CHAPTER FIVE. . .
Mutually Assured Destruction

"Forgive me, for all the things I did but mostly for the ones that I did not."
Donna Tartt, The Secret History

As October falls overhead, August and Malia find themselves approaching Hogsmeade for the first time of the year. The trips into town are a present gifted to Third Years and above by the fine staff of Hogwarts, and are the perfect blessing in an increasingly cold and icy disguise. With Lily readying for Prefect duties, with the plan to seperate from him once they step out of Gryffindor Tower, it was easy for August to decide to sneak Malia into his dorm while he tends to the issue of tracking down his stray red scarf.

Malia sits on his dorm-mate's bed, fiddling with one of August's many records that were placed carefully within his trunk. The Record Player is quiet, sat in between August's bed and the one that she's rested on. She passes the record to August who shelves it back within its place.

A pause holds between them.

"Have you spoken to your sister?" Malia asks into the silence.

August surveys her with a look. "I think you knew the answer to the question before even asking it."

"You should." Malia replies, returning his look with indigence. "She's your sister."

"And Cassiopeia is my mother yet I do not speak to her." August deflects. "Most of the time. . ."

"Theo misses you, August, if she didn't, she wouldn't have helped you on the Quidditch Pitch." Malia says. "You know it and I know it, the difference is that you just don't want to admit it."

August looks down to his heads, letting himself fall back onto his bed to sit quietly. Malia stands from her place on his dorm-mate's bed, walking over slowly, and takes his hand in her own, squeezing it in an act of support.

"Just try, that's all you can do." Malia quietly says. "Even if it's just once. If it doesn't work out you don't need to try again."

August sighs, studying their clasped hands; flesh meeting flesh in a myriad of cream and white tones, and the motley of burn scars and white nicks from August's once split knuckles that have cracked against bone, stone and a plethora of other objects over and over, glint in the sunlight streaming through the dorm's closed window.

"Fine," he mutters. He takes his found scarf off the bedpost and slings it around his neck before standing. "Come on, we don't want to miss check in."

In the Courtyard, Filch is there to greet August and Malia as they move to exit the school, arm in arm. They hand over their forms, and the old man looks them twice over before deeming them good enough for them to pass through. August waggles his fingers over his shoulder at Filch as they leave, flashing him a mischievous smile before disappearing out of view.

Malia pulls on their link arms, bringing August closer to the left side of the path as a horse pulls a carriage towards Hogwarts, stacks of hay resting in it's storage.

"Hagrid must've ordered more for the unicorns." Malia says, eyes tracking its movements.

"Must've." August echoes. "Have you visited him recently?"

Malia shakes her head. "Not since we started back. I feel bad but Care of Magical Creatures has just been so busy with Professor Kettleburn losing his leg and everything."

"Maybe we should take him a pie on Halloween." August suggests. "We can bring Lily, and maybe she can help him with more spells."

Slowly since First Year, Lily and August have been attempting to help Hagrid with his control of magic. The snap of his wand all those years ago may as destroyed the wood, but his magic could never be removed, and at times of distress, it began to flare up.

"I think he'd like that." Malia replies with a smile.

The sound of leaves crunch loudly beneath their feet as they enter the busy town; it's colour palette a limitless number of oranges, yellows and reds that dust the through in the form of leaves, before moving upwards into the trees and bleeding into a sky of pale blue-all indicative of Autumn and it's impending death to winter. The small cottages of the town line it's main road, the only buildings standing out as different being Honeydukes, the Three Broomsticks and Ophelia's Magic Remedies. All, except Ophelia's, are crawling with well bundled students. Laughter rumbles the windows and green walls of Honeydukes, all lined with a rainbow of delicious sweets. August notes that those in front of the Three Broomsticks cup warm drinks in their gloved hands.

"Madam Rosmerta must be allowing them outside with their cups today." He says, nodding to the bar. "She must be feeling nice."

