they’d kissed, at the beach. But how exactly did one get from… this… to that? Billie wasn’t a forward person; if he hadn’t kissed her that day then she would never have acted upon any of her feelings at all – aside from a rushed sort of confession, or something, of course. She wouldn’t have kissed him though.

When they pulled back, she took her chance, pushing up on her toes a little so that she could kiss him lightly on the side of his neck. Just once, then a pause, then a couple more. She’d read romance novels, and she, like, had a body of her own, so surely she could work out what felt good? Second guessing herself, Billie pulled back, her feet flat on the floor again. She leaned against the windowsill, feeling a bit out of breath.

“Does it feel good?” she asked curiously, feeling like a bit of a dork. He had to know that she hadn’t exactly done this before, and she trusted him, so she didn’t let herself feel too embarrassed.