You don't need proof. You can feel it.

Apollo's eyes snapped to the mirror as if he knew that hers would be there waiting for him. He wasn't sure what she would find behind his eyes, but he definitely knew what he felt when he looked at her. Fear. If she ran away and hid from the world for over a month, would he know if something was wrong? Would he be so much as informed if something went wrong? How would he know either way? He did his best to cover it up, and as far as he was aware, it was a successful attempt. Given how severely and suddenly his mood changed, perhaps she couldn't figure it out. He hoped she wouldn't, in truth. He needed her to finish what she was saying.

When she did, he reached backwards over his shoulder to search for her fingers. Even if that meant wiggling his own through his hair to connect with her. He didn't look away, though. He needed her to believe what he said next.

"I didn't ask you because I wanted you to be uncomfortable, Lil. I just... You need to know that you can tell me anything. I've never had that with anyone, but I need it. Especially from you."

He turned around, then, looking up at her and pulling his eyebrows together. "Please don't run away anymore, Lily. Not from me. I'd rather you ran to me, especially now that I'm going somewhere on my own. I know that won't happen during school, unless you find some way to come to Hogwarts. And I'll miss you madly if you can't. But if you disappear, I swear to Merlin, Lil-"

Apollo sat himself down on the bed, half turned towards her with a serious but partially apologetic look on his face. He slung an arm around her waist, pulling her with him as he collapsed onto the mattress. "Look... I really am sorry I keep blowing up on everyone. I know they're important to you and you shouldn't have to pick sides. I won't ask you to. But it's only fair to tell you something in return."

After shifting onto his side, he focused in on his fingers and the way they pulled at the mattress's fabric. "I don't blow up on people because I feel embarrassed or sad or even angry. Not solely. See, I should've had at you from the moment you came back. I tried not to, and somehow managed it. But the real thing is, right, ... When I was younger, back before Hogwarts and everything, I knew I was dad's favorite. It wasn't because I tried to be, but just... because I was born first. And I understood that. But it didn't mean I liked it.

"I mean," he said, "Dad was furiously determined to get me to agree. And I sort of did but mainly just to make him happy. I don't care about the mess that comes with being an heir. That word doesn't feel like it belongs to me. But it meant that Christian was neglected by our father, and that Mum made sure he wasn't left alone. She always loved him best and I can't change that, or the fact that I was trapped in our house's stuffy library for hours on end. Literally trapped. I was supposed to learn the things that father expected me to but I just didn't care. I was too young to care, and I would look out the window and there would be mum and Christian and I couldn't get out even if I tried. And I did try. Even after I knew it was useless, even after years of trying."

He swallowed stiffly, reliving it despite trying to see it from an outside, separate perspective. "The more cornered, trapped, just... stuck I feel, the more irrationally I act. And it's not like I don't know I'm doing it. I just explode, I guess." Apollo's eyes finally looked for hers again, not sure what expression to lock onto even once he finally found them and had the chance to get something across to her. "I've always been told what to be and how to be that, so I can't do that to anybody else. I can ask something of you, and I can make you promises, but.... When people like Christian or Ace tell me what I can or can't be... I don't know. I get it when adults do it," he clarified quickly, gesturing vaguely with the arm he wasn't leaning on. "Like, professors and that lot usually have a good reason. But it's also less personal when they do it."

His eyes on her increased her uncertainty and yet somehow soothed. The worst thing would have been to feel him shut down and withdraw, realize the risk it was to associate with her at all. She had certainly given him reason enough to run for the hills, and now she was putting the nail in her own coffin.

But his fingers found his and she felt a sigh build in her chest, tightening it, and she struggled to keep it in, finding a compromise as her eyes fluttered closed and she parted her lips to allow the breath to escape.

He turned and her other hand slipped from his head, down his cheek, and cupped his chin as he looked up at him. She nodded numbly as he spoke, adrenaline still coursing through her veins at the admission. Had she known the day would have gone as it had so far... maybe she would have just used magic to pack everything up in a matter of seconds and gotten them out of there sooner rather than later. Should've, wouldv'e...

