Work Text:
1 - the routine
narcissa is quiet as her fingers deftly button her school shirt back up, adjusting the collar with a flick of her wrist before plucking her wand from the side table and charming the kiss-bruised patches of skin clear.
on her knees from behind, lily is winding her arms around the blonde's waist, fingers slipping beneath the thin shirt and caressing the soft skin that resides there. she wants to pluck each of those buttons back out of their holes, slip on top of narcissa, and relive the night over and over again until it’s impossible to scrub from her mind.
her chin hooks over narcissa’s shoulder, kisses dropping along the line of her jaw and the soft flesh of her throat. narcissa sinks back into her embrace momentarily before clearing her throat and sitting up with a frigidity that chills lily to her core.
she wants to ask her to stay — beg on her hands and knees for her to never leave again. she wants to be pathetic and love-ridden, to be a school girl with a crush that can’t seem to quit.
but narcissa isn’t as willing as lily is.
her upbringing didn’t make room for this kind of desire - especially with another woman. all those feelings clog her stomach and heart and brain, constantly filling the depths. lily’s waiting for the day all of it floods out of her, when there’s no room left in her crowded body.
when narcissa slips out of the dorm room, robes tugged on and hair neatly spilling over her shoulder, lily feels empty. a cavity drilled into her heart, empty and longing, begging to be fed. the air is different when narcissa isn’t there, it becomes something icy and empty. a cold chill crawling up her skin, short hairs on her arms sticking up and mouth dry. no soft belly for her fingers to smooth over, or hair to rake through.
she wonders if narcissa feels it too — if the cold tears drip down her cheeks when she finds herself strolling back to lucius and his vicious grin.
her thoughts bring her back to the words spat from his cruel tongue, directed at lily and her identity, what she can’t control. narcissa standing at his side, biting her tongue and keeping her gaze low.
even then, she didn’t blame narcissa. lily has touched and kissed every path of skin, ever goosebump trail. she knows her ins and outs more than narcissa herself. she shares secrets with herself about that beauty mark on the back of narcissa’s neck, hidden under trimmed patches of hair, about the taste of her on her tongue and the feel of her in her palms. it’s carved into her brain like initials in oak wood.
she knows who narcissa is in the marrow of her bones, once you destroy that layer of ice, split it with a hammer and watch it melt away. it reveals something soft, the chill of flesh leftover quickly warmed by lily’s palm. it makes her ribs hurt, the thought of completing her. making her whole and bringing that heat to the surface.
the thought of not being able to do this, to press glowing palms to supple skin, kiss puckered scars and brush away matted hair, makes nausea swell in her throat.
she wants to go after her, yell her name in empty, echoing corridors, kiss in the rain — have a happy ending. that’s not an option, though. lily has given herself to narcissa in all ways that count; it’s not in her hands anymore.
the war is seeping into their lives, their relationships, and lily can’t stop it. she can’t make things better.
2 - the chase
when she eats dinner in the great hall, her eyes latch onto blonde, ignoring the boy beside her. she instead traces the lines and creases of her pale skin, the lone, half-existing dimple on her right cheek that appears when she smiles those rare smiles. pink lips and blue eyes that lily could get lost in for hours, days even — a deep azure with a hidden tinge of melancholy lining the edges, a sadness that lily would love nothing more than to make disappear, burn it and let it fall to ashes in her palms.
and then narcissa looks up, lashes fluttering and chin aloft, and her eyes meet lily’s. lily feels her heartstrings being pulled, pulled, pulled . tearing through flesh from the force of it, needle-like pricks bringing blood to the surface. narcissa has a way of making lily feel this way. makes her insides feel scrambled, throat closing in.
lily watches as the girl stands up, eyes stuck on hers as she excuses herself from the table, gaze shifting to the ground. she trots over to the large entryway, robe whirling with her stiff strides. lily’s eyes don’t leave the figure as she follows — after narcissa is already existing, so it’s not so horribly obvious, though that isn’t for lily’s own sake - she could never find it in herself to be ashamed of narcissa - but for the others sake.
she spots her just as she turns the corner, shoes squeaking in the empty void of the corridors. narcissa barges into an empty classroom, flicking a gaze over her shoulder, as if she’s making sure lily’s following — which lily could scoff at, because of course she’s following. when has she not, is the question.
