Chapter 3
Lily
Lily moved through the wreckage, arms full of blankets, makeshift pillows, and whatever bits of warmth she could find. The night had settled in fully, bringing heavy darkness. She hated how quiet everything had become. The chaos of earlier—the shouting, the frantic searching, the screaming—had faded into something heavier, something more suffocating. Now, all that remained were the low murmurs of conversation, the occasional cough, and the distant crackling of flames.
Mary walked beside her, carrying another pile of salvaged fabric—sweaters, scarves, anything that could be used as a makeshift bed. They had spent the last hour gathering supplies, taking inventory of whatever had survived the crash. The suitcases they’d managed to find were stacked in a corner, some half-open, their contents spilling onto the dirt. The snacks were there too—bags of chips, granola bars, a handful of sealed water bottles. Not nearly enough.
Lily ignored the tightness in her chest and focused on her task.
She knelt beside a group of students huddled together, their faces pale and exhausted. Without a word, she handed them a few blankets. One of them, a younger boy with shaking hands, clutched it tightly and muttered a quiet, “Thanks.”
She nodded and moved on.
Dorcas was sitting where she’d been for the past hour, her expression blank, her fingers pressing absently against the cut on her forehead. Regulus had settled beside her earlier, but now he was a few feet away, talking in hushed tones with Barty and Evan. The three of them sat close, their voices quiet. Barty had finally let Pandora help him tie a sling around his injured arm—strips of cloth looped together to keep it in place. He was still shifting uncomfortably, clearly unhappy with it, but at least he wasn’t actively making it worse.
Not far from them, Pandora was crouched beside Frank, pressing the rim of a water bottle against his lips, coaxing him to drink. He groaned softly in response, his face contorted in pain, but he swallowed anyway. The firelight flickered against Pandora’s face, her expression unreadable as she adjusted the blanket over Frank’s shoulders.
Lily bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself to keep moving.
She handed another blanket to Marlene, who gave her a small nod before draping it over herself. Across the camp, she spotted Sirius and James sitting near the fire. They had managed to get it started just before the sun dropped, and now it was the only real source of light, its glow casting long shadows over the ground.
James stared into the flames, his hands clasped together, face tense with thought. Sirius sat beside him, arms crossed over his chest.
Lily took a deep breath, pulling her arms around herself as she glanced around at the scattered groups. The exhaustion on everyone’s faces was painfully obvious, but they couldn’t afford to just sit in silence forever. They needed something to hold onto—some sort of routine, some kind of structure—anything to keep them from completely falling apart.
She stepped closer to the fire, lifting her voice just enough to be heard over the flames. “Everyone, gather around,” she called. “We’re going to eat something. We need to keep up our strength.”
A few people looked up, hesitant. Some barely reacted at all, still caught in the haze of shock and exhaustion. Lily swallowed the frustration bubbling up in her chest and softened her tone. “I know none of us feel like eating right now,” she continued, scanning their faces. “But we don’t know how long we’re going to be out here. We need to keep our energy up, or we’re going to start dropping like flies.”
Slowly, people started to move. Mary helped one of the younger students up, guiding them toward the fire. Regulus and Evan exchanged glances before making their way over, Barty following behind, adjusting his sling as he moved. Marlene trudged over next, muttering something under her breath as she settled near Dorcas.
James ran a hand through his hair and exhaled through his nose, then stood up. “She’s right,” he said, his voice steadier than Lily expected. “Even if it’s just a little bit, we have to eat.”
Sirius didn’t say anything, but after a moment, he stood as well.
The food they had managed to salvage wasn’t much, but it was something. Mary went over to the pile, grabbing a few bags of chips and granola bars before returning. She handed a bag to Lily, then started passing out the rest.
Lily crouched beside Frank, nudging Pandora gently. “You should eat too,” she said.
Pandora glanced up, her face tired and unreadable. “I’m fine.”
Lily gave her a pointed look. “You’re not. Eat.”
Pandora exhaled, then finally reached out, taking a granola bar from her.
Lily stood back up and watched as the others slowly unwrapped their food, some hesitating, others barely even acknowledging it as they ate in silence.
The atmosphere was quiet, drained. Even the fire didn’t do much to lift the weight pressing down on them. Most people ate quietly, too exhausted or too numb to say much. The only real sounds were the occasional rustling of wrappers and the soft murmurs between friends.
Evan sat with Regulus and Barty a little ways from the others, eating at a normal pace, like nothing was wrong. Unlike the rest of them, he didn’t hesitate before opening his bag, nor did he seem particularly concerned about making it last.