"I'm not going to run again," she said. Even if I wanted to, I'm too tired.

He sat next to her and she immediately accepted the offer for closeness, lying next to him and inching herself closer to him. And as he began to tell his story, and she couldn't help but smooth her fingers over his forearm in another attempt at comfort, she was struck with the realization that Apollo was a lot braver than he thought.

In school, her impression of the Slytherin had been pretty similar to what everyone else saw. Typical pureblood, typical Slytherin. Quick to fall back on that aura of mystery, a smirk always at the ready, enough money to banish any problem that attempted to slow him down. Obviously, a lot had changed once she had something binding her to him, once he soothed her fears in the hospital wings, and when he challenged her once she had returned.

They had a lot to learn about each other. What set them apart was their complete openness to dive into the mess that was the other person.

She drew closer and wrapped her arms around Apollo, tucking her head under his chin and holding tight to him, overwhelmed with gratitude to have someone so willing to share, so willing to pool their problems and resources and find solutions together. She withdrew to make eye contact with him, one arm still wrapped around him while her other hand rubbed his shoulder gently. "People can tell you what to do until they're blue in the face," she said. "But in the end, it's all your choice. You're not trapped now."

Apollo was sufficiently aware of the fact that he had been granted no agency in his upbringing. His father's Manlian editcs were far too much for a boy of eleven or less to really overcome. Even during his summers after starting his education at Hogwarts, things had not changed in a way that allowed him to feel even the imagined sense of freedom that would have been enough for him. He could have handled that much, despite wanting more, and could have made do.

He hadn't needed to explain it to Christian. His brother knew, to some extent, that Apollo didn't care for the lessons that didn't really soak in. Trying to make that point would have been like trying to show the sun with a lantern, when Christian himself was the one familiar with the sun anyway. He had been outside, he was the good, the light, the Hufflepuff of the pair of them. Apollo was more like the night sky during a new moon -- far too dark to see the true, secret goodness that flickered somewhere in there.

But now he wasn't even living at home. Now he was getting his own place regardless of his father's demands and expectations, and he was starting the apprenticeship that he had wanted for more than a year. And now he had her. She wouldn't be someone that his family wanted for him, wouldn't be qualified as the potential woman in the heir to the Zabini line's future. But that was already taking things a step too far, so Apollo pushed that thought away immediately. They didn't need to know until it was absolutely necessary. Until it would directly affect them, and definitely not until he had finally told her the truth of how he felt.

He did worry, though, that it was going to seem unfounded if he said it too early. But how could someone really judge when was too early? Or too late, for that matter? And it wasn't as though it was really up to him how he felt. He didn't even have a moment he could point to, really, and say that it was a single instant that told him he knew. He had been denying it for so long, for Christian's sake mainly, that he had somehow managed to trap himself.

Now that he was free enough to start something with her, he had released whatever monster he had created within his own mind. How utterly helpful.

Still, he rolled onto his back when Lily moved closer, curling one arm around her back. She could probably feel how thunderous his pulse was after coming down from a story and memory like that one, but he couldn't help it, and didn't even try to.

"I know," he agreed after a moment, tilting his head enough to look at her in return. Apollo reached up towards her, his fingers skimming her cheek before they delved into her hair along her temple. There he drew mindless designs as he kept the hair away from her eyes. If he was going to be genuine with her, perhaps he should start actually looking her in the eye. "I know I'm not. And that's because of you."

He didn't say it to score points or make her cheeks color or any other reason besides the fact that he was telling the truth. It came out rather bluntly, quite seriously, and his eyebrows lifted for a moment to ensure that Lily knew he meant it. His thumb stretched down to brush across her cheek, his palm shifting to her jaw so he could follow the line of her lower lip.

A thought made his own lips quirk upwards, though, and he cracked a smile before saying it aloud. "Don't think I'd complain about being trapped somewhere with you, though, Lil."

Apollo lifted up enough to kiss the corner of her mouth before falling back against the bed. "We should probably get out of here."