that causes lily’s heart to contract a bit, because lily will always follow, will always match steps with narcissa and track her path, like a bird with seeds — and yet, narcissa still seems to have that doubt. the doubt that is lodged so deep into the gaps of her rib cage, creeping up her throat and choking her. lily will never stop trying to dislodge every ounce of doubt that has infiltrated her poor soul.
narcissa is looking out the open window, icy breeze spreading through the room while she stands there with her arms crossed, forefinger and thumb plucking at the soft skin at her elbow, revealed by the rolled up sleeves of her black and emerald robe. she’s gnawing at her lower lip. lily knows she knows she’s here now - knows narcissa can feel it in her blood as well.
she steps closer. words fill her throat, clog her airway, yet she can’t seem to choke them out. there’s so much she wants to say, so many syllables at the tip of her tongue - but maybe those things are meant to stay unspoken. at least for now.
instead she settles for: “hols are coming up.” a pause, silence thick in the air. “i’m staying here - mum says there’s not much i’ll be able to do for dad. but he’s getting better.” lily crosses the room, settling against the other side of the window, head slanted against the wall. her fingers toy with the necklace around her neck, the warm chain and solid crystal that sits over her sternum — a gift from narcissa, one she cherishes.
narcissa looks up at her for the first time since they’ve entered the classroom, a tender expression softening her features. one of understanding.
lily’s dad had been ill for a while, something wrong in the depths of his body. a part of lily wanted to go home - for her dad, yes, but also for her mum. for her tired eyes, dark smears below them, and her fidgeting fingers, her need to always keep them busy. the summer going into 7th year was spent clasping the woman’s hands between hers, rubbing a thumb over wrinkling skin. staring into worn green eyes, the light that lily had inherited fading slowly. that makes lily scared for herself as well. her own eyes have been dimmed, not as much but still not as vivid as they once were. with the blooming of war, the shadow of it following all of them like the devil. a ticking clock warning them.
it makes lily feel her love for narcissa tenfold. makes her want her even more, if thats possible. the war is slowly killing them, and lily doesn’t want to die without knowing what it feels like to wake up next to a sleep-addled narcissa, heavy lids and matted blonde tresses.
“you should stay, too.” lily takes the risk, knowing how closed off narcissa gets yet she cant help but push a little bit. she wouldn’t be so persistent if she didn’t know narcissa wanted this — she knows narcissa wants her, she knows this. she also knows that it’s not that simple. unfortunate but true.
“lily.” it’s said firmly, the tiredness in her tone burning the backs of lily’s eyes. “I can't. you know this — why must you,” she breathes, a soft inhale that keeps her from raising her voice. “why must you be so stubborn.”
scoffing, lily tucks hair behind her ear. narcissa’s face is twisted, brows furrowed gently, creasing at the center. lily wants to bring her thumb to that patch of stress, soften the stubborn folds. instead she sighs, too exhausted to fight, seeing that narcissa is too.
so she takes a step forward, the silence seeping into her skin, and takes narcissa hands in hers. pristine, aristocratic fingers - delicate just as a Black’s hands should be. taken by warm palms, chipped fingernails and gnawed at nail beds. narcissa released a sound, a breath. relief, weariness, longing. all bleeding into a singular noise.
“cissa,” lily whispers, squeezing at the girl's hands yet still managing to treat them like glass. she pulls her in closer, digits gliding up her forearms, over her now loosened sleeves, cupping her neck. thumb crossing the hinge of her jaw, the edge of her lips that always tilt down a little bit. crowding closer, lily brushes her lips against narcissa’s, unoccupied hand attached to her hip. narcissa meets the affection with desire, tongue exploring and teeth nibbling. she releases a soft whimper against lily’s mouth, poetic and pleading.
breaking away, lily kisses the tip of her nose, leaning her forehead against the others. both of her hands clasp narcissa’s cheeks, green eyes boring into blue ones. the breeze is strengthening. when she slides her hands down her arms, she simultaneously drags narcissa’s sleeves down with them, letting them fall to her wrists, draped over the prodding wrist bone.
a bell chimes, booming through the castle. narcissa jolts back, away from lily and her soothing touch. clears her throat. fixes her posture.
life goes on.
