apocynthion { killian }

She wasn't there, of course – Killian smiled, slightly chastened but mostly amused by the teasing. This was nice. Billie's ribbing was more low-key than the girls, significantly more good natured than the boys. A sort of... perfect amount of teasing, all told. Not bullying, not embarrassing, just enough to wiggle under his skin and let him know it was okay to laugh at it all. So Killian chuckled, low and good-naturedly.

It's supposed to be, Billie said, and he wanted to ask how she knew that, what had it been like with her and Phillip, wanted to know what the hell Phillip had done so right at the beginning to be able to hurt her so badly now, but. But. But Killian was a good friend who respected boundaries. Right? Right. He would see the top of her head out the corner of his eye, and wished that he wasn't so stereotypically tall just for a moment.

"Fine, a witch-code, then," Killian grumbled, though the corners of his lips were twitching up into a smile anyway. "That always seems reductive to me, doesn't it? Girl magic users are witches, boy magic users are wizards, I ask about sorcerers and warlocks and nobody had a good answer for me. Why's it got to be by sex, anyway? Why aren't we all just wizards? We call it the wizarding world, not the wizarding and witching world." He frowned, staring at the wall ahead of them. Slowly, "Actually, we should probably call it the wizarding and witching world, or the witching and wizarding world, right?" He nodded, convincing himself. "Cause, feminism, like."

He had missed most of Billie's tips while going through this thought. Killian blinked. "Yellow roses, right," he said, uncertain. "That would be wicked -- Nola I'm sure will shove something at me but she doesn't really filter through it all, you know?"

It felt wrong to feel nostalgic and sad when Ki was sharing that he felt excited. She felt happy for him, too! Some kind of vicarious excitement, too! But she couldn’t chase away the sadness, and she felt pretty guilty for that.

Billie glanced at him when he took off with the witch comment she’d made, waiting to be amused or politely interested until he made it clear which way she should respond. Why aren’t we all just wizards? Or witches, she thought but did not say. The idea of being called a wizard made her want to wrinkle her nose. She did not, but she wanted to.

“The magical world?” Billie suggested, adding hers on at the end, when his question wasn’t immediately followed by another question. Alternatively: The World, perhaps? Billie felt mild discomfort at the way he phrased those kinds of things, sometimes. Naturally she chastised herself for her discomfort; he had grown up in an extremely different environment to most wizards, after all, and she instinctively assumed she was very ignorant about all kinds of experiences, but it was still there. She thought back to the prison comment he’d made earlier that had sparked that particular discomfort. Something about prisons in the real world, or real world prisons.

To Billie, and to most witches and wizards, real was so rarely an antonym to magical. It just felt out of place.

She considered his words. If she actually did flick through Teen Witch it’d probably just be one of Nola’s copies, anyway, she thought distantly. There was something odd about giving him girl advice — probably something to do with imagining them in opposite positions (she barely had the thought and could already imagine Phillip's reaction upon hearing she'd taken advice on dating him from Ki). She wondered how Mavis would feel about it.

“Truthfully, I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask,” Billie said honestly, giving him a small, sincere sort of smile. "My relationship history..." She faltered — to top of all of everything else, Billie had only had one boyfriend, and it had fallen into pieces. By her hand, even. She wasn't really sure if she and Phillip had followed the right rules and expectations around dating that Mavis might enjoy. So as much as she liked feeling close to her friend, Billie felt herself pull back a little here. "Well, I haven't even dated a single girl, so," she said, making a rather bold joke, but glancing away; she felt embarrassed at her inability to keep her ex out of the conversation, and out of her own emotional landscape, and discomfort at revealing more vulnerability. She wished she could feel happy for Ki and feel nothing else, but of course Phillip was in her heart and very present.

Right. There was a gender neutral option already. Killian flushed, differently embarrassed this time. "Must be more tired than I thought, forgetting that one," he mumbled. It was important, though, that there remained a difference, a line in space at King's Cross or the wall in the Leaky, that kept the wizarding -- witching -- magical world separate from the real world, the reasonable world Killian was going to return to in two years.

That was why muggleborns had to go to Hogwarts, right? To learn control, so when they went back they wouldn't hurt anyone. It was a tossup by the day, but half the time Killian wanted to go back, to go and get a physics degree and go hiking and never have to think about long dead wizards or Transfiguration or screaming post ever again. The other half of the time he felt guilty for wanting to stay.

Two more years. He had time to figure it out.

