The air was heavy with humidity when a sharp sound broke the calmness in which Camren Street slept in. It was sudden, dry and mystical, all at once. At that time there were no passers by, no light on the storefronts aligned at each side on the street, and the whole heat of summer days held everything in place as if time had stopped. Everything, but the womanly figure that had appeared out of thin air. She was only lit by the red light from the traffic light on the corner. Somewhere not so far away, the bang from a door rumbled all through Camren, and the cries of a baby confirmed that there was life beyond the darkness of the night.
The woman made her way through the emptiness, with a fast pace and no looks back, as if she were being chased by the density of her steps. She slowed down when she arrived at the corner, and stood below the traffic lights. Under the hood of her jacket -a questionable clothing item at that time of the year, and in one of London's warmest summers-, she closed her eyes. Under her breath, a quiet voice counted to thirty. When she made it to the number, her gaze flew to the traffic lights. Within seconds, a bright green lit the whole street. A relieved sigh left her lips. She started walking again, and crossed to the left.
The street opened into a more residential area. There were no more comercial locals, only three stories old buildings, built with bricks and concrete. Each one of them had brown gardens in the front, with little to no flowers that had survived from the vivid Spring they had had just weeks ago. She sped through the path till she made it to the middle. There, made her way through the garden's gate, with the calmness of someone who has done it more times than they can remember. Her steps were slower now, as she crossed the path of bricks between the dead grass. There was a discarded flamingo figure, some decorative garden gnomes and a bicycle in the way, but she skipped them, like she always did, thankful to the strong habitness that helped her through the dark.
One by one she made her way through the short staircase and into the building's entrance, where she only mumbled some words until the door opened by itself. Once inside, another couple of stairs took her into the third floor. The hallways were illuminated by yellow lights. She could now see her own feet while they took her through the right wing, and her white knuckles when she knocked softly on the door at the end of the hall.
She could see the light coming from the inside even though it was three am. Seconds later, the shadow of two feet appeared and covered the shimmer of light. In no time, the door was open and a tall, well built, blond man looked back at her, with dancing eyes and a malicious smile. She felt a shiver run through her spine and her lips parted slowly, finally letting the tension in her shoulders disappear. They looked at each other in silence for several minutes, a warm anticipation starting to electrice the space surrounding them. He was the one to look away first, and took a step back.
There was no doubt on her steps when she made her way inside. She didn't say no when his arms moved to be around her waist, and he didn't pull back when Lily's lips searched for his. Scorpius kissed her back with the energy of someone who has been waiting for ages, and with a small movement of his foot, he closed the door.
The night emptied again, and this time only the low rumble of an insatiable passion flowed along the silence of Camren Street. The traffic lights continued to illuminate invisible cars and fake pedestrians, while far away, secrets and lies were consumed by two bodies who yearned for the sweet taste of rebellion and were drowned in a deep negation. All of London slept, except those young souls who found consolation on the treacherous situation they called freedom.