apocynthion { killian }

FEB 14, 2004

Billie’s walking pace slowed a little as they rounded a corner, and she realised where they were. Over there to her right was the painting of Lyra the Lovely, and there stood two suits of armour halfway down the hall to her left.  At the end of this corridor was the spot where they usually parted ways at the end of their route around the castle. She glanced at Ki, nodding as he spoke. There were plenty of worse ways one could end a sixteenth birthday, she thought.

Billie had wondered how long it would take them to talk about her family, or her history, again. She’d only been friends with Killian for a year, and probably only very close friends since school had come back this term, but she had always had the impression that he was one to say exactly what was on his mind; she doubted he hadn’t thought of it at all this past month and a half. Apparently he was more sensitive than she’d thought. As for herself, it hadn’t taken Billie long to start feeling embarrassed and quite anxious, really, about how messy she’d been when she’d visited him in London. And avoiding all of those topics came very easily to her.

But it wasn’t like she hadn’t felt the effects. Billie had only just started spending time with her friends when she wasn’t forced to by class or prefect duties, but conversation was easier, now. Even when the two of them spoke about completely unimportant things. She thought she’d noticed him advocating for her voice in group situations — deciding where to eat at Hogsmeade, or even gossiping about some professor — more, but she was sure it could have just as easily been all in her head.

They were reaching the end of the hall now. Billie considered her thoughts, tucking some hair behind one ear, then spoke, cutting him off a little.

“Killian,” she said, “Would you mind if we kept walking a little? I could walk you to your tower, maybe?” Billie glanced at her friend, knowing there would be a little trepidation in her expression. She hesitated for the smallest of beats. “It’s just — the other day Phillip was waiting for me when I went up?” She was frowning a little now, and trying not to frown at all. “But I don’t think he will be today.” She glanced at Ki, hoping he’d understand and that she didn’t have to lay it out; she hadn’t seen Phillip all day, and wasn’t expecting to tonight either. Delaying having her expectations met for a little felt like a comfort.

The brown paper package bounced against his leg, tucked into his bookbag slung across his Chest. Killian didn't normally bring his bookbag on patrol, especially not on a weekend night, but in the bustle of Valentine's Day he hadn't found a chance to pass off the package yet. So it weighed him down, waiting for the right moment.

He was running out of moments, Killian noted with a frown, as they pulled up to the stretch of hallway between the two towers.

"... And so I wrote to Mr. Flume, he's the one that did that guest lecture in Muggle Studies, Nola thought he was cute but Nola thinks every man is cute, and I asked him how to send OWLs and NEWTs to universities, and I haven't heard back so I think he's ignoring me." It was a long-winded little story, about pretty much nothing, but it was important nothing to Killian, and they had long since stopped talking exclusively about the weather or whathaveyou. "D'you think he's ignoring me?"

One of the other things about this topic was that it seemed to be 'safe'. Billie hadn't brought up her family since leaving his house that evening, had hardly left her room in the month and a half since. Killian didn't want to push it, but he was self-conscious about talking about himself all the time. He knew Billie would always prefer that, to not center herself, and he was a relational thinker, anyway. Always sharing stories of similar experiences, to show he was listening and could understand some part of it all.

Billie was nodding but she was quiet, distant almost, thinking about something else. Killian bit his lip, hand going to his bag. "Billie--" he began, before she suddenly spoke up. Would you mind if we kept walking a little? I could walk you to your tower, maybe? Ki blinked. "Uh," he said, steps coming to a halt at the normal parting space. "Sure? Yes. Of course." As if she could hear the unasked why forming on his tongue, Billie explained.

"Ah," Killian said, his frown growing. "Phillip." The name felt sour on his lips. It wasn't fear or jealousy coating his tongue when he spoke of Donnelly, these days, but a lack of respect. Waiting for her? Like an ambush? Hadn't he done enough? The incident with that Hufflepuff upperclassman, that felt like the tail end of some sort of rumour Donnelly was spinning. Killian didn't say any of that, just nodded. "I haven't been walked to the Fat Lady since the first year," Ki said, trying to keep his tone light. "Sounds fun. Maybe we'll catch one of the second years sneaking in." He tried to smile, but concern bled through anyway.