Lily was a girl of mystery. Even with as much of her life blown open as it was, there were things few people knew about her. Few knew about her dog, and how she hadn't seen him since she first ran off, still too afraid to take him back and mess up. Fewer knew about her penchant for art, and how she and Lysander Scamander used to haunt galleries to develop their tastes. And still fewer knew her taste for poetry. She had always been a voracious reader, indiscriminate in subject, having devoured hundreds of thousands of words during her own period of imprisonment, and a lasting interest in poetry had developed. It was something small, a quiet indulgence between the pages. And as her eyes closed, the heavy beating of Apollo's heart thudding against her hollow frame, fingers continually smoothing over a spot on his shoulder, a poem floated through her skull.

Her met her gaze and began to brush back her hair, his voice soft, and gaze for her alone, and it was almost spooky. Your head on my chest, I'm tracing crop circles into your skull-

His words were sincere, and it almost pained her, because despite knowing she had no intentions of running away or disappointing him, she could not help but wonder when he would draw the line, when she would be too risky, her past too ugly, her future too uncertain, and he would withdraw and she would be this nasty reminder that people could be deceptive without meaning it.

But she had finally found purchase among the turbulence of her life, and she had a strong grip.

And so a fierce protectiveness banished out those traitorous feelings of fear and self-loathing, protective for the good things in life, not just in hers but in his too. If she had somehow helped him, she would fight to make sure those good things stayed. She looked at him, and the importance of their involvement in each other's lives felt unmasked and naked between them, as neither made a move to speak or break the spell, simply gazing into this powerful, precious truth.

I wonder if you can hear my heart-

She smiled at his words, and shifted close. The sentiment held up to the truth they had faced, but the tone was one devoid of fear or uncertainty, and she felt her body relax as it melted and reached towards him, her eyes brightening. "I guess I could see myself enjoying that," she said, conjuring a light tease to her soft voice.

Her eyes closed against the kiss and he fell back, turning his attention back to the task at hand. She rolled so she was lying next to him, shoulder to shoulder and grinned. She cleared her throat a little dramatically, and held up her hands aloft like a conductor, having deftly withdrawn her wand. She conducted a little four-count with her free hand and on the downbeat of the next measure, swished her wand. The unpacked objects rose into the air and with another flick, began swirling around the room in search of open boxes. Another delicate twirl and the boxes too joined the dance, flaps flying open to catch folded socks and dusty knick-knacks. And the would-be brightest witch of her year transformed their mundane task into a brilliant display of dancing objects and twirling boxes, a wide grin stretching across her face as she took pleasure in this simple joy.

Outside the room, Ace Longbottom's middle finger was stained with ink, but she was pretty sure her task was done. She did one less check on one of the clerk's availabilities but it looked like she had done it - she had filled pretty much the entire schedule. Of course, all she had based it on was the open schedules of the employees, knowing nothing of their temperaments or work ethics. But she had done the labor for free. Christian couldn't be too bummed about that.

He had been gone for a bit, and the other two had made no show of reappearing, leaving her in the awkward limbo of the living room. Had she not become more aware of her social lackings, she might have already chased Christian down and attempted to distract him with more work-talk. But that was exactly what he had abandoned to seek solace in his room. So at least she knew better than to just move the conversation with him.

But what else was she supposed to say? Apologize that Apollo was being an ass? She had no control over that, nor did Christian, and apologizing didn't keep Apollo from leaving. She doubted joking about Lily's meddlesome nature would be much of a comfort either. So the completed schedule was a welcome segue.

She crossed to his door and knocked twice, before opening the door without really waiting for an answer - she was still feeling remarkably herself, after all. And because all of her hope was hinged upon this little completed task, she held up the paper for him to see. "I did this."

"You guess," he muttered chidingly on a low chuckle. He nearly shook his head but she rolled away and so his chin followed, tilting to keep her within his sight. And Merlin, he was glad it did.

Perhaps surprisingly, Lily looked wondrously happy, and it occurred to Apollo that her grin -- something he had never previously been privy to -- had been brought on at least in part because of him. How curious. Curiouser yet that his chest seemed to swell because of that observation, and because of her.