Barty chewed slowly, his mind clearly elsewhere. Regulus, on the other hand, barely touched his food. He sat stiffly, his eyes flicking over the group, watchful as ever.
The quiet stretched on, heavy and unbroken—until the sound of another bag ripping open cut through it.
Lily glanced up just in time to see Evan, entirely unconcerned, reaching for a second bag of chips.
Sirius, who had been staring into the fire, immediately snapped to attention. “We should save some,” he said, his voice firm.
Evan barely looked at him. He just ripped the bag open, shaking some chips into his hand. “You want to save the chips?” His tone was flat, but something about it felt sharp.
The shift in the air was immediate. Lily wasn’t the only one who noticed it—Marlene paused mid-chew, eyes flicking between them. Mary looked confused, glancing at Lily for some sort of explanation. But Lily had none.
Evan popped a chip into his mouth, waiting.
Sirius didn’t respond right away, but his posture tensed, shoulders going rigid. James, sitting next to him, glanced away, suddenly very interested in the dirt beneath his shoes.
Lily frowned.
And then she caught Regulus’s expression.
Unlike the others, he wasn’t confused. He wasn’t uneasy. He was glaring at Sirius and James, eyes dark with something Lily couldn’t quite place.
The silence stretched.
Lily cleared her throat, forcing a smile. “Well,” she said lightly, “if we’re going to argue over food, maybe we should all take turns deciding who eats what.” She held up a half-eaten granola bar. “Anyone want to fight me for this?”
A few people snorted, the unease cracking just a little.
Lily raised an eyebrow. “No takers? Really?” She smirked. “Well, I guess that settles it then. No more fighting over potato chips.”
The group returned to their quiet chewing. No one spoke much after the moment between Evan and Sirius, but the weight of it still hung in the air. Exhaustion settled over them all, making every movement sluggish.
Lily chewed slowly, barely tasting the granola bar in her hands. She knew they needed the energy, but eating felt mechanical, like something her body was doing on its own rather than something she was choosing. Her gaze flickered over the others, taking in the way they sat—curled in on themselves, hunched over, barely conscious.
This wasn’t sustainable. They couldn’t just sit here, waiting for their bodies to shut down from exhaustion or hunger or worse.
She swallowed, then straightened. “We should set up to sleep,” she said, lifting her voice just enough to be heard. “We don’t know how long it’ll take for the rescue team to get here, but we need to be rested when they come.”
Across the fire, Marlene scoffed. “If they come.”
The words cut through Lily like a blade. She turned sharply, her exhaustion giving way to something sharper. “Don’t say that.”
Marlene didn’t look up, just shrugged, dragging a stick through the dirt in lazy circles. No one jumped to disagree with her. Some of them wouldn’t even meet Lily’s eyes.
Lily exhaled through her nose, steadying herself. “They’ll come,” she said firmly, daring anyone to argue. “We just have to hold on until then.”
No one responded, but at least they didn’t argue.
Slowly, they started to move, shifting into small groups, pulling together whatever they could find to make a place to sleep. Lily bent down, fixing one of the blankets she’d handed out earlier, tucking the edges around a younger student who had already curled up near the fire. Mary was helping another one settle in, murmuring something soft under her breath.
Lily forced herself to focus on her task, keeping her hands busy. She adjusted blankets, passed out extra scarves, made sure people were as close to the fire as they could be without getting too close. She needed to keep moving, needed to do something other than sit in the heavy silence.
But then she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.
Pandora.
Lily watched as she walked toward the edge of camp, where Snape sat alone. He hadn’t moved much since earlier, still curled in on himself, his arms resting on his knees. He didn’t look up when Pandora approached, didn’t acknowledge her at all.
Lily followed Pandora’s gaze and immediately understood why she had gone to him.
Mulciber’s body lay just beyond the light of the fire.
The sight of it sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through her stomach. The heat of the day had sped up the decay, and the smell was nearly unbearable now, thick and rotting. The others had tried to ignore it, had done their best to act like it wasn’t there, but they couldn’t leave him like this forever.
Lily turned away, swallowing down the bile rising in her throat.
She didn’t need to watch to know what was happening. She could hear the murmurs between Pandora and Snape, the shifting of fabric, the sound of something heavy being lifted. The smell only grew worse as they moved him, carrying the body further into the trees, away from the camp.
Lily clenched her jaw, forcing herself to focus on what was in front of her.
The others were settling in, stretching out in the makeshift sleeping spaces they had created. Some lay curled together for warmth, others sat staring at the fire, lost in their own thoughts.
