❝ he and i are closer than friends, we are enemies linked together, the same sin binds us ❞ | in which lilium snape is bound to harry potter by fate, destined to stand on either side of a war that will soon be waged. she is cursed by prophecy, or so...
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ACT THREE, chapter fifty—eight : all i need is to remember how it was to feel alive silent things, violent chase we are dancing again
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Frowning deeply, Lili strode through the corridor with Ron and Harry on either side.
Professor Flitwick had truly outdone himself this year; tinsel decked every bannister and mistletoe drooped from all ceilings. Such Yule cheer honestly made her a bit nauseous. And not to mention of course Lili and Harry were holding hands. Not because they were in love. Not because they wanted to. Not because they had a choice. But because they had to.
To survive.
It was enough to make Lili want to scream. Or fight. Or perhaps cry a little.
At her side, Ron walked with a new air of confidence. He wasn't exactly strutting, but it really was a near thing. "Look, I can't help it if she's got her knickers in a twist."
Lili shot him a glare, but Ron didn't seem to notice, too caught up in his lovesick haze.
"What Lav and I have — well, let's just say there was no stopping it." He beamed from freckled ear to freckled ear, shoulders jumping in a careless shrug, "It's chemical. Will it last? Who knows? Point is, I'm a free agent."
Harry did his best to hide an eye—roll, but Lili was ready to let him have it!
As they turned into a more private corridor leading towards DADA, the girl burst, "Ronald, you're so oblivious, you need to pull your head out of your arse—,"
"Oi!" cried the redhead.
Lili kept going uninhibited, "—Because if you don't, I will seriously consider detaching your—,"
"Lili?"
Their trio stopped halfway down the corridor to find Theodore Nott staring at them cautiously, clad in tight dark robes. So d—mn reminiscent of her own Death Eater robes that Lili visibly tensed and she felt Harry's hand spasm round her own, in what Lili thought was protectiveness.
As for Ron, his nose scrunched in disgust, "What do you want?"
Thedore straightened up, his face impassive and cold, "To speak to Lilium, obviously. Why? Are you her guard dog, Weasley?"
"No!" Ron practically growled, not exactly disproving his point, "I just don't think she should be talking to the likes of you."