He nearly pointed out, then, that she looked absolutely, entirely beautiful when she smiled like that. She always did, of course, though he doubted it bothered her one way or the other. And it wasn't what was important to him, either, except that this sort of beauty was all the more lovely because it was her and she was happy and it had even the minutest, most fragmented bit to do with him.

Apollo had never considered himself to be a sap, but he also never expected to desire th ability to express himself to that extent. It had never felt important to compliment others or notice the way a person's touch made him feel, not half because he expected a life of someone else's choosing.

To be fair, though, he didn't say it out loud. He wasn't sure how to phrase it, importantly, but he also wanted no part of the traditional. Expecting comments like those, waiting for affirmation when just a look could provide that? There was no comparison. There was no question which he preferred.

So he tilted his head further to rest his temple against her shoulder, watching the show she was putting on and marveling at the power she had never made a large effort to show. Charms had never been his best subject, either, so he doubted she would blame him for the wide smile that formed.

He shifted onto his side again, draping an arm across her middle and peppering her shoulder and the curve of her neck with brief kisses. Apollo did glance up occasionally, just to make sure he didn't distract her so much that the objects floating around came crashing down on top of them, but he was contented enough after their admissions to harass her just to the point of amusement.

Christian, on the other hand, had gone from slightly bothered to quite upset, only realizing how much time he had taken once Ace knocked and stepped into the room. He turned, almost sadly but not quite. More bristles than frowns. Not that he felt that way towards her, of course, but at his brother and the girl Apollo had kept hidden in a roundabout sort of way. Lily bloody Potter. Of course.

When he turned to look at her, his brow was still furrowed and it only got worse when she spoke. She'd... Done his work for him? How long has he been trying to cool off? Christian didn't have Quidditch anymore to de-stress like Apollo did. He hadn't had it too bad, actually, until these recent events, so it was quite confusing.

He shifted, dropping his legs over the short end rather than the far side of the bed, and reached a hand out towards her. "Let me see," he requested, feeling strange when he remembered again how young they all were. No sixteen year old should be running a proper store in the way he was - especially after Apollo decided to leave. It left him to take care of absolutely everything and he wasn't at all a fan of the store to begin with. Apollo knew that. And yet he decided to leave.

He rolled his lips together before wetting them and nodding as he read the schedule over. He only caught two shifts that would need to be altered, so his eyebrows lifted in a display of how impressed he was.

"I-- thanks, Alice. You didn't have to do this. I'm..." He hesitated, swallowing as he tried to fight the words he knew he had to say. It was so strange to say them to Ace Longbottom of all people. In the end, he turned to face her, a genuine expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

That’s where they settled. Lily’s arms aloft, objects spinning about the room like a confused but orchestrated dance, thinning as she got the job done. His head was rested against her shoulder and she managed to keep her focus on the spell itself. It was for them and them alone. Her focus grew sharper. It had been so long since she had done any sort of impressive magic, magic beyond the day-to-day. She used to love practicing complex spells in school, finding her own Lily twist. She liked thinking of each spell having a baseline, and from there the wizard or witch could build and transform.

A round paperweight had been bouncing back and forth. Her brow deepened on her forehead and it began to follow a circular orbit, before spinning as it went. Her eyes darted towards the boxes which began to make tiny little orbits of their own. A blanket began to dance for them, before folding itself.

Apollo’s lips against her shoulder were fine; but the second they travelled farther up her neck, her stomach contracted and her focus broke briefly. The objects slowed their speed and dipped briefly, before she rolled her lips between her teeth, biting back the smirk. Her eyes flicked towards him and met his gaze, grinning as she turned back, her focus intensified. But she did stretch so as to make his job a little easier.

Christian looked surprised to see her, and she guessed she couldn’t blame her. It was hard, having been on the outside, to imagine time as anything other than what it had been: a bit too awkwardly long.

He asked to see her work and she couldn’t help but pursing her lips in a bit of an amused grimace. “Right, professor.” Indeed, she did feel like a student turning in an in-class essay or something, as she stepped further into the room to approach him, extending her arm with the paper. He took it and she watched his expression finding that, like a student, she was hopeful to find a pleased expression on his face as he reviewed her work. She was a little surprised to see a bit of it.

