Who: Caradoc Dearborn!
What: TIS COLD AND GRUMPY OUT
When: Now!
Where: NYC!

( It had become so unbelievably cold that Caradoc charmed the insides of his pockets to stay much warmer than normal. )

WHO: Emmeline and Caradoc!
WHAT: Reunited!
WHEN: Before the holidays!
WHERE: A park near her childhood home in Liverpool

( Caradoc’s brow furrowed, and he felt an uncomfortable itch begin to bloom under his skin. )

Stoic, and cold, Caradoc slipped through the front doors of Evan Rosier's abandoned home. The location was not ideal, he realized, but with the amount of shit Evan was no doubt cursing his every move with, one more drop in the cauldron really couldn't matter. Evan was going to kill him in the afterlife regardless of whether he kept an unconscious Derek Dobbs in his former home or not, so he might as well use the opportunity that was there while a different plane separated him from his deceased, and previous, best friend.

As usual, he mindfully inched around the piano at the end of the hallway, not needing much of an indication of its presence. Its existence, while not deafening, only reminded him of the past, and set in this run-down setting, very much felt like a powerful symbol begging to be addressed, and noticed.

Caradoc closed his left eye to block the instrument out of view.

Keeping his head down, he glided through the rest of the home until making it to the back, into a room where all those nights ago he'd dropped Derek Dobb's body. It laid like it always had, a bit disheveled and uncomfortably calm. Or, well--- Caradoc looked down at his timepiece. Shouldn't be calm anymore, should be turning more lively right about now. Feeling annoyed (must Dobbs always be this unhelpful?), he stepped closer.

"Wake up."

Caradoc kicked the bedpost, and the bed rattled in such a way that it made him seriously question the frame's structural integrity. Perhaps he should have cared more about Derek's accommodations, per his last promise to Rachel, but he really couldn't be bothered to do more than he already had. Dobbs was lucky to not be slumped on the ground in a corner.

He kicked the bed frame again.

While she wasn't particularly keen on parties, she was set on saving wildlife. Everyone else seemed to rake in the galleons by throwing large events, no matter the scandals that erupted from them, so why couldn't they? Nora had conservatory's committee for quite some time now, and being the youngest by a good forty years, had devised this plan as a new and fresh way of funding. It helped greatly that she had friends that had access to some of the best party planners (or that she could twist Charlie Spinnet's ear until he helped her out), and things seemed to have turned out well. So far.

For the brave at heart, there was a grand maze that made its way throughout the haunted castle. Guests would be offered clues to get themselves to the ballroom, and if they were truly lost (as Nora was sure was to occur), for just a small donation (it's for charity), any money dropped into a clue box would light up a blue path down the correct route to lead the way out. With all the Gryffindors that Nora had put on the guest list, she was sure they were going to triple their goal.

There was a simpler route than the maze, which was simply to walk through the double doors to the dance floor. Nora was currently wavering between the two, having run out of pamphlets to give out at the front entrance therefore giving her no excuse to join the festivities. She felt rather exposed, as Delilah had stolen her cloak, and when someone tapped her shoulder she jumped nearly a foot in the air.

"Bloody hell!" she let out, spinning around. "You scared the life out of me!"

WHO: SHIT
WHAT: YIKES
WHERE: OH GOD
WHEN: NIGHT BEFORE HALLOWEEN

( You! It's not possible. )

Caradoc slammed the front door shut purposely, letting the loud noise announce his arrival to the inhabitants within. Well, really, one inhabitant within, as the other had presumably been asleep for the past hour; but Andrew would not be woken by familiar door activity. Emmeline, on the other hand, the mother of his child, the witch he had been living with for the past two years, the one Caradoc had restarted his life with, she would definitely notice.

Notice, and then proceed to ignore him like she had been for the past couple of weeks, but notice nonetheless.

Letting out a long sigh, Caradoc proceeded slowly through the front hallway, stopping only to toss his gloves and scarf on the side table. It was cold out, and it had taken him much longer this time to locate Emmeline and Andrew (there were a few of houses in possession that Emmeline could choose to ignore him in), so he found his patience properly tested. It had only been two days in which they had been out of contact, and Caradoc didn't truly believe it was in Emmeline's best interest in knowing what he had been up to in France, for---

He had almost walked by her, with how quietly she had been sitting in the study. Stopping abruptly, Caradoc watched Emmeline from the doorway. She appeared unfazed, continuing to write whatever it was she was writing (a letter, perhaps?) as if she continued to be the only body in the room. After a few silent passing moments, his chin dropped to his chest as his brow furrowed.