"Or she's extremely busy." Malia replies as the door opens and they get a look inside. People are squished together at the small tables, struggling to walk by without spilling their drinks. "Why is it so popular this weekend? Shouldn't it only be Hogwarts students?"

August shrugs.

Before either of them can speak, somebody clears their throat behind August and Malia, causing them to turn quickly in surprise.

"Theo?" August says, finding it hard to believe that his younger sister is seeking him out.

"August." Theo says tightly, tapping her foot against the cobble path. She clears her throat. "Can we, uh, speak for a few moments?"

August stands there in stunned silence, for once without a reply at the ready, and a pause holds pregnant in the air. Surprise trickles through Malia, it was easy to learn over the years, that August Darlington II is always prepared with the needed answer to any question poised in his direction. So, it is disturbing to find that the simplest of all questions, and one from his sister, is the hardest for him to grasp an answer for.

She nudges August in the side, snapping him back to reality.

"Uh. . ." He clears his throat. "Of course." August looks to Malia. "Meet you back here in ten?"

Malia nods. "I'll get Lily's things from Honeydukes."

She walks away without another word, leaving the Darlington siblings to their devices. With narrowed eyes, August scruffs at the ground with the toe of his boot.

"What is it then?" He asks crudely. "What does she want?"

It is no secret that Theodora Darlington is the preferred offspring of Cassiopeia and August Darlington, and as a result is often the messenger between them and their son.

Theo looks taken aback for a moment, but she masks it with a look of cruel indifference. "Mother, wanted me to remind you that it is a requirement for you to respond to her letters, and take responsibility for your actions."

"She wouldn't know the first thing about my actions." August spits in return at the mention of his rather elusive Mother.

"She certainly knows enough about your indiscretions." Theo provokes.

"That requires her paying attention to something other than her work." August replies hotly. "That woman wouldn't know her child from an intern."

"If you just gave her a chance-" Theo tries.

"I gave her a chance!" August bursts out; marble finally cracking to pieces underneath the hot touch of his molten anger. "I gave her a chance far before you even fully comprehended what that meant."

"That's not fair." Theo says. "She's changed since then."

"That's the thing, she changed for you." August shakes his head with a laugh, completely devoid of any inkling of amusement. "And I was not worth changing for."

Theo opens her mouth but chokes on her words, and places a hand over her mouth.

"That's not fair." Theo repeats. "That isn't my fault."

August takes in the hurt painting his younger sister's face, and his resolve crumbles slightly. He rubs his face in agitation.

"I'm sorry." August apologises softly, stepping closer to Theo. He pulls her into a hug, cupping the back of her head. His fingers weave into her long hair, and she pulls him closer.

"I don't think Mother and I will get along." He continues. "But I shouldn't let that get between us, and I'm sorry."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Theo sniffles. She lets an arm drop from around August's neck, and dip into her pocket. As she pulls away, Theo presses a letter into his hand.

"Can you try?" She asks weakly. "For me."

With a sigh, August nods, and places the letter carefully within his coat pocket. "I can't make any promises, and neither will she. But I'll read this, I promise."

"Thank you." Theo says. Her friends call in the distance, and she jams her thumb towards them. "I've got to go."

"I'll talk to you later." August says.

He watches her leave with a frown, the letter creasing in his pocket as he wraps his fingertips around the parchment and squeezes in unresolved anger. A careful hand is laid on his shoulder, but August does not react to Malia's familiar, supportive touch.

Wordlessly, Malia looks to Ophelia's Magic Remedies, the brightly purple and blue store stark against the grey cobble of the cottages surrounding it. While an open sign remains in the front door, very few students find themselves looking past the windows. It's the perfect distraction for August.

"Come on," she begins pulling August in the direction of the store. "I want to look for a new set of blank cards."

August gives her a look. "Didn't you just paint a set?"

"I want to paint a set for Peter." Malia explains. "He saw mine and was curious."

