Stupid trunk being so stupidly big. Stupid--so stupid--stupid people standing in the stupid way of the stupid compartment and it was stupid, this whole train, this whole school was stupid and Emmeline could not fathom why her parents had decided to send her here instead of Beauxbatons. At least they had class.

"We've got room, James!"

"Shut it Lupin." Potter turned back to Emmeline, who hadn't really been looking for a seat with him because why would she want to sit with such dopes? Potter grinned mockingly down at her, "Maybe you can find a spot in the caboose!"

"Shut up--" but the door had already slammed shut and Emmeline huffed loudly. She'd just knocked, it wasn't her fault that she couldn't see into the bloody window to see if it was full. Hefting her trunk off the ground, Emmeline started down again, stumbling greatly as the train made its way up to Scotland.

What was so good about Hogwarts, anyway? It seemed like they let anyone in, it couldn't be that prestigious. Twerps like Potter probably ran rampant throughout the corridors, how on earth was she expected to go another seven years of school with that? She had half a mind to write home the second they got to school to tell her father to come pick her up, but then Emmeline remember that she hated her house, so. It looked like she was going to have to deal with Hogwarts. Bloody ridiculous, that's what it was.

After trying three more compartments (almost four, but she'd heard Caradoc Dearborn's laugh through the door and had quickly passed before he could ridicule her), Emmeline gave up. There must be an abundance of first years this year, because there was no room. She propped her trunk up against the wall and sat down upon it, utterly embarrassed. She was going to have to sit there the entire ride. Oh, this was horrible, she wanted nothing more than for it to be tomorrow, but it being tomorrow meant she'd have class, and class meant dealing with people and she wasn't good at dealing with people and when Emmeline wasn't good at something she hated to do that certain something.

"Oh, no. You're really not sitting there."

The familiar voice made Emmeline's head shoot up and she wiped away a few fallen tears she hadn't notice. Her cousin Frank Longbottom had come out of a compartment and was staring at her in complete confusion and annoyance.

"Go away," she muttered, pulling her legs up underneath her and onto the trunk. Not surprisingly, Frank disappeared back into the compartment, shutting the door behind him. Huff. Emmeline's thoughts went to how she was going to hex him the moment she learned a good one, when the compartment door opened once more and Frank approached her. Without a word, he grabbed the handle of her trunk and began to pull it out from underneath her. Emmeline squeaked and jumped off, ready to scold him, but when she saw he was dragging it into his compartment, she faltered. Frank turned back to her, sighing loudly.

"Are you coming or not?"

"I--"

"Only rule is that you're not allowed to talk."

Emmeline's lips pursed, but after a few more seconds of deliberation she nodded and followed Frank into the compartment.

"Ben, this is my little cousin, Emmeline. She's mute."

Alright, this----- hurt. Caradoc held back the painful grunts at the bottom of his throat as he awkwardly bent down to the ground to slide his mask under the floorboard. It was late, very late, and for those few moments, he amazed at himself that he had found the spot so quickly in the dark without making any noise. It took him a few moments to stand back up fully, and once he did, he decided to stand there silently and figure out how much damage there really was to give time for his head to stop spinning.

There was definitely some form of a liquid coming out of his side that wasn't blood. He pushed his palm harder against the wound, immediately grimacing after the action. So, not doing that again would be smart. Caradoc dropped his hand from his side, and let it run up his other arm. From what he could tell, there was one huge gash on his right arm, his back was aching like no other, and there was something unfortunate going on with his knees. Caradoc slowly began to walk through the living room to the kitchen, shimmying his shirt off his back in the process and throwing it to the ground.

This wouldn't be that bad to fix, he had gone through worse before for littler reasons. Heaving out a long sigh, Caradoc pressed his palms against the kitchen counter, locking his elbows straight to lean into it. Water, water, maybe---suddenly, the lights snapped on before he had even thought about what had happened, and Caradoc jerked his head to the doorway.

Emmeline.

Caradoc stood there for a moment, frozen where he stood and unable to stop dread from filling him. He had forgotten she was here--- of course she was still here; when he had left, she had still been sleeping, so why wouldn't she still be here? She had her robe pulled tightly around her body and her slight frown said more words than he wished he understood.

Oh, fuck.

She didn't say anything to him at first, and he only broke the silence by letting out another long sigh. "Go back to sleep," he said in a worn tone, redirected his gaze to his feet. Things would be so much easier if she just listened to him now, really and honestly, it was late, and he was fine. He knew she would worry, and say something, which was exactly why he had made sure to close the door as quietly as possible and vow Filkes into not make one peep when Caradoc came back home.

There was a paused silence, and even though he could barely hear her voice when she did speak, he fully understood her tone. "There is a yellow something coming out of your side." She took a few steps toward him, and soon he felt her close to him.

"It's nothing," Caradoc pressed through his teeth, still refusing to look at her. Well, technically it was a reactive jinx pus on the verge of infection, but. Knowing what she was going to say next, he turned from her, and pushed off from the counter.

"It's on your back too."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and put one hand to rest on the counter before turning back to her. "I know," Caradoc said simply, at that moment, abruptly felt much worse than he had two minutes ago now that he was looking at her face. A frown formed on his face to meet Emmeline's, and he let out another long sigh, admitting defeat.

"Will you help me?"

Much to Caradoc's surprise, Emmeline pulled her wand out of her robes right then and there [so that had been what she'd been holding on to] with lightening speed, and didn't waste any time shooing him into the nearest chair. He let out a lone chuckle. "How did you---"

"Because I know everything, don't you remember? Now--- shush."