Relationships weren't future, weren't existential. Killian turned another corner, looking at Billie with a furrowed brow. "Right," he said to the first trailed off statement, trying to decide what, if anything to say. Well, I haven't even dated a single girl, so, Billie said, knocking the other thoughts right out of his head as he choked on his own spit. "Christ, Billie, I mean I suppose that's true, but --" he looked over. She was looking away, but Killian was, like, eighty percent certain that was a joke. He laughed. "Imagine if I had been drinking tea. Good one."

A beat passed, then -- "Course, people are allowed, girls to date girls and boys to date boys these days," and please God let Billie be looking away before Killian talked himself into a stupid corner, "and both, and neither, and all that." He should have gone back to the tower. "So, if you, or not you, if anyone was thinking that, it would be my jobs as Prefect to support that, wouldn't it?" Christ, where was H- Cassandra when he needed her. Killian rather wished the stone would swallow him up.

“It is late,” Billie agreed with polite amusement. And as if it only became true because she’d said it out loud, she had to raise her hand to cover a yawn only a moment later. Trying to be subtle about blinking away yawn-tears that lingered on her lower lashline, the blonde tucked some hair behind one ear. She didn’t really want to go to bed; it was so much nicer to be talking than thinking, or having nightmares. A part of her wished they were back on the Gryffindor steps pinky promising things to each other, before she’d started overthinking everything.

Even with her overthinking (her former relationship, their current friendship, Mavis, Phillip, et cetera) — everything, it was still better to be out here, she thought. It was her birthday; was it so bad to want to spend a little more time with someone who (for some reason) cared about her? Maybe it was selfish to want to keep him up, up and away from his girlfriend, she felt unsure, then a little more guilty for good measure.

She kept her eyes low as he spoke (low and unreadable — a benefit of being short), feeling a little nervous. She smiled, just a little, to herself, when he laughed, relieved at the way that had unfolded. Of course Killian was himself, and a moment later she felt mildly alarmed as he took that idea and ran with it, too. “Of course,” Billie said quickly, glancing at him now so she could read the feeling behind his words. She had been joking, but she hadn’t thought it mean-spirited. The girl felt an anxious spike as she wondered if he’d interpreted it as such. Mostly, she was confused. “I — of course, mine too,” she said again, slowing to a stop, frowning slightly.

"I didn't mean to..." Didn't mean to say something stupid when she was trying to cover up something stupid she'd said? She looked at him. "I meant it as a joke," she said.

Billie yawned. Killian dimly remembered an article from one of Dad's pop-science magazines, something about yawns being contagious. He yawned in short order, trying to stifle it to no avail. It was late, and getting later every step. If they waited long enough, maybe the clock would turn over, and it would be the fifteenth, and they would have survived Billie's birthday through copious amounts of loitering.

The longer he stayed, though, the more things seemed to be slipping out through his fingers. Maybe he should have called it when they had made their pinkie promise. His fingers seemed so strong then, like they would let nothing through.

Billie slowed down, which, thank God. Killian's mind, sometime between the last laugh and now, had thrown itself into reverse, backed up, and asked the all important question of, was Billie trying to tell him she was a lesbian? This was immediately corrected to bisexual, because if Billie were a lesbian then why the hell were they still playing avoid Phillip, and wasn't he a bad person for laughing like he did if she was, and and and –

I meant it as a joke, Billie said with a frown. Killian let out a loud exhale of relief. "Ohthankgod." He equated down slightly, putting his hands on his upper thighs like he had just sprinted a marathon. "It was funny I just overthought it and panicked." Embarrassing. He looked up at Billie with a tight, embarrassed half-smile. Christ, but he was running on fumes. "Sorry."

Billlie was still perplexed, still utterly unsure of how he could have interpreted her words in a way that resulted in the reaction unfolding before her. He exclaimed, hands on his thighs, and she just… Really had no idea. She parted her lips to say something, then shut them, thinking better of it. Overthought it? Panicked? She felt like she’d done something wrong, but whatever it was was beyond her.

After a moment, she shook her head, then said, “No, it’s my fault,” anyway. She tried to smooth her frown. “I’m just, I shouldn’t joke, I’m not very funny,” she added, a smile (teasing, not deprecating) appearing briefly on her lips. The blonde moved her arms behind her back, one holding her opposite wrist and the other holding her book. “Didn’t get that brand of Ravenclaw wit.” She glanced down at the floor between them, was quiet for a moment, then nudged the tip of his toe with her own.

