Blue skies are calling me

With the context of the night before, with the understanding that all of their weirdness had been building up to something concrete, Lily thought it was actually somewhat funny in hindsight. The most jarring part of the accusation had been the identity of the accuser, as Christian had always been courteous and mindful of how Lily felt, and such a question was so callous and assumptive. The sudden spike had sent off alarm bells, and her own blindness to what was brewing between herself and the elder twin had kept her from recognizing where that thought had been born in the Hufflepuff's mind.

And though it still had not happened, something much more intimate than sex had transpired between them, something that made her feel safe in her own assumption that, perhaps Christian did have reason to assume.

It seemed Apollo, bless him, was mortified for her honor. She wondered then if he did not know what Roxi's scene typically implied, or if he just thought it unfair to be reminded of her past transgressions. She would have assumed he would have been more blasé about an assumption of sex, whereas an accusation of a relationship might have been more irksome, considering his reputation and the way the females of Hogwarts treated him.

He was across the room now, and he was muttering to himself to express his irritation, and perhaps it was his irritation that kept him from turning as she padded across the room, slipping her arms around his middle, one twisting up to grip his shoulder as she placed a kiss in the crook of his neck. Somehow, this felt like an escalation. They had left the bed, the sacred place where such things seemed prone to occur, and now contact had been made outside of it. There was something... affirmative to it, and she could feel her heart thumping against his back, as though it was pleading for him to turn around and confirm she was not alone in this thought.

"He said it yesterday, and I think it was mostly to get answers out of me. We were being a little withholding," she said, murmuring into his shoulder. "Don't be angry." I'm not.

Apollo was most certainly grumbling to himself, but when he felt her curl around him, she shut that off immediately. Some of the tension in his back and shoulders filtered out into the air, his chin tilting forward. "Of course we were. We didn't know it was going to end up like that," he pointed out.

"He shouldn't have said that. He knows better. He knows I wouldn't-"

He let out a frustrated sigh, muttering under his breath about how, just because Christian had done.... Well. He didn't need to finish that. Instead, he just shook his head and tossed the shirt on top of his dresser before shifting his weight to turn around. His hands lifted to her cheeks, an apologetic frown on his face.

"Sorry. He's just been... frustrating," he attempted to explain himself. "It's not like him."

And, in truth, that was a big part of it, as far as Apollo was concerned. He didn't truly have either of his parents and now it felt like he was losing his brother, too. At least he had Lily now, sure, but how long would that really last? Nothing was ever made to last. So, with that mindset, he couldn't blame any of them. But it was still as frightening as it was annoying.

She had promised, though. The others never had, and he hadn't asked them to. Lily was different, though.

His gaze shifted to where his fingers started spinning the ends of a section of her hair. "I don't know who he is anymore." And how can I figure out who I am, after that?

The effect of her touch was something she would marvel at later, when she could afford to live out of the moment. But as the space melted between them, as it now had the tendency to do, she simply enjoyed that she had been able to take away some of that built up emotion, coiling down his spine.  She smiled into his shoulder, coaxing him to find the humor as she now could.

But he could not be persuaded from his train of thought, and Lily sighed lightly against him. "He knows I wouldn't-" Surely Apollo knew that she hadn't actually thought he was going around telling lies about her. It seemed like such a nonissue after everything they had overcome that she didn't see the point in languishing on this point.

He turned and his hands caught her face and she rested her chin in his hands, looking up at his with patience. His next words made it clearer - it wasn't the words or the accusation itself, but the attitude and the lips from which they sprang. She nodded, her hands inching to rest comfortable around his waist.

"I'm certainly not the authority on functioning sibling relationships," she said. "But maybe you could... ask."

She didn't make any sort of snide or teasing comment about what he had rather inadvertently announced, so Apollo wasn't sure what he should take from that. Either she knew what he meant and didn't care, which was well enough, or she didn't get it. And he figured that would bother him later, but what did it really matter when he wasn't about to just try it on with her, right? So either way, he needed to move on.

He frowned at her suggestion, but not because he didn't want to do what she suggested. Well, actually, he didn't. But that wasn't what caught his focus. He had sort of known that she never mentioned her family, but with his tendency to bring his up and her lack of offered response about her own, he wasn't sure what to say. Or ask. So he didn't. Maybe that was wrong of him, but he still wasn't prepared to definitively say that he felt comfortable in their new situation.

It hadn't actually registered until then, but it hit him that he was her boyfriend - something he had never wanted to be before for anybody.

He stepped an inch or two closer, leaning back enough to look down at her with slight amusement. "You're telling me that I should ask my brother why he came to the conclusion that we've slept together. I should go up to him," he jested, running his hands through her hair until they came to rest where her neck met her shoulders, "and say, 'Christian, are you acting weird because you think I've slept with Lily?' You think so? He'd take that well. I would ask him about who his lady was, but that's hardly fair to whoever she is. But perhaps blunt is the way to go."

He shrugged, cracking a smile. "Not very Slytherin of me. Not that clever. But it might make him back off for a while."

His thumbs brushed over her collarbone, but he just shrugged, deciding that she was right despite his own temper. Christian was definitely the topic that could make him act the most immaturely. And he knew that, even if he would've denied it.

