but i'm a creep, i'm a weirdo, what the hell am i doing here

It was late, well past business hours. Diagon Alley was beginning to wind down, but the people who called the alley home, or had homes that were not as comfortable and loving as the well-worn streets of Diagon, were still active, still moving between the shops and enjoying the night air, taking out their trash and sweeping their doorsteps. A hue of orange was beginning to light the path as the alley transitioned from is daylight activity to its tired nightlife, changed from a tourist-trafficked area to a bustling neighborhood.

A stray tabby lapped up pieces of chicken on the doorstep of a tea shop, where the owner had always been kind. The plate finally clean, the tabby straightened up and licked himself clean before taking a stroll down the lane. Across the street from the broom shop, the cat lept up unto a trashcan and sniffed the opening, trying to find any promising smell that might warrant sticking around the can. His stomach was full now, but it was never too early to plan for morning.

He hopped off of the trashcan and almost collided with a leg. He glanced up before twitching his nose and peering closer to the strange angles, investigating. Having only ever had positive experiences with humans, the cat lept up and rubbed his cheek hard against the leg, before beginning to wind himself between the two stationary legs, which still had done nothing to acknowledge his presence. He tilted his head up and let out a long mew.

Lily Potter was chewing on her pinky nail, trying not to rip anything of the nail off but finding that standing in the cold for the past twenty minutes had done nothing for the confused feelings tumbling in her breast. The meow brought her back to earth and the cat jumped back on the trashcan. She dropped her hand and began to scratch along the tabby’s spine. The purring was almost instantaneous and the cat stretched out, claws extending with pleasure.

Christian had left the shop right around the time Lily had taken up her position, which meant checking on Apollo could be done… now. Any time. If she could just move. If she could just commit.

It had been meeting with Katherine that reminded Lily of how important company was, how important just a few people had become to her in her final years at school, and the fact that she was at least partially responsible for the happiness and wellbeing of a few of those individuals. And the Slytherin boy was one of them. She had never checked in for a full moon, had never followed up after the day in the Hospital Wing. They had never really been friends, sure, but she was responsible.

And she needed people. She wouldn’t admit it, had barely let that admission register within her own mind, but she did. And she had an excuse. As lame as it was.  

She took a breath and dropped her hand, walking across the street. The shop had been closed for over an hour, so it was with the feeling of a trespasser that she knocked on the door and awaited the Zabini boy.

* @Apollo Zabini #ReadApollily

Apollo didn't know what was going on with his brother lately. Christian was always on the run, off to some shop or other, off with that Alice girl. He didn't know if he was supposed to read into whatever they were doing, but so far, he hadn't been informed. So he just waved a hand when Christian asked him to go through inventory and receipts that night while he went to meet her.

For boys of sixteen, they were oftentimes much more adult than they should have had to be.

Most of the lights were off in the shop, but a section of them were left along with a lamp that illuminated the desk at the back of the shop. He was entirely uninterested in making it clear to anyone that he was still there going through money and things. The shop had wards, to be sure, but if anything went sideways, Apollo wasn't old enough to do anything about it on his own. It was mental, actually to think that their father had left the store to them despite being fully able to deal with it himself.

So he sat hunched over the far end of the counter, the base of his back beginning to ache from sitting in the same position for too long. He reached up to brush his hair out of his face for the hundredth time, probably, flipping over another inventory sheet and marking off some of the items in the list of check boxes on the next page. Merlin, he hated this. He needed a break, needed something new. He just needed to relax.

He looked up sharply when someone rapped on the door, squinting as he tried to focus on whoever was standing there. He could make out their shape but not the person themselves, undoubtedly due to the light around him and the opposing, deep night surrounding them on the other side.

Apollo stood, pushing away from the counter and lifting the jamb before dropping it back horizontally. As he approached the door, his eyes adjusted slowly and his steps moved at about the same speed.

He couldn't fathom why she would be standing there, and doubted very much that it could bring good news. He also didn't think that she had thought about him much at all, while Apollo had had no choice but to think of her each month, if not more often. That sort usually just happened on accident, though, aside from the monthly ones which were forced and painful and just infuriated him.

Apollo had no idea what she wanted, but he knew he couldn't get away with leaving her out there. If he could see her, surely she could see him. So he forced himself to reach the door, unlocking it and cracking it open enough to look at her. One hand gripped the edge of the door tightly, and the other braced against the doorframe as he looked at her. Her face was illuminated now, where his probably wasn't, and it hit him just how long it had been. Nearly a year, it must've been. Since everything with Dom and Roxanne, that is. She looked better by far, but not quite how she had used to. Apollo wasn't sure that she ever would.