3 - goodbyes and hellos
james’ embrace is suffocating, his sturdy arms wrapped around lily’s waist. when he leans away, he pops a loud kiss to lily’s cheek and gives her that stupidly goofy grin. lily grins back.
remus’ hug is less feral. he smiles at her softly, a sedative to her scrambled thoughts. with tan freckles scattered over his cheeks and nose, warm amber eyes behind long lashes. a knowing look that has been set in place ever since he found out about lily and narcissa. she’s not sure how, exactly, but she can’t say she’s surprised. remus is nothing if not attentive, always observing with sharp eyes. it’s comforting to know he knows. someone trust worthy. they don’t talk about it directly, not often, but she knows he's always ready for it. and it helps that he has a Black of his own to keep in check - sirius and narcissa may not be the same, but they aren’t so different.
sirius’ goodbye is a side hug and knuckles messing with red hair. the corners of his wild grin hooking to his cheeks. their relationship may not have started on great terms, and they may bicker a lot, but he’s one of her closest friends. and the fact that now she sometimes sees narcissa in him - in his small actions, his scowl and his eye rolls - doesn’t hurt.
mary, marlene, and dorcas force lily into a suffocating hug; it’s kisses on cheeks and the smell of familiar perfumes.
“write to us lots, please,” says mary, her curly raven hair fanning a bit in the wind.
“will do,” lily nods, punching at her shoulder softly before watching as they all trot away, piling onto each other and laughing like adolescence. it warms lily’s heart — they deserve to be kids for a little longer. even if their youth is slowly but surely being pried from their aching fingers already.
lily looks around for a moment, examining the crowds of witches and wizards leaving for home. she looks for blonde hair, perfect posture, pretty eyes. she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, so she sighs, turns around, walks back.
the castle is quiet as lily strolls through the courtyard, the grass beneath her shoes frosted with snow. her gryffindor scarf heats her throat due to the charm placed on it, coat having the same effect. there aren’t any people outside at the moment, though there’s probably a small scatter of students back inside.
“hey!” lily’s steps halt, breath catching as she instantly recognizes the voice. it’s ingrained into her, it’d be impossible not to.
she turns around, seeing a smiling narcissa jogging her way. blonde tresses flowing with her steps, green scarf wrapped around her neck. lily’s grin is instant, her eyes lighting up. she bounds towards the girl.
“you stayed.” lily states, eyes flickering across narcissa’s face. the way she’s trying so hard to keep her grin in check but it’s slipping to the surface, cracking at her jaw.
“what a astute observation.” narcissa still keeps her distance, but it’s not nearly as much as normal. not when no one’s here - when it feels like they’re the only people on earth. they might as well be at this moment.
“fuck off,” lily snorts - a loud, childish sound of glee. she doesn’t care. narcissa stayed.
“can we go inside?”
“‘course.” lily nods, huffing out a small laugh, cold breath evident in the air, adrenaline coursing through her veins. narcissa smiles, small and private, and they fall into step together.
4 - a new beginning
the rest of the day is spent lounging in lily’s dorm, cigarette passed between them and laughs falling from upturned lips.
it feels different than what she’s used to. she loves this side of narcissa, adores her dimple and the crinkle of her eyes. the laugh that comes out when it’s just them, when she doesn’t have to worry about being airy and proper — her little snort that she always covers with her hand. with no one to disturb them now it seems like narcissa is even more free than usual. she isn’t so on edge, paranoia isn’t suffocating her.
and lily’s able to kiss her flushing cheeks, lace their fingers. and then she does it over again. she never has to stop. they huddle up in lily’s bed with the worn spliff long gone, minds intoxicated. it’s nice. so incredibly nice.
the sun has gone down, they haven’t left the dorm since lunch, and narcissa is falling asleep between her legs, face smushed into lily’s soft belly. lily toys with strands of blonde hair, pushing it away from her face, tracing the curve of her cheekbone with her fingertip. mapping her out, staining the memory onto her skin like ink.
narcissa looks up at lily, lidded-eyes heavy now and a subconscious simper lining her lips. suddenly narcissa is sitting up, climbing up the rest of lily’s body and placing herself on lily’s thighs. straddling her plush thighs and wrapping her arms around her neck. lily could die on the spot.
narcissa just smiles, kissing lily gently. her lips soft and hair haloed around her visage. then she sighs through her nose, a happy little sound, and burrows into lily’s neck, kissing her shoulder and melting into the others body.
lily isn’t too used to this narcissa, but she hopes she can be.