He was quick to assure her she didn’t need to do the work and she heaved a shrug. “I know.” She knew she didn’t need to. She didn’t do it out of need. His apology was unfounded, but she could tell he meant it. So she gave him a smile, tilting her head. “No need to apologize. Anything else I can do?”

Christian didn't know how he felt about being called 'professor,' although there was a slight tingle in his chest that made him wonder if perhaps he wouldn't enjoy doing something like that. Helping people, surely, was the aim of those who taught. What other purpose could someone have in a job like that one?

Why Ace was so determined to help him, Christian wasn't sure he could say. He wasn't about to ask, though. It meant a lot in a way that, had someone else done it, he might have found it patronizing. How ironic, when Ace was typically quite good at dominating conversations and situations almost without meaning to.

Her question was one that he wasn't sure how to answer. Instead, he flopped onto his blankets, lifting his hands in a vague, uncertain gesture. "I don't know, really. I'd rather not think about it, I guess."

Christian let his eyes close, and he found himself oddly comfortable despite having someone in his personal space. His bedroom, that is. It was incredibly unusual, though. The arm further from Ace shifted so his palm slipped beneath his head, and then he looked at her again.

"I asked Lily to help us. I'm not really thinking she's going to, though. We really should start recruiting more. Planning is well and good but it feels like we're not really making progress. At this rate, it'll still be just the pair of us when school starts again in the fall."

Ace was always intruding. She was always poking her head into conversations that didn't concern her out of the certainty that her unique perspective was not only welcomed - it was needed. She was always getting involved with issues that weren't hers to worry about, and sticking her nose into any matter that alarmed her. She was typically set straight but she never learned her lesson. The day her involvement saved someone made up for all the name-calling and disdain.

She supposed that was all this was. Intruding yet again. Christian didn't seem to mind. Maybe that was what made him different.

He flopped onto his bed and she could feel his morale seeping. Had she been younger, she might have had the energy to jump on the bed and innocently rouse him from his funk. But she had become chronically serious since her childhood, and no such shenanigans would take place with a mood so heavy.

But he kept talking and she wanted to punch him because he had solved his own problem without even realizing it. There was something he didn't want to do, and something he felt he had to do. And yet here he was, insisting on the former when they could be out doing the latter. So she moved to the bed and tugged on his comforter, as though intent on rolling him out of bed.

"Well, come on then. Let's go recruit. No time like the present."

Christian turned his head towards her when she shifted, something akin to excitement moving her. Despite his vague surprise, her words did spur him into sitting up, into nodding. "Yeah, alright," he agreed, grabbing her hand and climbing out of bed to lead the way out.

He hesitated only for a breath, looking towards Apollo's door and considering it. He could ask, probably, if his brother was still there. If Apollo was going to help, he would have shown interest already. Christian knew better. Instead, he tugged Alice towards the stairs, completely uncertain where they were heading. They could figure that out once they were away from that bloody flat.

Perhaps surprisingly, perhaps not, Apollo was thinking along the same lines. Even though his fingers inched towards the hem of her sweater, he knew that he wouldn't actually get to a point where that mattered. Not yet. But the temptation was clearly there, if Lily wanted to take anything from that.

But once things settled into their respective boxes, he lifted up onto his elbow. "So," he started, an undeservedly proud smirk pulling his lips as his eyebrows lifted once. "You wanna see my place?"

The idea nearly made him laugh, but he rolled off the bed and picked up the extended bag, tossing it down next to her. "I really would help if I could, as far as the packing goes. If we get there and you resize them, I can manage the rest."

Apollo sat back down, still terribly amused. He changed his expression, though, into one of bland consideration as he went on. "After all, if you get sick of helping me, then where will I be? My things will all be far too small for the flat I've chosen." He sighed, more dramatically than he normally would, of course. But he did feel that they were still in the stage where testing the waters, testing the boundaries was important. The decision to poke fun was only made to see how it would be taken by Lily. "I guess I'll have to be nice."