Unfortunately for her, his tone was anything but gentle, as it had been the last time she'd seen him.

"Christian isn't here."

Lily had been top of her class before the world had swallowed her and spit her back out, so she was not a stupid girl. And she had not been top of her class because she was dedicated to her education, because she always had a book in her nose. She was top of her class because she was smart. Like Albus, she had a mind of depth, a sharp mind that was all to good at memorizing every potions recipe she had ever worked on, but a mind incapable of distinguishing complicated emotions from each other. All their lives, the Potters had been told what they were and how they should feel about it, that it got tiring to fight it. So they stopped thinking about it - it made it easier to fake a smile and agree.

But all for her intelligence, Lily could not discover any logical explanation for her appearance at the Quidditch shop. If she had wanted company, she had people she could call upon, a select group certainly, but still... options. If she felt the need to repent, certainly it was Teddy or Casey who deserved it first, as her wrongdoings towards them were long and deep. If she needed a broom, she was certainly too late for that.

So it followed that she did not need to be there. Did that leave the option that she wanted to be there?

And that was an entirely different beast altogether.

And before she could settle on any reasonable explanation that she could at least offer now, the door was opening. Apollo's face was hard to see with the light coming from behind him, his hair causing his face to fall into shadow. It was probably the shadow, but there was a darkness in his eyes that had not been before, before she had dragged him out of normality...

That was what she did to people, she guessed.

His words were biting, which seemed to be his intention. Lily's eyes narrowed despite herself, and her words, though much softer, were just as strong. "I know."

Her heart was pounding, and she could feel the silence of the street pushing her, asking her to continue. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to explain that she had wanted to catch him alone. Everything in her nature told her not to show her cards because the truth was, she had no idea what was in her hand.

She had no choice but to flip those cards over.

"I came over because I knew Christian wasn't here," she clarified. "And because it's been such a shitty long time. And because I wanted to know that I didn't ruin your life."

[ooc: Warning for younger folks a-spying on the thread -- A bit of strong language ahead.]

He wanted her to ask if he had thought about her, so that he could lie. He would have felt more comfortable lying about that, than lying about the truth she was really after. The fact that she had purposefully shown her face when his brother wasn't around was quite troubling, though. What had Christian done? Maybe nothing, maybe everything. Maybe she was starting off with something else so she could work her way up to telling him that, actually, she did want his brother. As you might know now, reader, he had always wanted to trade places anyway. Wouldn't that be the kicker?

With her, there was always something, wasn't there? Apollo just never knew what.

Still, his eyebrows had lifted sardonically, the ache in his chest and the flip of his stomach telling him that he shouldn't be genuine with her anymore. He half wanted to slam the door in her face and deny her the knowledge that, arguably, she would have had a right to if she had approached him months before. But she hadn't, even after he and Christian had worked to possibly save her life. He had no way of knowing, obviously, how far Roxi would have gone. But they'd saved her when they hadn't even been wanted, and she had ignored them more fully than Christian avoided the Quidditch pitch. Not one word, in over a year.

Fuck her. Fuck Lily Potter and everything about her. She had absolutely no right to stand there like she expected him to bare his soul and offer up information she had rejected for so long.

A sigh. A step backward. And a "Come in."

Merlin, he hated himself sometimes. He hated himself more than he hated her, which was lucky for Lily, really. Otherwise he might not have swung the door opened and let her past before closing the door again and locking it. He didn't need anyone else coming in and screwing with his head, after all.

Apollo returned to his spot at the counter, but this time lifted himself onto it rather than walking around and sitting in his chair. If nothing else, he was taller than her and could use the poor lighting to his advantage again if things got rough.

"You don't want to see my brother? Or you're coming here first because you think he blames you and you want permission to come knocking for him next time?" Apollo asked callously, refusing to give either of them a break now that they had drove their way into this sinkhole of a conversation. "He doesn't. By the way."

There was a lot hanging in the air, and none of it was under her control. Lily could no longer want for anything, as the truth had left her deflated and exhausted. She was the wasted shell of a person, and that much humanity out of her left her even more of a ghost than she actually was. She could not want for an answer, could not want for anything out of Apollo, because she had had not earned that right. This was about him. It was her responsibility to know what debt she owed, late as she was on payment, and do what she could to make up the interest.