Phillip. Her stomach curled a little at the way he said it. Sour, almost. Billie appreciated the comment about second years, appreciated how he kept the conversation light. “Maybe,” she agreed with a small smile, still unsettled but really trying not to be. She wondered if he was thinking about her run in with Wini; she might not have told him about it if she hadn’t seen him right after, but she had, and she’d clearly been crying. No time to collect herself. Billie hadn’t even shared the most abrasive details, not the it’s your fault, or the I hate that you did this. She hadn’t mentioned the fact that Wini had asked her if she’d cheated on her boyfriend, and she definitely hadn’t told her Gryffindor friend that Wini had mentioned him too, even if not by name.

Billie waited until he started walking again — unhurried, thankfully — falling into step beside him. “He just, was giving me some things,” she said gently, feeling a lingering need to defend him, even though Killian had said nothing about Phillip other than his name. “He had some things of mine.” She didn’t want to talk about the gift he’d bought months ago, for her birthday, and she didn’t want to say that it had been a key to her house that he was returning. It was late, though, and she and Killian were so much closer now. It was an easy space to share, she thought. “I cried, a bit,” she admitted, looking rather disappointed with herself. It was embarrassing to be so ruled by her feelings, to cry at any little thing. Most of the time she had the grace to disappear into a bathroom or something to do it — she’d been adamant not to let any of her friends see her cry, if she could help it.

“He didn’t do anything,” she added quickly, not wanting Killian to have the wrong idea. She glanced at him, then shook her head. “I’m just, you know… A crybaby,” she finished, giving him a small, self-deprecating smile.

Giving her some things. Killian felt his lips curling into something unpleasant as they walked. He didn't have the bone structure for a snarl, but -- he felt snarly, thinking about Phillip. That Billie was still thinking about Phillip. Not that Killian had a leg to stand on here, but a month and a half seemed like ample time to get over a breakup! Especially if you were the dumper. "What, he couldn't have done that last month?" Killian asked. His hands, thrust into his pockets, curled into fists against his legs.

And he had made her cry. At that Killian really did scowl, shadows forming the crease between his brow. "Right," Killian said, not really bothering to hide his distasteful disbelief. "He didn't do anything. Sure. Just being a git, as usual."

He hadn't had a chance to be mean about Phillip to Billie since the breakup. Hadn't really wanted to, as Billie was recovering and hiding from the world. Killian hadn't wanted to shatter Billie when she was still fragile.

But a month and a half later had his patience running thin. It pissed him right off, the way Phillip Donnelly was still making his best friend cry a month and a half later. That Donnelly had ever made her cry. It was stupid, this protective feeling. His mother would probably have something to say about male paternalism and white tears. But Mum wasn't here, was she? Mum didn't do rounds with Billie multiple nights a week, Mum didn't see Billie come out of that bathroom that day.

"You don't have to defend him, you know," Killian said, his voice only half a touch more conversational. "You don't owe him anything."

Maybe he could have done that last month, but Billie had been even more fragile a few weeks back. It didn’t seem that possible right now, when her chest was already hurting just at the saying and hearing of his name. “I’m sort of glad he didn’t,” she said quietly. She was sure there would have been even more tears if it had only been a week or two after. She mightn’t have been able to stop herself from saying something very stupid — asking or pleading things she had no right to want.

“No, it wasn’t like that,” she protested gently, eyebrows furrowing a little. It was difficult for her to contradict him so obviously; she was far more used to being pliable and reflective in conversation. Adaptable. Willing to shape herself around other people’s opinions like a stream around rocks. “It was my fault,” she said, “I was just overthinking…” She distinctly remembered feeling far too upset that he clearly didn’t like her haircut. Obviously the hair was more of a landing place for all of the rest of her hovering anxieties and insecurities, but it had felt very intense in the moment. Billie tucked hair behind one ear self-consciously just imagining it.

She nodded tentatively at his next words, though she was entirely unconvinced. Her small smile paled. Of course she owed him, she thought; she’d hurt him. He was still hurting, and it was entirely her fault. Killian cared about her, she knew, but... She didn't really understand how he could see it any other way. She supposed he didn't know Phillip like she did. She wanted to say so — was that too confrontational? "He's a good person," she said instead. "It makes me want to." Defend him, that was. She glanced to see if he understood. Then gentler again, "He didn't do anything. He just gave me back my things and we said goodnight."

