* FIRESTORM / GIRL !

private lily evans,  grown as an oc.  unaffiliated with hp franchise.  lore tba.  loved by hailey <3

highly affiliated / important dynamics :     @stagpatronused  

proditeur‌ / @doepatronused​

              Regulus knows the moment James takes his hand that he’s going with him; that he no longer has a choice. Pulling away and protesting will lose precious seconds of the time they already don’t have—and he knows now that he’s been seen. He knows that his family is in danger. He knows that he’s in danger (but the reality is, he hardly cares about that). 

              He knows that he’s going to have to face his brother when all of this is over.

              The flurry of light and color interrupts his thoughts; their pursuers fill the hall behind them and to James’ credit, he’s got good aim. Between him and Regulus they manage to stay the oncoming masked figures just enough but a stumble in James’ step—their hands still entwined—tells him that James has been hit. Suddenly there’s a little more weight leaning into his hand and Regulus moves closer, halfway between tagging along and now trying to support his wounded ally; but he can’t do more than that. James is going to disapparate. James is going to take me with him, he thinks, and a rush of panic rises in his chest. He imagines the collection of Order members, old and young, forming a circle of distrust around him and pointing blame for James’ capture and injury. He imagines his brother sitting outside the room, refusing to see him, refusing to look at the traitor that tried to kill his friend. He imagines Alastor Moody’s swift and unforgiving arrest and he wonders what sort of trial he’ll really receive. He is an enemy of the state. 

              But he can’t stop it. James won’t release his hand and if he disapparates on his own they’ll both be spliced. There’s no time to argue, no time to ask questions, no time to beg.

              There is time enough only to place his complete faith in James Potter.

              They reach the line and the horrible, nauseating twist in his belly signals that they’re disapparating. The cold halls of the building that was James’ prison melt away and with them go the lights and the sounds of rueful screaming, shouts of TRAITOR! DESERTER! and the cacophony of betrayed rage.

              In comes the nearby sound of a hooting owl and the taste of dirt. Regulus’ hand is free now and it takes him a half moment to orient his senses to their new setting. A pleasant little village. A quiet night. Poor, unfortunate flowers crushed under his knees. “James—” he flicks his eyes to James’ squirming form and crawls two steps towards him when a door opens… and a familiar face walks out.

              She ignores him at first—and it’s just as well because all he manages to do is stare with his stupid mouth half open and his fingers buried in the dirt. Oh, the crocuses, that’s what I’ve crushed, he notices, but she’s fussing over James and he’s wondering what, if anything, he should say to her.

              “Evans.”

              He could’ve done better than that. Damn, he hasn’t spoken to her in over a year and it’s like he’s forgotten how! “There’s… he’s—” hurt, which she knows. “You should go inside.” Where it was safer. “I’ll…”

              Regulus rises to his feet and offers a careful look around the street. It’s a quaint, comfortable village and he knows where they are but he can feel the effects of the fidelius charm on his tongue. He can never speak of this place to another soul—though, he would never do so even if he could.

              “I ought to go.” 

                    FUCK,   FUCK,   FUCK.                there’s essentially two trains of thoughts that are currently crashing together in his brain.   FUCK:   he shouldn’t have brought them to the safe house. after all, that’s the whole point in having a secret keeper, is that only three people could ever access it.   HARRY   is inside, and while james— maybe foolishly has placed his trust in regulus, there is no way to know they didn’t trace them.   FUCK pt.2: how the hell is he going to explain regulus’ being here when he can’t even stand on his own? he’d severely underestimated the severity of the cut and is now alternating between sinking to his knees and leaning all of his weight on lily. he’d made the decision in a freedom-lusted, blood-loss haze and now he was still too weak to defend it.                        “ lil  .  .  .   ”           he took a deep breath, panicked the patronus was already on its way to alastor’s office.                “ i can explain. ”          he groaned, deep pain ricocheting throughout his body stemming from his right side and yet through the blur of pain only one thought was coherent: i hope it wasn’t bellatrix. he’d take being hit over dying any day of the week, but if it was that cackling witch that finally beat him he’d have a very unpeaceful afterlife. was it petty? without a doubt, but well, that’s where he’s at these days. it wasn’t like she’d made sure he was   COMFORTABLE   in captivity.        “ i can explain. ”            he’s struggling— both to get the words out and to stand on his own but he needs to explain.                           “ regulus saved my life — please, just let us explain before you call the order. ”           regulus saved his life. harry still has a father, lily a husband all thanks to regulus black and james will stop at nothing to give him what he deserves. 

“ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭,  𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠’𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝. ”

 it’s directed at regulus,  rather bluntly,  as she supports james ---- and she almost sounds impressed,  and half amused.  there’s that glint in her eye,  that teasing glint that always said i’ve gotten you now,  but even that has faded a bit these days.  the corner of her lips tugs in a half smirk and lily evans can almost say she’s happy to see regulus black in her flower garden.   “ always self - sacrificing, ”   she notes,  taking in the state of him.  with a flick of her gaze,  the door opens and she blinks at regulus.   “ are you going inside or what ?  we don’t have all day. ”

 she directs james inside with as much care as can be given --- the last thing she needs is for regulus to run off and james to collapse all at once --- and she’d quite like to hear the story of how this all came to be,  and that can’t happen if they’re both incapacitated. 

 she hums in acknowledgement as james stammers.   “ ‘m not calling anyone.  i believe you. ”   

because she does.  she,  if anyone,  understands quite well that regulus has more layers than some might care to think.   (  it was something not divulged to anyone,  even james.  that was the contingency of their friendship,  wasn’t it ?  the slytherin prince and the mudblood girl could be friends in secret ?  and she didn’t mind one second of it,  not when she saw through the facades and privileged and knew regulus was more than just a blood status -----  )   

              He can’t sleep even if he wants to.

