saturn { killian }

The castle was quiet at night.

“It’s a little spooky, isn’t it,” she said, but she smiled, too, because it wasn’t just spooky. She’d been out past curfew before – usually when she and Phillip had been off on their own somewhere, and were returning a touch later than they were supposed to. Being with Phillip had always made her feel safe – from teachers and anything else – even if it was a little after hours. But now she was actually allowed to be out here. In her own right. She was acutely aware of the shiny badge pinned neatly to her chest.

So it wasn’t just spooky tonight, no, it was also a little thrilling. The halls seemed bigger, every noise a little louder in the dark. As the pair approached one of the wide landings, for some reason, she imagined wearing a floor length dress and twirling elegantly through the dimly lit corridors, music playing, feeling like she was the only person in the world. Feeling a little embarrassed at even thinking about it, she kept her eyes ahead, speaking again.

“Have you had to tell anyone off yet? I imagine we’ve had less trouble than you have,” she added with a knowing smile. After a beat, however, she frowned and glanced his way. “I’m sorry, that was a bit rude,” she added quickly, shaking her head. She didn’t want to stereotype the Gryffindors – she knew enough people (Killian, Phillip) who didn’t seem to fit their house stereotype very well to know that each house held a broad range of students.

As they walked, Killian kept raising his hands to his chest, adjusting the metal badge pinned there just a little bit more. First a twist to the left, then slightly right. Killian was vaguely aware that the more he messed with the pin, the more likely it was to break. But he kept fidgeting with it anyway, the movements reassuring him that he - they - were supposed to be here.

"A bit, yeah," he replied, leaving a pause just a little too long after Billie's question. "It's a bit eerie, with them so empty." The halls weren't even that intimidating. He knew these hallways and corridors well now, after years of sneaking out with Josie and Nola and Mavis (to supervise, to keep them out of trouble, he had always told himself) and even in the dark emptiness Ki wasn't perturbed. As long as a ghost didn't jump out behind him. Killian still wasn't used to the ghosts.

But next to Billie, alone, in the dark, light only from the moon and a few torches and their wands - well, his heart was going a little faster than he would have liked. It was stupid - she had a boyfriend! - but there they were.

He had to laugh, a small chuckle winding its way out before Billie could correct herself. "No, it's okay. It's true." He glanced back, giving the blonde a wry little grin. "A bunch of second years snuck out first day back. Josie and Nola haven't gotten too out of hand, yet, but it's only a matter of time." He made a face - "I am not looking forward to telling the seventh years off, though."

She felt relieved when he laughed; teasing about house stereotypes was normal, but it wasn’t very polite, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings if it ended up being something he was sensitive about. She met his eye when he looked at her, matched his smile when he smiled. “Oh no,” she said, raising her eyebrows. She was sure there were rule breakers in her house – the house divisions weren’t anywhere near absolute, after all, but she hadn’t had to chastise any second years for sneaking out just yet. As they crossed the landing, Billie glanced up at the moon out of a tall window, but looked back when he spoke again.

“Oh, gosh,” Billie said, tucking some hair behind one ear. “I don’t know if I could tell off my friends.” Barbara, Caleb… Her Ravenclaw year-mates weren’t the type to cause trouble in need of telling-off, and she was thankful for that. Then again, though, she wasn’t only supposed to be in charge of the students in her house, was she? She frowned slightly, not having thought about this before. What would she do if Josie or Nola or one of the others broke a rule in front of her? How could she wield her authority then? So far she’d only had to remind a dorm room of younger students to quieten once they’d gone to bed. And answer questions, of course, mostly from first years. Billie really thrived at the helping-people part; she supposed that was a part of the reason that she’d been chosen for the role.

“A lot of the younger students in my house are really sweet,” she told him, “half of them are taller than me, of course, but they’re very cute. I can’t believe we’re upperclassmen now.” She shook her head as they descended some stairs, her voice echoing a little off the walls even though she spoke quietly. She wasn’t sure she felt old enough to be fifteen, turning sixteen upon her next birthday. Old enough to be studying for her OWL exams. “How are you finding it otherwise?” she asked, adjusting her own badge self-consciously.

"Because your mates believe in rules," Killian grumbled. "You can tell off mine if you'd like. I am over it." Townsend in particular was trying to make his life hell, not that Killian would willingly inflict Towns on Billie. "Or, maybe," he added hopefully, "the Slytherin prefects can take over yelling at my friends and I can just give Isaac detentions for the whole year." He looked at Billie with a smile, thought better of it, added - "Joking, of course."

He listened to her assessment of her house as they rounded the staircase. "Does it bother you? Being short?" Killian asked, his tone mild. "Seems like there might be advantages." Not that he could think of many off the top of his head. Being able to be better friends with the underclassmen? People underestimating you, maybe? Though, Billie already had two things going for her in that department. People always underestimated white girls, even when they were tall. It was evident even in their jobs right now:  Nobody ever expected the girl Prefects to be the bad cop, in Killian's experience.