She should really let him go to bed, she thought. They were almost at the spot, the saying-goodbye-spot, anyway. And it actually was getting late; they’d been dawdling all night. If a teacher found them now they probably wouldn’t get in any actual trouble, but they might get a small talking to, and for Billie that was already an unacceptable level of bad.

If she were honest, though, it wasn’t getting in trouble that bothered her; it was the nagging sense that she was doing something wrong by keeping him. All of it added up to a decent level of self-directed disapproval. “I’m happy for you two,” Billie said, taking the conversation back to Mavis. "I honestly don't know anything about witch-code, though," she added, amused at the term. "Or relationships. I'm not really sure we did it the normal way," Billie kept her gaze low, her tone light.

"It was funny, though, didn't you hear me nearly choke laughing?" Killian insisted. She wouldn't look at him -- stupid panic, stupid fear of missing something important. Take a joke, Killian. You don't have to be your mother's son all the time.

Billie's shoe bumped at the tip of his. Killian smiled, looking up at Billie. She was looking at the floor, still, but there was a hint of a smile. "We're not just our house, you know. I didn't get Gryffindor disdain for books." He was trying to tease now, let her know everything was alright, and felt distinctly that he was failing at it.

They were almost at the split, the halfway point between the two towers, the end of their route when they did rounds. The thought of stopping there was a little distasteful. What if he walked her all the way back? Would she insist on walking him all the way back, after? On and on it could go until they had worn ditches into the stone hallways.

Billie was turning it back to Mavis, which made Killian feel some sort of guilty knot in his stomach. I'm not sure we did it the normal way, Billie said. "I don't know if there's a normal way," Killian said, biting down the urge to ask well, how was it then? They hadn't been this close when Billie and Phillip had begun, and now it seemed too late to ask. "Bet if you asked every couple in the school, they would say they didn't do it normal, and then one of them is bound to describe what they think the normal way is." He was babbling. He pressed his lips together, frowning. "I... you know, I would like your advice, on this, one day, from your experience." He was careful not to say the bloke's name. "If you ever want to share. Promise I'll be normal about it."

Billie couldn’t quite read his tone, but she nodded politely anyway. She agreed, of course, though there were certainly better examples of people who didn’t match up with their houses’ common personality profiles.

The next part, though, she privately disagreed with; for fifteen year olds, she thought, there was a normal way. And it didn’t tend to include things like already feeling like your ‘crush’ was a part of who you were before you’d even shared a kiss. Most fourteen, fifteen year olds, she thought, didn’t go looking for lifelines in people who loved them.

Her mind immediately went to chastising herself for sounding so conceited, even if just in her own mind, but she still felt instinctively that she was right. Maybe everyone felt like that, though; she wouldn’t know. Anyhow, she nodded as if she agreed. She at least agreed with the parts about people having different ideas about what was ‘normal’ and so on. “That’s probably true,” she said, nudging the toe of his shoe again and hoping it wasn’t inappropriate. “I wouldn’t mind reading a compiled collection of accounts,” she added absentmindedly.

Billie turned her head away, bringing her hand up again to politely conceal another yawn. She really felt quite childish when it came to bedtime; like Barbara, she was naturally an early-night sort of person. She tried not to look as sleepy as she was starting to feel.

Did Killian want her advice, or did he just want to know what had happened with her and her ex? Naturally, Billie automatically assumed the most charitable interpretation of his words (and felt guilty for considering anything else) but she was still at a bit of a loss for what kind of advice she could give. Most of the time, she didn’t feel like she knew enough to advise anyone on anything.

“Okay” Billie said anyway. She wasn’t completely sure that she meant it, at least not the way he was asking, but she had to agree. Speaking about her own feelings was uncomfortable but doable, but speaking about Phillip? They’d only broken up six weeks ago, so everything felt especially acute, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel comfortable sharing things she knew he’d be uncomfortable with her sharing. And it was highly likely that that was almost everything. Her heart was hurting again, and she couldn’t shake it. A part of her was sure she’d have this feeling forever, and only half-heartedly hoped for the opposite.

“One day,” she said, repeating his words and not making a joke about how he’d have to ‘describe’ what ‘being normal’ about it meant, like a part of her wanted to. She was done with jokes for tonight. “It’s mostly pretty straightforward, though,” she told him, glancing up to meet his gaze, a small smile on her lips. She was done with joking, but a little teasing was okay.

A compiled collection. The complete works of teenaged relationships at Hogwarts. Killian nodded, staving off another yawn and flutter of his eyelids. That would be interesting, wouldn't it? More useful than their History of Magic textbook, at any rate. Billie tapped his shoe again. Killian smiled, poked back at the tip of her foot with his. A silly little game. It reminded him of batting at his sister in the car on trips. It was home-like. Comforting.