It would take one of Anneliese's handsome cousins asking her to dance to get Caradoc onto the floor. Honestly, he'd nearly torn her arm off the way he dragged her out to the middle of the crowd, right before she could decline the gentleman's offer.

Emmeline smirked greatly as he took her hand, her free one going to his shoulder and his to her waist. She'd never actually seen him dance, not that there really had been an occasion to, but it was interesting. Nice, but interesting. Emmeline had always enjoyed dancing, one of the few things her mother forced upon her that she didn't mind, and it seemed like she never got the chance to do so.

"I wasn't going to dance with him," she said, eyes flitting up for a moment to watch his expression. She had purposely taken a long time to tell the man no, to see how Caradoc would react, but it was still funny to see the slight twitch of his eyes at her reveal. Oh, yes, it was quite fun teasing him whenever she could.

"You could've gone with him," he responded, and Emmeline refrained from rolling her eyes. Right, that would have gone over so well. She'd still be in her green bridesmaid dress three weeks later, after they finished fighting about it. No, no, she didn't need to annoy him with something petty like he seemed to enjoy doing to her. Not that she was entirely innocent of it, but. Not tonight.

The music slowly transitioned from a waltz into a slow ballad, and Emmeline's feet stopped; he wouldn't want to dance to this, it was far too sappy and romantic. But, she was was pleasantly surprised when his hand slid from her side to around her waist, pulling her almost indecently close. Emmeline's hand left Caradoc's and she linked her fingers around his neck, pressing the side of her face to his chest. This was unexpected, but she wasn't going to question, no, she'd take it for all it was worth. They'd been apart for months now, and these past few weeks? They'd been excellent. More than excellent, really, and for the first time in a very, very long time Emmeline really believed things would be okay. Of course, knowing her luck, tomorrow would bring great tragedy, but she'd started 'living for the moment' or whatever the Gryffindors liked to cry when they did something stupid.

Her eyes shut as she felt his face press against the top of her head, and Emmeline was about to note that he wasn't too bad of a dancer (though she really didn't want to mess up the moment) when Cardadoc's lips grazed her ear,

"He wouldn't have made it to the dance floor if you'd accepted."

A little rude, a little moment-killing, but Emmeline's lips twitched up into a smile and she didn't bother looking up at him. No, she could take that as a compliment, or something of the like.

There was no way that this doofy Gryffindor was his son. Just from that sentence alone: doofy. Gryffindor. In no alternate universe would Caradoc Dearborn's son be described in such a manner, but there he was, watching Andrew (Andrew, at least it was a normal name--) attempt to catch the little crabs that were swept onto the beach with each incoming wave. It should be simple enough; start digging in the sand early, and scoop up a pile---there should be a crab in there somewhere. But apparently Andrew couldn't come to that conclusion on his own, and was dropping to his knees and getting soaked beyond belief.

"He's never seen a beach like this before."

Caradoc looked over his shoulder as Emmeline came through the door, and he looked back toward the teenager (another reason he couldn't be his son; he was a teenager) as he dove into the waves, fully dressed.

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong with him?" which earned him a quick slap in arm, but Caradoc was honestly concerned. Which he shouldn't be, because this wasn't his son, but he was. Emmeline could not have raised such a...such a...

"He's a bit silly, I'll admit." Caradoc could hear her smile, and he lolled his head over in her direction.

"A bit? Look at him, he's going to drown in half a foot of water--"

"No, he's just unconventional," she shot back, but the grin was still there. Caradoc let out a breath from his nose, wondering if Andrew even noticed that his parents were watching him from the--whoa. Had he actually just thought that? Andrew's parents? Emmeline had nearly two decades to get used to the idea, but him? Oh, no. Just met them on the street one day last week, as if they were old neighbors bumping into each other in the market. Except she had a son. His son. And Caradoc was sure he blacked out for a moment, but the fact that he didn't run away screaming bloody murder was quite impressive, he liked to believe.

But, he hadn't had a...well, he didn't know what. Were you supposed to have some sort of epiphany when you were introduced to your child? Caradoc could barely admit to himself that Andrew looked remarkably like him, and maybe there were some things he said that definitely would have come out of his mouth at the age of fifteen, but really, there wasn't much else to make him actually view the boy as his--

BOOM!

Caradoc's feet fell from the railing they were propped up against as he watched an explosion of sand erupt from the beach. Emmeline let out a groan and stood to lean over the railing, shouting out at the boy, who instantly dove into the mess. Andrew had apparently grown tired of the crab situation and had pulled out his wand and literally blew a crater into the beach.

"I got one!" he shouted back happily, holding up the crab he'd nearly annihilated.

Caradoc looked from Andrew to Emmeline, then back at the boy with an impressed grin. Okay, so maybe this wasn't so hard to believe.

It was mind-boggling, the way she'd left a brightly lit, cold January afternoon in England and reappeared in mere seconds in the tropical sunrise of Panama. Emmeline took a good look around her, heart beating fast as the idea of this really happening fully began to sink in. She was here, she was in Panama, away from England, away from all the disarray of the end of the war. Everything that could have made her stay was gone, snatched away from her in an instant, and it took only a moment for her to accept Dumbledore's invitation.

Or, well 'St. Mungo's' invitation. Emmeline understood where it had come from, she'd known that the internship in a foreign country was supposed to go to one of the residents in Magical Bugs, but with a bit of...well, magic, she was sure that Dumbledore had played a helping hand in getting her the opportunity. And, how very convenient that it be in the country she'd been dreaming about, or at least, yearning to be in, near---for, Merlin. Two years, technically. One, given the fact that she hadn't known where he was for that first...

