Her heart was thudding so loudly in her ears that Emmeline believed her brain had been pulverized into dust. Nothing but the thump of her heart could be registered. Not the darkness of the room, not the frigid breeze that was coursing into the flat from the open door, and not the man who had just announced he had forty-eight hours to kill her, or else they'd both die.

They'd always said Caradoc Dearborn was nothing but trouble.

Emmeline sat on the arm of his chair (even though they were in her flat--he had claimed it long ago), eyes staring at the wood floor as she tried to think of a solution to the mess they'd managed to find themselves in. How she had dared to believe that they'd never have to deal with the literal death eater in the room, she had no idea, but---it had been a good few months, just enjoying being happy and somewhat normal---or at least as normal as two members of an underground society bent on the destruction of the darkest wizard in history could be.

Her eyes flitted up to Caradoc, who normally had something to say. It didn't matter where, when, or what kind of situation they were in, he always had a biting remark on the tip of his tongue. But--he was staring hard at the floor, sick looking deathly pale in the dark room. Emmeline swallowed and lifted her wand slowly to close the door, shutting it and reveling in the lack of wind.

"We can--go."

When there was no response from Caradoc, Emmeline's shoulders lifted, eyes wide as they found themselves focusing on her feet. She had to think. Thinking is what she did, what she was good at. "If--we can leave, leave now, and---and there's polyjuice in the Order house, we'd be able to---" Her face flushed deeply, and she couldn't understand how she could have felt embarrassment at a time like this.

We. She couldn't get ideas like that, he--wouldn't, he wouldn't want to get away from all of this with her, leave it all behind with her. Emmeline blinked quickly, her breath quickly gaining speed as she attempted to remain collected (because there was no way she could fake being calm). He'd remained silent, and Emmeline took his lack of interjection as permission to continue with her ramblings, even if they were to be shot down at a moment's notice. It was all that was keeping her from completely falling apart.

"I--you could, you could do the polyjuice, and---and just--hide, I mean--I mean---leave, you could leave--"

"Leave?"

He'd whispered, but the shock of hearing his voice sent a bolt of lightening through the room and Emmeline sucked in a deep breath, standing because her legs had been jolted into movement. She couldn't just sit there. They needed to figure something out, they needed to--he needed to go, he needed to go because if Caradoc died because of her, even if she was next in line--it wouldn't matter, it wouldn't matter because she would just--she would just--

"I--I---"

In her mental rambling and near convulsion she'd moved toward him, the closest she'd been to him in days. Emmeline's hands were raised in front of her, shaking violently; when had they started shaking? When he'd entered her flat? When he began spilling his secrets? When? Just now? A strained sound came from her throat as Emmeline realized she hadn't looked him in the eye the entire time, and when she did.

Fuck, fuck.

"Caradoc--I--I---"

"Don't," he muttered when her shaking hands took ahold of the front of his shirt. Emmeline didn't seem to hear him, and pressed closer, feeling his breath on the top of her head. He was stiff against her, but she didn't notice or care, because--what did it matter? He was doomed, wasn't he? He was--they were---His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke next, "What's wrong with you?" strangely, his tone was teetering on a tease, "I came here with the intention of killing you, and--you're crying over me?"

"You're a bloody arse," she cried, pushing herself closer. She jumped as she felt a hand on her side, and her entire body shook as Caradoc's arms slowly came around her, and without warning pulled her so tightly to him that Emmeline was sure she was going to suffocate. Maybe he was going to kill her, after all.

"Caradoc--" Emmeline mumbled into him, sure he could figure out her words. How many times had she ranted into him before? How many times had he attempted to silence her like this, or with a kiss? No, Caradoc had to be fluent in the mumbles and muttering of Emmeline Vance. "You know I--that I---I--"

"Forty-eight hours before the countdown on my life winds down, and now you're telling me this?" he murmured, in a voice familiar to the man she knew and loved. Emmeline couldn't believe that he'd managed to get a laugh out of her in this very tense and tear-filled time, but--he'd always made her do ridiculous and nonsensical things.

"Could you think of a better moment?"

"Just ask him!"

"No, are you deaf? Did you get transfered to Hufflepuff? I said, no."

Emmeline frowned deeply at Juliet, biting the inside of her cheeks as she looked behind her at the Slytherin table. Why couldn't she just be nice for once, didn't Juliet see that she was ready to have a nervous breakdown and needed those potion notes? Slughorn had said that Caradoc had been near the top of his class during O.W.L. year, so he had have have a good study guide. She simply wasn't fully grasping the subject, and any piece of material was useful was needed, and if she didn't have every last piece of information she---would---go---insane.

Anneliese twitched beside her, legs bouncing up and down furiously as she looked back and forth between the other two girls. Ellie was sitting beside Juliet, reading her potions text for what had to be the twentieth time, lips moving with the words and nothing seemed to be able to break her concentration. Juliet, though naturally quite---sharp in certain not-so-nice aspects of her personality, had seemingly tripled in that category, and all of their idiosyncrasies were about ready to burst into a not so pleasant, and probably loud, row.

The fifth year Ravenclaw girls were not handling the impending O.W.L.s. well, at all.

"F--fine, I'll do it," Emmeline snapped, whipping her hair greatly over her shoulders as she stood up. Anneliese squeaked and grabbed onto her wrist, attempting to pull her back down.

"Are you mad? Those Slytherins are horrid!"

"Sticks and bloody stones," Emmeline muttered, yanking out of Anneliese's hold on her. She made her way around the Gryffindor table (why weren't they looking like they were about to pass out from exhaustion---oh, right, they were Gryffindors), she took a deep breath and stopped in front of Caradoc.

"CanItalktoyou?"

That...did not come out like she had wanted it to. Emmeline cleared her throat quickly, squirming in place as Caradoc---ugh he had this look, like he was trying to memorize her face and it was weird, and, great. She heard Ben call her name from behind her, but---sheneededthosenotes.

"Doesn't she look dazzling," the blond Slytherin beside Caradoc said, and Emmeline bit her tongue. Rosier, she was pretty sure--yes, Evan, he was that bint Kalista's brother. She refrained from rolling her eyes, because being rude to Caradoc's 'friends' would not help in getting the study guides. If he even had them---oh God! What if he didn't still have them? Oh, hell, she could've come over here for nothing---

"You already did, didn't you?" Caradoc drawled, and Emmeline felt something in the pit of her stomach churn. Well. He didn't have to be rude, holy fuck. All she was doing was trying to ask a question, so sorry for disturbing his riveting dinner time conversations!

