from the end to the start ! @ofdcydreams - Tumblr Blog

she knew that life was simply a string of moments that would define her, some carried an ugliness that even her sweetest of dreams could not wash away, some were ever so mundane that they only further proved how life could go on at times without anything significant, but the moments that people craved were truly the ones that made them feel most alive. a moment that could not only set your heart aflame but fundamentally change who you are -- a moment that you will think back on and wonder if you could remember what it was like before it. emmeline as sure as she was knew that the second tristan mckinnon cradled her face -- his quiet promise echoing between them, she would never be the same again.

i don't know how to want anything else

the words echoed over and over again in her head, eyes closing for a moment as she took a breath, fingers tightening against his robes - she knew she could never think clearly when it came to him and in this moment she felt like chaos, the very best kind of chaos. emmeline nearly opened her eyes - just for a second as she felt his fingers thread through her hair gently and it was when she felt the warmth of his skin against hers, forehead pressed against hers bringing her back

her eyes fluttered opened as her glassy gaze met his. her vulnerability - her tears, and by merlin she knew there was a time before where she would rather burn everything around her to the ground before she let anyone see her like this but tristan mckinnon - he could have her tears till the end of her days.

she could feel the magic humming in the air, not from a wand but from simple want - as if it had been building for years and by rowena, they had paid their dues but when their lips finally met - nothing could have prepared her. a breath caught between courage and trembling, she kissed him like defiance - it was a promise of a lifetime. lips pulling away for a second - a gasp as she tried to stifle the urgency, she couldn't stop looking at him, "are you okay?" soft question slipping between them as she press a kiss against the corner of his lips, "is this okay?" because by merlin, she wouldn't do anything to ruin this.

tristan could barely hear the world over the rush in his ears, especially over the roar of blood and heartbeat and disbelief. the taste of her still lingered on his lips, soft and searing, and it would be a brand he’d wear quietly for the rest of his life. so when their lips fell away from each other , his chest was aching like he’d run miles through something impossible and had somehow come out the other side alive. the euphoria of this moment was addicting and he was only torn from the haze when emmeline spoke again.

he almost laughed - “ okay?” he echoed, voice low. “no. not even close.” the world had narrowed to her - her breath, her nearness, the faint trembling of her fingertips still pressed to his chest. his pulse had yet to steady, his lungs felt too small, and the space between them was still thick with the echo of her kiss. he tried to remember how to breathe like a man who hadn’t just had his entire life shift a fraction to the left. “do you have any idea,” he began, and the sound of his own voice startled him - it was low, frayed at the edges, honest in a way that frightened him. “how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. it had been the truth clawing its way out, ragged and bare, and now that she’d heard it, there was no taking it back. but watching her now- eyes bright with unshed tears, mouth trembling from the ghost of their kiss - it felt like everything inside him had shifted and it had rearranged around her. he could feel it in the pit of his stomach, in the electric quiet that held them together, in the way her hand still fisted in his robes like she wasn’t ready to let him go.

her question hung there again, delicate and trembling - Is this okay?

he could still taste her - still feel the tremor in her hands, the flutter of her pulse beneath his fingers. it wasn’t the kind of magic he could cast or contain; it was older, wilder, the kind that settled in the marrow and made it impossible to forget. so when he kissed her again, it was slower this time, reverent - like he was memorizing the way the world had changed, the way she had just rewritten every version of his life that didn’t have her in it.

and somewhere deep down, tristan knew there would be no going back. even if time unwound itself, even if fate came to collect what they had stolen, there would always be this: her trembling breath against his skin, her name burned into his heart, and the quiet, terrible knowing that he would never want anything (and anyone) the same way again.

and it's him that breaks the kiss this time, the sigh basking in the golden moment before he says: “i would always tell myself I wouldn’t. That I’d wait, or worse - that I’d learn to stop.” his thumb brushed along her jaw, tracing the curve of her cheekbone as though he could commit it to memory. “You make a liar of me without even trying." it's said as an airy joke, but it was the honest truth . "This—” His gaze flicked over her face, taking in every tear, every stutter of light in her eyes. “This feels like the kind of moment people spend their lives looking for and never find.”

emmeline was twisted in knots -- soft plea begging to slip from her lips. with every breath she took, she found herself lost in him. his silence was what met her heated gaze - enraptured as she watched his patience chip away and that was without her unpacking that she had been the cause of it. the secretive smile etched at her lips as she felt his jaw twitch underneath her touch -- she wondered how long the restrain would last and it was almost unfair how much she wanted to watch tristan mckinnon unravel.

the pair of them were probably quite the sight tucked in against a nook in diagon alley, and she was sure to her bones that if a familiar face were to catch them, she would be buried with mortification but they were in their own bubble that the closeness had created, nothing could possess her to stop. she only needed to move another inch and she was sure her lips would be against his jaw - trembling with anticipation of what she had deprived herself of.

how could she not? it was tristan - who was so good in a way that used to have her eyes rolling -- infuriatingly kind in a way that she was so sure that would taint him because how can someone like her earn him but the more she found herself wrapped up in him, the more it was becoming apparent that she couldn't be selfless with him. she had grown too addicted to his smile and how only she got this version of him.

she could feel her heartbeat stutter - it had been a lean, the movement almost had her fluttering her eyes shut but and she would have been livid if he didn't look as pained as she was. cupping his cheek, she drew her attention back to him - casting a knowing look, "tristan" she answered in return and the truth was she needed a moment to think. she had spent years denying herself and her fear had never been unfounded- her parents proved that even the people who were supposed to love you unconditionally were selective and could not handle all of her unless she served a purpose but time and time again - even right now, the man before her put her first. the quiet plea - almost begging to reconsider because if they did this - they would be irrevocably changed.

she knew an out when she saw one - she was usually on the other side, ready to give someone a reason to leave, "would it be so terrible to be wanted by you?" the quiet question ringing between them and before she could stop herself, "i want you to want this as much as i do because i'm sure to my bones that you've ruined me, you're the only person i could ever want like this and if i'm ruining us then i need you to walk away because i can't seem to do that with you - not anymore"

it had been like a spill - falling and falling till the water finally stilled - that's what her heart felt, barely able to control her jagged breathing. waiting -- knowing fully well that she might need to run, anything to compose herself from rejection. in a different time of her life that confession would have been followed with an out -- claim of insanity, the plea to forget what was said but as her eyes never wavered from his - she was rooted in her choice. if she was ever to humour love and all it's consequences, it would only be with tristan mckinnon.