"How much longer are you planning on keeping this up?" he asked, one of his hands waving idly around the room. To what he was referring, of course, wasn't an object in the room, or her writing, but the small detail that every night she would, instead of staying home, move to one of their various decoy houses without him, leaving him to either stay home alone or go on a hunt for his family. At first he had let Emmeline do as she wished, as a necessary means to state her displeasure over him, but now it had just become irritating.

"Just so I know."

As a fresh September breeze blew her hair into her face, Therese contemplated never leaving the island of Manhattan. The bustling city was a beautiful and intoxicating change of environment, providing her with a sense of excitement and vigor that she'd been so lost without this past year. Therese knew, somewhere past the elation she felt, that simply being away from her home and all the problems she had there could be giving her this jubilant feeling, but she liked to say that the cities of Paris and New York City were source of her happiness. Her time with her family in France had helped ease her stress-filled mind, and now the constant movement of New York kept her wanting to do everything and anything.

She had been given the portkey passes by an up and coming fashion designer she'd met in Paris. Therese would not lie, she had allowed him to sweet talk her, batting her eyes as he went on and on about how she should be his muse. It was thrilling to hear even if she knew that his intentions were not that holy; hers weren't either, and she had not met up with the man after landing in New York.

The fashion, the buildings, the people were worth the bit of trickery. Therese found herself on a bench in Central Park simply watching the muggles and wizards go by, intermingling without question. The muggles did not bat an eye at the strange fashions because they too were going through some strange trends. Therese had always enjoyed watching people, ideas swirling through her head about what their story could be. It soothed her, and she pulled her cloak a little tighter to keep her warm while she enjoyed the day.

Could it really have been five years?

Emmeline had been organizing some paperwork, files, letters, old school essays because somehow their closet had become a disaster zone. Somehow meaning that her one year old son Andrew had managed to get his hands on the various boxes and thought it had been quite fun to spill their contents all over the floor. Emmeline had found him looking very pleased with himself and gnawing on an envelope. Children could be so precious.

"Don't do it," Emmeline muttered as her hand gripped the back of Andrew's shirt as he tried to scale the dresser drawers of the closet. Her eyes were focused on the letter in her other hand, something she hadn't seen in a very, very long time. Five years it must have been. Her acceptance letter into the St. Mungo's healing program, still rather crisp because she had tucked it away immediately to keep in tact. Not that Emmeline did much reminiscing of her last few years in England as most of her memories were fraught with pain and despair, but this had been a happy day for more reasons than one.

Andrew stopped struggling against her hold for a moment and Emmeline looked over at him. His bright blue eyes were focused toward the door of the closet, and a second later he let out a shrill shriek of delight. Emmeline recognized the excitement in his voice and she let him hurry off to greet Caradoc, who must have just arrived home.

"I'm in the closet!" she called after, hearing footsteps and doors shutting. Five years?

It had taken Caradoc a very long time to finally come to his senses, but it did eventually happen. There had been multiple stages that had gotten him to this lucid state nearing twenty-four hours later, and he couldn't quite tell which was worse. Not understanding how this had all happened, or understanding too much. Either way, he had found that after his little chat with the Goldsteins, Caradoc had continued to find himself here, pacing in the front foyer area of their house. In his right hand was the blue vile, an item he had been clutching since awakening from his comatose sometime around noon. It--- while catching random glances at it still made his heart jump and his stomach drop, purposely looking down at it helped put his mind on the right track, in perspective, whenever it wandered. It was-- important that things did not progress like the night before when he finally did see Emmeline again. He knew--- he could breathe again, he had been able to think and process, making this news... not exactly easy to swallow, but at least something he could react reasonably to.

But Emmeline had not come home all night. It was quickly becoming dark now, leaving wandering thoughts in the back of his mind whether he should go out and start looking for her. He knew that she would be more than capable in protecting herself, but the thought of his pregnant girlfriend out alone in the city was an extremely unsettling thought to Caradoc.

He stopped, realizing that was never a thought he never thought he would have to think until about twelve hours ago. But that--- he shook his head, as if to push it out of his conscious for the time being. One issue at a time.

Running his head through his hair, Caradoc stopped to check his journal one more time. There was nothing new, and he suddenly became unable to wait here another minute. What was he doing, waiting here like some helpless--- thing? He was--- he was Caradoc Dearborn, he did not wait for things, he took charge, he controlled--- the sound of a key turning a lock filled the hallway, and Caradoc quickly snapped toward it. Caught between wanting to jump toward the door and to wait where he was, he awkwardly stuck his right arm out straight, as if showing off what he was holding in his hand for display.

WHO: Emmeline Vance and Caradoc Dearborn
WHAT: A big surprise!
WHERE: Their house
WHEN: Last night!