"Can I talk to you for an extended amount of time, Caradoc Dearborn," she said stiffly before she could think about it. Emmeline knew she was probably in for it now, but honestly.

Before Caradoc could respond, Evan interrupted, and Emmeline felt her heart begin to race ten times as hard, as it was obvious this was not going the way she'd envisioned (no, that involved Caradoc happily handing over the notes and her prancing back to her seat in triumph), "I'm finding it very rude that she's completely ignoring me in this conversation.."

"I-- I--- didn't--" Emmeline stuttered, shaking her head at Evan. Why would she even bother talking to him? Was Caradoc not allowed to have conversations for himself? No, Evan had no reason to find this rude, what was he talking about? Emmeline puffed her cheeks, trying to figure out a way to tell Evan to stay out of her conversation without riling up tempers, but her thoughts were halted as an arm slid around her shoulders.

"Rude? How unfortunate to hear, Evan," Alecto Carrow let out smoothly, her blond hair falling in a curtain as she tilted her head to look at Emmeline. Right--right, well. She was dating Gudgeon, she couldn't be too---bad. Except she was, and now the other girl, what was her name, oh---Rowle, Matilda (stupid name, really, worse than Emmeline---) was playing with the ends of her hair as if she was some new doll she had gotten for Christmas. And was plotting to rip its head off, just for kicks.

Brilliant. Emmeline felt her face heat up and she squirmed, trying to slip Alecto's arm off her shoulders, but the other girl's grip tightened.

"Be nice girls," Evan mused, "I think you've gone and scared her speechless." Emmeline shot a glare his way, but all that caused was a slight, crooked smile to form on his face, "Look, I didn't think that it was possible--- is that specks of red on her white face? Are you attempting to blush? I didn't think you could possibly achieve it."

Of course, this made her blush deeper, and Emmeline decided it was time to start ignoring them completely. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, counting backwards from one thousand and losing herself in thought, even though---no, that wasn't working at all, where the hell had Ben come up with that one? She was ready to black-out from embarrassment---

"Oh--- really, is this necessary?"

Emmeline was knocked out of her voluntarily induced shocked state as Mackenzie Loftus tugged her away from the table. She hadn't even noticed the other girls slip off of her, but she couldn't be more thankful of the older Slytherin.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "Are they always like that?"

Mackenzie looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Unfortunately." She tapped the shoulder of a seventh year Gryffindor (Emmeline could only recall his last name; Goldstein?), and he turned, a wide grin forming on his face, "Sebastian--could you make sure my roommates don't try to suck her soul when dinner's over?"

Sebastian's eyebrows quirked up in amusement, and Emmeline flushed, ignoring Ben and Frank's hollering for her to come over and sit by them. She nodded a thanks when Sebastian moved over to let her sit beside him, and she buried her face in her hands, refusing a brownie he offered.

Slytherins were definitely spawned from the devil.

"CanItalktoyou?"

Caradoc watched Emmeline for a few seconds from the opposite side of the Slytherin table, his eyes taking in every detail of her frazzled appearance. Her brown hair was put up in a tight bun, permanent bags were most definitely forming under her eyes, her skin was pale, and there was that extra something in her eye that lightly suggested she had lost all sanity completely at this point. Yep, it was that time of year again; O.W.L.s were fast and approaching, and it seemed like Emmeline was no different from every other crazed Ravenclaw.

What a pity.

"Doesn't she look dazzling," Evan Roiser muttered under his breath next to him, and then let out the best form of laughter he could muster; an breath of air. Caradoc pulled his lips back to hide the smirk already formed on his face. What the hell was she here for? Whatever it was, he was sure it was going to entertain him fully for the beginning minutes of dinner.

Caradoc sighed, and then turned his attention to his sleeves as if thoroughly intrigued with the cuff links of his uniform. "You already did, didn't you?" he asked in an idle tone that dripped with so much unappeal he could have been talking to the table. Again, Evan let out a low breath of air. Out of the corner of his eye (of course he was watching her closely, Evan just didn't have to know it), Caradoc saw Emmeline blink quickly for a few seconds, and then clutch onto her books even tighter.

"Can I talk to you for an extended amount of time, Caradoc Dearborn." Oh ho, was he detecting snark? Now, where was she going to go with that? Certainly no where good with that attitude.

Caradoc feigned a frown, his eyes now moving to his hand, specifically his finger nails. "That depends," he shrugged, his left shoulder eventually lifting up with unattentive ease. Through his eyelashes, Caradoc watched as Emmeline stiffened further (if that was even possible), her mind obviously working to figure out what to say next. Or more likely keep up with his.

"I'm finding it very rude that she's completely ignoring me in this conversation," Evan announced suddenly, his tone so polite it almost seemed like he was asking a favor more than openly attacking the other girl through words. This time, Caradoc titled his head up to look straight at Emmeline's face; her eyes had widened with what he could assume was shock, and she tried to say something. At this, Caradoc began to grin madly; he knew what was coming next.

"I-- I--- didn't--"

"Rude? How unfortunate to hear, Evan." Alecto Carrow seemed to appear out of thin air, the words slipping off her lips coldly as she slinked her arm around Emmeline's shoulders in something of a friendly fashion. Well, as friendly as Alecto Carrow could seem to be. Just a few steps behind her was Matilda Rowle, who took to Emmeline's other side. Perhaps the best part of this was her frozen face as the two older girls stood very close to her with untrusting smiles; absolutely priceless. Caradoc would have to give something nice to Alecto and Matilda later for this masterpiece act. He pulled his lips together again to hold back the laughter forming in his throat, and continued looked up at Emmeline with an innocent smile.

The younger girl faltered for a bit, her mouth opening and closing slightly to try to form words even appropiate enough to begin with. After a few seconds, Evan let out another huff of air.

"Be nice girls, I think you've gone and scared her speechless," Evan mused, his eyes dropping low with sheer pleasure. "Look, I didn't think that it was possible--- is that specks of red on her white face? Are you attempting to blush? I didn't think you could possibly achieve it."

