Blue skies are calling me

She had lived that life until it almost killed her. She knew every tick, saw every sign, could practically pick apart the scents of top shelf from the stink of the well at this point. She knew what exhaustion looked like, could pick out the tells of a rapidly unfurling state of sanity. She remembered it, that day when someone had finally witnessed her spiral. Standing wrapped in a towel before her mirror, twenty pounds under the minimum weight limit for someone her size, pale from the lack of fluids, eyes sunken and drooping. She didn't look human. She looked like death. And that was what would have taken her had she not been pulled out.

And it had happened again. Her recovery happened away from the eyes of her loved ones that time. After Roxi, she let Molly bring her medicine but shelled out the money for her own apartment and suffered through the horrible symptoms of withdrawal until she broke down and made Ducky Baker bring her a little something. She never took enough to be a problem, now, never over-indulged. But withdrawal... that was too much. Too hard.

It wasn't pleasant looking, killing yourself slowly. It wasn't pretty bringing yourself back from the point of death either. And it certainly wasn't a picture to see someone dangerously nearing that point.

She stared at him for a long moment, refusing to speak, just drinking him in, taking it all in. Her grand creation.

She stood, legs unfolding slowly underneath her and holding her steady. She crossed the distance between them, getting close enough to clog her sinuses with the smells of drink, smoke, and women, close enough that she could root him to the spot in an instant if she so chose.

And out of her lips, came a low, certain voice. "If you don't want me around, I can leave."

He lifted his chin as she approached, looking down at her as if he were in any way bigger or badder than the woman in front of him. He knew better, though. Give it a couple weeks and she could rip his throat out if she wanted to. Perhaps he wouldn't even care. And even if he did, what would it matter, then? It isn't like he would be able to say anything about it.

When had he become this shell, this simulacrum? That wasn't who the Zabini heir was meant to be. It was the direct opposite of power, prestige and glory. It felt like the life was being sucked from him, slowly but surely.

And then she offered to leave, and a multitude of thoughts came through all at once, which would lead - undoubtedly - to different places and endings. While he was fighting with himself, his fear that she would actually leave took over and all he could truly focus on was the fact that she had promised. She couldn't. Wouldn't. Even if he asked her to.

Right?

She finished speaking, she was close enough. His thoughts were so consuming that he didn't register on a conscious level that his hands reached out for her sides and his mouth opened so the word "don't" could spill out at nothing more than a whisper.

Once he settled, recognizing what he had said, Apollo swallowed hard. Despite that, his voice was still broken when he continued. "You promised me you wouldn't. You have to know better than to think I'd want that, even if I said it. I -- You can't, Lil. Not this time."

She didn't want to be ready to leave. She didn't want to have the strength to accept his answer, inevitable as it was, and walk out of the flat and never return. In many ways, she had been weak in her short eighteen years of life. But the one thing she knew she could do was remove herself from the equation, no matter the consequences to herself. She knew she could look into the eyes of someone she cared about, cared so deeply it pounded deep in her gut, threatening to collapse her, and she could walk away without a word if that was what was best. And he had left. Couldn't stand to be in a room with her. It followed. It followed.

She knew if he told her to, she would leave. What she didn't know - what she could possibly do after that.

He gripped her and the word slipped out, almost traitorous to him, and she clamped her mouth shut to swallow back the quiet gasp of relief that so wanted to trip out from her lips, her jaw straining and eyes blinking a bit heavily.

Silence settled and he continued to speak. She nodded, somehow looking so rational before... before it broke. And she stepped forward, her arms slipping around up his back towards his shoulders to bring him close, bring him in. Underneath the smells of influence was the smell of Apollo, bringing her whirling back to a time where she sat on his hospital bed, spilling regret over him for what she had done, closer than ever before. And now it was just the two of them, her arms holding both of them together. Even if just barely. Even if just this time.

She didn't say anything, which was fair and probably for the best, but it left him standing there in silence for a moment, wondering if she hadn't meant it. But then his naive attempt at keeping her there turned into Lily making sure he didn't trick himself into running away and making things worse. His eyes lifted to the ceiling and he drew in a shaky breath, his torso almost fluttering with the motion.