"It's fine," Killian said, automatically. It was what he was saying to just about everyone who asked about the prefect experience. Though, Billie probably could sense that was an automatic answer. "I didn't really - want - to be Prefect. I just wanted to study this year. But," Killian let out a deep, put upon sigh, "every other boy in Gryffindor is a right disaster, I guess.."

“Yes,” she breathed, thinking of Barbara, who definitely believed in the rules far more than, say, Josie or Mavis. Though her closest friend was, of course, Phillip, and he didn’t believe in anything of the sort. It was funny that she hadn’t even considered him among the group of people she’d feel uncomfortable calling in for breaking the rules; she knew she wouldn’t be able to do it, no matter how big the rule break was.

The blonde smiled as he said he was joking, then considered his question. Did she mind being short? She shook her head tentatively; she couldn’t help but be envious of taller, slimmer girls but her height was low on the list of things she didn’t like about herself. Advantages? “Fitting into small spaces…?” she tried, trailing off. She didn’t like small spaces. “If I were taller I could kiss my boyfriend without hurting my neck,” she suggested lightly, glancing his way with a small smile before looking back ahead. She didn’t usually talk like that – my boyfriend – but the castle was empty, it was late at night, and he was her friend. It all added up to a kind of closeness that reminded her of sleepovers. Her cheeks were still a touch pink, though.

She looked his way again curiously when he said it was fine, but didn’t press him on it. "Oh," she said. Phillip hadn't wanted to be prefect either – a boy thing, maybe. Billie had been overjoyed to get her letter, but then Killian knew that. She'd written it into one of their letters in the summer. She nodded, then jumped as one of the paintings lining the hallway they were walking in made a loud popping noise. In the picture, there was someone with a bunch of balloons and a knife, laughing at having scared her. How sinister, she thought.

"It is busy," she said, shaking her head as the painting disappeared over her shoulder. "Did you sign up for the mentor program, too?" she asked, "I think I'm going to need to get better at scheduling."

"Oh, never hitting your head on doors," Killian added, realizing too late this wasn't a brainstorming session. Oh. Boyfriend. Right.

Sometimes he could forget about Phillip's existence, for brief flashes of time. In their OWL classes, for example, when he and Billie were working through some Potions methodology, there was no mention of the seventh year. Or sometimes on these patrols. Or in brief moments in the common room, alone with a copy of "The Once and Future King," when he was fully immersed in some fantastic other Britain and not the one with Phillip Donnelly in it.

It wasn't that he resented Phillip, really. Good on him for seeing all of Billie's charm and such before everyone else noticed. Sometimes it shocked Killian that Billie had only one suitor. Good for Phillip. He made her happy.

Just made Killian a little sad, is all.

He was so conscious of this - felt guilty of something, even though his crush seemed out of his control. It would be much easier to be falling for Mavis, or Josie (though for reasons he could not quite figure out, Killian felt quite strongly that Josie would never be interested in him romantically). They were single and in his house, not in Ravenclaw and dating a very scary seventh year. And he didn't want to come between Billie and Phillip, anyway. That seemed quite cruel, to try and steal Billie away. Billie was a human person and could make her own choices. He should just be better at choosing how to deal with it.

The pause had dragged on too long. "How do you feel about heels?" Killian asked (well, that was gay of him, but he was already in it). "I mean, Nora's got these," he moved his hands, trying to outline some boots but failing, "heels where your foot is on a platform? So you get the height, but not the-" What had Nora said? "-pain, in the arch of the foot." Well, what the hell was that, Killian. In the dark, maybe Billie couldn't see his face heat up by approximately a bajillion degrees.

Billie yelped - Killian immediately whipped around, hands balls into fists (like he was going to be able to punch a ghost, stupid), relaxing slightly when he saw the picture. "Oh, come on," he yelled at the painting. "That's blood-based bullying. Do you know how many muggles are afraid of clowns?" The clown skulked out of frame.

He was still thinking about the scary clown when Billie had her next question. "Oh, yeah. My mum got me this academic planner, though, so I've been making appointments in there. Easier than remembering everything." He paused. "Or making a parchment schedule."

“Platform shoes?” Billie asked. She knew what he was talking about but was that what they were called? “I wore heels to the dance at the end of our third year,” she offered, “but only then.” There were heels charmed to better support ankles, and Billie imagined those were the kind she’d eventually end up wearing. She’d be sixteen soon, she thought distantly. About time she started looking into that sort of thing.

The blonde felt a little nervous for no reason, the nervousness quickly followed by a wish to have an adult more knowledgeable than her to help her with that sort of thing. Jo would do it, she thought, but she wasn’t close to Jocasta like she was to Ken. There was a pang of something in her chest.