She was glad he didn't. "Hmph," offered Killian, tension forming in his jaw. He didn’t personally see the difference between upsetting Billie sooner rather than later, but sooner would have meant she wasn’t avoiding going back to her room on her own birthday! Killian felt like his next steps were heavier.

It was my fault, Billie said, and Killian sucked in a tight hiss of air between his teeth. STOP IT! he wanted to yell, wanted to spin there on the stone and pick Billie up and shake her until the self-esteem rattled off the whatever top shelf of Billie’s brain it was hiding in and into his friend. “Not everything has someone at fault, I suppose,” he said instead as a sort of compromise. In his pockets, his hands clenched, flexed, clenched again.

Billie nodded, but not emphatically enough for Killian to think she believed him on this. It used to just make him sad, the way Billie made herself small for Phillip, the way she put herself behind him. Now it incensed him. “Okay, so he’s a good person. MacTaggert is a good person, too! He don’t need me defending him to people who hate his guts, though.” Mercutio MacTaggert, bless him, was the fountain of most of the Gryffindor Fifth Year Boys Room’s collective testosterone. Less eloquent than his namesake and far more likely to pick physical fights on behalf of Gryffindor Quidditch than anyone actually on the Quidditch Team.  Killian found himself apologizing for that loads to the Slytherin prefects, and had given up on defending him long ago.

Killian shook his head. “And then you cried?” He filled in the gap, voice softening a hair. His next step took him a little closer to Billie, bumping shoulders with her lightly. “I’m sorry that happened,” he said, modulating his voice a little lower so he seemed less angry. “Wish more people had your back, in there.” He jerked his head back towards Ravenclaw Tower. “We’d make him leave you space, if he was Gryffindor.” Shook his head. “Sorry. Just don’t like it when people upset my friends. On purpose or no.”

Nothing he was saying eased any of the tension in her chest. Why did he bring up his dorm mate? What did he have to do with anything? And did Ki really hate Phillip’s guts, to fit the metaphor, too? It didn’t feel fair or right, and she frowned a touch more, not wanting to argue but feeling uncharacteristically unwilling to let it go. Arguing didn’t come naturally at all, but she’d go against herself for Phillip every time. She wondered if that would ever fade away, and found herself hoping it didn’t.

She missed him. She knew he wouldn’t be waiting for her tonight, and it hurt her, and she missed him. Killian didn’t understand; he wasn’t there for first kisses or long study sessions or quiet moments atop the astronomy tower, confessing deeply hidden things. He hadn’t seen him open up slowly about his family, didn’t understand what it meant for people like them to share things like that. As soon as she thought it, she wondered if it was too harsh; Ki’s eyes had been wet when she’d shared some of her own story with him that day, after all, even if both of his parents were still alive. She felt defensive of Phillip against Ki, and defensive of Ki against herself — she supposed this was why her Gryffindor friend was being defensive of her; there was a limit for people she had the space to feel protective of, and she would never put herself anywhere near the front of the queue.

He bumped her lightly. “It’s okay,” she said automatically, then a small confession: “I just… felt self conscious about my hair, I think.” It probably didn’t make much sense to him, since she’d been connecting the dots inside her own head rather than out loud, but she never had to prompt too much for Killian to find something to say. It was a relief, sometimes. “There’s no need to apologise,” Billie said, shaking her head, thinking that she was glad — for once — not to share a house with the others. The idea of her friends making him give her space made her want to die a little, but she could see that it came from a place of care.

“No Ki I, really do appreciate that you care,” she said, sincerity clear in her voice. She glanced at him, her gaze soft and lingering to make sure he knew she meant it before she looked ahead again. She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know how I feel. A lot, I suppose. I just… Miss him.” Her heart hurt a little when she said it — the last two words were very softly spoken — and she realised that she’d accidentally steered conversation to a place where she was feeling a bit too much. She didn’t really want to cry, with him, on her birthday.