But then his chin tipped forward and he deflated, his forehead finding her shoulder and his breath was released across the curve of her shoulder where it met her neck. If his lips brushed over her skin when he spoke, it wasn't totally intentional.

"I think I'm losing it, Lily. I think I might already be lost."

He didn't leave.

He didn't pull away.

He sank into her, and one of her hands slid higher, reaching his neck to let him know he could stay there as long as he wanted. She accepted his weight, physical and all, taking it on her shoulders after all the times others had done the same for her. Her disease had spread and she was a support group of a measly one, but she was here, and she had survived (thus far) and she didn't intend on leaving anyone behind. Especially-

He spoke and she nodded, her cheek pressed against his head, goosebumps spreading across her shoulder where the ghost of contact materialized. She nodded again because she knew that the line between losing and lost was so thin that it was usually crossed before it was found.

"If we're lost, we stick together. Rule number one."

Her voice was soft, and a hand trailed down to catch his, each finger finding purchase in the space between his. She didn't want to break away, but she did, slowly. The covers were drawn back and her feet slid beneath them, hand pulling him after, to lie next to her, her equal in uncertainty, sharing a fear so human it hurt. Her fingers were still clinging to his as her forehead met his.

"Please stay too."

He almost refused to let go of her side so she could take his hand. It led to exactly what he feared it might: her moving away. He couldn't vocalize what the problem with it was, because he only knew that losing her touch would be devastating for the ruined young man that he had somehow become almost overnight. But she was the one who had made the rule, who had been to this dark place and had survived and improved in whatever capacity she could allow herself to admit to.

But she moved and he had to hold himself up to avoid crashing completely. Until she made her intentions clear, that is, and he followed her lead silently. He sank into the sheets, wondering absurdly if she could tell how many nights she had been there with him without meaning to be. Without actually leaving an imprint on the sheets but still managing to do so on the Slytherin himself.

But this was so different. He wasn't angry, he wasn't wondering how she was doing during the full moon. She was there, clinging to his hand and pressing their foreheads together. His was a relief so palpable that Apollo knew she must have felt it pour out of him as he let his muscles start to relax from the tense day they had experienced.

"I promise," he murmured, unable to even imagine denying her that much. In fact, he owed her. Shifting his head away on his pillow, Apollo wasn't certain about his next move, but he doubted that any other time would end up being the right one.

So he brought his lips to her forehead for a moment before settling his arm across her waist to keep the distance between them minimal. "I'm sorry," he told her quietly. "For all of it. I'm sorry."

Lily closed her eyes and thought back to the months after she had been turned. That might have been the last time she felt young, where her fears were fresh and naive, her heart hoping and wishing for better, thinking the world owed her better than her lot. The days after had been brutal, but she had been too scared to go to the hospital wing... So Casey curled into her bed with her and lay next to her, ready to hand off any potion Lily might need. She was scared to make any noises that might rouse suspicion, scared of her future, deeply in pain, filling with loneliness...

and Casey would turn to her and whisper 'We are on a ship and there's a terrible storm. Outside, the waters are choppy and full of danger, but we are inside and we are warm and we are safe. You're safer than you feel. Your mind is playing tricks but this storm will not last forever.'

They were a two man crew, she and Apollo. They would weather it. They had to.

Her heart was pounding at his words, because she had never made anyone make such a promise. She wanted to leave people free to leave, because they always did, and she didn't want to be the one to force anyone anyone to break a promise. Especially when it would only earn her disappointment.

But here they were - bound together now. And as terrifying as it was, the set up before what she had been told would always be an inevitable fall, something bolstered within her, that terrible H-word she had given up on for so long.

He brought his lips to her forehead and her eyes slid closed and she shook her head. "No more," she said. "No more of that." Her eyes slid open and her hand went to his cheek, her eyes meeting his. "There's no need." She leaned forward, eyes searching his hesitantly, before dropping. She blinked and leaned forward, closing the gap between their bodies and their uncertainties, as lips met lips. Because, after all, she had Weasley in her. And they sure did like to one-up. Her eyes were closed, a hand travelled up his arm, and the waves outside quieted. She pulled away.

And Lily Potter smiled.

Merlin.