Why was she still standing there?

Glad that she'd taken Dumbledore's advice and dressed for warm weather (though she'd been freezing on her way up to Hogwarts, shorts and a tank top, really?), Emmeline pulled out the directions and started through the town, completely amazed at the headmaster's details. He really knew everything, Dumbledore did, and after about fifteen minutes of walking she came upon a small house, very plain and normal looking, just like its neighbors, blending into the crowd. She stopped at the fence, looking at the number on the mailbox. That's what her paper said, 903. Emmeline felt her breath shorten and suddenly she wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not. After all these years of suffering through the war, was Voldemort really gone? Was the Order of the Phoenix really disbanded? Was she actually allowed to move on with her life and not have to concern herself about who was watching her, and who wanted her dead?

A rooster crowed loudly nearby, making her jump and push the gate of the fence open. Oh, she was walking down the stone path, Merlin--she was up the wooden steps, and the large brown bag with her belongings slid off her back and dropped to the deck. She wasn't controlling her feet anymore, she was mere centimeters from the door and her hand was knocking furiously against the frame, pressing the doorbell more times than she should before she could realize what was happening. She had to look like some complete nutter, banging on his door--oy, is that what they called crazy people over here? No, she'd have to find out, but what else would the---

"Who the fuck do you think you are, knocking like this at fucking six in the goddamn----"

The door swung open and the scowl on Caradoc's face could burn the skin off of bones. His rant ended abruptly, mouth still in the shaped of his next words. Emmeline grinned somewhat cheekily, breathing as if she'd just walked a thousand miles---which, well, she had technically done something like that. Oh, look at him, there he was and she couldn't stop grinning, but she couldn't move, and there. He. Was.

"I hear Panama's in need of a few good healers," she let out breathlessly, waiting for Caradoc to unfreeze. This could either be a very good reaction or a very bad one, but Emmeline knew, she knew--

"Holy shit," he groaned, and Caradoc grabbed her face again just like he had the first time they'd kissed, but there was no wall to back into now, no---he pulled her inside, and in the midst of their whirlwind throughout his living room it occurred to her that she wasn't going to see any more of Panama until tomorrow's sunrise.

She was an absolutely horrible mother.

Emmeline stood in the doorway of Andrew's empty bedroom, staring at her son who sat in the windowsill. It had a beautiful view of the beach and ocean, the sun setting in an array of oranges, reds, and yellows. Anyone would be eternally grateful to have that sunset fall across the wood panel floors of their bedroom, but all Andrew had been able to do was send dagger-like glares into it.

"I dunno why you just stand there," Andrew said from across the room, and Emmeline shuffled in slowly, "You know you can't keep quiet."

"Hey," she quietly scolded, sitting on the end of the bed. They'd been in Panama a week, and in those few seven days, Andrew had been told he couldn't finish his years at Hogwarts, he couldn't contact any of his friends back home, he had to move across the ocean, he had to learn a new language, and he'd met the father he'd only heard stories about, and hadn't gotten the greatest of reactions.

It was too much for the boy, Emmeline knew, and she fell back onto the bed. She was the worst mum ever.

Her eyes were locked onto the cracks on the ceiling when she heard Andrew's feet pad slowly across the floor. Emmeline managed to not look at him when he flopped unceremoniously beside her, face planted into the blanket. Oh, her poor boy. They weren't a sentimental pair, no, Andrew argued with her most days (not fought, but they debated and bickered a lot), so there weren't many tender mother-son moments, but right now Emmeline wanted to hug him tightly and push away all the pain and angst he was feeling. His entire life had been uprooted, and for what? For what?

"They were really going to kill you?" came Andrew's muffled voice. Emmeline finally turned, her head snapping quickly toward her son.

"You weren't supposed to hear that, Andrew," she said, recalling having heard footsteps when Snape had approached her. Her son pulled his face out of the blankets, eyebrows high in a dubious manner.

"Mum."

"All right, well. I--yes." Emmeline shrugged, "Apparently I'm a threat. Who would've thought?"

She knew making light of the situation wasn't the best approach, but what else could she do? She'd made the decision, she'd taken Andrew's hand and the portkey and then it was too late. They were gone. Who knew how Snape was going to cover it up, but it had been the easiest decision of her life at the moment; leave and save her son's life. What mother would say otherwise?

There was silence for a few more minutes. Andrew questioned her constantly, but when the inquiries didn't come, Emmeline knew that he had full-heartedly believed her. Which was absolutely bloody devastating.

"I don't want him to hate me," the boy whispered, and Emmeline sat up, smiling softly and patting down Andrew's hair.

"Andy, Caradoc hates everyone," she said soothingly, earning a snort from her son, "the fact that he didn't internally combust is a very good sign."

The boy sat up, and now that she'd been able to see Caradoc again after all these years, she was able to truly appreciate how much Andrew looked like him. It was still absolutely mind-boggling and ridiculous that they had ended up like this, but amazing, simply amazing all at the same time.

"Will he want to talk to me?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," Emmeline said with a nod, even though she hadn't talked to Caradoc himself. A mischievous grin slid onto her face, and she leaned in to whispeer to her son, "Make sure you tell him you're a Gryffindor, he'll be so proud."

Frank was missing.

Emmeline felt as if she hadn't taken a breathe in years, that there was a literal clamp on her heart and lungs, refusing to let her take a breath. It had been over two hours of sitting in almost complete silence, and Emmeline's eyes trailed across the walls of the Ravenclaw common room in thought. It was almost five in the morning, and she hadn't been able to sleep, no, she hadn't been able to sleep in a days now, and this morning wouldn't be any different. What day was it? New Year's was a few days ago...the students were coming back on Monday...the fourth, it was early, early on the fourth.