the bated breath was pushed through his lips as the redirection of her words stripped the air from his lungs and left him stranded in the hollow between heartbeats. her voice had curled soft and tremulous around his name, and it had taken every shred of his composure not to fold under the weight of it because he was close enough that he could count the flecks of gold in her eyes, close enough that her perfume clung to the space between them like a charm he couldn’t undo.

all his life, the learned restraint grew as a safeguard as tristan had thought he was being careful - patient in the way she deserved, disciplined in the way she made excruciating - but she was looking at him like that, like she’d peeled him back to the raw of who he was, and it made something tight coil and shudder in his chest. every miniscule cell of temperance rotted away immediately as the words ' Would it be so terrible to be wanted by you? ' clung to his conscience. the words cleaved through him, quiet and trembling but merciless all the same. it was also just cruel enough that he knew if he let this moment slip, he would never find his footing again. that if he stepped back now, if he forced that distance like he had rehearsed a hundred times in the solitude learned in his mind, it would not save him; it would most absolutely damn him. that was because tristan knew with bone-deep certainty that he would carry the shape of her voice always like a wound, lying awake in the small hours with her words echoing in the hollows of his head, imagining how her mouth had moved to form them, how her eyes had looked when she said them. even sleep would not spare him because emmeline would haunt his dreams, soft and luminous and just beyond reach, and he would wake with his heart aching and his hands empty. to walk away from this moment would not be mercy; it would be a life sentence of almosts.

from where her hand still touches him , he moves his head just a breath away- not from her, never from her - but from how his restraint frayed at once. her confession was a strike of lightning: sharp, shattering, and beautiful.

I want you to want this as much as I do… you’ve ruined me…

tristan felt his throat go dry, words tangling in it and dying because nothing he could say would ever touch what she’d just given him. so he did what he had never been brave enough to do until this second. he stepped off the edge.

❝ i do , ❞ tristan whispered, hoarse with the thirst of wanting more . ❝ I don’t know how to want anything else. ❞ He lifted a hand, hesitating only long enough for her to see it, to stop him if she wanted but tristan settled back into her touch when she didn't move away . Instead , she watched him as if she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment, and he had too.

tristan couldn’t breathe around the ache she had left in him. couldn't do anything but stand there, suspended. his self-possession - the thing he’d wrapped around himself like armor every time she had smiled, every time she had laughed, every time he had almost let himself want her - had gone thin and fragile, holding on by nothing more than habit. he thought maybe she could feel it too, because her eyes softened as though she knew, as though she could see him fraying this very moment. and a part of him was terrified that emmeline vance couldn't possibly love this version of himself.

yet, the fingers of his right hand threaded gently into her hair, his forehead collapsing against hers . ❝ If this ruins us, ❞ he murmured, voice breaking, ❝ then I’ll let it. I’d rather be ruined by you than untouched by anything else. ❞ Tristan finally let himself fall and surrender himself into the chasm of love that he held for emmeline vance.

his right thumb hooks against the frame of her delicate face and encourages it up to find him . tristan lowered his forehead to hers, eyes slipping shut as though he had to feel this first in the darkness so this moment could warm the parts of his consciousness that believed this would never happen. he exhaled like he'd been holding this breath for years because his lips hovered - so close, barely a whisper of space between them - until it was unbearable. because as she shifted in his grasp, the smallest tilt, and their mouths found each other like they'd finally reunited after a lifetime of being lost .

the kiss was careful at first, almost reverent and enraptured, as though this moment and emmeline might disappear if he wasn’t gentle with it. it was slow, and it was ruinous, and it was everything he’d been starving for.

emmeline tasted like the undoing he’d been running from, and like home all at once.

she didn't know that a laugh could be so addicting - that and his closeness, she was struggling to conceal how she felt - let alone the surprise, she always struggled to do that with him. eyes widening slightly, they never left his and by rowena, happy was a look on him - the kind that she wanted to be responsible for her as long as he allowed her to be. emmeline knew she had done something irreversible in a way when she had breathed life into what they had avoided for so long.

most people often couldn't pinpoint the moment that everything changed, when they felt a shift, what she often found punishing in a way was that she could remember every single moment with him. she could remember a time in their lives that she found him insufferable and no, it wasn't because he had done anything - tristan mckinnon didn't know how to be unkind, at least not in a way that she had mastered - know she couldn't believe how good he was let alone want to be in a position to rely on that goodness. she remembered that day in the library where of course - with her luck, he had seen her in shambles when she had the courage to leave something that was not right for her and she knew it in her bones the second that breakup had settled in. when she saw the lack of pity in his gaze because by rowena, it had been all she been seeing for weeks. tristan had seen her that day, seen her outside of the girl who had lost herself in that relationship and it was probably the first time in weeks that she could feel like she could breathe.

she had felt it when she found herself on time for their lessons and quips had lacked the usual hostility because she had begun to realize that her new game had been to get him to smile more than he usually did. she had felt it when she watched him graduate and her tuesday afternoons lacked the usual color and she had felt it when she'd catch glimpses of him at the ministry - some days more than others, wondering if he missed her as much as she missed him.