( Everyone knew how to read a pregnancy test. )

She had always thought that daydreaming was for those who couldn't handle their thoughts, but Emmeline had found much of her time spent in her new life staring out the window and into the street, getting lost in various dreams and ideas. She wasn't completely satisfied with this new habit of hers, but it seemed to make the days go by faster, and the further away from her past in England, the better, she liked to think.

Emmeline idly opened and closed the wedding invitation that had arrived last week from Davy Gudgeon as she continued to stare. She still hadn't responded, but she was sure she was going to go. Mostly because it would give her a chance to visit Anneliese, and make sure that Juliet wasn't plotting Nott's death. The few aspects of her past back in England still called to her, giving her some sort of sense of responsibility. Emmeline was sure that's what she missed. As much as she wanted to get away from everything that had tortured her these last five years, here in New York there was no sense of...she didn't feel any urgency. That was supposed to be a good thing, wasn't it? But she'd lived with that tense sensation shaking her very bones for as long as she could remember and it was hard to become accustomed to not having to...well, she supposed...worry.

Her eyes followed a couple walking hand in hand on the sidewalk and a smile slowly crept onto her face, her braided hair falling out of its twist as she let her head rest against the window pane. Her legs stretched across the window seat and she continued to twist the invitation around in her hands, not hearing Caradoc enter the bedroom behind her.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been on the floor in the hallway of her flat. It had been long enough for Dedalus, Brad, and Elphias to come to her door, trying to bang it down but with no response from her. Long enough for the teapot she’d put on to start shrieking in the background, only to begin to shake and boil over onto the floor of the kitchen. Max had been let out early this morning, when she’d gotten the paper, and had stopped his whining to come, having given up on catching his owner’s attention.

How long ago had Augusta come and taken Neville away? How long ago had it been since Emmeline had picked up the Prophet and read, in blaring bold letters that Frank had been attacked and committed to St. Mungo’s, the severity of his injuries unknown at this moment?

Augusta had basically told her that he wasn’t coming back. Emmeline could barely remember the woman bursting into her flat, or what she had said, but the stern words she did recall included the fact that Frank wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t coming back. Emmeline had little time to process anything when Augusta swooped Neville up and proclaimed that it wasn’t safe for the boy to be around any former Order of the Phoenix members, even Emmeline. The war would never be truly over, so Neville had to be kept away from anyone that could bring trouble. And--that was it. She was gone, and she’d taken Neville. Emmeline had tried to stop her, her eyes were red and her face blotchy from the tears she’d sobbed as she tried to convince Augusta to let her take Neville, but it was to no avail. That was it. He was gone, Frank was gone.

She’d tried to make it back to the kitchen, to owl Caradoc who would probably have no idea of what was going on; the prophet wasn’t sent to her old home, his hiding spot, to avoid suspicion, so how could he know? How could he know what had happened without her telling him? Emmeline had tried to make it to the kitchen, to at least get her journal, but she’d stumbled into a side table and had dropped to the floor, unable to force her legs to move. She sat awkwardly between the legs of the table and stared into the darkness of her flat, wondering what on earth would ever be able to make her want to move again.

Who: Caradoc Dearborn & Emmeline Vance
When: November 1, 1981 [3 AM]
What: finding out You-Know-Who's gone

( He’s gone, Caradoc----Voldemort----he’s dead, he’s gone )

Emmeline slowly made her way up the basement stairs of her childhood home, having apparated into the safe area of the house. All the windows were shut and curtains were drawn, but it was still the only entrance that wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye. When you were hiding a man who had supposedly been dead for nearly two years now, it was important to keep that kind of secrecy. She pushed open the door of the basement to peer out. Emmeline hadn’t been back into the house since she and Anneliese had moved out before the end of seventh year, and it made her stomach twist to have to walk its halls again.

Not only did the house have the depressing memories of her lack of a childhood, but the fights she’d gotten into here with one Will Jugson still plagued her and Emmeline rushed up the stairs and passed the living room where their last (and final) confrontation had taken place.

“Caradoc?” she called out softly. She didn’t actually know if he’d be here. He’d been very sporadic with his visits since the disappearances, and while Emmeline hadn’t been as readily available as she’d like, she honestly had no idea what he could be up to. It worried her to no end--she hoped that he wasn’t trying to dig up past connections to help the missing...which sounded incredibly selfish, but Emmeline couldn’t stand the idea of Caradoc risking his life again.

She peered into her old bedroom. Emmeline let out a breath and crossed to her dresser, one she’d had since she was eleven. There were still some old belongings sitting upon it, and she found a ribbon to twist into her hair at the base of her head.

“Dear, you need to get some sleep--look at those purple bags!” her mirror tutted. Emmeline frowned; she remembered why she hadn’t brought the damn thing along.