Caradoc sat back, his arms crossing over his chest. He really didn't find a problem in this; Emmeline was the one who had decided to subject herself to him publicly, with other people around to just watch. He would have thought that she was smart enough to figure that out. Or, she has just gone that insane. Either way, he didn't feel that inclinded to partipate. Just seeing her shocked and confused face was enough (well now, it had turned into a glare just for him, with her arms now locked in front of her as Matilda and Alecto leaned in closer to her). Oh, but everything was about to come to an abrupt end. Caradoc frowned

"Orpheus--- Mackenzie," he suddenly cooed, sitting up straighter as two more of their house mates arrived. In a direct reaction to Mackenzie's arrival, Alecto and Matilda slipped away from Emmeline and Evan instantly stopped leering. Which only made Mackenzie suspicous, her eyes tightening to soak in the scene in front of her. It didn't take very long for her to put it together.

"Oh--- really, is this necessary?" Mackenzie exasperated clearly, shooting them all glares in turn. Behind her Orpheus Travers stood silent, giving no indication as to whether he was upset about missing some form of fun or simply didn't care about the situation at all. She let out another huff, her hair swinging as she rushed forward. "Come on," she directed to Emmeline in a soothing tone, but gripped onto the younger girl's wirst tightly.

"Mackenzie always ruins our fun," Evan sighed as the two girls walked away. He sucked in a deep breath of air as his eyes lay on the sight of Emmet Belby finally making his way to where they were sitting (or always sat). Caradoc mimiced him, knowing exactly what Emmet was going to say, and knowing exactly how Mackenzie was going to ream him after dinner for letting everyone attack Emmeline like they had.

"What did I miss? Where's Mackenzie?" Emmet rushed, book bag slamming to the table as he bumped into it.

Matilda rolled her eyes and fell into the table so gracefully she was able to prop her chin in her palm in one easy sweep. "Anything slightly enjoyable."

They all turned to Orpheus as he let out a loud snort, right hand down going to the table forcefully. "Maybe she'll black out and won't remember a thing--- can you imagine the double possibilites? I want in next time."

"Do you have your painting?"

"Yes."

"And you remember what you're going to say?"

"Yup!"

"Oh! Did you remember to---"

"Emmeline," Caradoc interrupted, dropping his leg from its position against the wall. He glared down at the sight of her kneeled in front of their five-year-old son, Andrew, and shook his head. "He's talking his portrait of crayons, I think he'll be fine."

Emmeline and Andrew both looked up at the same time, the same set of eyes but---rather different expressions shooting out of them. Andrew looked incredibly happy that his father had mentioned his project, and Emmeline was silently requesting him to cease conversation. It would be slightly amusing, if he hadn't been standing out in the hallway of the kindergarten for nearly an hour, now. Really--how long could children speak about their supposed 'artwork'? Caradoc hadn't been able to decipher what Andrew's painting, but he'd rambled on about it enough to Emmeline that he supposed there had to be some meaning to the scribbles.

"I just want him to be prepared, this is his first school presentation," she said, straightening out his tie, that was tucked under a sweatervest. Disgusting.

"He's talking about doodles---"

"Art!" Andrew interrupted, dropping to his knees to pick up his rolled up piece of paper. Emmeline twitched in a manner that looked as if she was ready to stop him from unraveling an ancient Egyptian scroll, but she held her hands back as Andrew pulled open his picture. "I'ma talk about art, Daddy."

Though Caradoc hadn't thought it to be possible, his son actually had succeeded in giving him a migraine from all the way across the Atlantic Ocean. "I'm going to kill him, Emmeline," he stated plainly, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood in the middle of their living room.

"Caradoc," Emmeline began quietly, taking a deep breath.

"He has no idea how dangerous it is for him there," Caradoc started, hand flying down from his face. "Hence why why he wasn't allowed to go there in the first place. It's not that complex to understand, really. You just. Don't. Go," Caradoc slapped his hands together with every word, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose with every word.

"It's not like he's stumbling around, announcing that he is the son of Emmeline Vance and Caradoc Dearborn, Caradoc," Emmeline supplied, trying her best to at least appear calm for the tiniest speck of hope to contain her husband.

"You're not angry about this at all," Caradoc revealed suddenly, his eyes opening as his hands flew up from to his sides. "You're-- you're this close to defending him because---"

Emmeline looked as if she was ready to speak, but Caradoc quickly continued, not letting her interrupt. "Not only did he run away--- to England, might I remind you. The place where everyone has been throughly convinced that the both of us are dead for years, but now he tells us he is coming home with a girl. A bloody girl! Has he honestly lost his mind! Andrew thinks it is just fine to bring home some random English girl after one month and---"

"I am angry about everything that has happened!" Emmeline interrupted, pushing herself up from her chair with a wave of fury. "Don't you tell me that I am not upset over my only child just--- running off in the middle of the night, only leaving a note behind!" Her voice shook with irritation, and her hand had risen high to point at Caradoc more effectively. "If you think that---"

"Well you were the one that said we should just let him stay and have him come back on his own, if you--"

"You know neither of us can go back there, are you suggesting--"

"Mom....? Dad?"

Both Caradoc and Emmeline froze as they were, seemingly unable to move for a few moment. Then, just as if a record had been put on play, the both of them jumped back to life. Luckily for the stability of the family, Emmeline managed to seize onto Caradoc's arm in time to keep him where he stood.

"We're in here, Andrew," she called out placidly, pulling Caradoc with her as she moved to sit back down. Meanwhile, Caradoc began to hiss an ongoing stream of slurred words, each one more inaudible than the next. With every tug, he forced her to dig her nails down deeper into his skin, until he stopped trying to rip himself away.

"John," she gritted through her teeth, successfully flooring him with her glower alone. "Will you just try and contain yourself until the girl leaves, there's no reason why---"

"Oh, yes of course, Emily, why would I think to act and be so rude to our most welcomed guest," Caradoc scoffed, only managing to pull away a few seconds before they had an audience. Though he was sure Emmeline was smiling at them now (he didn't need to look, he knew she was), Caradoc felt no need to do such a thing, regardless of this---

She looked far to familiar to the point where it had gone completely beyond ironicly sick. There was... no way, it must be a sadistic coincidence. Caradoc wouldn't be that stretched to believe something like that, with his life. Or perhaps, Andrew had finally found out about his parents past concerning England and sought out to find something so reminiscently to get back at them for keeping him in the dark for all those years.