5 - a path to acceptance
later that night, lily is roused out of sleep by the smell of a burning fag and a gentle but cool breeze hitting her skin. she blinks herself awake a few times, fingers coming up to rub at her eyes. narcissa is sitting on the windowsill, hair tied up into a sleep-mussed bun, breathing smoke into the pits of her lungs while she looks outside.
kicking the sheets off, lily joins her. narcissa startles for a second upon her arrival, but passes the cigarette over nonetheless. the scene doesn’t differ much from last time; narcissa on one side of the window and lily on the other. except the silence is less empty and more the sound of the night — crickets singing in the distance and a harmless drizzle of rain pelting against the window glass. the stars are spread across the sky like an oversized blanket, crescent moon dangling with a pale essence.
“mother wasn’t too happy about this whole —” narcissa waves the hand that holds the fag around, “arrangement. but i convinced her it was a good idea. spewed a bunch of nonsense about wanting to focus on my studies.” a scoff.
lily watches her with softened eyes and teeth scraping against the flesh of her cheek. she listens.
“i don’t know how i got here, lily. i'm supposed to be marrying lucius .” her voice cracks a bit at the end. shaking her head, she jerks her hand and the cigarette butt dissolves into nothing.
the moonlight beams against narcissa, making the prickling tears in her eyes distinguishable. “lucius is a wanker.”
after a beat of silence, narcissa huffs out a laugh, which turns into a louder guffaw. lily can tell the weed hasn’t quite left her system fully, which makes her grin too.
“it’s true,” she snorts, “i saw him squawking at a second year because they brushed his shoulder while walking to class.”
this makes narcissa laugh more, loud and tumbling into a wounded groan, as if she’s thinking about the boy and all his unpleasantries. “gods, he’s truly awful, isn’t he?”
as the snickers die down, lily treads closer, bringing her arms around narcissa’s narrow waist. narcissa leans back and stares at lily, a sad smile playing at her lips.
“it’s going to be okay. i’m here for you, yeah? i’d do anything for you, cissa.” pieces of hair that fall from the bun drape over narcissa’s face, catching in her eyelashes. lily strokes a lock away, bringing the dejected visage into view. lower lip spilling out slightly, a habitual, inherent pout gracing the girl's face.
lily kisses it away.
6 - new encounters
the next morning when lily comes to, she’s immediately filled with a sense of grief. the mattress beside her is missing something. when lily stretches her arm out to the spot, it’s cold.
she rolls out of bed with a groan, the high of the night before leaving her with a vague phantom of a headache. on the nightstand sits a glass of lukewarm water which lily clutches in her palms and downs quickly. the table is cluttered with a bunch of trinkets and knick-knacks, but one thing stands out. a piece of jewelry - a ring. it’s a sterling silver ring, a twinkling star attached to the center. lily recognizes it as narcissa’s — the one she always wears. she must have placed it there previously, when everything in her body felt sharp and sensitive — everything heightened. lily plucks it off the stand, rotating it in her finger, examining the rich metal.
lily quickly changes, throwing on comfortable muggle apparel and sliding the ring into her pocket. then, she’s heading out for breakfast. she keeps a watchful eye for narcissa, though most of the places her eyes slide over are empty. when she reaches the great hall she finds only a handful of students. most are at one table, though there are one or two scattered on others, isolated. narcissa is nowhere to be found.
one of the students who sits at the other side of the hall is someone lily now recognizes. curyl raven hair frames his sharp visage, a jawline that could carve through wood. nose turned upwards and cheekbones defined. regulus black, brother to sirius black. cousin to narcissa black. lily picks the plate that she had just made up and strides across to his table, throwing all caution and second thought to the wind.
when she arrives, regulus simply looks up from the book he was flipping through, his plate pushed to the side and barely touched.
“do you mind?”
regulus stares at her blankly, though his head shakes just the slightest bit.
lily let’s a cordial smile grace her lips as she takes a seat on the bench. her and regulus haven’t interacted much, but she knows how much sirius loves him. knows that despite what they’re going through right now, with a looming war and sides being picked, they care for eachother. regulus reminds her a lot of narcissa, much more than sirius. they both just need someone to guide them, to pull them out from the grim dark that can’t seem to stop hooking its claws into their flesh.
the redhead coaxes a piece of bacon to her mouth, teeth tearing through the flesh. regulus, to lily’s surprise, speaks up first.
“is this one of my brother's idiotic attempts to get an in on what’s happening at home? if so, save it.”
