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

She just needed this now. Just needed this moment of shelter and rest before she took up the task she had promised. It was such an imposition - her insistence for penance, her exhaustion. That was what she had become to Apollo. The thing she had vehemently avoided with everyone else, going as far as accepting help from Roxanne, and it didn't matter when it came to one of the few people she should have been stronger for.

Lily had always been the strong Potter, believe it or not. In the way that she seemed impervious to the world. James submitted to its will, Albus challenged it at every turn, and Lily managed to duck and dive the blows and continue on, her own person. When had it changed? They all told her it was Roxi, Roxi was a monster that had exploited her and ruined her, but Lily had never liked giving more credit than was due. At some point, she stopped caring what happened to herself.

She had spent her whole life hiding a secret that came out just as she had nursed herself and her reputation back to life. She had just gotten her Normality badge back when she robbed Apollo's of his. Her cousin had kidnapped her, held her hostage and left permanent marks about her wrists to serve as a reminder. At some point, you stopped accepting the idea that you were a victim. You started believing that you were just a fuck up.

She wasn't going to get her normality badge back. That was fine. Fuck normality. But she wasn't going to drag anyone else with her. She refused to share her darkness. She could either disappear or take responsibility, and too much dark residue was left by the former.

He spoke and pulled away. Instantly, she moved to step away, to give him his rightful distance. But before she could, he anchored her by the wrists and took her weight off the world, bearing the burden in his own arms. The thought was enough to make her weep but she did not. Her eyes closed and she could have looked to be asleep.

Of the few expectations she had had for the night, one of them had been the tired, solitary journey home. What she would do once she got there was questionable. Part of her liked the idea of being able to just fall asleep after such a tumultuous experience, but part of her knew she would have uncovered one of her many little baggies and partook of whatever she bought could ease the confusion and guilt and hurt. Apollo didn't realize he was denying her those toxins.

She felt herself come today shore and she settled into the sofa, still trying to figure out her final question. Apollo asked her if she needed anything and she shook her head, meeting his gaze. She had come over, she realized only through her honest outpouring, to make up for all she should have done. For someone with such strong intentions, she certainly was lost.

So she cleared her throat and asked Apollo the question she was left with. "What happens now?"

His arm relaxed as she turned down his offer, falling to the couch cushion and his hand sliding down to her waist. He nodded though he still felt that he should have been able to offer her something as whatever version of a host he had just become. Then again, he had nearly shut the door on her the moment he'd opened it, so Apollo figured it could have been much, much worse.

It also bothered him that, before, he had tried to keep away from her even while being intimidating her, but now he couldn't let go. No, he didn't trust her not to leave. He didn't believe that she wouldn't go home and never return. And how was he going to explain himself if he wanted to see her? What excuse would he need? And what if he didn't have one but was just thinking about her? He wasn't sure that was valid. Not for them.

He never would have said it aloud, but a quiet voice pointed it out in his head: he was scared.

Despite her promises and good intentions, neither of them actually knew how it was supposed to go. And she probably wouldn't want him to return the favor. Apollo felt that he ought to, but he wasn't sure he had enough honor for something like that when it came to Lily. So he didn't know what to expect for the upcoming full moon. She would probably make a point of being there as long as she could, then leave him to worry about her.

What actually frightened him the most, though, was the possibility that, once she was there for the full moon and convinced him that it was all in his head, he would be fine. And he wouldn't actually need her anymore, because he wouldn't be himself anymore, and then she would leave again but he would be as lost as ever. Perhaps he wouldn't tell her that it was better, when that happened. It wasn't like she hadn't messed with him, before.

So her question, while it made sense, cut through his anxious ponderings, and he realized that he had been gripping some of her shirt in his fingers. Apollo let go immediately, showing himself away from her and lifting to his feet.

"I'm not sure," he replied honestly, though his voice sounded oddly distant. His hands were smoothing down his own shirt as he tried to collect himself and get back to his initial approach with her. He couldn't go backwards, couldn't investigate those old feelings again. It didn't matter anymore, because she had ruined him and because he wasn't about to ruin his brother.

"I really don't know, Lily." He sighed, shaking his head. "Do you-? Is there anything you need? Not in the immediate, but in general. A place? A job? I don't know. I know I'm luckier than most, situation wise. It's just that I've been disillusioned. And that's kind of a shit thing to say, but we don't always have the right window to look through when it comes to our priveleges. You... You look exhausted. It doesn't make a lot of sense for you to say you'll be there if you aren't in a good place."

The subtext was obvious: he was concerned about himself. He made that point on purpose, to ensure that she took it as Apollo being selfish rather than concerned. But he was, even if it bothered him to accept that.

There they sat. Quiet. His arm slung around her waist, holding tight to her shirt as though he expected her to apparate right then and there. She was that bad, wasn't she? The silence and the stillness making clear the uncertainty that had settled over their delicate situation, Lily could not find it within her move away, to break whatever semblance of peace they had uncovered. The second they moved, the shared exhaustion and the willingness to exist in this suspended state of Only Now would be gone. And then what happened?

