apocynthion { killian }

Billie gave him a small smile, shaking her head again. Compared to coffee, a glass of milk did sound a little childish, but Billie would never understand why people liked coffee. It smelled nice enough, but tasted so bad!

“You’d have to ask an ornithologist,” Billie said with a small smile. She wasn’t sure she’d ever said that word out loud; it felt strange and foreign on her tongue and she hoped it meant what she thought it did.

She nodded again. “Yes,” she said, agreeing. Her mind felt a little blank now, because as reluctant as she was to go to bed, Billie definitely was ready for it. “We can have a pre-meeting meeting,” she suggested vaguely. “To decide when to have the meeting.” She gave him a sidelong look, then looked ahead.

Billie was quiet, her steps slow, as she walked. She felt a little uneasy and it didn’t take her long to realise exactly what it was. They were heading up Ravenclaw tower. On her birthday. Billie was so, so, so certain that Phillip would not be waiting for her up there, but she couldn’t suppress the growing alarm in her stomach at the idea that… Well, that he might be.

And how would it look to him? Billie didn’t have to exercise her imagination very hard to know.

So she slowed further, her expression thoughtful. Halfway up the tower. If someone was at the top they’d be able to hear the echoes of speech, probably. But she still didn’t want to go all the way to the top. She slowed to a stop.

“Thank you for spending time with me on my birthday, Ki,” she said, half turning to him as he stepped up beside her. It felt a little unfair that he and Phillip were about the same height, she thought.

Everything she was saying right now was so funny, which was not normally a trait Killian associated with Billie Fay. Ask an ornithologist. "Alright, I shall," Killian replied brightly, the corner of his smile twitching with a unvoiced laugh. Pre-meeting meeting for a meeting! Brilliant. "Brilliant," he said, "and then a post meeting to discuss the actual meeting!" He should hush, he wasn't funny.

They walked up the stairs of the tower to the common room entrance in comfortable silence, Billie looking thoughtful and Killian feeling thought-less. Not thoughtless, just, the absence of thoughts. Until, of course, it occurred to him that Phillip might be waiting for them at the top step. Oh, now he was having thoughts. Angry ones he couldn't put any real heat behind though, because, uh, tired.

Billie slowed to a stop about halfway up. Killian stopped a step behind her, brain slow as it was, looking back at her quizzically. "Oh, of course!" he said, with a sleepy brightness that quickly faded. Ah. She didn't want him to walk all the way up with her. He nodded, one foot falling back one step. "Happy to spend time with you whenever, Billie. You're one of my best mates." That's a lie, some small part of his mind said, but Killian couldn't figure out which part of it was untrue.

He took another step down. "I can walk you all the way up, you know. But only if you'd like." This felt like a rare clear nonverbal signal, though, that Killian should head off.

"Of course," Billie said, her mind spinning pictures of gavels and written minutes.

Now that they were stopped, she felt hesitant, and guilty. Was it because she was rejecting his offer of goodwill, of support? That felt about right. Thinking of herself as anyone's 'mate' was sort of funny, though. “You’re one of my closest friends, too,” Billie said with a small smile, trying not to think too hard about the last time she’d said almost exactly that to him. Five-and-a-bit weeks ago, was it? Almost exactly? Barbara was her best friend, she thought, but Ki was her closest friend.

She felt a little relief when he took a step down the stairs, but it dissolved when he spoke again.

It was difficult to say no when he put it like that, even though she could hear the way he’d adjusted his language to politely give her an out. It was the abruptness of the first part, the: I can walk you all the way up, you know. He either didn’t know how to, or didn’t want to play out the usual politeness-scripts that she found comforting. Even the — But only if you'd like — was too direct. It pained her, a little, even though he was just trying to be nice — nicer than he was already being, which was already probably nicer than she deserved. Billie resisted the urge to look up the stairs, her quiet paranoia tugging at the back of her mind.

"I think I can manage from here," she said gently, hoping that keeping it light was an acceptable path forward. If Phillip was at the top of the stairs, and she came up with Killian, she might just pass away on the spot. If (when) he wasn't... Well, she might cry. And she was really trying her best to keep the crying to herself.

Closest friend. Killian beamed for a moment, sleepy and cheery. It was nice to hear it again, on a much lighter night than the last time she had said as much. If Billie were a boy (a Billy, even) he might punch her lightly in the shoulder to signal it was time to stop being so sappy. Instead he just grinned, digging his hands into his pockets.

Killian nodded, only a touch disappointed and trying not to let it show. "Good, good." He looked up the stairs behind her, as if he could see who might be there to meet her. Obviously he couldn't see anything. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." He gave her a smile, lifting his shoulders as a prelude to opening his arms to her. Stopped, thought about it – was he, you know, still allowed to do that? He had a girlfriend. Killian gave Billie a nod instead and turned around, trotting quickly down three steps or so.

No, this felt wrong.