“actually, no. i didn’t even know you were staying.”
regulus hums, looking back down at the pages, though he seems less focused on it. lily takes the fact that he hasn’t tried to hex her or send her away as an initiative to remain there. she lets the silence cloud over them in an oddly comfortable essence, the two of them continuing with their own activities.
it takes only a few minutes of this for someone to intrude, a certain blonde striding into the hall. outfit pristine and suitable — lily only now realizes that regulus is in similar attire, neither ever caught lacking.
the girl pauses when she reaches the long table, suspicion shown in the stress of her brows.
she sits next to lily tentatively, clearing her throat and filling her plate. “what are you doing here?” for the second time this morning, lily’s surprised. she’s not pretending lily isn’t there, she’s just — speaking to her. lily glances at regulus, who is peeking at them over his book knowingly. the wheels turn in lily’s head — he must know.
shrugging, lily casually says: “didn’t want to sit alone. i hope i’m not…intruding.”
“you’re not.” narcissa says it just as coolly, though lily can see the way her eye twitches just slightly, almost unnoticeable.
and then the two of them began speaking among themselves, muttering lowly about classes and family. lily’s heart swells a bit; it’s nice knowing narcissa has someone other than her. she has someone who understands her, who will be there for her when she pushes lily away. her and regulus have always been the closest, their relationship akin to the one sirius shares with andromeda.
it also swells because of the way narcissa’s hand slides closer to hers underneath the table, fingers skimming over lily’s. narcissa glances at her from the side when regulus is distracted. she smiles. lily smiles back. they eat.
7 - the return
after breakfast, regulus scurries away, explaining that he needs to catch up on studying.
lily and narcissa end up strolling along the corridors, not so close that they touch but close enough for each other's presence to be almost overwhelming.
“you left your ring in my dorm,” lily speaks suddenly. narcissa looks over at her, halting her steps. the ring is pulled out, held between two of lily’s fingers.
“thank you,” narcissa puts her flat palm out. but instead of placing it over the creases of her palm, she takes her free hand and fills the hand over, the pad of her thumb brushing over knuckles. she can hear narcissa gulp.
the process of placing the ring on her finger takes much longer than it has to, but lily can’t be blamed for wanting to live in the moment for a while longer.
lily lifts the hand up and places a gentle kiss on the top of it, smiling into the skin and flickering her eyes up to watch narcissa’s expression. she’s smiling, and it’s all fond and unrestrainable.
lily’s heart is in her throat, pumping erratically like a caged animal. she worries narcissa can hear the thrum of it. the way it bleeds for her.
8 - internal unrest
days go by, a week passing and lily facing an empty bed on most mornings - those that she doesn’t are the times when narcissa didn’t spend the night at all.
she receives letters from her friends, returns them. she eats breakfast, lunch, dinner. she showers and reads and studies. she sits with regulus to eat and brushes fingers with the girl under the table. she yearns for narcissa. she watches her operate. she misses her in every moment they aren’t together.
she tries to meld the aching heart in her chest, but the bandaids aren’t stitches. they aren’t enough. nothing is ever enough. narcissa is the only one who can heal it, who can grasp it in her soft palms and squeeze all of the sorrow out of it.
everything she wants sits on the seat next to her at dinner. everything that she wants walks with her in the corridors, kisses her at night, leaves in the morning.
desire sits in her bones, eats at the marrow. desire swims in her blood, leaves her frail. desire is blonde hair and ruby cheeks: long wispy eyelashes and clever blue eyes.
late at night when stars are sprinkled in a black void, lily thinks of all the nights the two of them have shared. watching the sky in all its ethereal glory. she sheds tears for the girl who leaves her phantom on lily’s mattress, her perfume and her elegant rings.
she has these intense urges to take narcissa away, run off and away from the war. live somewhere nice and amicable. wake each other up with kisses and make each other breakfast. never worry about the wickedness of narcissa’s family, the way they control her. the way the war controls her — controls them both.
lily wants more power, wants to do something. she needs to.
it doesn’t happen until day thirteen.
9 - a new hope
lily has only been in narcissa’s dorm once, the two of them resorting to it the day lily’s room was taken by mary and marlene - the damned animals - and in need of a desperate fumble.
lily pinches at the flesh on her forearm as she knocks on the door, anxiety-ridden and uncomfortable with the unknown.
when narcissa opens the door, lily sees bits of shock peek through the guise she wears.
lily inhales, then asks: “can i come in?”
narcissa nods without question, and steps aside. she closes the door with a soft click, turning around and leaning against the surface of it. she’s donning the pair of sweatpants that lily bought her — lily had forced her to accept the gift, nagging about the wonder of the material, how spectacular it is - narcissa had rolled her eyes with a fondness that had lily’s grin broadening. she also adorns a baggy jumper, another courtesy of lily’s - except this is one narcissa had stolen because it was oh-so-comfortable.
she coughs the adoration away but it continues to crawl up her tightening throat, so instead she speaks. “i love you.” fuck.
she doesn’t look at narcissa, she doesn’t let her speak. she stares at her scruffy shoes and lets her tongue take control.