That question must have been their motto.

He finally pulled away and she didn't want to look at him, hearing how far away he sounded - and probably wanted to be. But she felt the need to. She had heard many names thrown around for the people bit or scratched by werewolves. Outside of the wolf circles they were called victims, but inside they were called anything from bites to pups to seconds to sheep. The one that struck her the most was Creation. She had always thought it was highly pretentious and superior to consider oneself a creation of another person, someone you had harmed.

But the word pounded in her head as she turned to look at him. In Hogwarts, Apollo had always looked a bit self assured, had that Slytherin tendency to appear pleased with himself, hand combing through his hair as he delivered some sarcastic line, face bright and youthful. He looked older now, tired like her. It would take years to develop the sunken, ghostly quality she had taken on, but his eyes were far and his face distant. And with those words pounding in her head, she couldn't help but think I created this.

Her mouth went dry as she recognized this, and her heart pounded. This had all gotten away from her. Why was he asking what she needed? This wasn't supposed to be about her. God, none of this was supposed to be about her. She was tired of everything being about her.

She realized she had been shaking her head, getting more fervent as he spoke, her mouth opening and eyes widening as she realized this was all wrong. "N-no," she finally managed, her dry mouth recovering. "No," she said, this time firmly. "I don't need anything. Apollo, this isn't another rescue mission. I'm not here for you to- to do anything. I'm here to make it up to you. Why are you offering me anything? No." Her face turned stoney and there was a sharpness in her voice as she said, "I don't need anything. What do you need?"

And there was a glimpse of her former glory there. The weakness rid of her face, eyes determined and chin set. For a second, she looked becoming of the Potter name.

Apollo felt like she was staring at him, but he couldn't quite tell, considering he was avoiding her gaze as he began to pace across the floor of his and Christian's flat in an attempt to calm his nerves. In the end, it only served to make him more anxious. Was she okay? And did it really matter, in the end, to him? the to him part was definitely the key there, but Apollo didn't actually have an answer for himself. He never had when it came to her.

Her reaction shocked him more than he cared to admit, mainly because he didn't want to believe that she was really going to be doing something just to help him. He nearly opened his mouth to answer the question of why he was offering, but then she asked something even more difficult, and by the time his lips parted, he had nothing to say and stood there gaping like an insulted Hufflepuff. Including his brother.

What did he need? Apollo snapped his mouth shut, frowning down at her. She seemed more alert now, perhaps because he had apparently, inadvertently offended her by asking. Or maybe his answer would become part of her new mission statement, driving her towards whatever result she felt would be beneficial for her, as well as for him.

But he didn't really know. Did anybody know what they needed until they'd been denied it? Apollo wasn't sure. And she was waiting for an answer and he felt like maybe Christian would change his mind and walk back through that door and just stare back and forth between the pair of them, eyes wide and mouth open, and it was all too much, already. The obvious answer was suddenly there, and once he let the first part out, it came out about as quickly as the weather changed in Brighton during the Springtime.

"I need to get out of here. I need a break. I need my father to shut up about the business thing or the law thing, and accept that I'm going to do what I want to do, and I'm already good at it, so there's no stopping me now. I need to learn," he continued, turning to her, "that I can't protect my brother from everything and that living here with him just gives him more of an excuse to run around with Ace Longbottom, doing whatever the hell it is that they do."

He shook his head, knowing that none of the things he'd mentioned were really ones that Lily could do much about. Except maybe the first two. Sighing, Apollo sank into the cushion next to hers, staring out at the living area and their kitchen.

"I just need to get out of here."

Lily watched Apollo move around, refusing to drop the determination from her gaze. Every time she did, people seemed to think they had to swoop in and comfort and soothe her until they felt like she was okay again. She had kept that steely exterior for sixteen years and once it slipped, she hadn't been left alone for two years straight. She was tired of it, and she hated that she had come tonight to make things right to Apollo and he had somehow become her nurse.

No. It ended now. She would be fine.

She was very worried that he would just... claim to be fine. Claim he needed to get back to counting the till or whatever he had been doing when she threw his world upside down again. Claim he just needed to get a full night's rest before the next day. She knew there was more than that and she knew what she could accomplish when her mind was made up. But how could she help if she didn't know where to start?

If you had stuck around, you would know.

The guilty thought struck her but her mind rebelled. She could not change that now. She only had the present to make up for it.

But he spoke. And not only did he admit, with what seemed like bold sincerity, what he needed, but he continued. And Lily made the list. To Go. A Break. Father. Christian.

He sank next to her and she once again resisted the urge to reach out. Instead, she stared at where had been, thinking, formulating. Planning.

"Got it," she said, her voice quiet but certain.

She turned her eyes on him. "Alright, let's go. You can owl Christian later." She stood and held out a hand, her eyes daring him to trust her. "Come on."