She almost wanted to insist on staying on the doorstep. She wasn't a proper guest. But she was not about to argue with him.

She followed him, finding the quiet of the store to almost be eerie. Just hours before, patrons had filled the empty spaces, looking through product and calling Apollo back and forth to help with prices and check out. The lights were dimmed and the product didn't glimmer so attractively without people adoring it. That was the thing though - things didn't shine unless they had something beautiful to reflect.

Lily reflected the darkness in the world as she followed Apollo, her movements almost timid if she didn't hold herself so much like someone who had given up the attempts to keep autonomy over her body. He turned and lifted himself on the counter and she suddenly felt like she was on trial. Which, when she considered it, was more than fair.

His words were still harsh, and she welcomed them. She tilted her head, her eyes curiously taking in his face, his hair, his clothes. He had grown a little since she had last seen him. He looked more tired.

"It's because he doesn't blame me that I can't speak with him yet," she said. "I'm not ready for Christian's stubborn ability to forgive my every fault." She cleared her throat and took a step forward. "I don't have the right to explain myself. Or even apologize. Or do anything to try to bring myself peace. It's a..." she considered it for a moment, trying to really capture how she felt. "It's a futile effort. Inner peace. It's elusive and I don't expect it in this life time. Some people are allowed it, and some people aren't. In case you are one of the former, I'm here to see what can be done for your own."

This was new. This was Lily, her voice matter of fact and solid, but driven by genuinity. She hadn't the strength for anything else.

She took another step forward, feeling an unshakable urge that she could not think about right now. She took in a deep breath, keeping the tremors in her throat at bay. "I'm here. I'm a year late. But I'm here and I'm ready to pay my debt."

Lily had come to a conclusion, had made an assumption, and she wasn't wrong. She didn't ask whether or not he blamed her. That much must have been evident. Surely, as the one she had so obviously been closer to, Apollo could have come to her in place of Lily making the decision herself. But how could he, when she didn't want him there? He wasn't going to torture her as well as himself. Yet here she was, doing it for him. For both of them.

"Of course he doesn't," Apollo scoffed, shaking his head. "How could he? He wouldn't have been able to hate you even if you'd killed me. He probably would have held on tighter."

So that was a bit blunt. He wanted to hold himself back but he couldn't, jumping rapidly into his next line of what could easily be called an attack against her as well as a compliment and an expression of long-held desire for contact with her. Apollo wasn't sure he'd even taken a full breath before running headlong through the rest of it.

"How could he not, Lily? You hold everything you set your sights on. You've consumed so many of my nights," he confessed, his tone far more harsh than the sentence suggested it should be. It could have been something whispered in a moment leading up to something passionate, to a declaration of something. And in a way, it did lead to a declaration, but probably not one she wanted to hear. "I don't hate you for what you've done, Lily, but I do hate you for what you've left me with.

"I have nothing. No one worth telling would listen, except for Christian, and we both know how well that would go over. He wouldn't be able to sleep until you and I were talking again. But that would mean a year of wasted nights for him, not just for me. Because how can I turn around and deal with you?"

And where the hell were all these words coming from? For a young man of so few, he couldn't seem to stop. Maybe it came from the novels-worth he had tucked away over the past year, mentally or otherwise. Or maybe he was just too desperate for somebody to understand, and he felt that it would force upon Lily some of the terror he'd been trapped in after what happened.

"Do you have any idea what happens to me each month?" He asked, though he obviously didn't expect an answer. Apollo pushed off of the counter with a bit too much force, pulling himself up as he landed in front of her, a little bit too little room left between them. "I know that you go through hell when it happens, don't get me wrong. But every single month," he bit out each word, searching her gaze for any fault lines, "I wonder what it would be like to wake up, and find out that I've actually been turned and didn't know it. I wonder where I would end up, because nobody would know or care or bother, and even if they did, they'd have no clue how to deal with it because turning into something like that is not kosher for my family. Because I wouldn't have one after that, no matter what Christian says. He wouldn't give up our mum for me, and I would never let him even if he tried.

"So I sit in this flat," he gestured upwards, "or some dingy pub where I won't see anybody I know, and I think about you, and how you must have known - had to have known - that Christian thought he loved you. It was stupid of him, but he doesn't know what that word even means yet, so how could he have helped it? And I think about how you must know that I'm out there somewhere, thinking about you, trying to deal with the pain of the scars and of what happened, and I sit there hating you.