"Mom. Dad," Andrew started (how had his hair honestly grew that much in one month?), his chest puffed out slightly as he talked. "I want you to meet Ophelia Goldstein," he pronounced proudly, a wide happy smile spread across his face.

Timidly, Ophelia stretched out one hand to them, the other pushing back a large lock of curly brown hair behind her ear. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Andrew's told me so much about you, it feels like I already know you."

Nope. Life was just that ridiculous.

A lot of things to say swept through Caradoc's mind to say, but none of them actually made it to the surface. And, apparently Emmeline was having the same problem--- the room had gone completely silent for nearly five minutes before anything was even thought to be uttered; Ophelia had long ago quickly retreated her hand back to her side.

And of course, it was Andrew that spoke first. "Mom..." he warned, his obvious confidence from before almost completely gone from his voice.

It took Emmeline a few seconds to react, but once she did she popped up from her chair, a forcefully upbeat smile plastered on her face. "Of course, I'm sorry. You just took us by surprise, that's all," she stated quickly, watching Caradoc the entire time before turning to the younger girl. "You must be starved, let's get you some tea." Before either Ophelia or Andrew had time to react, Emmeline had ushered the younger girl out of the room and toward the kitchen.

Which left him with him. The newly pronounced irony man. Caradoc took a very long and deep breath, pushing back any and all thoughts about Mackenzie's (yes, there was no way that girl wasn't hers, she looked exactly like her) daughter falling in love with his son. Including how he and Mackenzie had been that close to be---

"Dad. Look--- I don't--- try to understand that I had to go, and I never would have thought that--" Andrew began, but Caradoc cut him off with a simply wave of his hand.

"Go help your mother."

"But---"

"After you're done with that, we're going to have a very long talk. Don't expect to do anything else tonight."

Andrew's jaw dropped, but only for a few seconds. Whether that was a good reaction or not, he didn't stay to find out, and simply rushed out of the room.

She blinked every thirty-two seconds.

Or, at least, that what she initially had figured out, after staring at her clock for hours upon hours, watching the blinking of the colon between the numbers with obsessive interest. Emmeline could probably keep staring for longer than that, by now, but she didn't care to measure. She didn't know how many times the clock had read 12:34, but she did know that it was when she would shut her eyes, drift off to sleep, and then wake up again, only to wait until that time flashed once more.

Her life had become nothing more than that, since Caradoc had disappeared.

And it wasn't as if people hadn't tried to pull her out of the stupor she'd forced herself in, no--Emmeline had at least four visitors everyday, but they all ended in the same result. No response from her, or she feigned sleep until they left. Frank and Dedalus were the most persistent, visiting nearly daily (or what felt like daily, she didn't know how long she'd been in bed) and talking, sometimes for five minutes, sometimes for hours.

She never responded, though. Their words would have meant something to her days, weeks before. They would have made her eyes well up with tears and she would have bawled out all of her innermost feelings with such little prodding that they'd be dumbstruck with how quickly their advances had worked. No--everything that didn't need to pump to keep her alive had shut down; her mind, her conscience, every last feeling inside of her body was completely non-functioning. If it was a few days, weeks ago, Emmeline would think it was quite horrible, the fact that she couldn't even be angry, but, again, she didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore, and the only reason she hadn't put an end to everything was because her entire being was too weak to get the job done.

"Emmeline." Frank. "Did Alice visit today?"

She blinked a few times, but didn't respond in any other way. Far away, in some deep crevice of her mind, she was annoyed at Frank; she knew he had been sending people over to check on her. Even Peter Pettigrew, who she had barely spoken a sentence to, had come by, stuttering something about needing dish soap. Emmeline listened to Frank's footsteps against her carpet and unconsciously pulled her blanket tighter. He always tried to make her look at him, and there was no energy left in her to fight it.

"C'mon, we're going out," he said, standing in front of her clock. A deep frown formed on her face, but Emmeline didn't shake her head or make any other motion to indicate her negative response to his demand. "Get up. We're going out."

Again, she didn't move, and stared at the rip in his front robe pocket. Frank let out a huff and stepped forward, making her flinch greatly--he stepped back, but then started forward again. In her induced comatose state, no one had bothered to get this close to her, to try and touch her, so his sudden movements, which really weren't all that sudden, startled her far more than they naturally stood.

"Get up," he said again, and a strong hand pulled at her blanket. Emmeline's lips pressed hard together, eyes shutting as she held on tightly to her blanket. Frank was lifting her up, that was how severe her grip was, and it wasn't long before his other hand went to her fingers to try and pry away her grip. The touch of his skin on hers, however, shook Emmeline to her core; she hadn't had any physical human interaction since that night, when they'd all put the pieces together, and the shock of his skin made her let out a painfully loud and terrified sounding shriek.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Emmeline pushed the blanket off her, careful not to touch Frank again as she pushed herself back against the headboard of her bed. Wide eyes stared fearfully up at him, and Emmeline couldn't tell if he was scared as well, or if he was just completely confused by her behavior. Probably a bit of both.

"Emmeline---"

"GO AWAY!" Her voice was scratchy and raw, but she couldn't lower the shrieks, it was all that seemed strong enough to come out, "UNTIL YOU PEOPLE FIND HIM, GO AWAY--LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Emmeline let out scream and Frank sat roughly down on the bed, grabbing at her flailing arms and pulling her toward him. She continued to holler and protest, not caring if she smacked him in the chest, arm, face, whatever so long as he let go of her so he wouldn't touch her anymore, and then she could go back to cutting off any and all contact she had with the world, because it didn't matter anymore.

Of course, Frank would always win a battle like this, there was no physical way for her to overpower him, and Emmeline continued to shriek as he pinned her down with one forearm across her chest, basically sitting on her legs. Frank's large hand covered her mouth, and Emmeline tried to muster some sort of hatred for him to put into her glare.