Killian paused, looking at the stone wall wrapping around the tower for a moment, then turned on his heel and dashed back up the steps. The hug he gave Billie was quick, hardly three seconds, but it was tight and warm. "Happy birthday, Billie," he murmured above her head, then quickly let go and dashed back down the steps. It felt slightly dangerous, that hug, and he didn't want to turn around and see her possibly be upset he had done so.

He turned around anyway before disappearing from view, giving Billie a quick wave before turning around the stone bend. Then the clatter of his shoes on the steps, then the soft patter of them as Killian dashed back to Gryffindor Tower, to kiss his girlfriend goodnight and fall into deep, restful, dreamless sleep.

He looked up the stairs behind her and Billie resisted the urge to turn and follow his gaze. There wasn’t anyone there, obviously. No need to feel the nagging sensation that she needed to look for herself. She nodded at his words, small smile in place, her book held in between two hands.

For a moment she felt a little nervous that he might hug her; Killian (like all of the Gryffindors, it felt) was a far more physically affectionate person than she, or any of her Ravenclaw friends. It probably wasn’t house related, but it was always so easy to split them down neat red and blue lines. Regardless, she felt a little uncomfortable about the idea of a lingering hug here, now.

(Not that she’d say anything, of course).

But he didn’t.

Billie was holding The Hobbit with both hands “Thank you,” she said, raising it slightly. There were a million things she could thank him for, but this one was mostly about her birthday gift. “Goodnight.” There was a decent chance it was just her guilt projecting the slight disappointment she heard in his voice, but she felt a little extra guilty for good measure, just in case. He turned, and she did too.

Billie had barely put her foot on the next step when she heard his footsteps and turned back, polite curiosity on her expression as he skipped up to her. His arms wrapped around her, tight. “Oh,” she said stupidly, her traitor brain conjuring memories of similar hugs, with another boy, in this same staircase. Again, it felt unfair to her, that Ki and Phillip were the same height.

(— Unfair to Ki, too, for her to stand here wishing that Phillip would hug her like this instead — Unfair to Phillip for her to be thinking about him like this at all — And just so painfully foolish of her to indulge such childish feelings of fairness and to feel like any of them mattered.)

“I — Thank you,” she said again, her voice a little muffled against his chest. There were a million things she could thank him for, and this one had a little bit of a lot of them in it. The hug was warm and fast. She didn’t even have time to try to get her arms out and around him; a moment later he was skipping back down the stairs. Billie raised her hand in a small wave in response to his, but she didn’t know if he’d had time to see it. She lingered for a moment, uncertain feelings bubbling away inside her as she glanced up the stairs.

She wondered if it was her birthday anymore, and thought that it probably wasn’t. So this was it, she thought distantly, her feet moving as she began her ascent to the common room. Day one of sixteen.


/end

epilogue ––

From: Killian Buckley, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland To: Rhonda Afolayan, Afolayan-Buckley Residence, Camden, London, England Sent: 15th Feb 2004 Status: Carefully penned on parchment. Attached to Denny's other leg is a box of Everlasting Fudge and a box of Every-flavour beans. Hi Mum, It’s Killian, hi! I’m so sorry about the owl, I know Dad hates it. I’m sending some of the jelly beans with this for him, I know he likes most of them and maybe that will make up for the owl. Also some of the fudge for you, this one is very Willy Wonka, the squares melt for about an hour on your tongue and changes flavours as it does. I hope you like it. It’s my friend’s owl so please be nice to him. We really need to figure out some way to talk when I’m at school that isn’t just asking Mr. Flume to send stuff — how would you feel about a Vanishing Cabinet in the house? I’ve been talking to some of the professors and they think it would be okay if we kept it far from the computer room.  Anyway, I didn’t want to write through Mr. Flume this time. I know he probably doesn’t read my post but I thought maybe you wouldn’t be comfortable sending what I’m asking for with a, you know, white wizard as the intermediary. Do you remember Billie Fay? She’s come over a few times now. The really shy blonde one. We were talking last night and prison abolition came up? Which I know probably sounds mental to be talking about with a… you know, but she seemed really interested. Wizards are pretty conservative about prisons, it seems, so there isn’t a lot of literature on it in our school library. So, this is a very long way of asking, are you using that Angela Davis book right now? The one with the big brown door on the cover? I think we’d like to read it together, if that’s alright. Much love! Killian –––– From: Rhonda Afolayan, Afolayan-Buckley Residence, Camden, London, England To: Killian Buckley, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland Sent: 16th Feb 2004 Status: Typeset on on university letterhead. In brown paper wrapping, a copy of Are Prisons Obselete by Angela Y. Davis and Instead of Prisons. Kiyo, Hoping this doesn’t break the owl’s legs. We’ll discuss vanishing whatevers when you’re home for Easter. Be careful, love. If your boarding school is as conservative as you say, you may irritate people just for holding these works in your hands. And Mr. Flume has not sold me on your school’s anti-discrimination policies, five years in. I’m proud of you. Study hard. Eat well. mo nifẹ rẹ Mum

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