"absolutely not fair" the indignant words slipping from her lips, she knew she would remember this moment - hoping that years from now she would remember it with such clear clarity, the soothing tone that she knew would follow her in her dreams - the unraveling gaze that had her nearly sure that she had gotten underneath his skin just as much as he found himself under hers. the triumph she had felt when his gaze dropped to her lips for the third time because there's no glory out there that could compare to being the reason for tristan mckinnons lack of restraint.

a step closer as her hand grazed his jaw - the featherlight touch as her gaze became challenging, "you know exactly what you're doing" the accusation a whisper as her own gaze darted to his lips, "maybe i'm tired of you getting away with it"

she had instantly regretted letting go of him so quickly and the only comforting part had been that he hadn't seemed to follow suit, "good" mortification barely settling in, because how could she explain that she was so scared of ruining him - of snuffing his light with her sadness and anger. what followed was how she knew that she would never meet someone so in tune with her the way he was, she felt him tuck her hair away, letting out the breath she had been holding in. she gripped his hands before giving them a squeeze, "i could never deprive you of a surprise - the best things happen to the unexpected"

-post apparition-

"you best not say her name three times - if we summon pomona sprout to this graveyard" gesturing at the wilted flowers who truly did deserve more, "you will get to see livid emmeline - you know, the one who barely passed fourth year herbology". shrugging off her own cloak, she turned to face him - taken back for a moment, how did he look so good here. only tristan could make forearms feel like it's own form of sickening torture.

"stew it is" pulling out her own wand - she quickly drew out the vegetables, "could you get those sliced? bonus points if they don't look exact" she teased, wondering if the perfectionist was capable of a little mess, "i'll get the stock going"

her hand grazed his jaw and he went still, so still that even the faint twitch of the muscles along it betrayed him. it betrayed the anticipation thrumming beneath his skin. the craving. the wanting. the sheer anxiety that came with relenting to the carnal desires that tristan bottled up over the years. his restraint was thinning, that much he knew. his control continued to splinter with every breath she took too close to his own.

her words words sank into him like a challenge more than an admonishment. not fair, perhaps, but it was also not fair that she could tilt the world off its axis with one look. that she could strip him of every carefully learned measure of self-possession he’d carried like armor since his own conscience came to exist.

when her gaze darted down, so brazenly, so maddeningly toward his mouth, his own still held onto her eyes. never to indulge in the traitorous and unthinking pace of his mind. because instead, he was burning from the inside out with the knowledge that she wanted him to falter. that she wanted to be the reason his restraint snapped.

her whisper barely brushed the air : “you know exactly what you’re doing” and he swallowed hard, the muscles of his jaw twitching beneath her touch, because she wasn’t wrong. he did know. he knew the way his gaze lingered on her too long, the way he angled closer when he could have stepped back, the way he let her see him in ways he did not let others. maybe she was tired of letting him get away with it. but maybe he was too.

tristan could still remember the first time he saw her differently. the library’s dust-sweet quiet wrapping around her broken outline as if even silence dared not pity her the way others had. he’d seen it then : the sharp edges of her strength, raw and glinting beneath her sorrow. he’d seen her, and merlin help him, he had never stopped. the memory of her laughter now, so alive, so unguarded, was the cruelest and kindest punishment both. for years, their every step closer had been slow (so maddeningly slow ) yet threaded with inevitability. he’d felt it in the sly beginnings of their banter turning into something else. he’d also felt it in the hollow absence after she was gone from his afternoons. and now he feels it in the glimpses across crowded Ministry halls, in wondering if her eyes searched for him with the same aching curiousity his searched for her.

with her hand still on his face , his breath stalled, caught somewhere between his chest and throat. he could feel the slope of her hand against his jaw, the warmth of it branding into him. his pulse thundered against his ribs, screaming at him to close the distance, to finally surrender to what they had been circling for far too long. so his jaw twitched again - an involuntary betrayal of just how close he was to letting go and how much he wanted to.

for one dangerous moment, he leaned in a fraction, just enough to feel the brush of her breath against his skin. just enough to know what it would be like if he broke. it would be so easy to kiss her. so devastatingly easy. but he didn't.

instead, tristan forced the air back into his lungs and shut his eyes for half a second too long as if the act alone could steady him. and when he opened them again, his restraint had wrestled its way back into place, though it clung by the barest of threads. he shifted, tilting his head just enough to ease out of the direct line of temptation, though not far at all.

❝ emmeline , ❞ he said, low, roughened by what he wouldn’t allow himself to do. her name was its own confession, carrying all the weight of what he denied. his empty hand twitched at his side, aching to touch her, to pull her in, but he kept it there. rigid and disciplined. ❝ do you even understand what you are asking of me ? ❞ his voice wasn’t steady.

pulling back that single step was like dragging himself through fire, but he did it. because if he kissed her now, if he gave in, he would not be able to stop. and he was not sure she deserved the kind of undoing he was offering. still, his eyes betrayed him as they caught hers again. they were stormed with longing, with apology, with the unspoken truth that his resistance had nothing to do with lack of desire. quite the opposite, actually.

-post apparition-

there is a quiet huff of a laugh , ❝ livid emmeline - ❞ he repeated, shaking his head as though he could ever remember a time that he's seen her at absolute peace . ❝ i'll have you know that herbology wasn't my strongest subject either . i can recall a time or two i nearly lost a limb at the expense of a fanged geranium . ❞

he's turned towards her to make another remark, and for one disorienting beat, he's caught stilled by her natural beauty . how could she look at him like that - like this ? her gaze snagged on his forearms, and though she masked it with the tease, tristan felt the twitch of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth at the thought . and he drops his eyes to the task at hand before the temptation of her expression unravelled him entirely.

with a flick of his wand, he summoned a knife into his hand, its blade gleaming in the lamplight. ❝ not exact, you say? ❞ he mused, glancing at her sidelong, brow raised. ❝ that's asking a lot from someone who’s spent the better part of his life convinced rules were never meant to be broken .❞ he paused for effect, his grin crooked, deliberate. ❝ but for you ... ❞ he set to work, slicing through one of the carrots with deliberate, uneven strokes, exaggerating the imperfection just to prove he could. ❝ this abstract enough for you ? ❞

cnlyheartbreaker

Even with a few weeks standing between now and their last meeting, it suddenly feels as though no time as passed at all, the familiar rhythm of teasing back-and-forth coming as naturally as breathing. As tired as James is, as worn around the edges as he knows he looks, he can't help but smile for Lily - teasing aside, hurt aside, he is always glad to see her. "Alright, fair play," he concedes, raising his hands in surrender, "Though, in my defence, I've popped by the apothecary a couple of times while I've been out on my rounds. I must keep missing you." A coincidence, surely.