It was the wrong tact, all told -- Billie had some tension in her face in the moment before he leaned his shoulder against her. Killian sucked in another breath through his nostrils, slower this time. He could ease off, if Billie wasn't ready to be mad at Phillip yet. Somehow. Made no sense to him -- but, Killian supposed, he had no romantic experience of his own to compare this too. Unless you counted Mavis, which Killian wasn't sure counted if it hadn't even been a week.

Hair and feelings about hair, though, was something Ki could relate to. "It's a lovely cut!" he said, glancing at the featherlight edges of her bob as they walked. "But a big change. I felt strange for a while after I trimmed mine." Killian almost said afro, but Billie hadn't know him when he was wearing that style and he wasn't sure she would know what the hell an afro was.

There’s no need to apologise, she said. Killian felt slightly put out at that -- that was his line, wasn't it? He smiled a little bit at that. Maybe he wasn't finally rubbing off on her.

She was quiet for a moment, and Killian waited for her to say... whatever she was going to say. He wasn't surprised that Billie still missed her ex-boyfriend, just... disappointed. Frustrated. Sad that she was sad, still.

"I'll lay off it," Ki said quietly, shifting so he was facing Billie as he came to a stop in the hallway. He wanted to offer a hug, and another apology for steering the conversation this way, but couldn't quite get there. His hand went for his bag. "Hold on a tick, I got something for you." It wasn't the most graceful subject change, but it would get them away from Donnelly. The paper-wrapped book emerged, twine twisted over the words "To Billie" written in his cramped hand across it.

“Oh.” Billie reached up to touch her hair again, self conscious at the compliment. “Thank you,” she responded politely. She didn’t hate it as much as she had during her first week back, but between Barbara’s Very Modern and Phillip’s It’s Shorter she had definitely memorised at least one or two hair growth potions. She glanced at Ki’s hair instead of thinking about her own, imagining it longer, wondering how that would look.

As they walked, Billie’s thoughts lingered a little longer on Phillip and his position in her life, though she didn’t say any more. Of course she’d loved him — loved him now, too (ouch) —  and of course she’d known for the past year that he’d been the most important person in her life, but putting it into words for an imaginary argument-slash-explanation for Killian had brought further clarity. She felt stupid and young wanting to defend their relationship as something that mattered more than a regular teen romance, but, wasn’t it more? They’d both lost so much; both felt so untethered in a specific way that she didn’t think any of her — or his — friends felt. He’d been her closest person, her safe place.

Like a home, she thought. It came with a pang.

Billie gave him a small smile when he said he’d lay off. Sometime, maybe, she’d try to share those thoughts with him. For now, she was thankful to think of something else; she had never been someone that needed things out in the open. They slowed to a stop and her expression faded into something more surprised at his next words. “Oh!” She raised her eyebrows as she realised what he was doing. “Oh, you didn’t need to,” she said, her cheeks a touch pink. It was right at the end of the day; was he going to give it to her when they said goodnight? A part of her preferred it like this, just the two of them. She was almost thankful her birthday was on Valentine’s day, to serve as a distraction; she really didn’t feel comfortable as the centre of attention. No, this was nice.

To Billie.

“Thank you,” she said. “Wonder what it is,” she teased gently, keeping her smile small as he pressed the (rectangular, book-shaped) package into her hands.  “Shall I open it now?” She glanced at him for permission before tugging gently at the twine. Opening presents always made her feel a little guilty, like she should have something to give him in return. Admittedly, this was a touch irrational, but she couldn’t help but feel a little bad that October was so far away… “Oh, Ki,” she said, her expression brightening as she folded the paper awkwardly with one hand, turning the book in the other so she could look at the art on the back too. “This is so sweet. Thank you.”

Billie was sure he had other friends to talk to about Lord of the Rings, but at least on her end, it felt like their thing. "I love this world," she breathed, eyes on the book. "I love it," she added, glancing back at him with a smile.

He could feel Billie's eyes drift over his head. Maybe he should find some of those photos, from when he was eleven and twelve, bring them up to Scotland after Easter. Maybe Billie would enjoy laughing at the ridiculousness of it, laugh at his stories of breaking combs in it. She probably wouldn't laugh at the teasing, at the hands in his hair without permission, so Ki wouldn't share those memories.