"And then it passes," he frowned, his chest working hard to keep up with his quick, steady pulse. He paused to suck in as much air as he could before continuing, his eyebrows pulling together as he looked at her. "And then I don't hate you. I hate me. And my impossible wishes come back and I nearly hate my brother but I can't because he's good and you and I aren't, and he deserves better than either of us. And then I go back and pretend like I don't think about you on normal days, just on accident. But the one thing that sticks is the pain, and the overwhelming thought that you've made my life a cycle of hell but you just don't care."

Lily wanted to argue his claim that Christian wouldn't care if Apollo were dead. Evidently, Apollo had a few things to learn about his twin. Certainly, Lily still did not know them exceedingly well, but even she knew how ruinous it would be for Christian to lose his brother. Christian was defined by his ability to care about people, and maybe he missed it because being a brother was a messy business, but Apollo clearly underestimated just how much his brother cared to think that his death would make the Hufflepuff's life any easier.

She wanted to argue, if only for the sake of the brotherhood she had somehow disrupted, but it was his turn. It was his turn to dump every problem he had on her because it all would have been a little more manageable if the one person who understood what he had been going through would have just been there.

But she hadn't. She had been too weak, and then to selfish, and then cowardly. Recovery had been slow and arduous, and there were many trips to Mungo's where there had been grim conversations had about how healthy she could even become after all the toxins she had been subjected too. And then it had been the self pity, the bedridden depression as she realized this was the only life she had and how her youth was gone, and she had wasted so much of it.

But if she couldn't understand his feelings towards his brother, she really couldn't understand what she was saying about her. And her face reflected it, finally cracking with confusion, brow furrowing as her eyebrows lifted in surprise and reached towards each other, as though reaching for understanding.

And they kept coming, digging the pit of confusion deeper within her, her heart pounding as she tried to form an understanding. She could understand him being angry because she was his biter, or whatever they called werewolves who infected others, and she had not helped him adjust. She could understand him feel slighted because he had helped rescue her and then she had fallen off the face of the planet. But he was speaking of something else, entirely.

I have nothing.

And this was the one grace she gave herself. She would not argue him, she was not in the position. But she wonder what alternative word he would choose if he saw where she was living, if he saw the company she held, if he witnesses the treatment she received from her family. If we were to take a dive in a pensieve pool of her memories and see the multiple years of her brothers completely missing the fact that she was slowly killing herself; the years alone of escaping to painfully transform and have to sit through classes the next day despite the agony she was in so as to not raise suspicion; the nights spent clinging to a pillow, hollowed from the grief of losing both parents but unable to cry because she was supposed to be proud of their sacrifices.

Perhaps if he knew all of this he would rethink the word nothing.

He got near her, and that Weasley spirit wanted to step up, but instead she stayed her ground, forcing herself to look right into his eyes, refusing to shy away. He wanted to know what he suffered through each month? The sense memory of breaking bones, failing organs, shredded skin was so fresh and familiar that she could feel the dull pounding in her body as an instant reminder. But she listened, because he was right - at least she knew what to expect by now. She had had to figure it out on her own, but it could have been different for him. He could have had her near, until the last moment when she had to make her own change.

He brought up Christian and her eyes fluttered closed, the l-word cutting her deep. She had tried to discourage him without hurting or pushing away. She had waited for it to pass, and she had hoped it had. Because Christian was good, and kind, and she would break his heart. She could try not to and she would still fail, because who she was was the sort of girl that wrecked boys like Christian. She had thought she had been the only one to notice, hoping Christian had remained unaware enough to not be able to vocalize it. But somehow or other, Apollo knew. And while she couldn't be blamed for that, she could be blamed for ignoring him for a year.

And then there was him. He had thought of her. How many times had they both fallen asleep wondering what the other was doing, she wondered.

"I hate me."

Hmm. Something she could relate to.

She welcomed his hate. She deserved it. She deserved the hatred of Casey, of Teddy, of so many of her peers, but especially the Zabini boys. Much by accident, she had dragged them into her hellish world and then refused to show them the route out. Lost as she was, she could have pointed them along while she cut through the brambles and weeds. But she had failed them.

But. The one thing she could argue.

"I cared."