It had almost been two weeks since she and Alice had realized Frank was missing, since they'd informed the professors that he hadn't shown up for dinner, that they prophet had released the article about the missing boys---that---that a few days later, Potter was gone as well, and things began to fall into place. Emmeline pulled the blanket she'd dragged down from the dorm tightly around her as she leaned into the arm of the couch, staring into the fire as she tried to force her mind onto another topic. She felt herself finally dozing off, thankful that she didn't have classes again for a few days, and was almost in dreamland when the door of the common room opened.

She watched Professor Flitwick hurry across the common room, and Emmeline sat up, bewildered at her Head's sudden appearance.

"Professor?"

He jumped a foot at her voice, having almost reached the stairs to the dorms without noticing her, and Emmeline slid off the couch, leaving the blanket behind and coming over. There were maybe four total students that had stayed over the holidays, and unless another horrible event had occurred, Emmeline knew that the professor was here for her.

"What?" she asked, hands clenching the sleeves of her pajamas. Flitwick let out a breath and took her wrist in his small hand, leading her around and back to the couch. Emmeline had always been fond of the Charms professor, spending a lot of time after class hours discussing charm theories and other various things (he was an expert dueler, which she loved hearing stories about), so she knew how the Professor behaved when he was worried, upset, "What, Professor---what?"

"Miss. Vance," he started, having her sit while he stood in front of her. Emmeline's breaths became short--let her be wrong, please let her be wrong, she wasn't thinking right, she wasn't thinking correctly about why he was here or why was sitting her down. In her mind there was only one reason for the professor to look so solemn, to have come to wake her so early in the morning, and she shook her head, tears already forming in her eyes because she was wrong in her thoughts.

"Don't tell me," she snapped, sitting back and pulling her hands out of Flitwick's grasp, "Don't, Professor, don't tell me, please don't tell me---"

"Listen, just listen---"

"Not if you're going to tell me that Frank's---not if you're telling me---"

Flitwick faltered and Emmeline let out a groan, feeling her heart speed up in the panic of it all being true, of it all ending in one horrible tragedy that she'd never be able to get over. Frank, oh God--Frank was---he was---her heart was pounding so hard it was all she could hear, Flitwick's lips were moving but she couldn't hear him, and it wasn't until the professor took her face in his hands and forced her to look him in the eyes.

"He might be dead, Emmeline," he started, and she was sure he'd never used her first name before this moment, and it made her believe him, "But he might not be. We need to get to the Headmaster's office."

Caradoc patrolled the cafeteria entrance, his eyes sitting on every single person's face as they walked in before moving onto the next one. The little bugger was coming, he knew it, so it only meant a matter of time before Caradoc saw him squirreling his way through the door and to their table. And, oh, he was more than ready for it, not to worry about that.

"I thought you said you wanted to eat with me," Emmeline's voice rang next to him, threatening to break his concentration, but Caradoc didn't break his gaze. He shifted in his seat slightly, but besides that gave no inclination that he had heard her.

"I did," he responded finally, and heard her smack the tray onto the table. Caradoc shifted again, and then straightened up in his seat to look over an extremely tall healer standing a few yards away.

"Then, are you going to go buy something?"

"Nope."

"----Why not?"

"Because I'm not hungry."

Emmeline didn't respond right away, but it was obvious because she was readying herself. "Right, so you demanded to eat lunch with me only today, ever since Friday, but then all you do is just stare at the door the whole time, not even eating or talking to me? What are you really---" At that moment, Emmeline stopped and a wicked smile crept on Caradoc's face. Oh, she knew. She knew exactly why he was here during her lunch break today, and that reason was currently making a bee-line for the table they were sitting at, waving the entire time and unknown about his impending doom.

"Caradoc!" Emmeline rushed, smacking his arm to get his attention quickly on her. "Don't you even dare! How did you even---"

"Emmeline! How are you? I didn't know that--" Brad Madley stood in front of both of them with a huge smile on his face and what appeared to be a bag of food in his hands. So this was the trainee that Longbottom always annoyingly complained about? He didn't look very Auror-ish to Caradoc. Just freakishly tall.

"Bradley, is it? Caradoc Dearborn," Caradoc stated, interrupting the other boy compeltely. Beside him, he heard Emmeline give a soft groan. Oh, this was going to be a fun lunch.

"You've never been puddle jumping?"

Caradoc's eyebrows rose high, as if honestly surprised something so very dumb would come out of Emmeline's mouth.

"Do I look like someone who would?"

Emmeline frowned from their position on the pavement, standing close to him as he (begrudgingly) held the umbrella over their heads. It had taken her a good hour to convince him to take a walk in the light downpour, and they'd barely made it a block before the complaining began. It was not her fault that he didn't wear suitable shoes for this kind of weather, he didn't have to come out with her.

"I haven't either, actually," she responded, tugging his sleeve gently so her toes could rock on the edge of the pavement, mere centimeters above what looked like a rather deep puddle. The street was empty, save for the sporadic passing of muggle vehicles, so it was just them and the sound of the rain hitting the cement, which was more than relaxing. Emmeline enjoyed the rain the most---to walk in or to use as an excuse to have a lazy day. Whatever she decided, it was normally a good day, so she if Caradoc had absolutely refused to go outdoors, then she would have been fine.

Emmeline looked back at him with a quirk of her eyebrows; he didn't look at all as if he was enjoying himself, but she may have hinted that there would be a lack of a certain activity he seemed to be rather fond of if he didn't take interest in what she enjoyed. So--she would go easy on him, he did trudge out of the house, even if he hadn't stopped whining since.

