❝𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑵𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬❞
in which there is a war to be fought, and two former opposites realize what it really means to lose everything.
☾
or:
in which sage fontaine and sirius black don't know how to cope with the realities of w...
When Sage arrived back home the next morning, after staying at Alice's all night helping to patch up the wounded and perform counter-curses on the cursed, Anna-Lee was waiting for her, prepared to rain hellfire upon her.
"Where. The hell. Have you been?" The American said, seething. She stood up from where she sat on the couch and stomped her way over to Sage. "And why are you covered in blood?"
Sage just sighed, plopping down gracelessly in the spot that Anna-Lee had just vacated.
"I don't know how they do things in the States, Yankee, but in England, our New Year's parties get a little crazy." She said with a mirthless laugh that turned into a pained groan. "Our litle party was attacked. Got hit with a few dozen curses. But don't worry—it's not my blood."
That only caused Anna-Lee more panic. "Well, whose fucking blood is it, English?"
Sage flopped backwards, resting her head on an ornate pillow. "Don't worry about it. I just—I think I might need some help getting to bed."
"No, you're not going to bed. You're getting in the damn shower. You smell like alcohol and blood."
☾
An hour later, after much complaining and protesting on Sage's part, Anna-Lee had finally dragged her sorry ass upstairs, into the main bathroom in the owner's suite.
"You really stayed up all night healing people, instead of getting yourself healed?" The American said, annoyed, as she helped Sage wash the blood out of her hair; the taller girl had been whining in pain for the entirity of the time she'd been home.
Sage smiled tiredly. "It was either that or let my boyfriend bleed out. Really wasn't a hard decision." She replied.
Anna-Lee just sighed, digging her fingers deeper into Sage's hair. "Well, I guess I can admire the heroicness of it all."
The two girls lulled into silence for a few moments, and the only noise in the room was the gentle sloshing of water as Anna-Lee rinsed the shampoo out of Sage's dark hair.
"You know..." Sage began in a whisper. "You haven't had to wash my hair for me since I was thirteen, and I broke my leg trying to play quidditch with Julien."
Anna-Lee laughed at the memory, seeing the image of a thirteen year old Sage limping around the grand old house and complaining about how gross she felt.
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"You haven't let me baby you since—I think I wounded your pride."