She smiled at him when he agreed to ease off, which frustrated him. It made some forgotten organ in his chest go tight to do so, but he could do it for her. He didn't need to be the asshole. Much as he wanted to be.

Her face lit up at the offered package. Wonder what it is, she teased. Teasing was new. Killian thought he liked it. He gave her a gapped-tooth smile. "Go for it," he replied, watching her face intently as Billie pulled off the twine and paper. The copy in her hand was new in that it hadn't been opened -- but it had old-book smell anyway. "One of the early hardcover printings," he said, walking a line between boastful and embarrassed as Billie flipped The Hobbit around. "Mint condition -- so you can make it all your own, notes in the margins, dog-eared pages, the like." Now he was teasing. Billie didn't seem the type to dog-ear pages. Or at least not his copies of books.

I love this world, Billie said softly. I love it. Ki bit down on his lip, not wanting to do some stupid aborted sentence as he had with Mavis (though, that had worked out, hadn't it?). "I love having someone to share it with," he settled on saying. "I hope it's alright, as birthday presents go."

“Wow,” Billie said. Early hardcover printing. It did have that old book smell that reminded her of her amortentia... Ki loved having someone to share the world with? She did too. The blonde’s small smile threatened to turn into a bigger one again as she ran a thumb over the title, but she kept it contained. “Oh, I’ll get right to that,” she said, giving him a look. Making notes, in a fiction book? Blasphemy.

Because she was already thinking of gifts, Billie imagined choosing a book she thought he’d like, and making lots of notes in the sides as she read it, like little letters for him to see as he went. Killian would like a gift like that, she thought, and she would like to do it; she enjoying giving gifts that took her time to make. Silently, she tucked it away for the future.

“It’s perfect." She shook her head a little at the implication that it could be anything less. “Thank you so much,” she added, hugging the book to her chest. It wasn't long before her thoughts were drawn back to the thing that Phillip had given her, though she tried not to let that show in her expression. She wondered for the millionth time how he'd felt looking at her initials, neatly engraved on the custom-made wax seal.

"Sorry again, for cancelling in winter," she said, covering her slight frown with another thing she felt a little bad about. The third Lord of the Rings movie had come out in December, and they'd made vague plans to see it in January, before coming back to school. She'd been... Preoccupied. Billie had said sorry already, of course, but she hadn't yet hit her own personal standard for apologising.

They hadn’t started walking again, and Billie wouldn’t be the one to move them on. She stayed put, hugging her book to her chest, her eyes on his. "I didn't even ask—" something to chastise herself for later "—did you see it? Was it as good as the others?"

Oh, I’ll get right to that, Billie said in what was almost deadpan sarcasm. Killian couldn't keep himself from laughing, loud and warm in the empty hallways. "Oi, only if you wanted to, was all I was saying." He kept grinning, though, as he watched Billie smile at the book.

It warmed him to see how Billie clutched The Hobbit close to her chest. Made him feel like he was doing something right, as opposed to just a minute ago when Ki had been mucking their friendship all the way up. It felt -- easier, without the fear of Phillip Donnelly's jealousy bearing down on him. Easier without the soul crushing pining, too. When had that disappeared? He was glad for it. This stage of their friendship felt good. Easy. Comfortable, almost.

"Oh?" It took him a minute to catch up with where Billie was at. "Oh, it's fine, don't even worry, you were --" Killian stumbled over his tongue, "-- busy." This was the almost. The little bit of ghost still haunting their friendship. Was Billie bringing it up, now? Killian was not prepared for that, he thought.

Seemed not, though. "I didn't, not yet." Oh, this was dumb. "I did want to watch it with you, so I asked mum to keep an eye out for the disc release? I'm not sure when it will be out. Maybe by Easter, probably not till summer, though." Killian scratched the back of his neck. "If you'd like to, anyway." He wondered if he should mention Mavis, here -- they hadn't discussed it yet, but was he still allowed to hang out with other girls? He couldn't see Mavis saying something like that, it would make it impossible for him to do prefect walks or even hang out with their other friends, but maybe he should ask. But should he bring her up now? Killian, never good at hiding his emotions, furrowed his brows in confusion of his own making.

Busy, yes. She didn’t let her expression falter, though she felt something like the ghost of a wince right there in her chest. She let him push on.

