July 27th, 1977
Who: Frank Longbottom and Emmeline Vance
What: Bickering, of course, but things get settled
Where: Roof of Emmeline's house



"You get freckles from sitting out in the sun, you know."

Frank eyed Emmeline from his chair on top of the Vance's roof as she sat down in another, more directly in the sun. Why did girls like sitting in the sun for hours on end, anyway? Didn't they get bored just laying there? Although, he had to admit, he liked girls that didn't look so sickly white…but he wouldn't tell Emmeline that. As far as he was concerned, sitting in the sun was bad and you shouldn't do it unless playing Quidditch.

The Vance's roof was nice- a typical wizard rooftop that basically looked like it should be their living room and not outside. But Frank liked it, and so did Emmeline, so this was where they were spending time most of their days. Well, he liked sitting in the shade and being cool while she liked sweating in the sun, but that was a different story.

“Yes, well---I already have some and...shut up.”

Emmeline sat up and looked over the top of her sunglasses, sending a bit of a glare toward Frank. Of course she knew all that, she wouldn’t jump into something like getting a tan without actually looking into it. She didn’t know what had really possessed her to start tanning, but Emmeline liked to blame it on Anneliese, for suggesting she did, and Ben, because girls tended to tan to look nice for their boyfriends.

“You could use some sun, you know,” she said with a smirk, “you’re as pale as a bed sheet.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared back. "Yes, but I play Quidditch so it doesn't matter anyway. I'll just get burned," Frank retorted back, raising an eyebrow. That didn't really make sense and most likely Emmeline would know that, but at least it was some form of an answer. He would rather not talk about his lack of sun-to-skin problem this summer.

"And, you should know that-" Frank started, raising his index finger to back himself up. But, just as he was going to make something else up, an owl flew right over to the farthest corner on the roof and perched itself there. That was his parent's owl. The owl that had been delivering letters daily since Monday. Mouth still wide and finger still in the air, he cranked his neck to look at Emmeline. Hell, she was not getting that letter before he was. He jumped up from his chair to beat her to the letter.

Emmeline was waiting for another one of Frank’s stupid retorts, but followed his gaze and spotted the owl. Oh, bloody hell. This would completely ruin any sort of mood Frank was in and--- “FRANK!” she scolded, jumping up and hurrying after him. “Leave it alone! Don’t you dare touch that owl!”

The owl must’ve realized the attack that was coming, and fluttered up a bit so now it was hovering over their heads. Frank was much taller than Emmeline, so he had the better shot of snatching the letter away, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to stop him. “Don’t!” she snapped again, swatting his shoulder.

"Stop it! It's my owl," Frank snapped to her, swatting feverishly at the owl; though that just resulted in the bird ascending higher by the second away from both of them. Getting annoyed with her pesky nudges, he gave her a nudge by shoving his hand into her face like he used to when they were little. Of course, now he wasn't pushing as hard and didn't want Emmeline to simply fall down to the ground, he just wanted her…to get out of the way.

"Bloody- where's my w- come here Balthazar, come here. Come here!"

Emmeline let out the loudest shrieks she’d every produced. Frank was not pushing his hand in her face---oh, that bloody idiot, why she---Emmeline grabbed his ear and tugged on it much harder than she would have in any other circumstances, but she wanted him to stop now.

“You stop that right now, Franklin!” she shrieked, and somehow she managed to pull Frank far down enough that Balthazar figured it would be safe to fly lower, and Emmeline snatched the letter. She clenched it tightly before releasing Frank and jumping away, putting a hand up. “You stay right there, Mister!”

"Ahhh!" Frank shouted, kneeling over as Emmeline shrieked bloody murder in his ear. Well, there went the last working parts of his right ear drum, yeah? How in the world she actually screamed that loud was beyond- "AHHHHH-BLOODY AAAHELL!!" he yelled, completely doubled over as she ripped on his ear. On command, he dropped his hand from Emmeline's face and put it on her's, trying desperately to unlatch her fingers from around his ear.

Mumbling a string of curses, Frank let (yes, let) Emmeline jump away from him. "Bloody hell, you know it would've been better if you just-" he started, hand clasped on his ear and kneeling down. She had the letter. Oh he would kill that bloody owl the next time- just pluck all it's feathers off.

"Emmeline, give me the letter."

“You must be out of your mind!” Emmeline scoffed, turning her nose up slightly as she stopped back to her chair, swiping up her wand. Frank was such a huge baby, screaming and pushing her like that. Did he think they were five years old, again? At five, they didn’t have wands, oooh, if he tried to get this letter, she would hex him until there was no tomorrow---Emmeline didn’t have any warning against her, and she could always say it was self-defense.

Of course, she didn’t want to hex Frank, but if he was stupid enough to come after her, then the boy deserved it. “You will sit right there,” she said, twirling her wand around, “and listen to what your mother has to say.”

Without waiting for Frank to retort, Emmeline tore open the letter, one hand holding it in front of her and the other with her wand pointed straight at Frank.