Billie yawned again. Lord, but they were usually well on their way to bed by now, weren't they? This was the longest they'd ever dawdled after rounds. Killian's eyelids were feeling heavier, and he felt rather like a toddler insisting that he didn't need a bedtime.

Okay, Billie said, then, one day. Good enough – Killian was too tired to behave normally about Phillip as promised. "One day," he repeated again. "You let me know when." He met her smile, raised his eyebrows. Straightforward. Right. He chuckled, thinking that Billie's life was anything but straightforward.

They had been at the spot for a little while now, poking at each other's shoes and hiding their drooping eyes. Killian looked at Billie and gave her a sleepy smile. "You think you can make it up on your own?" He tried to keep his tone light, teasing – he didn't really want to leave yet. "Or are you going to fall asleep standing up?" He closed his eyes for exaggerated effect, opened them wide when he started to wobble. "Looks like I might."

Billie smiled a little more when he tapped her foot back, but then she wondered what it might look like from the outside, and decided not to do it again.                   
                                                           
You let me know when. It made her a little anxious, because she knew she’d remember him saying so whether there was ever a time she wanted to talk about it or not (and sort of assumed he’d do the same), but she kept the feeling pressed way down deep; there were so many weird little things she felt anxious about like this that needed to stay in her head. Ki chuckled and there was a little polite curiosity in her eyes as they met his.

He was getting silly now; clearly she wasn’t the only one who was tired. She wondered if Ki was an early riser; it occurred to her suddenly that that wasn’t something they’d ever spoken about before. Billie had trouble sleeping in, no matter how late she stayed up. She’d been having earlier nights recently, but worse nightmares, and more frequent sleep paralysis, so she wasn’t sure if her sleeps were better or worse. Either way, she always felt a bit empty before bed these days, and would take late night note-writing with Phillip over early, restful sleeps any day.

She smiled at his silliness, shaking her head at the immaturity of it with nothing but affection. “I’m…” She was going to say she was fine, she was totally awake and not at all sleepy, but that would be silly, too. “Oh no," Billie said, glad he was joking but a little genuine concern slipping into her tone anyway.  "I’m... a little tired,” she admitted, allowing her reluctance to sound unfiltered, to match the lightness of the conversation. "Not quite asleep yet." She wanted to yawn again, but suppressed it.

Billie placed her hands behind her back again, and sighed. She didn’t really want to go to bed yet. Her past six weeks had been spent almost entirely in her dorm; it was nice to have a moment like this, with someone who cared about her, without the social pressure of being in a group. She’d cried so many times — there was a good chance she’d go upstairs and cry a little in bed after this, too; her feelings had been so all over the place. Thinking about crying only made her feel more tired.

"Thank you. For, you know... Lingering," Billie said. He had to only still be here because he was looking after her. Even though it was late, and even though Mavis might be waiting up for him. Ki was a good friend, a good person, and she wanted him to know she appreciated it.

Oh no, Billie said, with a little giggle and a little alarm. Killian pulled his eyes open a bit more, but when he relaxed the muscles the eyelids drooped heavily. "A little tired," Killian repeated, a little wryness in his voice. Billie sighed – whether from tiredness or reluctant, he wasn't sure. "Maybe we should go to the kitchens. Get a coffee." Another joke, Killian was a growing boy and needed all the sleep he could get.

Which, between prefect patrol and Mercutio MacTaggert, wasn't much.

"For what?" Killian asked, stupidly, right over Billie answering the question. For lingering. Killian felt his cheeks getting warm again. "Well, I said I wouldn't leave you alone, didn't I?" He hadn't. He had said he would never leave her waiting. The conversation in his house, on his street, was seared into the front of his brain, cutting through whatever stupid boyish feelings he had for her before and leaving only fierce, protective friendship. He hadn't said he wouldn't leave her alone, wouldn't leave her by herself, but it all was the same feeling. No waiting. No abandonment. No loneliness, no sadness.

"Shall I walk you up?" Killian asked, realizing Billie hadn't actually answered his question. "If you'd like the escort, I mean. A little more lingering."

“Oh, but… Gross,” Billie said, wrinkling her nose just a little. Usually she wouldn’t assert her opinion (on coffee, or just about anything else) but she was tired and emotional and strangely unguarded tonight, apparently. So now he knew she thought coffee was gross. Oh well.

