The Choices We Make ∆ Harry Potter Sister

Chapter 5.9

Eleanor Potter felt the moment her castle of rose coloured glass shattered to a million pieces, revealing strokes of fluorescent orange against violet sky at the golden hour just where the castle once stood. The feel of his lips on hers, against hers, was her undoing. Each touch was sharper, harder, until they were a tangled mess of lips, limbs, and unsaid emotions. Where the tips of his fingers met the small of her back and the nape of her neck, electricity sparked up and down her spine. Even though she had spent the last week being unconscious, she had never felt more alive than now. As if her senses had become heightened, a screen of fog lifted.

Even when they were out of breath, they were not out of touch. Every inch of their skin that was not covered by clothing was touching, their chest rose and fell in sync. At that moment she believed that when she was telling the story of the war, she would be seen stifling a smile for she would remember a cozy cottage up north in Russia where she stood in the arms of her living and breathing embodiment of home. She would looked back to that night and be glad that even in the midst of chaos and war, they had a chance to stop and embrace each other, exploring the curves of each other's lips, relishing the taste of what could be.

"Xenyk," she breathed his name against his lips like a prayer, answered by an almost inaudible yes from him.

"As much as I love this, I am famished."

His chest rumbled with laughter. With one hand still on her back and the other tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, he smiled down at her. "No one's stopping you from having dinner."

He let her go just enough to lead her to a chair and served a bowl for her. The wafting smell of cream and melted butter hit her nose before she even reached for the spoon, and she wasted no time in getting a taste or two. Perhaps it was due to her last meal had been a week ago, but the soup was the best damn thing she remembered eating, or wolfing. Not even the food at Hogwarts tasted that good. She told him as much, and asked what he had put in it, but a sly wink and a second serving was all she got for an answer. Damn her curiosity, as long as she could get more spoons of the soup, she was set. If anyone was paying attention, they might noticed that two thirds of the pot was now comfortably streaming down her digestive system, but thank Merlin no one was. Xenyk cleared the table for them. While he washes the dishes and she dried them, she finally asked him, "So, what now?"

Any other person would run at the sight of the malicious tight-lipped smile that graced the young man's face, but Eleanor Potter was not any other person. She, in fact, returned the smile with a madder glint in her eyes.

•••

"Ver are ve?" asked the young man in pitch black Harrington, thrown over his grey t-shirt, protecting his well built body from the chilly early autumn air. Glancing around, it appeared to be a small village, with similarly designed cottages lining up the streets, a church at the end of the road, and a graveyard just by its side.

"Godric's Hollow," breathed the girl in black denim jacket, an item that she had acquired just before they set off.

She let her mason grey Converse cladded feet took her down the Church Lane, to where the graveyard was, without another word to her companion. After she regained enough strength to apparate without splinching herself, and had their plans readied to the T, she took him to the first leg of their plan, the place where it all ended and begin all at the same time. She had not confided in Xenyk the exact location of their first stop. The only explanation she gave was I understand what must be done, and where to start, but I need you to trust me. You will know only when we get there. His answer was a simple you need not to ask for my trust.

She did not exactly know what she was looking for, but she knew enough that she needed to go back in time, set the timeline straight in order to face the future. She had no idea which building was which, who was who, but the graveyard at the end of the road seemed like a good place to start. At least there, she knew what to look for. She silently intertwined her fingers through his, part for the mere comfort of it, part for the reassurance that this was real. That she truly was walking down the road where her parents and godfathers had once took her on a stroll. She could recall nothing of the short time she had spent living in Godric's Hollow, but being there caused a pang in her heart.