No, it wasn't the sort of kiss that the other woman had suggested earlier, but he had been stupid enough to get himself there over the course of that hour despite knowing better. It hadn't been far, after all, if Dom could've seen Declan walk past. But now he was back and even though he was sure she had to have some idea of what had happened, they had reached that point anyway.

So maybe he did love her a bit. He didn't feel steady enough to say anything like that aloud, but it poked at the back of his skull, reminding him that, in a way, he had gotten what he wanted.

His fingers splayed across the arch of her back, expressing the fact that he accepted her request through the way his kiss in return remained something careful and half-broken but still completely resolute. He felt it must have been obvious how badly he'd been trying not to do just that during their fights, when she got too close.

She pulled back, but it took a few moments for Apollo to let himself release that moment, that feeling. When he opened his eyes, she looked happy, and that nearly made him kiss her again, just to see if he could improve upon it further. But at the same time, it somehow wasn't necessary. Something about how brief it was, how cautious it was, made it important to preserve as it was. They had just crossed a line that he hadn't ever expected to, and he wasn't sorry.

Even if there was still Christian to think about.

His brother's name drifted from one temple to the other, as if it were scrolling in front of his eyes, blurring out Lily's features. He nearly cursed himself for it, uninterested in bogging down their moment with the question he knew he was about to ask. So he released her hand, sneaking his arm under the pillow on her side instead, sinking back into the mattress and drawing her into his side.

"You're going to help him, aren't you?" He asked, unable to bring his voice much above a whisper in the naive hope that it wouldn't spoil everything. "With the illegal thing."

Lily had expected lunch to go well, and this to go poorly. Of course, the only reason she had expected this to go poorly, was because lunch had gone poorly, but still, there was something to be said about the reversal of expectations. She would not have guessed she would have found reason or circumstance to kiss Apollo Zabini, and never would anyone who knew either of them expect such care and hesitancy in the gesture.

But there it was.

Her fingers spread across her back, sending lines of warmth criss-crossing across her back, a single shiver running ahead to warn of the warmth to come. She had spent a lot of her life convincing people that this was not the sort of safe embrace that could bring her any comfort - she suspected this might be another way in which she and Apollo were similar.

He moved, bringing her closer, and her free hand now drifted up his torso to his chest, spreading and contracting there, fingers moving to rub the fabric of his shirt between them - for no other reason than the simple fact that in this moment she could.

His voice roused her, and she closed her eyes against the complicated issue, as though it might just float away. But it remained. Her chest filled with air, eyes squeezing even tighter as she spread her hand across his chest, feeling the warmth it provided.

Finally, eyes sliding open, she matched his volume and said, "So much of me doesn't want to. But I'm scared that on their own..." She shook her head. "And he's not going to be talked out of it, either." A soft sigh slipped from her lips and she tilted her head, pressing her cheek into his shoulder and neck, scared for the moment where this had to end. "I'm not sure what to do."

He drew in a breath before releasing a heavy sigh, his chest rising and falling so visibly that he lifted her along with him. His fingers danced across her waist in silent reply for her own movements. He wasn't sure what it meant, exactly, but he did know that he liked the feeling of it. He only paused to pull the sheets closer around her like a shield against the inevitable.

"I'm afraid to ask it of you," he frowned, tilting his chin to rest lightly atop her head. "I can't do it myself this time. I want to but... I don't know. He would have asked me if he'd wanted me there. He needs this, I think."

Closing his eyes, Apollo tried to even out his pulse and just failed. "I don't know how to explain it. He's my double but he doesn't have the pressure on him that I do. And I don't want any of it. But he still acts like the world is waiting on him to do something and I may regret not being part of it, but I don't want to be a hero. Or my father. I just- I don't want anything, really."

His eyes snapped open, gaze finding the ceiling above them. "What if all I want is a quiet job, quiet family, and for nobody to feel like they have to live up to me? I never thought about kids until I realized I could make up for my parents somehow. And it's not a good reason I don't think. And it's a long way off, but.. I don't know how Christian turned out so good but I'm so... Not."

Shifting into his side, Apollo looked down at her properly. "I shouldn't ask you to, but if there's any chance that you can make it work, Lily... I don't know. Just... Consider it. Please. For me."