“Oh,” she said again, raising her eyebrows a little. He hadn’t seen it? Killian kept talking and her gaze dropped to the floor — it made her embarrassed, somehow, that he’d waited to watch it with her. A little guilty, like she wished he hadn’t, but pleased, too, and that second one spilled out in the form of a small smile. “You didn’t need to wait,” she insisted, her feelings mixing to make her feel a little flustered.

She should have asked earlier, she thought, chastising herself a bit. Nothing would have changed, of course, but if she was a better friend, she’d have asked and apologised sooner, rather than being caught up in her own head about things going on in her own life. Even if her breakup did feel like something quite life-altering, and even if she did feel like she’d lost (another) piece of family, and even if thinking about it did make it difficult to breathe…

Billie pushed the whole set of thoughts away in under a second, focusing on the self-punishing parts instead. Easier. “I’d definitely like to, though,” she offered, glancing back up at him, her smile still in place. "Love to," she clarified. She would love to see it — preferably with him. They'd seen the others together, and he'd introduced her to the books. It wouldn't be the same without him. “It’s sweet that you didn’t see it. Sorry, though,” she added apologetically, making sure that he understood that she honestly meant both things. She hugged her book a little tighter.

"I mean, I didn't need to, I suppose," Killian said, pulling at the starched collar of his uniform shirt. "But -- I don't know, I ended up busy too, and I wanted to watch with you." Killian felt like he was meant to feel guilty about that, about wanting to do something with someone who wasn't Mavis, but he didn't feel guilty about wanting to see a film with Billie, which paradoxically made him feel guilty about not feeling guilty.

Christ, did Billie think like this all the time?

The smile she gave him seemed to have hints of guilt in it too, though they were fading. "Just gives us time to build up suspense for it," he chirped, adding a layer of extra enthusiasm over his genuine enthusiasm just in case it helped Billie feel better about it all. "Plus, Dad is trying to make some sort of home theatre in the basement, I'm sure it'll be just as good. Even better -- we can make our own popcorn."

He wanted to give her a hug, like the one she was enveloping the book with. Wanted to sling an arm around her shoulder like they were co-conspirators. But that had been the move he pulled with Mavis, so instead Killian flapped one long edge of his robe sleeve at his fellow Prefect. "Should we keep on, then?" They were standing in the middle of the hall like loons. Maybe Billie was stalling? "We can sit in front of the Fat Lady -- she's probably sleeping anyway."

“Of course,” Billie said with a small nod. Build up the suspense, yes. It also gave her time to actually finish the third book before she saw the movie, something that seemed like a good idea even though she hadn’t done it for the second one — which, oddly, had been the first one she’d seen. She raised her eyebrows at theatre in the basement, impressed. Distantly, she wondered how they were going to do it — it’d be much easier to pull off with some smart spellwork.

“Yes, good idea” Billie said, glancing back down the hall the way they’d come. They were prefects — it’d probably need to be a little later for them to get in trouble for being out of bed — but even being told by a teacher that they should head to their dorms would feel like a reprimand, to her. She started walking slowly, matching his pace. “Oh, do you think so?” she asked, eyes back on him now. She didn’t want to keep him up if he didn’t want to be up, but she didn’t really want to go to bed yet. Didn’t really want to go upstairs, alone. Didn’t really want to be alone.

She pushed those thoughts — and Phillip — out of her mind, for the millionth time. It would be easier soon, she thought. She couldn’t bring herself to hope for it though.

“I wish we were in the same house,” Billie mused out loud as they arrived at the bottom step of Gryffindor tower. He’d have to be a Ravenclaw, though — she didn’t think she’d survive in the lion house. She loved the girls, but sharing a dorm with Josie and Mavis and Nola sounded a little scary, honestly. Not to mention the uncomfortable: we’d make him leave you space comment. She hadn't forgotten that. 

In different houses as they were, and with the kind of group they were in, it was a little difficult to spend time just one on one; it always made more sense for social things to be group things. And she hadn't really been up for that these past weeks. "Then I could just come and tell you every time I have an opinion on Return of the King while I'm reading, instead of having to wait until the next day," she said with a small smile, only half joking.