As Lily brushes past him on her way into the flat, James catches the familiar scent of her hair, sweet honey and delicate lavender that lingers on the air in her wake. He turns instinctively towards it, towards her, his expression softening the moment her back is turned. His heart aches. He's missed her terribly. "Oh, so Remus gets a visit then?" James calls after her, playing at petulance. It's better than the alternative.

“I should think it’s quite obvious, Evans - it’s because you never let me know you’re planning on coming round. If you told me in advance, I’d not only have the place sparkling, but I’d get the good tea service out of storage, in your honour,” he jokes as he slips his wand out of his back pocket, waving it lazily at the worst of the mess on his way back to the kitchen, “As it goes, the best I can do is a couple of naff mugs and what I reckon is the last of the milk.” It’s been hard to find the time to get the flat in order, lately (or to justify how long it would take to do so, when he has a million other, more important things to be doing).

Redirecting his wand at the sea of reports that cover the kitchen table, James shuffles them into a more orderly stack and levitates them through to the living room, out of their way. “You know, if they’d warned me when I signed up with the DMLE that there was so much bloody paperwork involved, I might not’ve bothered,” he comments with a chuckle, not meaning it in the slightest. It’s difficult to imagine himself doing anything else, at this point - even the boring bits of his job are worthwhile.

“What’ve you been up to, then, mystery woman - aside from gossiping about my diet with Remus, I mean?” He asks, quickly setting the kettle to boil and getting on with unpacking the bag Lily’s brought. As an afterthought, he grabs a couple of plates from the cupboard, scrutinising their cleanliness and deciding they pass muster. If Lily wasn’t here, he’d’ve just crammed the pastry into his mouth while standing over the sink and had done with it, but he doesn't want her to think he's a complete barbarian. “I haven’t seen you properly since… what, the fiasco at St Mungo’s?” The question is carefully casual, as if James isn’t acutely aware that the last time he saw her was in bloody November.

her smile comes easy enough, but there was a flicker in her eyes : there and gone before it could be named. ❝so i've heard, ❞ lily murmured, slipping past him and letting the door click shut behind her. ❝ the other workers there have been wondering what business someone in uniform had visiting the shop so many times. ❞ her tone was teasing, but it didn’t quite hide the way her fingers lingered at the cuff of her sleeve, twisting once before she let it go now lily was more acutely aware of their gaze on her before lily turned back to james. ❝not that I’ve been around to see it, ❞ she went on, almost too casually. ❝so , if you’ve been haunting the apothecary looking for me, potter, i suppose you’re in luck. you have somehow managed to catch me in the wild instead.❞

lily huffed a soft laugh as she shrugged her coat off, letting the warmth of James’ flat soak into her bones. ❝ oh, please - ❞ she tossed over her shoulder, the teasing lilt in her voice betraying the small, traitorous swell of relief in her chest at how natural this felt - how easily they slipped back into something that had always been theirs. ❝ If I sent word in advance, you’d only manage to scrub half of this disaster and claim it’s spotless. best I arrive unannounced, so i can keep you honest. ❞

she glanced back at him then and the moment her eyes caught theirs, there was a strike of something sharp and unrelenting - his gaze , now earnest and unguarded, holding her there as if james did not know how to look at her any other way . the quiet ache of it , and how their eyes still were softened despite the weeks apart . it felt like a homecoming, even if she’d sooner hex herself than admit it aloud. so her hair bends forward as she moves to discard her boots aside . anything to keep from drowning in the simple but devastating way he was watching her in that moment .

❝ careful there , or i'll be forced to think you are green with envy . ❞ she gave him a pointed look now lily has followed them into the kitchen and she is quick to lean against the small counter, arms crossing loosely over her chest as she watches him fuss about in his kitchen like it wasn’t the single most endearing thing she’d seen in weeks. but lily's laugh still comes light and effortless, slipping out before she could think better of it even as she watched the stack of reports glide neatly out of the room at james' silent command. trust him to make even the dullest bit of magic look like some ridiculous display of charm. ❝ it would have been a tragedy to be witness to your dreams being crushed by bureaucracy .❞

when they mentioned St. Mungo’s, she froze only for a heartbeat - long enough to tuck the reaction away beneath a wry, well-practiced neutral expression. no other word about that night didn’t need to be spoken as she’d been carrying it like a stone in her chest ever since. ❝ if it brings you any comfort, remus and i gossip about much more than your diet , ❞ she said at last, voice lighter than it had any right to be, the kind of wryness one used to keep from unraveling.

❝but i've been out more lately. field work, mostly. i thought that a change of pace might be good for the spirit , so i volunteered to do the extra work. ❞ the explanation came a touch too quickly, smoothed over like she’d rehearsed it . and before he could question it, she breezed past the thought with a shrug. ❝ and i've liked the change,❞ she added, almost too quickly, as though saying it aloud could make it sound like choice instead of penance. ❝ besides, someone had to keep half the suppliers from selling us dandelion root for galleons . ❞ she still held onto james' words , reminiscent of that night and how those few minutes sitting on the stair steps were the only notably positive experience that night . ❝ and you ? besides , you know , getting bogged down by some parchment ? ❞

#lily ft james

one look at him and she knew she would be losing sleep for the foreseeable future because how could she forget how he looked like at this very second - the softness of tristan mckinnon. it wasn't something that the world got to see - they were privy to the kindness of this man because it was who he was fundamentally but the soft smile etched at his lips, she had a feeling that it was meant just for her.

there were far worse fates than losing sleep over a rhetorical question, she could be living in the past, a reality where she hadn't heard the raspiness of a simple word, one that nearly had her clearing her throat - as if that could quiet her raging heart and if that hadn't almost been enough to have her questioning her sanity, watching his gaze flicker between her eyes and her lips was torture. the kind that nearly had her hoping she was seeing things, because perhaps it would excuse what she said next, "you're not being fair" soft accusing words were laced with humour and longing.

she was never good at following rules - spoken and unspoken and she could only imagine how many she had just broken with her statement - the tension, they never talked about it - they never bothered to address it, it was their quiet dance filled but the more they danced around it, the more sure she was that it wasn't in her head.