Letting her pull him in the direction of the store, August happily avoids the topic of his sister and the conversation they just had. Him and Malia are greeted with the distinct smell of incense and sage as they walk through the purple door.

Quite simply, Ophelia's Magic Remedies shines. It radiates the warm feeling that the children of Hogsmeade, and students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry crave each visit and summer. Golden sunlight flickers through the window of the store, shadows dancing across the counter as the owner wipes it down. Vials and glasses of potions, knick knacks and trinkets alike all line the teal painted shelves of the small store. Fabrics, printed with beautiful patterns are hung on the walls, each one with a small price tag attached to the bottom. Similarly to the store, the owner's niece, Juliet Brooker shines just as brightly: a kaleidoscope of constellations constructed with freckles, twinkling starstruck smiles, and a painting, practically exploding with every colour possible.

Somehow at the end of Fourth Year she and her aunt, Ophelia, had been able to convince Dumbledore to allow Juliet to help out within the store on Hogsmeade weekends. They plead their case that their small family didn't have enough time to hire someone when Juliet was clearly the perfect choice. Dumbledore found no argument against their inquiry, and therefore each weekend, Juliet Brooker can be found in her family's store.

That very enigma sings along loudly to David Bowie, her voice ringing through the small space. She waves her wand, the volume of her charmed speakers rising as Juliet knots the laces of her roller skates. Blowing a stray curl of her face, she snags one of the many bandanas her Aunt stores behind the counter and and ties her curls out of her face. After a pause, she pushes to her wobbly feet with an excited smile.

"Be careful!" Ophelia calls out to her exuberant niece. "We don't need any broken items!" She laughs when Juliet shoots her a withering look. "Or any broken bones for that matter."

"What little confidence you have in your one and only niece, Auntie Ophelia." Juliet jokes, feigning a pained look and casting her hand against her forehead. "I'm hurt."

The two had yet to notice August and Malia standing by the entrance with matching grins, watching their exchange.

Juliet uses the counter to push herself off, the wheels of her skates rolling confidently against the wooden floors. Taking the box of stock, Juliet moves through the aisles and begins placing each item in it's rightful place, slapping on a price tag on each one. Somewhat haphazardly. Ophelia rolls her eyes at the drooping price tags, and lets her rag drop to the counter.

"Good music choice." August calls out, snapping Jules out of her working-trance.

Their fellow Sixth Year's head snaps up to look at them, and she shines them with a lopsided grin. "Malia! August! You didn't tell me you were coming in today."

"We weren't originally planning to." August replies, shoving his hands in his coat pocket. "Otherwise I would have told you."

"Either way it's good to see your golden faces." Ophelia calls over the music from her place at the counter. With a wave of her wand, the volume of the music drops and she ignores her niece's sour look. "Lia, I have those crystals you wanted. They came in sooner than expected."

"Really?!" Malia claps excitedly.

Ophelia motions for Malia to follow her into the backroom, and the girl does so without complaint, practically vibrating with excitement.

August watches her leave, pulling his hands out of his pockets, flicking a look to Juliet as she skates to his side.

"Did she come here for more blanks?"

August nods, and Juliet slips from his side to skate towards the counter, where she pulls out a set of blank cards.

"You don't seem surprised." August says.

"They seem to be her go-to-gift." Juliet replies, mouth slightly quirked. "I got my set for Christmas last year, and they're the best Tarot cards I've ever used. Want a reading?"

August waves her off. "Maybe another time."

He slips the gloves from his fingertips, moving through the closest isle to him. It's filled to the brim with potion ingredients, and incense. August lets his finger run over the shelves, stopping with each interesting item. Finally, he lands on the charms at the end of the isle-each piece of jewellery resting within a holder, and carefully wrapped within a small film of Muggle plastic.

Wordlessly, Juliet skates to his side and tucks the blank cards into his coat pocket. She watches over his shoulder as he fingers lightly with a band of sterling silver, an intricately carved crown placed in its centre.