“i love you, and i need you to know that i’m not giving up. i’m not— i’m not giving up, cissa. i will stick with you through it all,” she looks up at narcissa now, the awestruck, wide eyed beauty. “your family can’t make you stay. they can’t do this — i’m not letting them. i’m not sure how, maybe we’ll run away, maybe we’ll fight back. i don’t fucking know, cissa, but i’m not letting them take you away from me. i love you, and i think you might love me too. so please, let me help you.”
narcissa is silent, the crickets are chirping, and lily’s heart is frantic. did she just fuck this whole thing up?
just as she’s about to take it all back, beg like she’s praying for narcissa to stay, the girl sways closer. she comes so close lily can feel her without skin even touching. narcissa breaks lily’s fidgeting hands apart, twining one in her hand and bringing the other to her nape, nails scraping over the short hairs. she kisses lily; she kisses lily like she’s devoted — it’s less of a song and more of a silent prayer. it’s a kiss of death, of venom. it drips onto lily’s taste buds and then infiltrates her body. her system and her roots. the blue of her veins. the base of her tendons.
lily’s hands find her waist, bringing her flush against her body. pliant and sweet, beautifully tender.
“i’m not good at this, lils. really, i’m bloody shit at it. but i’ll try, okay? i—“ she chokes, sighing out of her nose and slanting against lily’s forehead. lily waits, rubs circles on her hip bone, kisses her nose. “i love you too.”
a wet laugh jumps out of lily, watery and ecstatic. she pulls narcissa into a sturdy embrace, turning her lips into her neck and kissing the skin there.
and for the first time since this has all began, lily feels hope.
10 - the end of the tunnel is near
on the morning of their last day, lily wakes up on her belly, her right cheek squished into the plush pillow beneath her. she’s facing the window, cracked open. the room she’s in is different, laced with green and black, the curtains of the bed painted in stripes. everything’s neat, the bedside table that lily’s eyes flick up to is empty save for a short lamp and a handful of jewelry.
she feels her before she sees her. feels her stir behind her; feels the bed dip a bit, the sheets crinkle. then she hears a soft breath, a sleepy exhale. the way lily turns around is almost laughable — slow-paced and measured, afraid a sudden movement will make it all turn to dust.
narcissa’s pale face is scattered with beauty marks, a few on her cheeks, one on the spot over the right side of her lip, one blended with the hairs on the edge of her eyebrow.
her eyes are closed, lashes shadowing over cheekbones from the hazy sunlight. her bare skin is evident, the sheets tucked beneath her arms. her shoulders are similar with their freckles and beauty marks, some crawling over the divot of her collarbone, the plush pillows of her breasts.
curse lily for it, but she can’t help but lean in and tap a kiss to the tip of her nose. narcissa rouses a bit, then stiffens, as if she became alert someone was in her bed, but then settles, realizing who it was, and begins nosing at the pillow and simpering in her slumber when lily kisses her cheek.
“morning,” lily murmurs, nose almost touching the girls.
“morning,” narcissa responds, leaning closer and scrubbing her nose against lily’s, lily chuckling and draping her arm over narcissa’s waist.
when they begin to sit up and come too, they decide to stay in bed today, neither of them very hungry now when they have each other in their palms.
lily knows all their problems aren’t solved, she knows there’s still darkness behind that beaming sun. but she can’t help but pretend it’s all okay. pretend nothings happening outside of their intertwined fingers and quiet kisses. even if it’s only for now, even if she’ll have to start fighting soon.
for now, lily will kiss narcissa like a prayer, and hold her like she might turn to ashes. she will wake up next to her, and deal with the secrecy: kisses in vacant classrooms, glances across rooms, hand holding under tables. she will do this for as long as she has to; until they're free, when they can exist without fear, without a lingering dread following their tracks.
lily believes they’ll get there - whether it be days, months, years until then - lily trusts in their abilities to make it out.
they’ll have scars, sure, but they’ll also have each other.