"Well? Are you going to do it?"

"Do you think I should?"

Caradoc shrugged, not looking as if he cared either way. Emmeline refrained from rolling her eyes, and turned back to the puddle. It was a very impressive puddle, she had to admit, if puddles could be impressive. The water should be flowing freely down to the sewer, and there were small distributaries making their way down the edge of the pavement, but the pool of the puddle was keeping enough to fill it, hm---at least to her mid-shin. See, she should've worn those boot she'd bought. If she had known she was going to be puddle jumping, she would've, but now Emmeline didn't think it was a really good idea. All she had on were an old pair of trainers. Merlin, she looked a mess, in a pair of sweatpants and her blue macintosh---which was working, because Caradoc really wasn't holding the umbrella over her head all that much, but she didn't feel like her clothes were getting wet and---

Emmeline let out a gasp as she was pushed forward and into the puddle. She turned back quickly, kicking up water at Caradoc who looked honestly abashed at her actions.

"You weren't going to do it!" he countered, closing the umbrella and using it to splash water onto her. Emmeline shrieked and rushed forward, tugging the front of his cloak to pull him into the street with her. "These are new shoes---"

"No they're not, you've had them since sixth year---"

Caradoc's grip on her upper arms to keep her from moving tightened slightly and his face twitched up into an interested expression, "You were looking at my shoes in sixth year?"

"It---I just---good memory," she feebly explained and Caradoc howled in amusement before kissing her, sending laughter into her mouth, but Emmeline didn't mind the teasing that she was going to endure later. She'd been right about her rainy days always being rather pleasant.

You-Know-Who Destroyed!

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Defeated by Infant!

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived!

The newspaper and magazine covers were spread across her kitchen table, as if screaming at her to chose them. Read about it here, we have the gritty details about what really went down at Godric's Hollow. Emmeline knew what had happened at Godric's Hollow. The Potters had been betrayed by their supposed best friend, and Voldemort had done something wrong---little Harry just managed to survive it all. That's all that had happened. That was it.

She'd skimmed the articles, each one displaying disturbing photos of the destruction, old pictures they'd dug up of the Potters from friends who must really not have been friends. Remus would never give away such precious memories, Liz wouldn't---whoever had taken those pictures deserved to get hexed into oblivion, how dare they send those private times into these gossip rags.

It had been a week. Frank was still storming the streets, looking for death eaters who may have been in cohorts with Black. She was sure he hadn't slept in days, but neither had she. It was over. Well, to the rest of the wizarding world, it was over, but Emmeline knew that the death eaters weren't going to bow down and confess to their crimes. They were going to seek revenge, they weren't going to stop fighting, the Order, even in its shambled state, was still very much alive and kicking.

As she slowly flipped through the magazines, looking for something that might be relevant even though she doubted she'd find anything she already didn't know, she couldn't go a page without conspiracy theories about the lightening bolt scar Harry had received from the killing curse. Not that Emmeline could understand it either, and she'd racked her brain and the library for an answer, but her stomach twisted at---

"What are you doing reading that rubbish?"

There was loud crack that proceeded the voice, making Emmeline almost fall out of her chair. Neville's shrill laughter erased any sense of fear she mighth've had, and Emmeline rushed across the kitchen to scoop up her godson. She'd been sure Frank would have kept him in an underground bunker while all of this madness was going on, so the visit was a delightful surprise.

"Emleen!" Neville squealed, and Emmeline scrunched her nose greatly planting sloppy kisses on the boy's cheeks and neck, not even bothering to say hello to Frank as she bounced over to the refrigerator.

"Are you hungry?" Neville nodded his head furiously and Emmeline grinned, opening the fridge so that they could scavenge for snacks.

"This is a load of bullshit, there weren't any goblins patrolling Godric's Hollow, it's a bloody muggle town," Frank grumbled, dropping into a chair. Emmeline looked over her shoulder at her cousin as Neville ripped the cover of a pudding cup straight off. He was good, he was a very good boy, and whined a little for Emmeline to take the cover instead of simply dropping it to the floor.

"Thank you, Neville, and yes," she closed the fridge and walked over to the sink for one of Neville's spoons. The entire house was Neville-ready, and Emmeline didn't mind one bit that she couldn't have sharp corners or food that wasn't so easily chewable, "it's complete codswallop."

She sat Neville in his highchair and took a seat across from Frank.

"You need a nap."

"I can't nap," he muttered, "I'm only here because Moody hexed the office shut."

"Oh, that's good to hear," Emmeline said, turning to Neville who was carefully dipping his spoon into the pudding, "Daddy doesn't want to see Auntie Emmeline, Nev."

The boy looked up, aghast and banged on the table of his highchair with a shrill shriek of indignation. Emmeline grinned; she'd trained him well. Frank sighed and turned toward her, and she got to see how the past week had taken its toll. His eyes were sullen and his skin a scary pale, and Emmeline immediately felt guilty for joking.

"Neville," she said, standing again, pulling Neville and his pudding out of the seat, "Why don't we go read? So Daddy can sleep."

"I don't need a--"

"Sleeeeeeep," Neville cooed, patting Frank's head as they passed. Frank frowned, knowing that Emmeline was using his son against him, and finally grumbled an agreement. Emmeline patted Frank's hand as well, and Neville ducked to give his father a kiss before Emmeline bounded up the stairs with him. He'd be in his nursery (of course he had a nursery in her home, are you mad?) for hours, Frank would be able to get the rest he needed. She should be thankful that all she had on her hands was Neville and grumpy Frank---she could have been reading about her godson's lightening bolt shaped scar.