August holds it, turning it around in the palm of his hand with a creased forehead and pinched eyebrows.

"It's for victory in the face of adversity." Juliet says, startling August and snapping him out of his stupor.

"What?"

"The ring, it's for victory in the face of adversity." Juliet repeats. "It's charmed. They all are."

August raises a brow. "That's an awfully specific charm. How do you achieve that?"

"A magician never reveals her secrets." Juliet jokes.

August slants her a look, but the slightest quirk of his mouth gives away his amusement.

Juliet reaches for his hand, pressing his fingers over the ring and trapping it within his palm. "Take it, and the cards too, on the house."

"I can't-"

"Yes, you can." Juliet affirms. "Because I said so."

"Thank you."

The words hold a sincerity that Juliet hasn't heard from August, and she smiles, squeezing his shoulder.

"No problem." She replies.

Laughter rings through the small store as the music shifts from a Beatles song to Queen, and Killer Queen holds the pauses between the shrill bursts of laughter. Malia and Ophelia appear in the doorway to the backroom, their eye's creased with bright amusement. Malia almost doubles over in laughter after Ophelia manages to mutter a few inaudible words, too far from August's range of hearing.

Without a word, Juliet pries the ring from August's palm, peels off the plastic and slips it onto the middle finger of his left hand before pushing away on her skates.

"August has your blanks." She says to Malia. Juliet turns, pointing to August. "Don't take that off or the charm will die."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Responds August. "How?"

"Another magic trick." Juliet replies with a wink.

August laughs, and he follows Malia to the door, pushing it open to step outside with her by his side.

☾☾☾

Hours after nightfall, August finds himself and Malia still within the Room of Requirement after curfew. The crackle of the fire is like music, dwindling in the air like a stray lullaby; it is almost shrouded within the beat melody of an ABBA song that August doesn't care to identify. This time, rather than just being surrounded by the bookshelves that line the walls, the fire and it's couches; the Room of Requirement has made space of Malia and her great collection of painting supplies. She is surrounded by countless small bottles of paints; each glass holds a colour from the rainbow, along with white and black sitting at her feet, ready to mix. Brush poised in hand, Malia's tongue slightly sticks out of her mouth in concentration.

Luckily for August, Peter often keeps his polaroid, gifted to him by James, in the Room of Requirement in an effort to document the Dead Poets meetings. Peter cites sentimentality as his reasoning, and August is inclined to agree with him; an effort into looking into the human condition throughout literature such as theirs is worth documenting, in his humble opinion.

Malia doesn't notice the camera in August's slender fingers until the flash goes off, perfectly capturing her expression of intense concentration. He sits back, lounging on the couch in front of the fire, To Kill a Mockingbird in hand as Malia scrunches her nose and slants him an agitated look.

"Destroy that." She says, holding the developing picture in her hand. "It's horrid."

"I will do no such thing." August takes the photo from her fingers, surveying it carefully. His mouth quirks-even with her brow creased, and tongue sticking out of her mouth slightly, August is fairly sure that Malia is still one of the most beautiful people that he's ever met. In another life, he's certain they were soulmates. "You look positively beautiful."

Malia rolls her eyes. "Liar."

"I am many things Malia Anderson, but a liar is not one of them." August replies, a brow raised and mouth gracing an crooked grin. "Are you nearly done? We're half an hour past curfew."

Malia nods, setting down her paintbrush. "Yeah, I can finish the rest tomorrow morning."

"Right," August rises from his seat. "Let's go then."

He tucks his book into the space where it originally sat amongst the shelves, and waits for Malia to carefully place her paints back into their tray and tidy her brushes. With a flick of his wand, all candles and the fire lighting the room extinguish. And as August pushes open the door, he curses under his breath in realisation.

"I should've asked Sirius for that map of his." He mutters quietly.