It was the first words she had managed to get in, the first she felt were justifiable. "I don't give a fuck about a lot of people, Apollo. I don't. And I can never convince you of my own torture, but I-" she felt her voice catch and she cleared her throat deftly, continuing on as normal, "I wouldn't be here if I didn't care. I know I'm late. I know. And everything in me told me maybe never was better than late - because then you could chalk it up to me being horrid and move on. But I wanted to be here tonight and wanted to see you - and I haven't wanted anything in three years. And all of that want is directed right..." She took in a shuddery breath. "Right at you. I want you to be okay, and I want you to be happy, and I want you to understand that I sat there hating myself for what I had done more strongly than you could ever hate."

And she stepped up, taking one step closer, nearly closing the gap between them. She was not brave like her brothers, but she could be bold like her mother. And though her hands shook and felt hollow, they managed to reach forward and grip his palms, soft but deliberate. Her eyes were down, respectfully, letting him process without her gaze to challenge his thoughts. "I'm here," she said, her voice soft, barely audible above her own racing heart. "And I'm here to help you. To care about you. To be a companion or a guide or whatever you see fit. And I will stay. And I'll stay. Unless you tell me to go. And then I will go."

He almost immediately bit back, declaring that he didn't believe her. But he was out of breath and he was tired and he didn't - above all else - want it to be a lie. So he kept his mouth shut, grinding his teeth and trying to convince himself that he was going much too far, and that Lily had to deal with things he could only imagine, but he couldn't. He was so caught up in finally saying his piece that it almost didn't matter. Somewhere, deep down in his gut, he knew that he would wake up and regret saying what he had. But in that moment, nothing in the world had ever felt more right.

If he couldn't tell Christian the truth, couldn't speak to his mother like any other son could, then he wasn't about to be stopped when he was finally given the floor.

She started off with a sentence that nearly made him turn around and walk out on her. Past tense? Cared? How cruel could she be? Perhaps as much as he could, Apollo supposed belatedly. But apparently she didn't mean it the way it sounded, because she continued, and although it stung in some ways, it felt unbelievably liberating in others.

Still, though-

"You would be amazed at my capacity for negative emotion."

That didn't help and he knew it, but Apollo told himself to hush again so she could say whatever it was she needed to say before he stormed upstairs to brood or drink or whatever his mind came up with in response. Except she stepped closer, causing him to rear back in surprise.

His hands hung loose at his sides despite Lily's grip on them, and he lifted his chin so he was frowning down at her warily. It actually hurt worse now that she was touching him, now that he didn't have the choice of walking away because she could very well yank him back and refuse to let him. He had no real faith that she would do something like that, but he also hadn't expected her to show up in the first place, so what did he know anyway?

It was fascinating, he realized in hindsight, that she hadn't tried to counter his claim that neither of them were good enough for his brother. That was something he'd always known, of course, but never expected anyone to blatantly agree with. Daphne had always lied, saying she loved the both of them, but they all knew it wasn't real. Except maybe the younger twin. He was blissfully unaware of so much, yet somehow he felt he had the world resting on his shoulders. He had absolutely no idea, and Apollo couldn't even hate him for it. Mainly because his hate was very strongly focused on three people, two of whom were in that shop after hours, staring each other down like idiots because they felt more than they should have been forced to, and had such capacity for love but it was ruined and tainted and flipped upside down into a set of black holes where their hearts should've been.

It would be a blatant lie, however, if he claimed he felt nothing but hate for the girl - woman, really - in front of him. Thin line and all that. But the betrayal felt so stark and so surreal that it didn't matter exactly what he would have felt if given the chance. He wanted to burn her the way she had burned him, but didn't actually have the energy for it after what she had offered.

He had nothing, and he'd had no one. But she was giving him the chance to change that, and he could never have said no. Finally, he dropped his gaze, breaking whatever bizarre tension he felt there.

But his fingers curled around hers, not quite squeezing but clearly not preparing to let go, either.

"I don't think I trust you," he informed her, practically muttering. "And I don't really want to believe you. That always makes it worse when the end comes."

He looked up again, his eyes jumping directly back to hers. "I don't actually care if you hurt me again. You're not the first to do so, and I'm certain you won't be the last. But when it comes, don't drag it out. And don't disappear again. Just cut me loose next time. Or stay properly. Somehow I doubt you will. But don't you dare hurt my brother again. I honestly don't know what I would do about it if you did."