Dear Frank,

It's more likely more not, you will not reply to this letter and I only write that because you haven't replied yet, but I hope by sending them nearly every day you will at least read one, or eventually send some form of a word to your mother.

I just want to let you know that neither your father nor I feel hurt, offended, or ashamed of you because you were not at Derrick's funeral. Both of us understand how hard it must be, and must have been, to have to deal with your brother's death. Most people cannot handle family deaths to begin with and so I hope you know that you are doing just fine enough. I have no doubt in my mind that Derrick would understand.

Your father and I also want you to know that you are always welcomed home. Even if you had come home Sunday night two weeks ago, you would have been welcomed with open arms. As I told you at Alice's house, it was wrong for me to have reacted like the way I did and leave you with no one during such a crucial time. You were never disowned, and that time will never, ever come. I just hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive both of us, me more than your father, for making such a horrible mistake.

Please Frank, we love you very much and want more than anything to have you come back home, where you belong.

Sincerely,
Mum

Frank opened his mouth wide; glaring at Emmeline like it was his job. She was so- so- he would get her. And of course he didn't have his wand and she had hers. He would have never done anything to her if he did (and he trusted Emmeline would never do the same), it was just…now he felt a bit more uncomfortable and little bit more angry.

"Do not- don't you read that out loud!" he coughed out, totally forgetting about his ear and standing up abruptly. Hell no, hell no- oh there she goes opening it and then…now she's reading it. Trying his best, Frank attempted to just not listen. But, Emmeline had a rather loud and annoyingly attention-grabbing voice when she wanted to and he soon found himself listening intently.

He didn't say anything once Emmeline stopped speaking and jerked his gaze to the ground. Now not only did he feel angry, but he felt angry about feeling guilty and actually feeling like the lowliest bloke on the earth, because that was what he was right now.

Emmeline didn’t feel very good about reading the letter out loud, but it had to be done. She knew that Augusta, no matter how hard headed she could be (Emmeline knew exactly where Frank got his stubbornness from), she would never send letter after letter if they had been filled with horrible things to say about Frank. She was the insane woman she was because she loved her children, and Frank needed to see that.

She folded up the letter and came back over to Frank, holding it out for him. Emmeline hated the look on his face, but maybe his mum had been able to write something, to say something, that would snap Frank out of this constant mindless meandering.

“I’m sorry,” she said, frowning, not because of what the letter said, but because they’d fought once more.

Shiftily, Frank took the letter from Emmeline and shoved it into the back pocket of his Muggle jeans. "Yeah," he answered quietly, pulling back his mouth and biting the inside of his cheeks. So what was he supposed to do now? He hardly wanted to actually write back, but at the same time he wanted to go and Apparate right to his house and just stay there for the rest of the summer.

There, she had finally accomplished in him reading one of his mother's bleeding letters.

Emmeline sat down on the edge of the roof, looking over at her other neighbors’ small backyards. She liked that they were so close together, gave a sense of comfort knowing that there was always someone around.

“Frank,” she started, not sure where to go with what she was starting, but she was starting anyway. “Do you feel better?” This time, the question was honest and full of concern.

He shuffled his feet with an intense gaze locked with the ground. It felt more than appropriate to just sneer a 'no' to Emmeline or even a 'does it look like I feel better?' but he held his tongue. They had just fought and Frank was getting tired of it, to tell the truth. It might not look like it out the outside, but he hated fighting with Emmeline nearly as much as he hated fighting with Alice.

"I feel sick," Frank murmured, falling back onto the edge of the roof a bit near Emmeline. It wasn't a vomit sick just a…well, he wasn't really sure, but it was evident he wouldn't start throwing his guts out onto the floor. Besides, the last time they had eaten was at breakfast, and that had been hours ago.

“Sick?” she questioned, shifting over a bit to get closer to him. Okay, she really didn’t want to get vomited on, but Emmeline had a feeling that Frank wasn’t talking about that kind of sick. He looked far too calm to be ready to throw up his guts.

Emmeline put a hand on his lower back, patting it slightly. “It’s okay,” she said softly, not really sure what she was telling him was okay. Just that it would be, was all she knew.

Frank leaned forward a bit, on the edge about whether he should let Emmeline comfort him or not. He sighed, letting his hands hang off both his knees. "Everything's not okay," he said to the ground more than Emmeline. "I can't sleep, we're fighting more than when we were little, I haven't seen Alice or Ben in ages, and I haven't been home in nearly a month…and my brother was mercilessly murdered in front of me because I'm supposed to be the one dead. Everything is not okay." The whole time Frank looked down at his dangling hands, feeling uncomfortably hot for being in the shade and not fully in the sun.

This was the most Frank had said to her in weeks. This was the most, Emmeline suspected, that he had said to anyone since that tragic day in Diagon Alley. This was big, this was momentous, but Emmeline’s mouth remained clamped shut, because she wouldn’t, couldn’t ruin the rhythm he was in. She knew he had to get this out if he ever wanted to feel better, Emmeline knew he didn’t need advice, and for the first time in her life she was just going to shut up and listen.