"I'll ask him," he assured her firmly, dropping the pretense. His chin turned towards the dresser again, taking note of the shirt. "First though," Apollo reached for it, "do you want to go eat somewhere? Might be safer than our kitchen. You can transfigure something of mine if you want to change."

Lily had only ever been instructed to use touch as a weapon. The last meaningful touch she could conjure up in her head was taking up the hand of Henry Yewbeam as they were shuttled into a Ministry holding cell, a gesture enacted for the sheer uncertainty she had felt towards the situation, and the strange camaraderie from the fellow addict. She had taken his hand so she could feel like she was on someone's team, and the contact had been torn away shortly after by rough Aurors and the chaos as Jack Dyllan tried to spring them all from their captivity.

After that, touch had become part of a life over which she had no control. The touch of powder on her lips, liquid down her throat, fingers at her knee, travelling, always travelling. Had she forgotten speech? Nights where these memories pulsated in her mind, the strobe effect of the clubs permanently imprinted into the images, she wondered what had kept her from opening her mouth and speaking, letting the words out that would unshackle her from it all. But then Roxi was there, with another glass, another pill, another man. And Lily's mind worked and worked while her body remained incapable of saving itself.

Touch used to be something that happened to her.

But as Apollo moved his hands from her face and into her hair, her own hands spreading and contracting, just testing their movements, she could not help but realize that whatever that had been was something she would never feel again. Now that she knew what touch could be. How it could be a way of reaching beyond the skin to what lie beneath.

How sincerely he considered his joke to be a joke, she wasn't sure, but he seemed to have deflated considering the entire issue. He said he would follow up and her hand caught his giving it a small squeeze as she allowed her cheeks to dimple with a small smile. She couldn't push him into a territory she knew nothing of, but she just wanted to see him happier than he was.

At his words, she chewed on her lip and turned to look at his closet. She reached out and plucked a flannel shirt from the row of shirts - leave it to her to find the flannel - as she swiftly exchanged her loose grey top for the flannel, pushing the sleeves up so they gathered at her elbows, reaching to ensure the buttons were, in fact, buttoned. She lifted her hair from under the collar and dropped it again, turning to look at Apollo. It was an outfit Lily could easily be expected to wear out, as over-sized flannels were a (if not the) staple of her wardrobe. But there was something daring and pleasing to know that this flannel was not hers.

"This works perfectly," she said. "Let's eat."

Apollo was quickly learning the power that an expression could hold over a person. What he had said before was true; Lily could so easily control things if she wanted to. And by 'things,' he meant himself in particular at that moment. It made him wonder how many times he had frightened someone off with a stern look, even though he hadn't meant to. How many times he had been the root cause of a smile. He didn't suspect that the number was all that high, really.

He hadn't expected his thoughts to veer off again, but perhaps the timing was ideal, because he released her hand when she went for his closet and wasn't paying attention when she first went to change.

Of course, when he registered what was happening, he almost went to stop her, starting to reach out and letting his lips part with the urge to say something. But he decided against it, instead turning away to pick up his own fresh shirt. The trousers were well enough for a breakfast out so he just faced the window and divested himself of his own shirt before pulling the other one over his head.

He turned at her words, tugging the hem down over the top of his trousers. A pleased smile took his features so he nodded his agreement, stepping back towards her.

"You pick," he offered, extending a hand towards her. He couldn't very well apparate them off somewhere yet, but she could. "I trust you." He meant it as a completely casual comment originally, but after it came out, his smile widened substantially as he realized how true that statement had become.

Twenty four hours ago, Lily had awoken with dread, knowing the day was going to be difficult  and that she would have to face the ugly person she had once been. She knew apologies would have to be made and she would find herself uncertain as to her place, which was becoming more and more the norm. But her determination to right a wrong would beat out her distaste for looking in the mirror, and she would roll out of bed.

Twenty hours ago she was walking towards the familiar Quidditch supplies show, a bag in hand holding cartons of Chinese food, her face set in that relaxed indifference, looking completely at ease in the harsh world around her, concealing racing thoughts and hollow bones as she approached what had started to feel like Her Final Judgement.

Nineteen hours ago, more or less, she had watched with an unexplained sadness and disappointment as   Apollo stormed out of the room, seized with uncertainty as Christian turned his new cold demeanor onto her. She felt a shift in loyalty shared from one brother to the other, but now she felt that both suspected too much of the other, leaving her on the outs.

Twelve hours ago, once again alone in her apartment, she realized she could not stay that way. She could not let the day settle as it had, could not let her feelings fester.

Ten hours ago, she peeked through the windows of the shop and the flat and found no sign of the brother she was looking for. She went around back and crawled through the window and took up her post, falling into long forgotten memories.

Nine hours ago, Apollo arrived, and she prepared to leave. But he told her to stay.

And ten minutes ago, she had woken up to find that not a single part of the past twenty four hours had been a dream.

Her eyes met his, hand reaching out to catch his hand. She didn't rely on words to tell him the feeling was mutual, instead drawing near to look him in the face and offer a warm smile. With this rare sight, she turned on her heel.