somewhere just a little closer to grace

It was different in the country. It was better.

She still couldn't sleep, though. So in the early hours of Saturday morning, she crawls out of bed, puts on one of Felix's jumpers and heads downstairs. Tea at this hour probably doesn't help with insomnia, but then again, nothing ever does, so she puts the kettle on anyway and sits on the armchair with the warm mug, bringing her knees to her chest. On the coffee table is her diary filled with her most personal thoughts, her darkest secrets. When this war ends, she is sure this diary will be what sends her to Azkaban. Perhaps she's stupid, writing everything down. Maybe it's intentional; a confession. I am a terrible person; please, nail me to the cross; I deserve it. Small hands reach for it and the pen that sits next to it, but before Phillipa opens the book, the sound of footsteps breaks the silence of the night, and she freezes. Logically, it has to be Felix, but still, her mind starts running - maybe it's Felix, but perhaps it's the death eaters, maybe they've found out, and they've come to kill her. She wouldn't care if they did - but she won't allow them to touch Felix. She holds her breath, shrinking into the armchair; she doesn't have her wand with her - FUCK SAKE, stop it, Pippa. '' Fee? '' she calls quietly, her voice no louder than a whisper '' that you? ''

Scorpius’ “terrible twos” seem to be marked by an insistent desire to follow her around, cling to her leg, and insist on being carried. She would rather not have him in her arms as she rushes to answer the door, preferring to keep her son away from strangers, but he’s persuasive (read: she and Draco would move heaven and Earth for their son’s every whim). He’s quiet and sleepy on her hip, freshly bathed and cozy in a green onesie styled to look like a little dragon.

The wind outside Malfoy Manor sends rain battering against the windows, but the house’s interior is light, warm, thanks to Astoria’s insistence (and Narcissa’s agreement) on redecorating. The ornate dining room that once held profanatory, violent meetings of the Dark Lord’s inner circle was scrubbed of its furnishings and retooled into a library; the room the snakelike man occupied during his stay was demolished and the second floor balcony extended in its place. There are whispers of sadness in some corners, of course, as powerful magics leave scars, but Astoria nurtures hope that her little family will fill the place with love as the years go on.

She fishes her wand from her pocket and cautiously undos the enchantments that keep the heavy doors locked, confused as to who would visit at this hour and in this weather—

The sight of the woman in front of her brings three distinct feelings, all at once. Shock, which causes Astoria to step back and jostles her son who whimpers at the movement; confusion, for the person on her doorstep vanished years ago without a trace; and a flood of disbelief that colors her tone as all she can do is stand and repeat: “Daphne? Daphne?”

Daphne had prepared herself for this moment and had acted it out in her mind frequently, the big reunion. She had always known that the sisters would be reunited at some point, that they would pick up where they left off. The Greengrass girls. An unstoppable duo. She had meticulously played this out in her head; she knew how it would go, what she was going to say and how Astoria would respond. But when the door opens, Daphne is faced with something she did not consider.

Astoria is not a teenager anymore. She is taller, her face slimmer, there is a child involved. In Daphne’s mind, nearly no time had passed since she left; her life led all these years allowed her to play make believe. While she moved, everyone else stayed the same. That is what she had imagined, but here Astoria was, and her appearance is proof of the time that has passed. 

She steps further into the light, shaking off her initial shock. This is fine, everything is fine, she is still in control of the situation. ‘‘May I come in? I would rather this reunion not take place in the pouring rain.’’

Every night. It never stops. 

She stumbles back from the sink, exhaustion overcoming her, her hands burning from the heat, and she brings them to her hair. It's getting too much, this weight Pippa is carrying. The secrets sit heavy on her lungs; they make it hard to think, to breathe. The LYING, every day she's lying. SHE IS NOT HER MOTHER; for her mother, lying comes as easily as breathing. She has lied her whole life, without guilt or remorse or consideration of consequences. Pippa is not like that. And yet here she is, spending her days lying. Pretending to be part of a cause she doesn't believe in, trying to keep her head above water, trying not to get caught in a tidal wave, trying to keep herself alive - trying to keep Felix alive. 

Phillipa, you will drown. You will crash and burn. They must be starting to get suspicious - Cassius, at least. He, of all her superiors, has a particular talent for reading her. He, out of everyone, succeeds at crawling under her skin; he must is suspicious - and if not, she is sure he will be soon. Every day she is becoming more tired, more anxious, more on edge. She needs to speak to someone, someone she trusts, someone who will listen, for she fears that if she doesn't, she will spill her secrets to the wrong people, and she will suffer gravely for it.

Rahim - Rahim is safe. He is someone she cares about, and she knows he cares about her; Pippa trusts him. If she confided in Rahim, she believes, with her whole heart, that he wouldn't sell her out. Perhaps Theo would disagree, and maybe he is right. But Theo isn't here. And Pippa can't carry on like this, walking so precariously on a tight rope, continuously at risk of falling. 

Eyes close, a loud crack, feet leave the ground momentarily. The cold is the first thing Pippa feels. It's SHARP and SMACKS HER IN THE FACE, but she's standing in a pair of pyjama shorts and one of Felix's jumper, so that's rather unsurprising. Her pocket watch reads 4:02. Ringing the doorbell seems unwise, so instead, Pippa picks up a rock from the ground and aims it at what she hopes is Rahim's window. No response. She waits a few moments before picking up a second, slightly larger rock. A light flicks on, and the blonde holds her breath, eyes scan the scene for a bush to hide in should Orion's face appear at the window. It doesn't, and Pippa's face breaks into a slightly awkward smile  ‘‘ Hi - sorry, I - I don't know why I'm here, I just - can I come in? please? ’’ 

Location: Malfoy Manor.

Ft: Daphne & Astoria.

The rain falls HARD and HEAVY; it SMACKS against her back with a fury, the wind leaves her face feeling cold, numb. But then again, numbness is a feeling that is a part of who she is. She would be nothing without the NUMBNESS that has taken root inside her. For a moment, Daphne stops, looking up at the sky, at the dark, grey clouds that loom above them. No moon in sight. She looks over at her husband, and she smiles, a slightly unhinged smile, a somewhat unnerving smile, and then she looks ahead at the road. '' This way. ''

The backstreets of Wiltshire feel familiar, and part of her despises that. All those years spent running away from this life, from this world, and yet she seems to be fitting right back in like a missing puzzle piece. '' My sister is a fool for settling at Malfoy Manor. '' it's more to herself than her accomplice. '' We will raise our child in London. '' that is a statement, not a discussion opener. 

They make another right turn to see Malfoy Manor looming ahead of them, and a sort of sorrow fills Daphne as she wonders if the dark lord is turning in his grave, knowing who now occupies the site he once chose as a base. They walk up the path. The porch light is on. She wonders for a moment if Astoria will want to see her or if she will even recognise her. It causes Daphne's heart to beat at a quickened pace, even in her years away; her sister was the only person that often crossed her mind. She had wanted to write on more than one occasion, but her desire to keep Astoria safe had stopped her time and time again. They reach the door, and she turns to Archelaus. '' stay behind me, '' she reaches up and rings the bell, pulling down her hood and allowing the rain to fall down her face as she waits. Patiently, anxiously. The sound of a lock unbolting, the creak of a door. '' Good evening, sister. ''