Lily sat down stiffly, pulling her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
They just had to hold on.
The rescue team would come.
They had to.
Pandora
Pandora had studied enough about medicine and anatomy to know what needed to be done.
She had seen death before—read about it in clinical terms, dissected bodies in controlled environments—but nothing had prepared her for the reality of it. The smell. The weight. The way the skin changed, losing its warmth, its elasticity, becoming something less human.
Still, she didn’t hesitate. She moved with precision, her mind ignoring the horror of it as she helped Snape lift Mulciber’s body. The worst part was the limpness, the complete lack of resistance. It was unnatural. A body was meant to move with purpose, with tension. This was… wrong.
Snape was silent as they carried him. He didn’t meet her eyes, didn’t speak. Pandora didn’t push him to.
They laid Mulciber down away from the camp, somewhere past the trees, where the others wouldn’t have to see—or smell—him. It wasn’t much, but it was better than leaving him in the middle of the camp.
Pandora stepped back, wiping her hands on her already-dirty sweater. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she ignored it. There was still work to do.
She turned without a word and walked back toward the wreckage, ignoring Snape’s lingering gaze.
Her mind was already cataloging what they had, what they needed. Broken bones would become a bigger issue soon—she was sure some of them had fractures they hadn’t even registered yet, still running on adrenaline and shock. They needed splints, something to stabilize the injuries before they got worse.
Sticks.
Pandora veered off slightly, stepping into the trees, scanning the ground. She crouched, fingers closing around a sturdy branch, testing its strength. It would do. She reached for another.
As she worked, a voice carried through the trees, low and hushed.
“You’re telling me that didn’t freak you out?”
James.
Pandora stilled, fingers tightening around the stick.
“She didn’t even hesitate,” James continued. “She just—handled it. Like it was nothing.”
Peter let out a breath. “Yeah. She’s scary as hell.”
James huffed a quiet laugh. “In a good way, though. If she wasn’t here, we’d be screwed.”
“Completely,” Peter agreed. “I was trying not to throw up, and she just... knew exactly what to do.”
“She’s probably the most useful person here,” James said. “I mean, Lily’s keeping everyone together, but Pandora’s actually keeping people alive.”
There was a pause, then Peter added, “I hope she knows that.”
James exhaled. “Yeah. She should.”
Pandora stood there for a moment longer, something unfamiliar settling in her chest. Then, without another word, she gathered the sticks in her arms and made her way back to camp.
Marlene
Marlene knew the rescue team wasn’t going to come. She’d known the moment the plane started to go down. She knew when they hit the ground, when she pulled herself from the wreckage, when she saw the mess they were left with. And she knew now, lying on a pile of jackets, staring up at the sky, waiting for sleep that wouldn’t come.
She’d seen the transmitter fall out during the descent. It had been a blur of metal and wires, yanked loose in the chaos, tumbling straight into the lake as the plane tore apart around them. It was gone. Sunk. No way to send a signal. No way to call for help.
The others hadn’t noticed. Or if they had, they hadn’t said anything. Maybe they didn’t want to believe it. Maybe they still had hope.
Marlene didn’t.
Around her, the camp had finally settled into an uneasy quiet. The fire had burned down to embers, and most of the others were asleep—or at least pretending to be. The exhaustion had won out, forcing them into slumber, their bodies too drained to stay awake any longer.
She should have been asleep too. She should have been grateful for the stillness, for the chance to rest. But the pressure in her chest wouldn’t ease. The tightness in her throat wouldn’t fade.
She needed her pills.
The thought struck like a hammer, sharp and undeniable. It was stupid to wait, to tell herself she’d be fine. She wouldn’t. Not if she ran out. Not if she let it get bad again.
Carefully, she sat up, scanning the camp. Lily and Mary were curled together nearby, their faces slack with exhaustion. James had shifted in his sleep, one arm tossed over his eyes, Sirius’s jacket draped haphazardly over both of them. Across from them, Regulus was turned away, his breathing slow, steady. No one was awake.
Marlene pushed herself up, moving in silence. She slipped toward the pile of bags they had salvaged earlier, heart pounding as she crouched beside her own. The zipper sounded impossibly loud in the quiet.
She dug through the mess of clothes and supplies until her fingers found what she was looking for. The bottle was small, barely half-full. The sight of it sent a wave of relief through her, but it was fleeting.
Not enough.
She swallowed, twisting the cap off with ease. She tipped one pill into her palm, staring at it for a moment before tossing it into her mouth and swallowing dry.
Her fingers curled around the bottle as she stared down at it.
She was running out.