she stilled for a moment as she felt his arms come around her - sorrow often came in waves, the type of current that she often found herself crumbling against but in that moment she felt anchored and it wasn't just his reassurance, one that she knew deep down was true, it was how he was willing to stand in silence with her. her own personal shield from the world as she attempted to put herself back together. she could feel the feather touch of his chin resting on her. standing here with him, the world didn't seem so heavy, she was starting to understand what the fuss was about. it was a different kind of peace to have someone by your side let alone there to lean on.

with one final sigh, hair tucked back behind her ears, she pulled away from him his chest, she couldn't bring herself to take a step back - not after that, she raised her gaze to get a proper look at him, she knew it was silly to wonder if she had found a way to sour his day, "are you okay?" she never wanted to take from his light. as much as she wondered if the mood had set in, that they couldn't come back from that heightened moment, he always surprised her.

laughter bubbling - earnest as mirth danced in her gaze, "you're ridiculous, you know?" fondness dripping in every word, "the sun deserves better than that" oh rowena, she didn't want to appear before a mirror in this moment.

--- 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: 𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒚 ---

when she was younger, she had never imagined she would be living in Yorkshire, she always thought she'd find a little spot in the heart of London, but the older she grew - every summer at her nan's always felt like home, and when she had passed - she just couldn't give it up.

the garden unkept as she led him to the walkway before begrudging releasing his hand, "i'm still working on how to keep the plants alive --" she mumbled, sheepish smile stretched at her lips before she popped the door open. as much as she loved her chaos, she didn't always thrive in messes - the one relief was that her home looked quite neat.

"i would ask you what you'd like to eat but i'll be honest - i only have two things that are edible, i can make a stew or a soup?" shy smile was nearly apologetic.

at her words, tristan's breath left him in something dangerously close to a laugh, low and rough enough to force his gaze back to the eyes that he could find in a sea of people. but tristan didn’t move far, didn’t give her the distance she probably half-expected despite the accusation. instead, he stayed close, close enough that she could see the faint crease at the corner of his eyes, the kind that only showed when he was really smiling.

❝ not fair ? ❞ tristan repeats after emmeline, his tone soft but threaded with something warmer, something that lingered like the echo of a secret. his mouth still curved more - not quite a smile now , not quite a smirk, but the kind of expression that made it impossible to tell if he was teasing or confessing. his eyes flickered again, from hers to her lips and back . a fleeting, traitorous glance that tristan could indulge in for the rest of his life and never be bored. this time , tristan let himself look - just for a second, just long enough to feel the quiet ache of it settle deeper in his chest. her lips had a way of undoing him, soft and unassuming, and every time his gaze brushed over them, the craving hit sharper, like it was stacking on top of every moment he hadn’t acted on it. tristan told himself it was harmless, this stolen glance, this small surrender. however, by the power of whatever was holy, it was getting worse. everytime time he looked, it felt a little less like restraint and a little more like torment. yet still, he didn’t move. because wanting her was one thing, but crossing that line ? that was its own battlefield and it almost never crossed tristan's mind that this could very much be something only he'd imagined. the quiet between them, as maddening as it was, felt like its own kind of promise.

❝ but i haven't done anything, emmeline . ❞ the words settled between them like a spark catching flame, quiet and dangerous. there was no hiding the softness now, not when the other had him captivated and rendered to her will . he'd act now - do something - if she willed it out of him .

but she asks him her next question and tristan just blinked at her, almost startled by the question. for a moment, all he could do was stare, his arms still loosely braced around her like his body hadn’t quite caught up with the fact that she’d pulled back. ❝ i'm alright, ❞ he says after a moment, his voice quieter than usual, roughened not by laughter this time, but by something gentler. A faint crease formed between his brows, watching her like he was afraid she might look away. and then, because he couldn’t stand the thought of her second-guessing herself, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering for just a breath too long.

❝ Better than alright, actually. ❞ he added, softer now, as if saying it any louder might ruin the moment. And then he did what he always did: he laughed, quiet and unassuming, the sound breaking through the heaviness like sunlight through clouds. ❝Though, ❞ he teased gentle, ❝ you might owe me a warning next time you go and undo me like that . ❞

-post apparition-

the new scene before him materialized just as fast as the cobblestone that had been beneath them disappeared. his hand still held onto hers with earnest , only surrendering his touch when she had been the first to let go . that was the first time that tristan had allowed his eyes to travel elsewhere, taking the earth's beauty around him with just as much marvel as it was an extension of emmeline .

❝ professor sprout would be ashamed , ❞ tristan said with a shake of his head , passing by the field of plants as he followed her up the walkway and before the door that led him inside. it was only then , when the warmth of the inside enveloped his body did he finally shrug off his cloak and set it aside .

at emmeline's offer , he's quick with his answer : ❝ you're welcome to decide . ❞ he's already working at his sleeves, rolling the cuffs of his work shirt up to his elbows and turning to emmeline with that earnest and respectful expression . ❝ you're the boss here , emmeline. you just tell me how i can help you . ❞

cnlyheartbreaker

When the knock at their door comes, James is asleep - or, rather, they're something like asleep. The involuntary nap they've accidentally taken, slumped over their kitchen table with a pile of half-written reports for a pillow, is only distant cousins with a proper night's rest, leaving them bleary-eyed and disoriented as they're jerked back to consciousness.

Grimly peeling a piece of parchment from their cheek, James adjusts their glasses and smooths a quick hand over their unruly hair, expecting that it's Mrs B come to check up on them. They stagger into the hallway, arming themselves with a charming smile as they swing the door open for their elderly landlady, only to be confronted with someone completely different.

"Evans," surprise registers on their features, left unguarded by sleep. It's been ages since they last saw her, and here she is on their doorstep, as if they should've been expecting her. "Well, that's a relief - I was beginning to think you'd forgotten my address," they tease, recovering quickly from their initial shock and managing not to sound hurt by Lily's sudden absence from their life. Just when I was getting used to having her around...