              But he’s tired. Mentally, physically, every part of him that can feel just feels exhausted—and though his eyelids are heavy and his shoulders sag, the memory of his one-year-ago trip to that cave haunt the darkness when he closes his eyes. 

              So awake he remains, though he’s not the only one with thoughts too-troubled to slumber. They’re all suffering, aren’t they? In their own way, with their own ghosts, and they all find sleep when they can.

              “I’ve been told.” By her. Regulus manages a smile and shifts his position until her head is nestled comfortably against his shoulder and her arm finds its spot around his ribs. It’s like she belongs here, he thinks, idly strumming his fingertips through a lock of hair that settles over his hand; and with his other hand he twirls his wand, beckoning the blanket to draw up over both of them and trap the pair in comforting warmth.

              “If you snore, I’m committing it to memory and using it against you later.” He’ll figure out how when the come comes. “Now sleep—silly girl,” he presses a kiss to the part of her head he can reach, “And get enough for the two of us, yeah?” 

𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐨,  𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 and half awake and acutely aware of the tension that winds up his shoulders and the way he heaves his sigh softly as to not wake her and the way his thumb strokes at her back at an odd pace that could only indicate that his mind is elsewhere.  

 “ what is it ? ”   

 she hasn’t moved,  her voice still has remnants of sleep in it,  and her eyes don’t even open ------  but she won’t be able to sleep if he’s stewing over something besides her.  the cloud might hang over his head alone --- he’s always careful to make sure she’s shielded from it,  damn him --- but she’ll be left with a weight on her chest,  like an anchor that forces her to watch while he drowns.

          “ no, i don’t. i’m incorrigible, and it’s about time you get used to it! ”

@doepatronused

‘ it is wonderful to finally meet you , mrs. potter ,’ there’s a certain level of mysticism surrounding the red haired witch. lily had been a hero of the war before ; and was joining in on this one as well. a bright smile settles on the quarter veela’s lips as she says . ‘ I do not know if ‘e told you , but your son and I are friends. in fact ‘e saved my sister a few years ago. ‘

“ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰. ”

 case point:  she’s already half asleep. 

the war makes it both easier and harder to fall asleep,  she finds.  easier in the sense that after duels and narrow escapes and stress,  lily is damn near guaranteed to knock out the minute her head hits the pillow every single night.  she’s beyond exhausted --- if not physically,  then mentally.  it’s too much to handle on the best of days.  on the other side of the coin,  it’s somehow more difficult to sleep.  if the rare occasion comes that she doesn’t fall asleep immediately,  the stress and worry and fear and panic set in and she’s doomed to spend the night staring at the ceiling in hopes of finding the answers written on it.

 it’s easier when he’s there.  easier to fall asleep,  easier to wake up,  easier to be as ruthless and daring as need be when they’re in danger.  he’s another thing she’s always thought was worth fighting for.

 she curls further into the warmth of his side,  an arm draping over his torso as she exhales a comfortable sigh.   “ flick me if i snore,  yeah ? ”

                   james laughs. only blushing slightly from the movement, and covering it up quite deftly by going along with the joke. he brings his other hand to his forehead— like a proper maiden, holding out the other like it was an embroidered handkerchief given to him moments before her train to the war departed.         “ doctor evans, i’m feeling better already. ”                     — except for   THAT.   james frowns, letting his shoulders slump and his head lean back to   ‘thump’   against the pillow.      F U C K .      if he hadn’t been blindsided by that   FUCKING   bludger, he’d have been able to make that goal. and now, they’re out of first place. because of   RAVENCLAW.   ravenclaw who was expected to finish   THIRD   in the season, and james potter dug the early grave to   LOSERDOM.       he was captain, he was supposed to be better than this! he should’ve seen it coming, and what’s more is he shouldn’t have even let it get that close.             fuck.            their only hope now is wipe out hufflepuff with points to spare, and then win from the ground up in the playoffs.     HOW COULD HE HAVE BEEN SO STUPID?     he closes his eyes, almost wishing to have been hurt just enough more to bypass the whole ordeal.              “ what was the final score? ”

   𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬.

his expression falls and she feels her stomach drop as well,  purely from his sheer disappointment.   (  lily faintly wonders what it would feel like if that disappointment were ever directed at her ------ how utterly horrible it would be to see him look at her like that.  the thought is dismissed in a hurry ;  she can feel a heat rising in her cheeks again.  )   

 “ eighty to one - ten. ”   she scratches at her temple,  a look of unfortunate dismay on her face.  honestly,  at this rate she feels more and more sorry for james potter than anyone else.  of course they all take quidditch seriously,  but he takes quidditch seriously.   (  she admires it.  it’s nice to see someone care about something,  while the remainders of the sixth years seem so utterly hell - bent on being disinterested in everything that should cross their paths.  teenagers.  )