“Lots of wizards afraid of clowns, too,” Billie added with a gentle smile.

“I have a parchment schedule,” Billie said, “but it’s charmed so I can adjust things by dictation. I have a weekly planner book, too. A diary? Is that what that is?” she waved a hand; it didn’t matter. “Some of my dorm mates tease me because of all of the sticky notes and coloured sections and tabs,” she said. She was quite pleased with herself, though. She was quite intelligent in the academic sort of way, but it wasn’t as if she could work to be more smart. Being more organised, though – being more hardworking. Those kinds of things were achievable. Perhaps she should have been a Hufflepuff after all, she thought distantly.

"Have you been assigned someone yet?" Billie asked. "I have Wendy Wilbond, do you...?" she glanced his way, looking for recognition. "She's the sweetest little thing. Dreamy and into romance novels. Caring." Billie smiled at the thought.

Shoes forgotten, Killian relaxed his fists, slowly unclenching. "Wizards got all sorts of extra things to be afraid of, though," Killian said with a grumble. Christ, half of everything in the wizarding world was terrifying at first glance - what was up with mermaids? Sorry, merfolk. They didn't look anything like the Disney version of mermaids, instead more like Lovecraftian, eldritch monsters.

(And of course Lovecraftian meant something ELSE to wizards, too - Killian had made that mistake talking to Morgana in Slytherin before. Apparently, there was no relation.)

His eyebrow shot up - "Can you show me that charm?" It seemed useful, being able to move around appointments without trying to erase ink or search the entire Gryffindor boy's dorm for his one pink eraser to go with his two pencils. Really, what was wrong with graphite? "Sticky notes are good for that sort of thing, though." Did wizards have their own Post-Its? "Are they a wizarding brand, or a muggle brand? Your stickies." His own seemed to lose adhesion faster here in the castle.

Oh, SNAIL. Right. "I have been," Killian mumbled, stepping around a corner. "Second year boy." Couldn't remember his name for the life of him. "He's 'right, I suppose." Killian hadn't gotten to meet with him, much. Embarrassing. "Romance novels? I got some Jane Austen for Nola, if your girl would like that."

Billie nodded, though she couldn’t quite agree wholeheartedly. Witches and wizards had more defences, she thought, and besides, it wasn’t as if muggles weren’t affected by happenings in the magical world. Wasn’t that why there were whole departments dedicated to keeping magical creatures away from muggle villages? Whole departments making sure cursed or charmed objects didn’t get into the hands of those who had no idea what they were dealing with? The blonde hadn’t known much about any of that while she was growing up. She glanced at Killian, thinking that he hadn’t known about any of that growing up either.

“Oh, I didn’t do it myself,” Billie responded quickly, feeling a touch flustered at the implied impressiveness and the improperly credited spellwork it pertained to. “I can show you where I ordered it from, though,” she added with a helpful smile. It was the same people who’d made her twin journals, though her calendar didn’t cost quite so many sickles. “Oh… I suppose a wizarding one?” Billie said. The notes weren’t anything special – she’d gotten them from a news agency in Hogsmeade.

The blonde nodded when Killian started talking about his younger SNAIL buddy. Billie’s young girl was the sweetest thing; she almost felt like a younger sister already. It didn’t seem like Killian had formed the same attachment. “I haven’t read any Jane Austen,” she said with a small smile, glancing down at the stone floor underfoot. “Honestly, I think both she and I would enjoy them, though,” she added. Billie had heard the name – maybe even from Nola. "I love reading," she added with a light sigh. Despite the momentary painting scare meer minutes ago, Billie was still feeling very relaxed in the space she and Killian were sharing currently. It made her smile.

Killian would have believed it if Billie had charmed it herself -- she was so smart, even if she was shy about showing it. "That'd be gricked," he said, stumbling over his words and mashing 'wicked' with 'great' into a portmanteau of embarrassment. "Wicked, I mean. The sticky notes, too."

Was he sweating? Ki felt like he was sweating. There was too much sweat since last year, when he had shot up and out of all of his trousers and his voice had begun to drop. It still felt squeaky, like his voice was going to crack, more often than not. Especially around Billie.

(Who has a BOYFRIEND!, a small part of his brain yelled, loud and clanging. Killian tried to ignore it.)

They kept walking, steps slower than before. "Yeah?" Killian had put Billie in a fantasy sort of box in his head, given how she had taken to the Lord of the Rings. "I must have a couple. I can check two out to you? One for you, one for her?" He was rattling through his recollection of the collection - a softcover Pride and Prejudice, a worn out Wuthering Heights. "What about Bronte? I bet you would like Bronte. It's very Gothic." Did wizards know what gothic meant? "Lots of. Moors. It's very romantic." Shit, did that sound like -- Killian looked over his shoulder, half expecting Donnelly to come and slug him in the face.

