the choiceless hope in grief.

it’s hard, it really is—to not allow the smile that grew on her lips and the bit of laugh that escaped her right after; childlike, unrehearsed, an anomaly that surprised even herself and which she tried to hide behind a gloved hand and eyes quickly turned to the sky, slightly shaking her head before turning to him with a faint of that momentary joy; so many years since the last time she has seen him, so little that has really changed in the picture right in front of her. 

❝ i believe it used to happen all the time, mind you, and even despite the seeming scarcity of any fire-producing creature roaming the schoolyards, if i may recall. ❞ a knowing look was aimed in his direction before taking a few steps to the side, eyes diverted on the space surrounding them, though her mind… her uneasy heart, the part of herself that remained guilty after all this time rushed to use that break to find peace—strength, something to go back to herself now that she finally has a chance to speak with him, to know about the life he has had while the both of them walked on different paths. quick—before he notices.

❝ wait— ❞ oh, there it is—a question worth abandoning all her anxious thoughts for. ❝ fostering, you said? i thought—you were traveling, weren’t you? where would you even keep a—? ❞ but she needs no more than a second to realize that she knows the answer before the question abandons her mouth. not the whole truth, of course, but just enough to be sure that newton scamander, her childhood companion, was somehow crossing borders with more than just a few changes of clothes with him.

Ah— He forgets, sometimes, how much Sirius can sound like Mum. It’s enough to pull a soft half-smile out of him, despite everything. She’d be proud.

She’d want them to talk, too. He doesn’t particularly want to address his health, but he also can’t just leave Sirius to worry. James looks up at him for a long moment, squinting a little through the pressure in his temples, before he finally sighs and his shoulders drop.

“I don’t think it’s going away,” he admits, pulling off his glasses and letting them drop into his lap. “It’s j… I don’t know.”

There’s frustration creeping into his voice now, not directed at Sirius; the same pique that rises in his chest every time he thinks too hard on Halloween, 1981. I can’t remember. The gap threatens to swallow him, sometimes.

James scrubs at his face, huffing. “The healers think it’s an aftereffect from… some kind of spell. Not that—” He waves a hand to encapsulate everything Sirius’ just listed. “—everything else helped, obviously.”

He gives Sirius a vague shrug— James can’t see his friend’s expression, anymore, but… well. He can imagine. “I’m alright, Sir. Just… adjusting. You don’t have to worry over me,” he adds, knowing it’s a flimsy lie at best.

it’s just some headaches. the rational, borderline optimistic part of him jumped to declare—it’s just some headaches, even as an aftereffect and a terrible inconvenience it shouldn’t be scarier than what they’re seeing right now, isn’t it? yes, but there was something about this that he couldn’t entirely put off. something… about the urgency of the situation, about the way he looked at him. something—that had to do with the fear he could feel like a breeze of winter in his chest, and the stubborn thought that there was more to this than he’d been allowed to know. 

that maybe not even james knew ( or that he maybe did but chose not to say, that heroic fool ).

❝ don’t you dare. ❞ he rushes to cut him off; fixed glare and tensed-up fists, he’s trying to contain himself. to not surrender to the frustration that is gathering under his skin. ❝ don’t tell me what to do when you’ve been dealing with this almost all on your own. does—does lily even know? ❞

he makes an attempt to remember, to place the exact moment, the first time he noticed something was wrong. but no matter how hard he tries, it’s impossible to discern from all those times he had thought of it as no more than a common thing, a symptom anyone would get after too many hours of research or a rather sleepless night. but—of one thing he was almost certain now. 

❝ they are getting worse, isn’t it? ❞ control escapes him just a little, all the uncertainty they have of this situation and the sight of him hurting just like this enough to cast the worst of scenarios inside his head ❝ when were you planning to tell us, james! to tell me! we could have looked for a solution for many months now, we could have done something! ❞ 

She cocks a wry eyebrow. “Do you need me to trust you?”

Kids these days, honestly. Manon slumps down in her chair, kicking her feet up against the nearby window frame. There are worse things than a long night with the a young member of the Order —she doesn’t dislike any of the kids nearly as much as they seem to think she does,— but don’t they have anything better to talk about?

They all know about as much about her as she cares for them to know.

She scrutinizes Evicka for a moment, expression flat, before rolling her eyes. “A little over a decade. Too long and not long enough, huh?” Always going to be an outsider, nevermind that at this point she knows London better than Rouen. She imagines Evicka knows the feeling.

“What is it you need to know so badly, then?”

not exactly a need, but an awful habit she has made her own without an intention to end up like this.

distrustful, knowing it’s but a matter of time before the next blow comes her way.

it shows in a split of a second, blink and you’d miss the entirety of it—and the smiles that masks it all is nothing short of endearing, a child excited to be considered by the adults around the table. of course she wouldn’t admit she’s not happy with her own ways, how she has turned fraternizing into a game of chess, a spiderweb used for her own protection. if they trust you, they open their doors and welcome you in their halls. if they love you, you might not find yourself at the wrong side of their wands.

it’s hardly really personal; it’s survival, she would force herself to think.

“ oh, how you’ve endured it for this long, just to start! ” she laughs to herself, eyes going to the floor for a moment and her hands busy with a curl of her hair, as if to shape its end took at least a little bit of her attention before continuing with the rest. “ it’s just preferences, i guess. the cold, the grey skies. hardly a pinch of love in the way they make food, let alone the amount of spices involved in the process. ”

oh, there it was. the so-called spark that the entire world seemed so thrilled about. 

a large smile took its place amidst his features, and president snow took every second at his disposal to enjoy the beautiful composition displayed just in front of him: katniss everdeen, victor of the 74th hunger games, dressed in whatever that team of hers had deemed appropriate for the evening, and placed at the other end of his table to share what’s supposed to be the honor of a meal that puts an end to her parade—a recognition of her efforts, a celebration of his mercy.

it could have been arranged that this invitation had been extended to both the victors of the last event, a single ceremony to keep the tradition set by the few that had come before him, yet—he would have to admit, there was something exciting about the widely-expected affair. to know that millions wondered and questioned and imagined what the creatures of their obsessions talked and reflected about behind closed doors. ha! if they could only take one glimpse of that glare she dared aim at him. lovely miss everdeen, singing little girls to sleep. wishing he could drop dead by the next sip of his drink.

❝ i thought we had agreed on that much on our first meeting, yes. though i dare think you’ve gained a relative amount of wisdom on these last days touring the districts, is it not? of the very cost that our every word, silence, and movement can get to have, especially when we are not careful enough. ❞ a vague movement of his hand holding his drink, distaste in his slightly furrowed brows. if they were on the same page, and he hope they were, then the recollection of what happened in district 11 had finally taken a seat on their table, and it was essential to him that she saw the extent of his concern for that matter.