Didn’t I? “Did you?” Billie asked, mildly puzzled, curiosity seeping in because no, she didn’t remember him saying that at all. She raised her eyebrows a touch. It didn’t seem like the appropriate thing to say to a girl when you had a girlfriend, but all Billie really knew was that she didn’t know anything at all — and that it wasn’t her place to pretend she did. "And thank you again for the book," she added, an afterthought as she curled her arms around it in front of her chest.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. It was ridiculous, she thought, how nice he was being. She couldn't help but accept it without a little guilt seeping in at the sides, too, as if people being nice to her could only happen through some fault of her own. As if she didn’t quite deserve it. Or something. It was a feeling best left unexamined, she decided. After a beat, she started walking (slowly) towards the base of her tower.

Gross, said Billie, and Killian laughed again. "Okay, no coffee. Tea. Milk or something." He was still joking – if they went down to the kitchens the house-elves would find him in the morning, face down and drowning in tomorrow's pudding.

Billie seemed to doubt it. "Certain I said something like that," Killian said, forcing a light, teasing tone into his voice, trying not to be bothered that she didn't remember. It didn't really matter, all things considered, that he managed to remember that conversation when he couldn't recall what he had for breakfast that morning (statistically, oatmeal, but he couldn't be certain) and she didn't. It was normal to forget things. It had been over a month ago.

Billie started towards Ravenclaw Tower, Killian falling in step beside her. "You have to tell me if you like it! Or don't like it. I won't be offended." This was firmer ground, back on books and such. "It's really tonally different from the rest of the Middle-Earth stuff, just, fair warning." It felt like they were doing a little post-mortem of their night conversation now, so Killian ran through it all in his head. "And are you sure it's okay for me to borrow Denny? I'll probably be sending for those books tomorrow at lunch."

“Milk will put me right to sleep,” she complained lightly, thinking about Kendrick and the way he’d made her warm cups of milk when she was younger and couldn’t sleep. Of course, she hadn’t really liked warm milk at the start, but she’d been too polite to do anything but agree when he offered, and by now it was like a comfort thing.

Billie nodded, showing she agreed, comfortable in compliancy. She had a nagging feeling that he felt like she was missing something, something less obvious or maybe more important than what they were talking about. She was still so emotional now, though — she wasn’t sure she could trust her instincts.

They moved onto books, and it felt familiar and a little easier. “Alright,” she said, nodding as they made their way slowly towards her common room. She knew she could never tell him she didn’t like it, though; how rude would that be? Of course, if the roles were reversed, Billie wouldn’t be ‘offended’ either, but that didn’t really matter. She couldn’t be the one to say something like that.

“Yes, of course,” she said, nodding. “He’s quite gentle, if you’re gentle with him.” She thought again of the notes passed back and forth between windows of the Ravenclaw tower, Denny flying between at all hours. Even Rowen’s rather terrifying disdain hadn’t managed to dissuade her from doing it, and wasn’t that something? She’d simply how to perform quietening charms to placate her housemate, but she’d kept writing to Phillip at night.

“I’ll read any books you give me,” she promised, frowning a little, trying to stay on track. “and make some notes, perhaps, and then maybe we can speak about it again?” She wondered if there was anything she could teach him, about prisons or anything else. Probably not, she thought, rubbing one eye with the back of a knuckle as they walked.

Killian laughed, imagining Billie nodding off, cheek pressed against the top of a glass of milk. "You're really running down the options, here," he teased. Another image, of him carrying Billie up the stairs on his back, her dozing in a warm-milk stupor, flashed across his mind. Adorable. He felt guilty for imagining it. 

She kept nodding and agreeing – he couldn't tell if it was because she meant it or she was being polite or she was simply too tired to put forth an argument. Any were fine -- some might bother him, but only if he wasn't about ready to fall asleep himself. "I'll be gentle, and hopefully Mum will be too." And hopefully Dad would be somewhere else. "How do they know where to go?" Killian asked all of a sudden. "Like, can they read the addresses? I always speak the address to them, but, do they know English?" And who was teaching the owls English?

"That sounds perfect," Killian said. He almost said to not make notes in the book, but then it seemed like something Billie wouldn't do anyway if it wasn't her own book, and so didn't mention it. "You can ask me any questions as you go, too, if you'd like. Definitions and such, and then we can have a big conversation at the end?" He frowned. "Or, a bunch of smaller ones. Whichever feels best. Don't have to schedule it now."

Was it just him, or was Ravenclaw Tower closer than usual? He could see the entrance from here.