"You think Caradoc would deal with you like this?" Frank snapped. Emmeline's struggles stopped immediately, her entire body going slack. No one had said his name since that night. "You think Caradoc would tolerate this?"

Emmeline wanted to start shouting and kicking out again, but she couldn't, and she continued to stare at Frank, whose face was a deep shade of red; from anger or annoyance or simple frustration, she didn't know. Maybe it was from pity. "He's gone, Emmeline---Caradoc's gone, do you hear that? He's not coming back, and if you lie here waiting for him, you're going to die, and I am not going to let you die because of--" He shut his mouth, but Frank's glare was hard.

He pulled away finally, moving to the edge of the bed and sitting, shoulders hunched and chin ducked low. Emmeline pressed back into the mattress, mouth twisting greatly as her eyes stared at the ceiling. She couldn't move, and it didn't look like Frank could either.

"We're going out." Frank's voice broke the silence that must've settled upon them an hour ago. She'd almost drifted into sleep, they'd been frozen for so long. "Get up."

For for the first time in days, weeks, Emmeline willingly pushed her blanket away from her, her achy joints nearly creaking with pain as she pulled her legs off the bed and her feet brushed through the carpet. She was hunched over, but up, and it was then that she started to shake, started to shake and to cry, because now she was feeling again, and all she could feel--all she could feel was---was---

"Oh God," she moaned, and Frank's arms were wrapped around her entire body, and she could feel every thing in every fucking part of her being.

"I said that I have it from here, are you mentally disabled? No? Get out!"

Emmeline pulled the collar of the extra large shirt up over her mouth to hide her smirk as Caradoc slammed the door on Sturgis Podmore's face. He'd been the Order member designated to escort them back to her flat, but apparently Caradoc did not fancy the idea of being somewhat babysat. She watched over the fabric of the shirt as he stalked toward her kitchen, and Emmeline listened carefully to the slamming and throwing open of cabinets.

All she really wanted to do was sleep. The attacks on Diagon Alley had taken their toll, and while she was physically okay, the exhaustion and tension from the past forty-eight hours had made her terribly weary. Of course, she'd been a bit mentally addled when she had no idea why she was in St. Mungo's hospital, admitted under a Jane Doe name with bandages wrapped around her head and abdomen.

Yeah, that had been pretty terrifying.

But she'd managed to find one of the healers she knew (the hospital had been swamped and she'd ended up in a room that was really the fifth floor waiting area separated by curtains) and quickly contacted the Order to make sure they knew she was all right--

"Ah---" Emmeline caught the water bottle that had been tossed--thrown at her at the very last second; she would have had to go back to St. Mungo's for a broken nose if her reflexes hadn't caught up. Caradoc glared from the other side of the room, and Emmeline twisted the cap, "Thanks?"

"Just drink it," he snapped, stalking across the small living room and dropping roughly down beside her. Emmeline eyed him curiously as she put the bottle to her lips, only to quickly pull it back down.

"Is it poisoned? Because I can't take a sleeping potion for another three hours, I told you that."

Caradoc's lips pressed tightly together, and without warning swatted the bottle to the floor. Emmeline's eyes followed it as it rolled under her ottoman, and she slowly turned back to Caradoc, eyebrows high.

"That wasn't necessary."

"What exactly happened?" he interrupted, pressing his hard into the couch. Emmeline's amused expression faltered; she'd already relayed her story, what was he talking about?

"You've got a personal vendetta against water containers, it seems," she replied slowly, watching every etch on Caradoc's face for some clue as to what was going on.

"Where were you?"

Emmeline's nose scrunched, "I got knocked into the alley between Fortescue's and the shoe place, and--"

"And what, you decided to take a nap for three days? Do you know how much time and effort--the Order has put into finding you?" Caradoc stood quickly, hands jumping into the air with wild gesticulations. Emmeline watched him begin to pace back and forth in front of her with wide, confused eyes.

"Whoa, okay, I wasn't napping---"

"And another thing, I don't know how you fucking allowed Potter of all people to heal you, he barely had two months of training before he dropped out, I swear if you start growing another limb from your waist I am going to laugh--"

"Caradoc," Emmeline began to whine, because quite honestly, she did not feel like being lectured of all things! Did he want her to apologize for being knocked unconscious by some random flying object? Really? "I'm sorry for making you worry, but is this really---"

"Worry? I wasn't worried," he snapped back immediately, and Emmeline couldn't help the frown that immediately formed. Caradoc stopped his pacing and stood stoically in front of her, "I wasn't worried. I was---concerned."

"For my well-being."

"For---something--like that, but you're in such deep shit, do you realize? Anyone could have picked you up off the street and---"

"But they didn't!" she exclaimed, knowing it was little use. She wasn't too miffed, however, the heat in her cheeks was not from anger, but from the idea that he was honestly worried---concerned about her. Emmeline knew that he should be, but the fact that Caradoc Dearborn had nearly admitted, out loud, that he cared for her...

Well, that just never got old.

"I'm fine, Caradoc," she said with an exasperated sigh, pushing herself up to her feet with some effort. Her ribs still ached; from what Emmeline could remember, she landed rather hard on a rubbish bin. She put a hand to her chest, wincing, "Can I just go lie down now? Are you done with your rant?"

"Why are you wincing?"

"Because I'm in pain, Caradoc, bloody hell! You think Podmore's disabled and---"

He was standing in front of her in an instant, so fast that Emmeline would've believed he'd apparated had it not been for the lack of a crack. She let out a gentle gasp as Caradoc clutched at the sides of her face, his eyes boring into hers as if trying to read her mind---which he could, but she didn't think it was that kind of reading. Emmeline shut her eyes, feeling better with the close contact, but was snapped out of her short reverie as Caradoc's grip went from her face to her wrist and he tugged her quickly toward the bedroom.

"It's time to go to bed."

"Do my injuries turn you on, Mister Dearborn?" she said slyly, even though she was quite certain she was going to get reprimanded.

"Oh yes," he drawled without looking over his shoulder as he pushed the door open. "The smell of adhesive strips is the ultimate aphrodisiac."

Emmeline grinned as she allowed herself to be pulled into her bedroom by her almost scarily overprotective boyfriend. Part of her wanted to be offended that he didn't think she could take care of herself, but a louder part of her mind was very appreciative for the attention; she was not going to complain about not being allowed out of Caradoc's sight for a while.