James takes the bag from her when she offers it, their stomach giving a plaintive growl at the welcome prospect of food. When had they last eaten? What time even is it? "Cheers for this," they say, meaning it, "Uh, don't suppose you want to come in, do you? I know I eat like a hippogriff, but I reckon there's enough here for two people, and Remus isn't at home..."

lily shifts her weight on the step, arms folded loosely in front of her as her gaze fixes on them and whatever self-rehearsed speech she'd crafted on the walk over evaporates. james is a mess - more so in a disarming way he’s always had been and utterly unbothered by their own state. his hair is an unruly crown of dark curls, made worse by sleep and an impatient hand run through it one too many times, lily imagines . their glasses also sit slightly askew on the bridge of his nose, one lens smudged with what she assumed had been fingerprints. and there is a crease still pressed into their cheek from where his face had just been resting and the collar of their shirt is uneven, buttoned wrong. and yet, despite all of it, or maybe because of it, james looks painfully charming even as he blinks down at her with sleep-blurred eyes. for a moment, lily forgets what she’s even doing here. it hits her harder than she expects - how much she’d missed this. not the idea of him ( the curated version she sometimes allowed herself to fantasize about in quiet moments) but him. frazzled and half-awake, with that bewildered, crooked smile that made her chest feel too tight. all the excuses she’d told herself for staying away - distance, timing, nerves - begin to wither in the face of something far more honest. ❝ how could i forget ? ❞ she asks with a light teasing note to her voice, hands falling back to her sides now that the pastry has been taken from her hands . ❝ but if i remember correctly , not a single owl from you either . i thought you were buried under those bloody reports for good . ❞ at the invitation , lily glances past their shoulder into the flat and it's not difficult to miss the cluttered table nor the aftermath of many late nights . ❝ i would be happy to , ❞ lily begins with a nod , eyes fixing back onto james . ❝ it was remus who told me that you were home , actually . ❞ and it had also been remus that nudged lily to see them , more so in an inclination that another sound voice could provide reason to james . ❝ we both figured that you wouldn't have remembered to eat unless it walked up and offered itself . ❞ the teasing is gentler now , folding in with something far more tender . even now she watches him with that look she doesn't let most people see - guard lowered just enough to betray the fondness she carries in silence . so she steps into their space , shoulder barely touching james' side as she passes them . ❝ riddle me this , potter . why is it that every time i've managed to come inside the flat , it looks like it's own warzone ? ❞ the smile she throws over her shoulder is half challenge , half a peace offering and if her heart is beating a little too fast, well, at least he can't see that .

#lily ft james

if she was even a fraction green when it came to their dance, she might have looked away at the sight of him faltering, but her earnest gaze met his - all she could give him was her vulnerability and the pink that danced across her cheeks at his quiet promise. "you're something else, mckinnon" she mumbled, she couldn't conceal the fondness littered in her words if she had tried.

he didn't have to lift her chin to draw her attention -- it wasn't because his tone was commanding, he always had a way of getting people's attention and she used to wonder how hard it was to say all the right things but the more she had gotten to know him - the more she had realized, that he never really tried - he was just honest. "it wasn't a title that only i came up for myself" she murmured, she had been the captain of that ship but her superior hadn't hesitated either -- if more than one person thought so, shouldn't it be the truth? it was her turn to falter. her face crumbling - the deep breath she took did nothing to soothe as her forehead went crashing into his chest, he could hear her tears, he didn't need to see it --

'you don't have to be perfect all the time to be worth the space you take up'

the worst part about knowing someone for years is that they see all versions of you and there was nearly nothing that tristan hadn't seen because how else could he have known that not a day went by were she wondered if she was enough - if she had done enough. that loving her - seeing her and what she could bring was difficult because why else wouldn't her parents want to spend every second with her. every moment of her life she had worked twice as had to be worthy of an opinion let alone her faults but hearing him say that made her realize how tired her soul truly was. the weight of it was slowly killing her and there were some days she didn't want to get out of bed and let the world see her, "thank you" as she swiped at the traitorous tears. she was not even close to being decent when it came to explaining how she felt - clearing her throat as she lifted her head, trying to muster the courage he was so sure she had, "thank you for always seeing me - even when i can't see it myself"

small smile etched at her lips as a chuckle managed to slip through, "you better visit - i will hold you to that. they have me with Greaves, i'm not just saying this but that man is an absolute bore"

"i will say guilt is exhausting" it felt like a burden had been lifted off of her, she was still going to do everything to make it right with dearborn but she knew he was right, she was going to make mistakes but this guilt was not serving anyone. she couldn't hide her surprise at his choice, just like she couldn't hide how she was beaming, "i promise - it will be somewhat edible" grabbing his hand before she could think twice, moving them to a corner to get some space

off to upper flagley they went --

his smile came slow and unhurried, like it had to fight its way past the lump in his throat. the way she said those words made him believe that she didn’t mean to say it aloud, since it felt like a truth she’d tried to keep to herself . emmeline had met his eyes without flinching, and that alone nearly undid him. for all the ways she could’ve turned away, made light of it, joked to ease the tension - she didn’t. instead, she gave him nothing but vulnerability and that blush that crept across her cheeks, delicate and unguarded . it made him feel like maybe the risk had always been worth it. that the falter in his breath a moment ago hadn’t gone unnoticed, but it hadn’t scared her off either.

when his voice had returned to him , it was a little rough around the edges but still unwavering . ❝ yeah ? ❞ ” he said, eyes flicking to her mouth before finding hers again. there was a moment that tristan wanted to add that it was surely because she had the power to make him feel like he could be anything , but the words fell flat on his lips . the truth of it was more evident , though : in the way his gaze softened, in the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding finally leaving his lungs. it was there in the way he didn’t look away. as though something about her - this version of her, open and bright and just a little pink in the face - had stilled the noise inside him.

emmeline vance was something else too . something terrifying and brilliant and real. and tristan mckinnon , for once, didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. not when the quiet between them already said everything he hadn’t yet found the courage to.

but the moment was fleeting .

the silence continued for longer as tristan didn’t say anything at first. he just let his arms settle around her as her forehead rested against his chest, like it had always belonged there. the tremble in her shoulders told him more than any words could’ve, and though his shirt grew damp near the collar, he didn’t flinch. didn't even move, except to breathe - slow and steady, the kind of breathing someone did when they were trying to remind the person in their arms that the world wasn’t rushing anywhere. that she didn’t need to rush either.