"What?"

Emmeline was a second away from slamming her head into the stone wall outside of the Ravenclaw common room. It was nearly three in the morning, why was the knocker up?

"Can we hear it again, please?" Dedalus asked, running a tired hand through his hair. Emmeline's forehead finally did drop to the stone and she stared angrily over at her friend from the corner of her eye. The bloody knocker did not deserve to be---they didn't have to be polite to it, it was an inanimate object charmed to ask infuriating questions meant to give her a brain aneurysm.

No sooner spoken than broken. What is it? the voice repeated for what had to be the fifth time.

Emmeline stared blankly over at Dedalus, waiting for some sort of light to go off in his head, but, nothing. She couldn't exactly blame him, it had been a long night with wards being secured and death eaters scouring the ground around the Bones' house. Of course, this was all after their Transfiguration, Potions, and Charms finals, plus a grueling quidditch practice for the final game next week. Elphias wasn't on the quidditch team, but he had admitted to having been awake a good thirty-two hours because of his study schedule when they'd left Hogwarts that night.

"What---I mean. No sooner spoken..."

"Open the door!" Emmeline let out, banging the door fiercely with her palm. When it didn't unlock, she flicked the knocker with her hand again, earning a tut of disapproval from Dedalus.

"You don't have to be mean to it," he said, "it's not going to help."

"It's not going to hurt it, either," Emmeline snapped back, clearly not in the mood to be gentle with bronze knocker that was keeping her from going to sleep. "Three-thirty! Its three-thirty."

"It's not my fault that they attacked," Dedalus argued back, "What would you like me to do? Hex the knocker off the door and wake up all the dorm? That would go over nicely, wouldn't it?"

"Actually, yeah, you know what, you've just given me a great idea----"

"Emmeline! Don't do it--put your wand---"

"Silence!"

Emmeline and Dedalus turned back to Elphias, who hadn't said a word since they'd arrived back at the dorm. His eyes had large bags under them, and Emmeline was sure he was ready to topple over (unless he got another cup of a caffeine-filled substance), but his mouth was twisted sternly.

"Shut up, Doge, you haven't come up with the--"

"No, you shut up, the answer's silence."

Her mouth shut tightly and Emmeline spun back to the door, watching the knocker intensely. It did make sense, but the door hadn't opened yet--

"Silence?" Dedalus asked, only to be shushed angrily by Emmeline and Elphias. His hand went to clamp over his mouth, and the three stood in silence for a good minute before they heard the clicking of the lock.

"Holy fuck that thing is annoying," Emmeline growled, throwing the door open and storming up to the dorm.

"Why the bloody fucking won't it just open!" Caradoc moaned, bumping his head back to the wall to stare up at the ceiling. It was bloody--- four in the morning, obviously the three of them were all Slytherins, so why the fuck wasn't the common room opening up to them? Orpheus continued to shout at the wall, his voice getting louder and more aggressive by the second.

"Pala. Pala. Pala. PALA!"

"Shut up already! It's not going to open!"

Both Orpheus and Caradoc glanced over at Evan, who at that moment stopped circling in front of the wall to throw his hands up in frustration at the both of them. As a response, Orpheus' eyebrows rose high with slight intrigue, and Caradoc let out another loud groan, sliding down to the floor with his hands flying to his face. What the fuck.

"What do you propose we do, then?" Orpheus stated in a cold tone, his arms already crossed over his chest as he turned to face Evan. All three of the boys had deep puffy red eyes from being out the night before in addition to this night, leaving little room for calm understanding and patience. "We certainly can't wait for someone to open it."

"Well, in about three seconds I'm just going to confringo the bloody hell out of it because pala is the bloody password so why the fuck isn't it opening!" Caradoc ranted, throwing his hands down from his face and digging into his pockets for his wand. Really, no one would really hear it; smashing stone wasn't that loud. But before he could even wrap his fingers around the wood, Evan swooped in and smacked it out of his hands.

"Hey! Who the he---"

"Can you do anything beside be melodramatic?" Evan spat, his lip curling up slightly as he talked. Caradoc made an aggressive puffing noise, but did not give any inclination to move from his spot. Orpheus let out an aggravated sigh, taking this moment to prop himself up against the wall. They were never getting in, were they?

"The password must have changed," he said offhandedly, flicking his wrist up to the ceiling for a second and shrugging. While that answer did make the most sense, the other two boys responded with severe words of protest.

"Who the fuck changes the password at two in the fucking morning? Because we were here at one, and it was still---"

"Belby," Orpheus interrupted calmly, the thought just dawning on him. Yes, that made sense; Mackenzie would never change it at such an obscene time, and Emmet had blantly protested to the three of them going out without him again for the second night. Of course, neither of them had thought anything of it, but.

"Emmet," Caradoc hissed, his eyes turning into two tight slits as he jerked up from his slouched position.

"Belby?" Evan laughed, his face showing utter amusement as he put all his weight onto his heels. "Emmet is not possible of doing anything, let alone change the password on us."

"That fucker," Caradoc continued to hiss, jumping up to his feet. That--- that-- Emmet would do something passive-aggressive like that. And all because he was mad that they weren't including him or something annoyingly stupid like that. Caradoc stepped up to the wall, instantaneously beginning to pound on the wall, bellowing at the top of his lungs. "EMMET CEARNAIGH BELBY, OPEN THIS FUCKING GODDAMN DOOR! YOU'RE DEAD, YOU'RE DEAD BELBY! DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU---"

On the other side of the wall, Emmet stifled his amusement by shoving his face into his shoulder. Behind him, still sitting in their prospective chairs, Matilda, Alecto and Mackenzie all laughed as fully as they could while still feigning off any unwanted drowsiness with various boxes of stake-out food littered around them.