Caradoc had met with his grandmother on Monday.

Her boyfriend had gone to lunch with his very old, very rich, family member (the oldest alive to date!) and had nothing to comment about it. No stories, no complaints, just that he had went. The food had been fine. He was back now.

Surprisingly enough, Caradoc's lack of details wasn't what had continued to bother Emmeline well into the rest of the week (because since when did he not have a comment for anything?), though usually a strange lack of explaination would.

What was bothering her was that Anneliese had said, promised even, that if Caradoc had in fact met with his grandmother like he said he had earlier in the week, then he most definitely had obtained a Dearborn heirloom in the form of a ring. There was no doubt, there was only one thing that brought grandmothers and their grandsons together, and that diamonds.

Which of course Emmeline hadn't let herself believe for one second, because this was Caradoc they were talking about. He would much rather let Frank publicly humiliate himself than walk down the isle.

But... that didn't mean a girl could dream, right? Privately? It would be lying if she said she had never thought about becoming 'Mrs. Emmeline Dearborn' one time or another. She had bloody fancied him for years, it was inevitable that at some random time or another she had wanted to know how what her new name would sound like! And where they would live! And what their wedding would be like. And how many children they would have. All with normal names. And how secretly jealous everyone would be of her.

But the name sounded perfect, didn't it? Emmeline Dearborn. Right almost, like it all fit together.

Sigh, which it did, of course.

And not to mention that---- no. She needed to stop this unrealistic line of thought Anneliese had put in her head. Emmeline shook her head as she fished for her keys in her purse. Yes, there were more realistic things to think about, like Frank and Alice's approaching baby, or what she was going to write her next article about. She finally found her key and jammed it into the lock. And, for that matter, she really needed to figure out what to have for dinner because she had come up with nothing all day and, and she knew that Caradoc would roll around whining about how much he---

Emmeline heard herself gasp as the door swung open, her legs almost immediately giving way. This was--- unreal. Everything in her hands dropped to the ground like lead, and she reached for the doorframe for support. The deep smell of burning candles filled her nose to the point of intoxication, yet she couldn't spot a candle anywhere in her living room. There was no light, and yet there was this... glow in the center of the room where-- oh, it felt like she was going to faint.

There weren't flowers on the floor and there wasn't an unseen harp sounding lulling music in the background, because things like that weren't necessary for them. They had never needed the traditional romantic things to be romantic with each other, and even as she stood there, staring at him, she knew he looked the exact same, but completely different. His face was just as it always been; a bit unkempt, relaxed and simple, yet--- she couldn't describe it, he just seemed different

"What is--" she started, even though in Emmeline's mind she had already thought past the events that would happen in the next two hours, and was contemplating on who should get the honor of being informed first.

"No! No--- don't say anything," he jumped slightly, and in a rare moment, Emmeline saw how nervous Caradoc was. His body was tense, and as he rushed over to her, she noticed how jerky his speedy walk was. "I don't want to---" he started, taking her by the hand to lead her back to where he had been standing. "--- just don't say anything, alright?"

Yes, she was certain she could keep her mouth shut for this.

"I'm not--- I spent all week trying to think of something good enough to say to you for right now, and---" she watched as his face began to turn red, which made her face begin to feel hot and her hands begin to shake in his. "This is---- unimaginably hard--- for me," he continued, looking down at their hands as he spoke through a short huff of breath. Emmeline watched as Caradoc licked his lips, and turned his head to the side to continue. "Everything was. But--- I know that you are the--- the only person that---- that I want to spend the rest of my life by. With. The only one." A small smile twitched onto his lips. "You are more important to me than--- than you can imagine," he let out a soft laugh at that point, and loosened his grip on her hands. "So---"

Tears began to fill her eyes as he lowered down onto one knee, and finally Caradoc looked up at her with the most genuine smile she had ever seen. Letting go of her for only a moment, a second later the velvet box had already dropped to the the floor. But in his hands was the most beautiful, most gorgeous ring she had seen in her entire life. Or at least, the most breathtaking blurred ring she had ever laid eyes on. She had already begun to nod her head up and down as a response, but it was obvious that he had to ask anyway.

"So will you---- Emmeline?"

Alice brushed Emmeline's hair gently away from the other girl's eyes as she sat down on her bed quietly. The poor girl had been in this bed for days, Alice faithfully bringing her food which Emmeline would for the most part ignore. "Will you still come shopping with me today?"

For a few seconds, Emmeline blinked rapidly to try and orient herself. Tears were still forming in her eyes, and she moved to wipe them away quickly as reality set in. It took a few moments, but eventually she did respond to Alice before burying her face into her pillow. "I said I would," she answered slowly, breathing in what little air was left under her sheets.

Even though she couldn't see her, Emmeline knew that Alice was frowning then at her reply, but that was not something to be concerned about in the larger picture of things. "Okay-- we're leaving in an hour," Alice stated softly, standing up while doing so. "Maybe we should bring Frank along to torture him." She smiled, but Emmeline made no response. Frowning, Alice gave what was exposed of Emmeline's head a soft stroke before leaving the room.

Emmeline lay there for a few more minutes, willing herself to calm down because... it was only a dream. Not real, didn't happen, and-- she closed her eyes tight-- would never come true. And it occurred to her, as she finally dragged herself out from underneath the covers that Caradoc, like his grandmother and the rest of his family save for Juliet, was dead. So she really should have known that it all couldn't have been real all along.

"I told you, it's over!"

Emmeline shrieked for what had to be the fiftieth time, struggling greatly against Caradoc's grip on her wrist, "Get off!"

"No! You're bloody mad, do you really think I can---just let you---"

"Yes, you can," she exclaimed, using her other arm to swing fiercely at his chest, "Don't! Let go, Caradoc---let go!"

"No!" he shouted back, and Emmeline let out another shriek as he grabbed her shoulders. She didn't stop her resistance, her struggle, and her eyes shut tightly as he pushed her against the wall, "Emmeline!"

"Caradoc! It's over, I can't, I can't do this, I can't!" she cried, eyes shooting wide open. Oh, God, that wasn't a good idea, she saw the concern in his eyes, she saw--there was pain, there was something, "You can---you can go and---and---"

He frowned, his grip on her shoulders not loosening, her body still roughly pinned to the wall, "I can go what?"

