Prompt: Safe/Esme Taylor & Amos Diggory
Requested by: samflynn

request one here

Esme was shaking. She couldn't tell if it was because she hadn't slept well in days, or because she hadn't eaten in 24 hours, or because of all the blood she'd lost in the past two. Maybe it was a combination of everything, all of it, every single piece of her fucking cursed life coming down to bear on her shoulders in this one awful moment, the worst moment that it possibly could.

Because she hurt, damn it, she hurt so much, and she was so tired. And there was a battle going on around her, a fucking fight where her friends might be dying or lying somewhere injured and she needed to help them. Where was Lily? Where was Dorcas, and Theo? Where were the others who were supposed to be out here? All she could see was a sea of black robes, and her grip on her wand tightened as they swam in front of her eyes.

Get a grip, Taylor. This is no time to be passing out. Especially not when the Death Eaters had taken to slitting throats of victims on the field when they could, just to make sure they were dead. She stumbled and tried to avoid a spell, surprised she'd been left alone for this long, and clumsily cast one back, just barely missing the target. Things were swimming in front of her. The Death Eater across the way must have sensed how out of it she was, because he--or she--rounded on her.

"Protego!"

The voice was strong, serious, familiar, and it came from behind Esme, just in time to stop a curse that no doubt would have killed her, in the condition she was in. "Helga's blood, Esme," came the voice again, catching her just as she started swaying again. "What in the world happened to you?" The stranger--she hadn't seen him yet--swung her arm over his shoulder and she turned to look. It was Amos. Amos Diggory.

A small, happy smile crossed her face. "Amos," she said softly, letting him half walk, half drag her behind some trees and shrubbery for safety. He looked tired too, they all looked tired these days, worn out and beaten down by all the death and pain and suffering. Sometimes Esme forgot what they were even fighting for, it all seemed so pointless and awful. He pulled something out of a bag tied around his shoulder and set to heal some of her wounds with the battle training they'd been given before entering the field. She laughed a little, making him look up at her sharply, in concern.

"Remember that time..." she said quietly, so tired now, "...when there were billywigs in school? And I was floating and you came and kissed me outside the Great Hall?" She might have just been hallucinating, but she could've sworn that he blushed. "That was nice." she said. She felt so dizzy. Why did she feel so dizzy? "Am I going to die, Amos?"

This time, she knew she wasn't hallucinating the sudden paleness of his face. "Don't be ridiculous Esme," he said, voice gravelly from worry. "You're not going to die. You're safe now." He finished binding a wound on her leg--probably saving it from infection and thus, amputation--and moved on to her arm. She stopped him with a hand, face pained. Tired. So fucking tired.

"Could you just...hug me for a second?" she asked. Like a child, she wished she could call out for her mother. But that ship had sailed a long, long time ago. "I just need to know that we're all still human, that we're still...those kids who giggled and kissed in midair outside the Great Hall that fall." She could see the flash of pain, sadness in his eyes, understood it just as well as she understood her own sadness and pain. They all shared that now.

He sat down and his arms wrapped around her, and she let herself melt into him, cheek pressed against his chest, forehead against his neck. She could hear his heart beating through his clothing, strong and a little fast.

Safe. She felt safe in his arms. She hadn't felt safe in the longest time. She wished she could just hold onto this moment and stay here, forever, just wrapped up in the feeling of safety. But she could hear the shouts and screams, as if they were from ages away, distant but still present. She let herself enjoy that moment, that feeling, for a moment more before pulling back slightly and kissing him on the very corner of his lips, ever so lightly. "Thanks, Amos," she said, almost serenely, as she pulled back. He seemed slightly stunned, and she hoped it was because he'd received the same sense of safety from her as she had from him. Fumbling slightly--not something that occurred often to Amos Diggory--he bandaged up her arm, and lifted her up from her spot on the ground.

"We need to get you to the medic," he said firmly.

"No," she said, almost desperately. "No, I need to be out there."

"Don't." Voice just as firm, but hands and feet far firmer. "You'll be of no use to us if you end up dead out there."

Silence. How could she argue with that? So she let him lift her up, slowly help her to the medic. And despite her protests, he himself disappeared back out into the fray after leaving her there, and she was alone and free to wonder when, or if, she'd ever feel that safe again.