He didn't yank away, which she evidently expected considering how gingerly she had gripped him, how prepared her arms were to be yanked from their sockets in his mad rush to escape her. But he didn't. Somehow, she felt in his energy that he wanted too, that he wanted to leave her standing there with all of his accusations and none of his mercy - which would have been acceptable to her too. But she knew now, now that she had seen him and heard from him and felt his loneliness, that doing so would not help him, would bring him no peace.

She certainly wasn't qualified for the job either. But she had to be better than sorting the till.

There was silence and Lily once again found herself at a loss as to what would happen next. What could happen next? Her cards were on the table. Somehow she sensed that if they decided to just allow forward motion, somewhere in the catch-up process her decisions would seem less personal, less intentional. Corner would have probably commented that she was an addict and therefore incapable of being responsible to herself, let alone to anyone else. Maybe, one day, his anger would dissipate and understanding take its place, freeing him from that toxic hold.

But for now, all she wanted was to know that he could be okay.

It was just as she lifted her gaze that he dropped his, and she expected him to pull away but instead... warmth cupped her fingers and there they were. Two very broken people, full of self pity and self hatred and distrust towards a world who could not grant their simplest desires, clinging limply to each other because they were there. No other reason than that. You held onto the people that were there.

"I won't lie," Lily whispered back, as to his mistrust. "I won't say 'see you tomorrow' and be gone."

But he met her eyes for his next request and it was this that broke her. The thought of Christian, as innocent as they came, and his broken brother left to pick up the pieces. Her eyes closed and her cheeks tightened from the effort of holding back tears, chin buckling to keep her those salty sobs from trespassing her tightened lips.

Her lashes sparkled as she nodded, needing no words to express how seriously she took these promises. Her arms shook and, giving way, she stepped one miniscule step closer, closing the gap as her face found his shoulder, her fingers gripping tightly to his.

She was so tired.

"Thank you," she choked.

When her forehead met the fabric of his shirt, it wasn't lost on him that she was closer to the scars she had left than she had been since that night. Since he'd picked her up and refused to wait before taking her to St. Mungo's. It had seemed like saving her life hadn't been enough for her. And maybe it wasn't at the time, maybe he wasn't. But now... he was? It was? Apollo didn't know. But she was practically in his arms and that alone was terrifying.

His chin tilted upwards, his eyes drifting to the ceiling as well. Merlin, if Christian could see them now. He didn't care what anyone else said, he would always believe that what he'd said earlier was true. If he had died that night, Christian would have clung to Lily and to Daphne and whoever else would've let him stay, and he wouldn't have known what to do but he would've had someone and he would have made it through. Apollo couldn't even imagine living in a world where Christian didn't exist. Horrible though it was, Apollo supposed that he would actually be far less frustrated with his lot in life.

Worse than the questions he had about his brother was the knowledge that Lily was crying because of him. At least in part, anyway. But the worst part of his night was probably also the most confusing: the fact that she then went on to thank him. That was bizarre.

This wasn't a war, this was life. And neither of them were living it correctly. Surely they could agree that life was too short for things like this.

Lily was sagging against him, her voice catching in her throat. And he cared more than he wanted to. Apollo just couldn't take it.

"Alright," he muttered, nearly as a sigh. He tore his hands away from hers, but quickly countered the harsh movement by taking hold of her wrists and lifting them until her arms were wrapped around his neck. One of his arms reached around her back and the other curled behind her knees, lifting her up far more easily than should have been possible. Merlin, she still seemed to weigh nothing. A year had changed so much but also so little.

He sighed properly that time. "Come on, then," he said quietly, uselessly. She didn't have much of a choice now that he'd picked her up, did she?

Regardless, he kicked open the door that led to their flat, knowing that Christian would be going to see their mother after meeting Ace for whatever they were doing. If Apollo had even understood his brother correctly, that is. Either way, he wasn't going to have a young Hufflepuff wander back home, only to stare at Lily and try not to be upset with her, too. She didn't need that from both of them in one night, no matter how betrayed he felt, still. Thanks to the way their father had altered the building, the 'stairs' were really just a couple of steps that led to another door, which he nudged open with his hip.

Setting her down on the sofa, Apollo crouched in front of it, releasing her for the most part. One hand did remain between her shoulder blades, though, in the event that she wasn't ready to let go, herself. Reluctantly, he did what he was supposed to, according to the rules and expectations of his family.

"Do you need anything?" He asked, the question polite even though his expression was merely stoic.