Her teeth started to chatter, it was getting harder and harder to hold back her tears and Emmeline looked away, but he wouldn't leave her gaze, he wouldn't get out of her sight. She needed him to leave her alone, she needed him to get far away from her because that was the only way he could---be safe The Order wasn't safe anymore, what if it was found out? What if they found out that Caradoc was a spy, that he had been spilling Voldemort's secrets for years? What if, they found out that he'd been playing them all along, going along with this 'cover' of dating her and---and---they would kill him, they would kill him, just like the McKinnons, they would slaughter him and it would be all her fault.

"You--you should---you should just---forget everything, just---" tears spilled from her eyes and she continued to refuse to meet his. Because she knew she wouldn't be able keep up her front (even though it was already shattered, she could still try) if she looked at him, she knew she would let him convince her of other wise. "Just---forget about me."

He scoffed, hands going to her face to force her to look at him, pressing in close and crouching over her. She cursed the tears streaming down her cheeks, and her sharp breaths were not helping her situation. Caradoc needed to stop this, he needed to stop protecting her--if---if he died, if he died she would never forgive herself, she would never--

"Why would I do that?" he muttered, searching her eyes.

"If---if you--" her hands clung to the front of his shirt and she kept her gaze down, though it was hard with him so close, "If you die, if you die, I can't, Caradoc, I can't---"

"Shut up," he snapped fiercely, gripping hard onto the side of her face. Emmeline's eyes shot up, but before she could respond he was kissing her, "Shut up, shut up--" over and over into her mouth. No, no, she couldn't let him stop her, he needed to get away and she couldn't handle it, she could barely handle losing Marlene and that---if she could think straight, she would realize that it was still the shock of the McKinnon disaster (just past a week, a week) that was causing her to panic like she was, but in her madness all she could think about was that Caradoc was next, that he was---he was next.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she cried softly, lips moving against his.

"Shut up," he mumbled again, kissing her soundly, and finally she obliged.

Emmeline sat on Frank's kitchen stool, elbows nearly pressing into her stomach from the slouched position. Her eyes counted the tiles from the rug to the leg of her seat, and then across to the sink. She wasn't honestly keeping count, but Emmeline had a rough estimate of how many tiles it took to cover the floor. They were okay looking tiles; they reminded her of Frank's mother, so she was sure that Alice hadn't had a chance to redecorate.

"Are you ready?"

She looked up as Frank entered the kitchen, and Emmeline already felt a wave of nausea hit her as she was quite sure of how this conversation was going to go.

"I don't think I'm going," she responded, lifting her head slightly. It was a rule, now, having to look a person in the eye when she was talking to them. A rule that was supposed to help, but all it did was cause Emmeline to see every line of worry and sympathy etched on their faces, and it made her want to crawl back into the bed she wasn't allowed to get in until nine o'clock at night.

The enforcer of these rules shot her a dark look, and Emmeline twisted away from Frank, not wanting to argue again. In some way, the rules did seem like they could do some good, forcing her out of any sort of vegetative state she might find herself in throughout her depression, but it was becoming increasingly irritating with each passing day. Maybe this meant she was finally gaining the strength to pull herself out of the mess she was in.

"Of course you're going, it's Aberforth's birthday party," Frank said with a roll of his eyes, crossing the kitchen to pull out a drink. Emmeline found no joy in forcing cheer and merriment on a codgy old man like Aberforth, and she felt no need in subjecting herself to the antics of the Order. No one had been behaving normally since January, it just seemed that others got through their grief with exstensive hyperactiveness. "Alice has been planning this for a month, you have to go."

"I think Alice would understand that I don't want to be in the obnoxious prescence of Potter and Black in party hats," Emmeline drawled, eyes glaring at Frank's back with heavy-lidded eyes. Her irritation with Frank was something she'd never felt for the man before. Now, though, now however, all she wanted to do was hit him and leave the bloody house and never come back.

But, as she was pretty sure Frank knew, she couldn't do that.

"It'll be good for you," was all Frank said, turning around and popping open a bottle of butterbeer. "There will be human interaction besides Alice and myself, and maybe you'll get some sunlight."

Emmeline sneered and didn't turn the stool as Frank turned to leave again, gesturing for her to follow. She had gotten dressed, even if it was a set of robes that Alice had bought her and laid out. It felt like they were practicing for their son, they way they were controlling her every move and decision. She at least---at least she was able to realize this wasn't good, wasn't that improvement?

"I'm not going," she said, letting out a breath, "I can make my own decisions, you know--" Frank had let out a sound of disbelief and Emmeline swiveled toward him. She didn't say a word, but her expression dropped into one of disbelief and she held it theere until Frank turned to address her.

"Right," Frank said, taking on a dubious expression, "You're going to the party, you don't have a choice."

"I never have a bloody choice," she responded before she could think about it. Frank's frown deepened and Emmeline felt her face burn red. But, she couldn't stop her self from continuing to blurt, "I don't, I never do--"

"How do you think you got into this situation?"

She had never wanted to pull her wand out on Frank, never in all of the years she'd known him, but Emmeline's fingers twitched to send him straight through the kitchen's wall.

"Don't you dare---"

"Emmeline!" Frank let out, putting one hand up. She took a step forward but didn't move any further, but Emmeline felt every part of her begin to shake, "How are you still defending this? Him? You wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for him, how can you not see that?"

"That's a load of shit!" Emmeline shot back, barely managing to contain her voice or her shaking hands, "If it wasn't for him I'd be dead months ago and you know it!"

"Right, right, so instead of just telling the Order what was going on, the two of you chose to play some game and wait around until everything starts to fall apart," Frank let out quickly, and Emmeline felt her head begin to pound; he'd been thinking this for a while, "Instead of letting us know that you've got a bloody target on your back from Voldemort himself, you and Dearborn decide that you're smarter than everyone else and look what happened! Just look!"

"It doesn't matter, that doesn't---" Emmeline couldn't see straight, her heart and mind pounding so furiously that it was making her dizzy. No, no this couldn't have been avoided, this---no, he would've been in trouble if he hadn't---she wouldn't be here if they hadn't, it---no, no Frank was wrong, "You don't get it, you don't--understand."