Of course they had set up camp right in front of the common room entrance after the other boys had left for good. Why would they want to miss something as priceless as this?

"You look like shit."

Emmeline frowned, knees pressing into the bed as she crawled its length, dropping down into the pillow beside Caradoc. Of course she looked like shit, she'd been up all night---he was one to talk; her eyes jumped and skipped over his body, looking for injuries she might have missed last night, or bruising that may have formed, or bandages that may have become loose. But maybe she was just looking at him, looking to make sure that he was still there, that his chest was still gently moving with each intake of breath, each one signifying that he would be around for a second longer. She didn't know what she'd do if he didn't give her that assurance.

He should not be able to stop her entire universe from moving.

Her face pressed into the pillow, one eye looking over at him in slight disdain. Emmeline couldn't understand any of this, she could not have been in love before this because none of that---it didn't feel like this. That at the thought of losing him, everything turned to black, not a shadow or a glimmer of hope at any angle, at any height at any length, pitch blackness, the darkest of dark---or maybe it wasn't even love, maybe it was something completely undefined, and only he held the answer to figuring it all out.

"You look like regurgitated chimaera dinner," she muttered, twisting a bit more, her cheek lying on her hands.

The alarm on the side table started to beep lowly, and she slowly rolled over to shut it off with one press of a button. It was still dark out and she didn't have work until late tonight, having switched to the night shift with another intern---how she'd make it through she had no idea, as she'd been up in the chair since helping Caradoc to bed last night. She'd had no desire to sleep, not when he was suffering---part of her was angry at him for it, but the more logical part knew that he was doing it to keep his family, his friends, himself...and her, he was helping to keep her alive.

He hummed a pain-filled hum that made her insides ache, and Emmeline turned back to him. He needed treatment from the hospital, she could only do so much, she'd done all she could last night, but well---well, she could...she could probably take some things from the hospital, she had pain reliever potions in her cabinet, but she knew Caradoc didn't like taking potions when he wasn't fully aware of what was going on and---oh she should probably take his temperature just in case---

"Stop thinking."

He turned and sent her a pointed look, and Emmeline wasted no time in shifting over quickly and finding a spot under his (uninjured) arm. Oh, hell. He shouldn't be allowed to do this to her, he shouldn't, he could not control her life life like this---Emmeline buried her face into Caradoc's shoulder, forcing herself not to get emotional, because...because. Just because. She couldn't do this, she couldn't let her self get this worked up after every bad night because she'd end up killing herself and---and that would make everything pointless. In a twisted, morbidly logical way, that made sense, and she hated him for making her world feel ready to collapse, but she loved him---or whatever word truly described what he made her feel.

There really was no reason for school. Other than getting the N.E.W.T.s to ensure her career as a healer, but other than that, no reason at all. All it seemed to be doing lately was keeping her away from Caradoc, which, in every sense of the word, was wrong.

Emmeline pushed back against the headboard of her bed, her pillow on her lap and journal pressing into the pillow as she scribbled a response to the comment he'd just left. In the past two months---yes, what was it? Almost the end of May, so it had been a little more than two months---Emmeline had made more random journal posts than she ever had in her life, and though he'd deny it, she was sure that the influx of entries on Caradoc's end weren't because he was having epiphanies in the middle of the night that he simply had to put down.

The dorm room was empty, the door open and her curtains still tied up by the four posts, making it very easy for passerbys to look in and see the stupid grin on her face, but Emmeline didn't pay much mind. Her roommates had figured by now that when she was talking to Caradoc, you really couldn't get anything through to her, and it was just easier to let Emmeline go up to the dorm until the conversation was over and that was that. Which, really, she grew embarrassed about afterwards, but at the time she didn't realize how she turned the rest of the world off. Eh. She missed him, there was nothing wrong with taking time of the day to have a friendly conversation with him. Anneliese did it with Jugson. Gillian did it with Bones. Juliet fought violently with Nott, but it was still all out of love.

She shifted in barely contained excitement as her journal shook, indicating there was a new response. Emmeline hated that school kept them apart, but some part of it---okay, it wasn't so bad. She knew she couldn't get silly like she was now, eagerly awaiting for his next comment. She and Caradoc had a certain way of behaving and---well, oh, nonsense, she just wanted to tackle him to the ground come the end of the school year.

Hm, right,, Emmeline read, watching the words form on the parchment, and that's the same reason we haven't had sex, yes? You do realize we haven't had sex, don't you? This needs to be changed.

Emmeline's face burnt a deep shade of red, and she bit her lip to try and think of a proper response. What could she say to that? It wasn't her fault that every time they'd been alone it was in the middle of Hogsmeade, where---well, she supposed it was possible to--but they hadn't, and--oh, he had to know he was making her squirm. Emmeline knew she looked like a fool, lips pursed as she tried to contain her smile as the perfect comment came to mind, and she pressed her quill to the journal page.

"Don't tell me you're having journal sex with my brother again."

The quill scratched so hard across the page that she tore right through it. Emmeline's head shot up to see Juliet crossing over to her bed, Anneliese and Ellie following behind her, barely containing their giggles. She was sure her head was going to explode from the heat of her blush, and Emmeline quickly closed all the curtains.

"Oh--" Juliet let out in a loud, disgusted tone, and Emmeline's curtain began to get pelted by shoes and other objects her roommates found suitable to ruin any sort of 'mood' "She is, the poor thing's been confunded."