the male exhaled quietly through his nose, one hand brushing up the back of her spine like muscle memory. ❝ well , it's always easier to pick apart someone else's choices when they're not the one who had to survive them . ❞ he said finally, voice low, steady as stone but gentler than she might’ve been prepared for.

his chin tilted down just slightly, resting the lightest weight of it against her hair, and he thought for a moment about all the times she’d showed up with her spine stiff and her words sharper than they needed to be . and tristan realizes it was never because she wanted to hurt, but because it was easier to armor up than admit she was tired. tired of giving her all just to feel like it was barely enough.

instead , tristan allowed emmeline the dignity to pull away whenever she was ready . it was not pity that kept his gaze guarded on the flecks of redness that colored her features . ❝ you never have to thank me for that , swear . even now i am fully convinced that even the sun is proper jealous of you . ❞

it wasn’t meant to be a confession, but there was something in the way he said it that gave weight to his belief in her. so fully and without condition that it filled the space between them like a tide, warm and full and terrifying in its depth. so he takes her hand without remorse , fully invested in following her whenever she led him .

the moment lily's feet touched the damp cobblestone, the rush of wind from apparating faded into the still quiet of the alley. the narrow passage just off the main street smelled faintly of smoke and rain-soaked brick, and above, the clouds loomed low almost as if they threatened another storm. so she made the walk towards james' flat slower than usual , breathing in the cold air and taking the opportunity to gather herself. the letter she never sent was folded in the pocket of her coat, creased from being unfolded and refolded a dozen times over the past few days. lily hadn’t seen james properly in weeks - and she’d caught sight of them only once since, moving through the streets like a ghost, shoulders tight, his face thinner, almost like the weight of everything had begun to chip away at them . it wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to see james because she had. more than she’d admitted, even to herself. but lily had told herself it was better to keep all the old feelings from rushing up - the ones that had never really left, just buried themselves beneath pride and fear and the sheer chaos of war. but seeing james tired in a way that didn’t come from lack of sleep, but from carrying too much had gnawed at her ever since. so here she was, standing outside the crooked door to their flat, hand raised to knock, nerves fluttering like mad things in her chest. and when it opens , a light smile replaces the paleness of her features and lily's right hand extends towards james with a simple gift : ❝ the cauldron cakes are still warm . not a proper dinner but pretty dang close . ❞

#lily ft james

lips parting slightly - shamelessly unable to hide the soft awe as she heard it once more, she was shaking her head before she could even utter the words, "i was teasing" the whisper as if it was their own little secret and if he listened carefully in a way only tristan would, he would know what she couldn't voice - the soft plea to never stop. she could spend the rest of her life listening to him call her that and it wouldn't be enough.

she used to wonder if it was just nostalgia, that he reminded her of a time that her life was much more simple and the good days nearly always outweighed the bad and her heart didn't know what it was like to feel heavy in a way that was nearly unbearable. claiming that would not only make her a coward but even in her own thoughts she could never write him off like that - he was warmth, the kind of sunshine that came right after the storm or he was the rain itself - pouring over her and washing away the thoughts that she was too tired to keep at bay.

above all - he was kindness, the type that would find a way to loop himself into the blame because they both knew how she hated being alone, even in excuses they had managed to become a team, "we should get that corrected right away"

"i took a risk that i had no business taking and i disobeyed a direct order" the truth was she kept replaying that night over and over and regardless of how she looked at it - she should have gone home. thirty six hours of hunting them down, and there had been no trace till a tip came in. not only had it been off but her instincts had been worn down -- of course, it was a trap. one that she had walked herself and her partner right into, "i was careless and careless gets you desk duty for a month, i should have been suspended" maybe then she would have felt like she had earned the punishment that had dearborn in the hospital wing for the next two weeks.

"leakey cauldron?" she offered, "its either that or we can watch me attempt to cook - it would be dinner and a show" her smile widening slightly, "that's because you don't find it entertaining - your mundane is my scandal"

the male's breath hitched, not loud and most definitely not sharp, but rather just a quiet falter that said more than he could manage out loud. his eyes traced her face: the faint curve of her lips, the way emmeline's head shook like even she didn’t believe she’d meant to tease. something in him steadied and stilled, like her words had coaxed a silence from him that wasn’t emptiness but reverence. that moment only lasted for a long second until tristan leaned in just enough for her to hear him in the space that had become theirs alone, voice low and threaded with something unshakable. ❝ i wasn't going to stop anyway . ❞

tristan didn’t interrupt, especially not when she needed to speak, not when she needed to unload what had been pressing into the fragile curve of her shoulders since he had caught her gaze just minutes ago. he watched her carefully and listened in a way that stripped the air of pretense. and when she was done, when her voice had started to retreat into the self-deprecating shadows she always tried to hide behind, he stepped in the only way he knew how: quietly and fully.

❝ first of all, ❞ he said, tilting his head just enough for her to see that familiar flicker in his eyes, equal parts amusement and something heavier and rooted. ❝ you were so quick to brand yourself careless . you made a call , and i know you're not reckless so there was heart behind it. and sure, it did not result the way you wanted it too , but do not pretend that it came from anything less than courage . ❞

tristan took a pause then, the features of his face softening the way they always do in the presence of the other . ❝ you don't have to perfect all the time to be worth the space you take up . we all mess up or get tired or make one bad call - ❞ now there's that gentle smile still tugging on his lips as the male continues. ❝ and you're still the person i trust the most even if you're stuck behind a desk . and since i know where you've been exiled to for the unforeseeable future, i might be forced to look for you more often than not . misery loves company , after all . ❞

then there's a beat , letting the heaviness of the moment settle for a moment before moving on. ❝ i am glad that i found you then . there's no way i'm leaving you alone to let the guilt gnaw at you - ❞ hands fall back into his cloak now that his hands feel misplaced . ❝ i'll have to take the dinner and show . sounds like the best deal . ❞ he'd make a joke about how his wand at the ready in the event that her cooking went sideways but tristan mckinnon already knew better than tell a half-lie . ❞

there was a time that her eyes would roll so hard at the sound of that tsk, she was so sure that it would be followed by disappointment and the kind of frustration that could have someone out the door in a second. she had been no stranger to that, it was the warning sign before her parents were out the door, easily leaving her in a mess for nan to clean up but with him, he had stayed steady and she knew it must be obligation - tristan mckinnon was not capable of desertion, as much as her mind would like to play tricks on her and make her believe otherwise -- in the years she had known him, annoyed him and grown fond of him in a way that was anew to the heart, by rowena he made her want to believe in the steady. not to mention her name had never sounded better, "you know - you're the only one that still uses my full name --" she mused, or the only one she cared to listen because the second her parents would utter it, she found herself doing anything but listen