Gricked. Billie’s lips formed the word silently as she glanced at him for its meaning. “Oh,” she said, smiling. She nodded, turning ahead again, the smile lingering. “Remind me on Monday if I forget.” They were slowing a little, and she wasn’t sure if she was the one slowing down, or if he was. She didn’t mind; they were nearly at the point where they’d separate and return to their towers. And these walks were always pleasant.

She nodded in answer to his questioning Yeah? and wondered what he was thinking. She wondered if her Lord of the Rings obsession influenced the kind of things he might think she’d like to read. “Sure, that sounds lovely,” she said contentedly, doing a quick search of her pocket and quickly finding what she was looking for – a pale green ribbon. Moors? “I like moors,” she responded lightly, reaching up and behind her head to tie her hair into a loose ponytail. Romantic? “I like romantic.”

She adjusted her bow with deft fingers and turned, following his gaze over his shoulder. “Was there…?” She gestured in the direction he’d been looking, but he was already turning back; clearly it was nothing. “I used to read a lot more when I had more time," she said, looping a loose strand of hair around one finger and tucking it in with the rest. They were approaching the end of the hall they usually parted ways at, and she let the pace slow a little more. "But I like reading all kinds of things. Everything except biographies, maybe."

If Billie forgot, surely Killian would have forgotten too, by Monday. His memory felt like a sieve sometimes, dropping pieces that were important for life (deadlines, potion recipes) out the back of the car to make way for nonsense information (Billie's favorite dessert, the exact number of minutes it took to get from their stopping point back to Gryffindor Tower, the number of named dwarves in The Hobbit). He nodded anyway. "Right, before Charms, maybe. And I'll bring, uh, Wuthering Heights." See, that was something he wouldn't forget.

I like romantic, Billie said. Killian nearly said So do I, before coming to his senses. There was no Donnelly at his back -- "S'nothing," he said, turning back around. "Biographies? What have they ever done to you?" His voice was light and slightly teasing, adding, "I've never really enjoyed a biography, either. Maybe they're a book genre you have to grow into."

His feet tended to drag, here, only a few dozen paces away from where the loop ended and they would split up, try to sleep some before the day ahead. His gaze slid sideways, watching Billie tuck some blonde hair behind her ear. Twenty paces, ten paces... They came to a stop, the corner leading down the hall to Gryffindor tower and the entrance to Ravenclaw just a few steps away. "Well, good work, us," Killian said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "It's us again -- Thursday, right?" It was Thursday, he knew for a fact. He should say goodnight, but Killian wanted to linger.

A book genre to grow into? She supposed biographies did seem like a more adult sort of thing. Billie smiled a little. “Maybe it just has to be about the right person,” she said. Reading non-fiction was an entirely different type of reading experience to reading fiction, but she felt like biographies should slot neatly in the middle somehow. Narrative arcs! Storytelling! For some reason, though, they’d just never appealed to her. She wondered distantly whose story would be compelling in a way that would appeal. Naturally, her parents came to mind; naturally, she dismissed the thought.

They had come to a stop somehow. Billie clasped her hands behind her back patiently. “Good work indeed,” she said gently, a little amused. Quite funny, Barbara had said once, of the boy in front of her. She’d been talking about his writing rather than his speaking, but Killian was quite funny, she thought. In the general sense. “Yes, Thursday, that’s right," she said, nodding and finding herself running out of things to say. She always liked their walks, but she was hoping that Phillip would be up when she went upstairs, so she didn’t want to linger too long. “Well, goodnight,” she said after a moment. “I’ll see you in —" the smallest of pauses "— charms.” She waited for a sign of approval, then took a small step backward. “Sleep well,” she added with a soft smile, turning to leave.


/end

It was a small smile on Billie's face, as she gentle leaned into his joke, and Killian felt lighter for witnessing it. Or maybe he was just sleep deprived, because that seemed like an outsized reaction to a girl just smiling at him, didn't it? Killian smiled back though, nodding. "Charms, yes," he agreed, then, after slightly too long a pause, added, "Goodnight!" Billie said sleep well, and Killian opened his mouth to say 'you, too', but she was already turning so he turned too, taking off down the empty hallway.

After a moment's walk he glanced over his shoulder - Billie had disappeared already, Ravenclaw Tower was closer to this spot. Ki sighed, small, stuffing his hands into his robe pockets as he resumed his walk.

Maybe it just has to be about the right person, Billie had said about biographies. He ran through how she had said right person, over and over again. Right person to read about. Right person to be with. His smile faded. Just let go and enjoy the friendship, Killian, he thought to himself. He could be the right person for that. Only that.

He looked over his shoulder one more time before turning another corner, disappearing into the stillness of the castle night.

/fini