Humming thoughtfully in agreement, Malia steps out the door behind him and closes it quietly. She loops her arm through his, and together they step out into the hallway. No words are exchanged as they walk; August's ears carefully trained, seeking the slightest hint of a footstep or movement in their direction, and Malia follows him in silence, treading where he treads.

August halts. "Did you hear that?"

An echo rings through the hallway; the sound of two sets of shoes stepping in time further down the hallway. August almost didn't hear it, but as it grows he realises that they're coming closer, turning the corner up ahead.

"I do now." Malia mutters. "Do you see that?"

August casts her a look of exasperation. The light of Lumos appears at the end of the hallway as the steps inch closer and closer to their location. He looks around in a panic, searching for the possibility of a hiding place, but unfortunately they'd chosen the direction absent of a broom closet, or even a pillar or set of armour to hide behind, and there they're left without a suitable hiding place.

August looks to Malia, eyes wide. "Run."

With that one word they set off, thundering through the halls in an attempt to reach the Room of Requirement and hide within it's confines, but its too late. August feels the curse before he hears the uttering of it's incantation; his body freezing, stopping in its tracks without his own command. He doesn't even have time to curse before his skin hardens, limbs pinning to his side like a plank, and he falls to the ground, face first.

"Severus!" August recognises Lily's voice. "Stop! We're not meant to use curses against fellow students."

"They're out past curfew, Evans." Snape defends himself. "I don't think it matters."

He flings another curse in Malia's direction, but she halts in her tracks, not touched by his magic as it misses by a few inches.

August cannot mouth the words, but she recognises the look in his eyes screaming for her to go, to save herself from the trouble that he's about to find himself in. Turning on her heel, she flees. And if August could relax, he would. The sound of footsteps finally dies as Lily and Snape come upon him stuck on the ground.

"August?" Lily asks in disbelief. "What are you doing out here?"

For a few seconds there's a pause before she remembers the curse inhibiting him from replying.

"Finite Incantatem." Lily waves her wand, muttering the spell and August feels his muscles relax.

Groaning, he pushes himself off the ground, and shakes out his arms once he pulls himself into a sitting position. Lily taps her foot in anticipation of an explanation, but August waits to give her one, taking his time to stretch out his legs and arms before standing.

"You're stalling, Darlington." Snape snarls. "Why were you out after curfew?"

August's lip curls in a mix of maddened defiance and the lash of his already curling, flaming temper. "I don't answer to snakes."

"August!" Lily reprimands. "He asked you a valid question, don't be rude."

August's eyes remain trained on Snape as he mutters darkly. "Lily may have forgiven you for last year, but I'm watching and waiting for you to fuck up again. And that time, will be the last time you set foot near me or my friends. I am not above mutually assured destruction."

"Detention." Snape replies firmly. "You're scrubbing cauldrons this Friday night with Filch for being out past curfew."

"No, he is most certainly not." Lily says. "We strictly issue warnings for first offences of the year."

Snape scoffs. "This is beyond his first offence and we both know it."

"I have the luxury of being smart enough to evade capture most of the time." August says, looking Snape up and down. "Can't say the same for you, mate, I hear you got caught up with McLaggen and his gang last week." He smiles, saturated in a wickedness akin to his mother. "I bet that didn't look good as Prince Prefect."

"That's quite enough." Lily scolds. "August you will return to your dorm, and this Friday you will serve your detention."

Snape snickers, and August is tempted to jam his fist into the smile gracing his ugly face. But before he can, Snape walks off and makes sure to knock his shoulder against August's as he continues patrol.

"I thought we were past this." Lily says.

Disappointment drips from her tone, causing a pang of pain within August's chest. He ignores it and sets his shoulders.

"He doesn't deserve you."

Lily shakes her head. "Sometimes, you really don't think."

She doesn't escort him to the Gryffindor common room as she should, and instead leaves him alone to wander back by himself.