sugar〻oneshots

hope and lyall (2)

I think aboht them more than anything and i have a mega google doc covering their entirle lives togethe r for when im insane soooo expect more of this

Lyall hates the ministry more than anything else, probably, and by default he hates his job. He still says he'll owe it forever for bringing him his wife.

He's out on an expedition-one of the more enjoyable parts of his job-when he hears her scream. It's one of those terrible ones that seizes you entirely. He can't even start breathing again before he's running toward the sound.

He recognizes it as a boggart immediately, before he even notices her. The 'riddikulus' comes naturally, without a conscious thought.

"It's all right, it was only a boggart."

He realizes his mistake immediately and swears in his head, but thank merlin, she doesn't seem to notice.

"Wha-where did he go?" Her voice is trembly. Luckily, she seems too bewildered to be that afraid. Her hand clutches his arm anyway.

"I don't know. It's alright. He's gone. Are you alright?" He tries to change the topic from the boggart, before she can get too suspicious.

She nods slowly and lets go of him. He finally gets the chance to take her in, and immediately feels sort of sick. She's gorgeous. His knees get a little weak.

Her hair is all loose golden curls, piled on top of her head, with these soft, light pieces down to frame her face. They end at her chin, and he swears it's her hair's fault for drawing attention to those puffy, pink lips. He wouldn't have looked otherwise.

Her pants are flowy, stained with mud around the hems that fall over her big, dirty, hiking boots. She smells like some kind of herb, oddly savory. He feels some part of his mind being taken back to fifth year potions.

"I'm sorry," she says finally, dusting herself off. Her voice is lilting. "I hope you weren't doing anything too important. I just... he was so scary, I—"

"It's all right," he says quickly. It feels terrible to hear her apologize. "He was awful. I'm sure it was terrifying. I... I ought to walk you home, then. I mean, if you're comfortable. Just to make sure you get there safe."

He hopes he doesn't look as nervous as he feels, like he's fourteen and asked her on a date.

She just nods slowly again, and he worries he's overstepped. Then she smiles suddenly, and it's sort of... mischievous. Like she knows something he doesn't. And he sort of wants to fall to his knees again, like she knows everything he doesn't, and he needs to beg for whatever she'll give him.

She just starts walking, though, in the other direction, and he jogs a little to catch up with her, feeling like some kind of puppy.

Lyall finds himself wishing she would say something. He doesn't think he could come up with anything captivating enough to interest her. He can't really explain why he feels so pathetic. It's not like she's done anything to make him feel that way, and yet something about her is beyond.

"What's your name?" he asks.

She shoots him a look, mischievous again, and pauses like she has to think about it. "Hope. What's yours?"

"Lyall."

"Lyall," she repeats. He wills himself not to blush.

She seems to be in good spirits, if a bit shaken up. She's walking fast enough that he has to make a conscious effort to keep up with her pace. Based on her clothes and the way her hair is carelessly pinned up, he would assume she's usually calm. He feels he could picture her graceful movements perfectly, even watching her now.

"What were you doing so deep in the woods, anyway?" he asks.

"Going on a walk," she says, like it's obvious. He doesn't think he's ever known a girl who liked to walk alone that far in the forest. "And what were you doing, creep?"

He furrows his eyebrows, thrown off at the sudden insult. He can't tell if she's joking until she finally smiles. "Well, work."

"Work? What do you do?"

"Jobs, here and there." He shrugs, hoping to change the subject, but it's obvious she isn't satisfied with it by the way she huffs a little. He's a little worried she'll think he's actually a creep, for not telling her, and he wants to take down the ministry from the inside for making him lie to this woman.

"What kind of jobs?"

He decides to take the sarcastic route, because he thinks he can sneak some flirting in, and it seems like her thing anyway. "I can't tell you that. We hardly know each other. Maybe in a while."

"Come on. It can't be that secretive."

She bats her eyelashes up at him. When you look like that, you must know what you're doing, he thinks. He suddenly pictures every man before him, looking at those big green eyes and thinking he's the first, and feels so pathetic he resolves to keep his mouth shut.

"I'm afraid it is."

Thank goodness, she gives it up. But her silence makes him a bit nervous after a while. He can't be the first to break it this time, because he was every other and he'd look even more stupid.

Eventually, the conversation starts again, although if you asked him he couldn't tell you how. But it does. He finds out she works at an insurance office, but desperately wants to quit. She paints whenever she has the chance (and if he looks close enough, there's flecks on her shirt). She has two older sisters, and one younger, and their dad. She's been single for nearly a year. He hardly realizes when the trees grow sparse and the houses start. They could've walked to the nearest sea, and he wouldn't have noticed.

When they enter the neighborhood, he feels this manic, terrifying, sickness. They're nearly to her house. He's never going to see her again. He swears he doesn't fall in love with any pretty girl on the street, but this feels unbearable. He's never felt like this before. Not with the only girlfriend he had had, not with any of the ones he fancied, either. He's afraid it's entirely one sided, and he'll never be able to get over it.

"Here we are." Here it is. That's all, then.

"When can I see you again?" she asks.

"I-we-what?"

"Well, I've got to return the favor somehow, haven't I?"

He suddenly feels lightheaded.

"You... right, well..." He pauses to swallow and rake a hand over his face. "Any time. Or any day, I mean, but any time either, really. Whenever you... When are you free?"

She smiles that fucking smile again, with those teeth.

"Day after tomorrow, at five. Come get me here."

"I'll be here," he says much too quickly. She laughs at him.

"I'll be waiting."

He lingers a minute after she goes inside, and actually has to pause with his hands on his knees, and suck in a deep breath. It's only when he gets back to his hotel room that he realizes he hadn't gotten anything done for work.