The realization sat heavy in her stomach. This wasn’t like running low at home, where she could just refill it. Out here, there were no refills. No pharmacy. No backup plan.
And no rescue team.
She exhaled shakily, shoving the bottle into her pocket and zipping the bag shut. Then, carefully, she stood, brushing her hands over her jeans like that would somehow ground her.
She turned her gaze toward the wreckage in the distance, barely visible against the dark.
No one else knew. Not about the transmitter. Not about how completely, utterly screwed they were.
And she wasn’t sure if she should tell them.
Marlene forced herself to lie back down, curling into her makeshift pile of jackets, but sleep refused to come. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on the rhythm of the wind through the trees, the distant crackling of the fire, the soft breathing of the others. It didn’t help.
Her thoughts kept spinning, circling back to the bottle in her bag. The weight of it. The pills inside. How many were left. How many she’d need. How long before they were gone completely.
Her father’s voice crept in, uninvited.
"You can’t afford to be weak, Marlene."
She turned onto her side.
"You have to be better. People are watching."
She pressed her face into her sleeve, jaw clenching. She wasn’t back there. She was here. She was—
The sound of quiet footsteps made her stiffen.
Marlene opened her eyes just as a shadow moved beside her. Dorcas.
Marlene frowned as Dorcas sat down next to her, cross-legged, like this was normal. Like they were friends.
Marlene frowned. “What are you doing?”
Dorcas shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Marlene snorted, turning back toward the trees. “And you thought sitting next to me would help?”
“You looked awake.”
Marlene rolled her eyes. “Maybe I wanted to be alone.”
Dorcas didn’t move. “Too bad.”
Marlene exhaled sharply through her nose, resisting the urge to tell her to piss off. She didn’t owe Dorcas anything. They weren’t friends. Never had been.
Her father’s voice slithered into her thoughts, unwelcome and sharp.
"People like you don’t have friends. They have competition."
She clenched her fists.
"You think anyone’s going to look after you? No one cares, Marlene. No one’s going to help you."
A fist slamming onto a table.
Her heartbeat spiked.
She inhaled slowly, forcing the memories back, then muttered, “Why are you actually here?”
Dorcas didn’t answer right away. “Dunno. Just—felt like it.”
Marlene scoffed. “Right. Sure.”
Silence stretched between them. The fire crackled, low and distant.
Then, Dorcas said, “How are you holding up?”
Marlene let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, don’t start.”
Dorcas raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing.” Marlene shook her head. “Just—this isn’t a fucking therapy session, alright?”
Dorcas didn’t react, didn’t even flinch. “Didn’t say it was.”
Marlene huffed, dragging a hand down her face. “I’m fine.”
Dorcas gave her a look, one that clearly said she didn’t believe her. But instead of arguing, she just leaned back on her hands, gazing toward the wreckage.
"You don’t have to lie," Dorcas said eventually.
Marlene tensed. "I’m not lying."
Dorcas hummed. “Right.”
Marlene turned to glare at her, but Dorcas still wasn’t looking at her, which somehow made it worse.
Her father’s voice rang in her head.
"Excuses. That’s all you ever have."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"You want to cry about it? You think anyone gives a shit?"
Fingers digging into her arm, dragging her forward, forcing her to stand up straight.
"You don’t get to break."
A sharp inhale. Marlene forced her shoulders to relax.
She needed a distraction. “How about you, then? You holding up alright?”
Dorcas considered the question for a second. “Define alright.”
Marlene blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Fair.”
Dorcas smiled, almost amused. “Glad we agree.”
Another stretch of silence. This one wasn’t as tense. Marlene focused on the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.
Then, Dorcas shifted. “We don’t have to do the whole ‘I hate you’ thing out here, you know.”
Marlene smirked. “Don’t we?”
Dorcas gave her an unimpressed look.
Marlene sighed, tilting her head back to stare at the sky. “Fine. Truce, I guess.”
Dorcas nodded. “Truce.”
It should’ve felt weird, sitting here like this. It should’ve felt forced, or at least uncomfortable. But it didn’t. The weight in Marlene’s chest hadn’t disappeared, not entirely, but it was quieter now. Easier to ignore.
She lost track of time, sitting there in the quiet, the fire flickering low. Her mind drifted. Not quite asleep, but not fully awake, either.
Then, something warm pressed against her shoulder.
Marlene blinked, turning her head slightly—and realized Dorcas had slumped against her, eyes closed, breathing steady.
Marlene froze.
Dorcas didn’t stir.
Marlene exhaled through her nose, shaking her head slightly. “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.
But she didn’t move.