"keeping tabs?" cocking a brow as her smile widened slightly, "i'm clearly doing poorly, or else it wouldn't be a month since i've last seen you" eyes flickering shut for a second, wondering if anything could hide he mortification of keeping track. she had always led the dance of nonchalance and distance but was it fair to say that she was growing tired of it? and it wasn't just because the smile etched at her lips made her wonder if one person was enough to change everything - turn a horrible day into something with promise.

the groan that slipped her lips lacked any tact that she would reserve for anyone but him, "i was given the gift of desk duty" smile wavering slightly, "i deserved it" it was an impulse in a way, telling the truth when it came to him, she couldn't help but wonder if she was a masochist - who else would seek a scolding.

"smoothen out any international catastrophes lately?" taking a step closer, "because i think i could afford a story time before bed - if you're free, of course"

the male smiled, but it was the sort that ached around the edges . it was the kind of smile that held back more than it revealed. he heard the way she said it : ❝ you’re the only one that still uses my full name, ❞ like it was a joke, something tossed lightly into the air, but it landed squarely in his chest all the same.

❝ emmeline , ❞ he said again, softer this time, like the name itself was sacred. ❝ it suits you. always has. but i can always restrain myself if you so choose . ❞ he wanted to tell her he saw it : that flicker in her eyes when he tsked, the way she braced as if waiting for the worst. by the gods, it gutted him.

emmeline couldn't have known, not really, how much of himself he had already rooted around her. how leaving had never once crossed his mind, not when she had tried to shut him out once, and not when she pushed just hard enough to see if he’d fall away like the others. and perhaps, maybe she needed to. maybe that was the only way she knew how to keep people honest. and maybe - just maybe he was too bloody stubborn to flinch.

he wanted to reach out . do something ridiculous but instead, he stood there like a fool, heart tripping over itself. ❝ keeping tabs ? ❞ she’d asked, and merlin help him, he’d never heard two words sound so much like a confession. especially now that she was here, in front of him again, looking like no time had passed at all except for the way her smile wavered when she said I deserved it.

❝ we're both busy , ❞ tristan offers instead . ❝ so i understand the oversight , especially when i am in the wrong too . ❞ and he couldn’t help the grin when she rolled her eyes . less out of exasperation this time . more so out of ritual. there was something comforting about it now , something private. she was the only person who ever rolled her eyes at him in a way that made his chest tighten.

❝ you deserved desk duty? ❞ he repeated, brow raised. ❝ what’d you do ? ❞ he tried to keep it light, teasing but he could hear the thread of truth under her smile and the way her voice had thinned. there were always stories behind her silences, he knew that by now. some of them she’d share. some she wouldn’t. but merlin, he would wait forever to hear the ones she did.

she took a step closer and the world felt less abstract. The question - Smoothen out any international catastrophes lately? - was meant to be casual, he knew. But the invitation laced into it didn’t go unnoticed. ❝ in the time we find somewhere to grab a bite i could possibly think of something worthwhile to tell you. you see , the crises of the noble always seem so mundane . ❞

𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓 | 𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒚 | 𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏 & 𝑬𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆

emmeline was many things - messy, untimely, chaos was what her nan would have called it, but the last thing she would have ever been called was proper. yet here she was dressed in a way that made her skin crawl -- and it wasn't because the trousers and the tucked in blouse were there own form of punishment, no the desk duty she had been recently rewarded was enough suffocation to last a lifetime.

she had been callous with her mistake and what she couldn't stomach, and the reason she had taken her punishment quietly was that it not only almost cost her life, but almost another' --

her self-loathing was at a standstill at the sight of him. the whiplash its own form of reckoning, her neck hadn't needed to suffer for her to know in her bones that tristan mckinnon was in her midst. for the first time that week, she felt a ripple of quiet joy and what she would only allow herself to call nostalgia, as much as he had tried to deny it - she had become his favourite nuisance over the years, or that's the only delusion she would allow herself.

"tristan, tristan, tristan --" she nearly sung as she stopped right before him, "if i didn't know any better, i would say that you were avoiding me" brows raised with the fragment of indignation she could muster, she would rather hide behind a hundred jokes than admit that she felt the most alive with him.

tristan mckinnon loosened the tie around his neck with one hand and tucked his wand deeper into the inner pocket of his cloak as he stepped out of the floo and into the gentle chaos of diagon alley. the evening sky had dulled to a soft blue-grey, streaked with smoke from the chimneys of the countless shops that decorated the streets, and the gas lamps were just flickering to life, casting golden pools of light along the cobbled street. his day had been long - too many memos, not enough progress - but here, the air felt lighter. he walked without purpose, passing shop windows filled with moving quills and shimmering cloaks, until a familiar voice, lilting with laughter and sarcasm, stopped him in his tracks.

she was leaning against the outside wall of a shop, cheeks flushed with the early chill of evening. the male smiled before he could stop himself and made his way toward her with the same practiced ease he always wore - calm, casual, like the sight of her didn’t make his ribs feel too tight. ❝ emmeline, emmeline , emmeline - ❞ he said with a tsk, tucking his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out.

he laughed at the accusation, because that was easier than saying yes, and easier still than telling her he’d have walked this street for hours if it meant just five minutes like this - with her. ❝ and if i didn't know any better , i would say that you are keeping tabs on me . ❞ it's said with the same teasing tone , lips slick with the very charming smile reserved just for her . his gaze stays fixed on her face for another moment before letting his eyes fall down her frame to almost marvel at what she's wearing . ❝ what's the special occasion ? ❞