Yep. She hated school.

She knew Dumbledore had told them to be careful, to spread out their arrival times and to come alone, but Emmeline didn't know any other way she could have made it. She pushed back against her chair, arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes boring holes into the table in front of her. They were early, a good hour early, but how could they have possibly waited any longer? Her mind hadn't been on anything else besides this night, and Emmeline was naturally impatient, so she considered an hour early being pretty damn impressive on her own part.

Beside her, Alice Goodsmith was slowly drawing small circles in her journal. Emmeline not-so-inconspicuously leaned forward to get a look at the girl's art, and Alice looked up with a soft smile.

"This is the right place?" she asked for the tenth time that night. Emmeline nodded, usually quite irritated by now about answering the same question, but she knew it was just nerves. She'd be a liar if she said she wasn't nervous, but was doing her best to act as if she wasn't. It was easier than breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably, like she wanted to.

The door opened and Emmeline knew that the only people who could get into the room were the people with the password, but she jumped anyway, and slouched back into her seat immediately to try and cover it. Lily was first, then Sirius, and then Remus and Peter. Emmeline's eyes flicked to the clock; forty-five minutes early. Lily sat on the other side of Alice, expertly (but obviously, girls were very good at letting you know that they were ignoring you) avoiding Emmeline's eyes. The three boys sat on the opposite side, and were barely settling in before the door opened again---Gideon, Edgar, and Sturgis.

Again, Elphias. Again, Fabian. Again, Dorcas---Marlie, who rushed over to hug Alice before taking a seat beside Lily. Hagrid made his way in with an older auror, and behind them, much to her disbelief, Ben Fenwick slipped into the room.

Emmeline stiffened as he paused in the entrance of the door, staring at her--she'd just fought with him, not about their relationship, not about how big of a jerk he'd become, no--she'd yelled and screamed at him to come to the meeting tonight, to join the cause, to save Frank.

And he'd come. Emmeline had never felt the surge of pride (or was it love---no, it wasn't that, not anymore--) for Ben in her life, but when he sat down beside her, her grin was from ear to ear, and Ben just muttered a 'yeah, yeah.'

The door opened once more, but this time it would be the last. Dumbledore had entered, and he stood in front of the group he'd called together for a moment. The clock struck midnight, and the headmaster put his hands together.

"Happy New Year."

Ugh, they were supposed to have had sex tonight.

She wasn't groaning about it in disdain or disgust, no she had actually been looking forward to it. After literally months of waiting, and she'd admit, thinking about it (though how could she not when Caradoc insisted on bringing it up every time they spoke), she'd been more than ready to...well. Do it. For a lack of a better way to explain it, really---what, should she say consummate their relationship? No, no, though that was probably the correct word for it, it simply sounded too serious. Honestly? She just wanted to have sex with Caradoc. If she was counting right, the last time she'd had sex was...Merlin, around New Year's. Nearly six months without sex, and when you were having sex quite regularly for the six months before that, well---that could drive a girl completely mad.

The only thing that was keeping her sane was the fact that she knew Caradoc hadn't had a shag since his breakup with Dorcas, or at least, he better not have, and that he was suffering along with her.

Emmeline wasn't sure why she was still up. The trip home from Hogwarts had been long and exhausting; not only from the hours upon hours on the Hogwarts Express, but from the tears shed and the goodbyes delivered from what seemed like everyone on the locomotive. Who knew that getting dropped off at a train station could be so tiring? She'd seen Caradoc at King's Cross, too, and they'd said their hellos and goodbyes and the softly whispered see-you-laters, and they went off their separate ways. Frank had literally bashed her trunk into Caradoc's shin as he was dragging it off (Alice apologized profusely for all this, but Juliet told her to thank Frank for the laughs), causing a very tense-filled departure, but. She went to have dinner at the Longbottoms, which lead to loads of talking and story telling, which lead to the Potters randomly dropping by with Elizabeth soon-to-be-Bell and her daughter, Katie. So that led to more talking and gossiping and cooing and every other way you could communicate to a person, and soon enough it was nearly midnight.

She had been aware that Caradoc would be busy that day too. Getting Juliet home and settled, and he'd muttered vaguely about having some 'business' to take care of, which meant he was doing something for the death eaters and...ugh, why did they even bother suggesting anything for tonight? Emmeline was a smart girl, she knew that this day was going to be hectic and tiring and as hard as she was trying not to fall asleep, it seemed like slumber was only a few even breaths away. She should be worried that it was so late (nearly two, two-thirty?) and she hadn't heard anything from Caradoc because---well, he would tell her he was okay, right? Well---no, she had no idea, really, they hadn't exactly gone through this before, and ugh, ugh okay, she should get up and wait for him or...or leave him a journal entry...or....

The book she'd been trying to occupy herself with slipped out of her hands and to the floor as sleep took over. Emmeline was still vaguely aware of her surroundings, though not enough to jump when the weight of someone else's body pressed down on the end of her bed. In her half-dream state she could tell that it was Caradoc (and, honestly, he would come into her house at three in the morning without knocking), and the thunk of shoes on the floor told her that he was going to stay and...oh, but she was far too tired for sex right now, couldn't he tell? No, no, he should sleep, but she was already so overtaken her exhaustion that she couldn't tell him not now. Ugh, ugh, wait until the morning---

His arm flopping over her waist, face pressing into her shoulder---both of which were quickly followed by very quiet, even breaths---told Emmeline that Caradoc had the same idea as her. Sleep now, sex later.

Haaa, good.