"What, Emmeline, what don't I understand?" Frank's hand went into a sweeping gesture, giving her the floor to speak, "I would love to hear this."

"Because he chose me!" A heavy silence fell upon the room, but Emmeline kept her eyes down and shoulders hunched in her anger. Frank didn't understand, there wasn't one person who could. "He chose me, and no one ever chooses me, so don't---don't try and tell me that this was a waste--"

"That's a lie, you have friends who--"

"No one picks me over themselves," Emmeline interrupted, looking up with a tearful, angry gaze "My parents chose France, Ben chose---fucking me over at every possible opportunity---Remus chose to be miserable by himself rather than be with---me, and---Juliet is gone, Juliet left and---and you!"

Emmeline poked an angry finger at Frank, the furious rush she was in bringing up old, painful memories, "You went and got married and didn't think for a bloody second how I would feel about having to give up the---the only bloody family I had that actually gave a damn about me and---"

Her voice finally got caught in her throat and Emmeline turned away, hands freezing in the air at the side of her head as she attempted to calm herself down. She saw out of the corner of her eye Frank step toward her, but Emmeline put up her hand to stop him, "Maybe---maybe we could've done something to prevent this, but---but don't try to take away from me what he did. I can't lose that, I can't or I will---I'll just---"

She finally turned to look at Frank, looking a pitiful and defeated mess. The only thing that had kept her from completely losing everything was the last, final thought that Caradoc had left her with; he chose that she live instead of himself, and---she couldn't give that away. She couldn't let people think it was nothing, because she wasn't nothing, and he was--she couldn't go around wasting the life he'd saved for her.

"I'll bring home some cake," Frank finally said, and Emmeline nodded slightly, slipping back onto the stool as he left.

"Caradoc. DEARBORN!"

The sight in front of her could, if it was humanely possible, cause her brain to explode. Emmeline was tired from work so it could be her lack of energy that was causing her to react so harshly, but maybe, maybe it was just so possible that there were footprints of mud on the ceiling of their living room. Of course, that wasn't the only mess (of course) and if she didn't know better, she would have thought they'd been robbed. The couch cushions were splayed across the floor, the coffee table tilted on its side and a blanket strewn across its legs. There were plates and glasses on the floor, and Emmeline carefully stepped through the disaster zone (while flicking her wand to start a cleanup attempt) and into the kitchen.

She let out another shriek at the sight of an overflowing sink, rubber ducks and toy boats floating along the rivers the cascading water was pushing out into the hallway and laundry room. Holy fuck, what had they been doing all day? While she was out in the middle of third world magical villages, working to provide proper healing to the people who couldn't afford to, these two were creating an unstable habitat that even wild beasts would find unsanitary.

"Caradoc!" she screamed again, shutting off the water and kicking off her now soggy shoes and socks. Emmeline's wand was moving frantically to sweep up the water and stop it from flooding anything else, but it seemed like the torrents of water were too strong. As her eyes scanned the mess, she saw that the stove was covered in bowls and pots and utensils, all still very much filthy with--some---sort of brown---oh, okay, it was chocolate. Pudding, or...something. Hm.

Wait--where was Andrew? He had to be with Caradoc (he better be, at least). Emmeline froze, trying to go silent but the water squishing through her toes was playing as background sound. Clues, hints---ah. She spotted a tiny red hand print on the lid of the rubbish bin, and she had her lead. Emmeline kicked up water as she started to follow the trail of paint and hand prints, and if it wasn't all over her carpet and walls and furniture (on the china cabinet, she had just bought that--), she would have thought it was very artistic of her son.

But, of course, he was so incredibly talented that his artwork couldn't be contained to a canvas. Right.

Finally, the hand prints (how had he gone from red to green to blue to yellow so fast?) went to the glass back door--on the glass, of course---and she peered out into the backyard. Ah. There were the likely suspects. Emmeline slowly stepped out onto the porch, jumping on her tiptoes as the wood was burning. She landed on the grass and crossed over quickly to the shady tree, where she thought--ooh.

Andrew was sitting on the grass, hair drenched, covered in paint and dirty, with the largest bowl of pudding she'd ever seen between his legs. He dipped his hand in and lifted it high up to let the dessert drip down into his mouth (and onto his face) and went to suck the rest off his fingers before he finally spotted her.

"Mummy!" he shouted, waving his pudding covered hand. Emmeline came over, eying him for a second, but her attention was on Caradoc, who looked to be in the deepest sleep imaginable at the base of the tree. Emmeline sat on the ground beside her son, and he scooped up another handful of pudding to offer her.

"No thanks," she said, but it was pushed into her face anyway and she had to admit, they actually had made a good batch. "Papa looks tired," she noted, trying to rub some paint off of Andrew's cheek with her thumb. He smirked greatly and tried to pull away, but Emmeline pulled him onto her lap. Andrew gave up, letting his body lie limp in her lap as she started to clean his face. He stared over at Caradoc and nodded.

"He said Ima lot of work."

Kissing Caradoc Dearborn is a lot like doing anything else with Caradoc Dearborn.

Everything has to go his way. And not so much that you might put up a fight with him and eventually he wins—mainly people blindly saying, "Oh! That was a brilliant idea—you're so right!" because, well, he is.

That kind of "everything has to go his way."

And he always has a way of making you feel incredibly stupid afterwards. When engaging in discussion with him, he usually has that one biting remark or irrefutable fact which terminates the argument. In this instance, it's that speaking or coherently doing anything after kissing him is essentially useless.

He takes exactly what he wants, nothing more, nothing less, and if it happens to benefit you, he doesn't really care. It wasn't that he was a bad, selfish kisser (no girl would really be able to tell if he was), it was just that in order to scratch his own itches, he might get a couple of yours along the way. Caradoc Dearborn rarely does anything for anybody else unless he has a damn good reason, and if whatever his actions are are beneficial to you… well, he really doesn't care.

Additionally, he has to be the best. Whether it was in school, his field of work, anything, Caradoc Dearborn does it better than anybody; end of story. If he isn’t the best kiss you've ever had… clearly, you're doing something wrong.

And finally, kissing Caradoc Dearborn is exactly like doing anything else with Caradoc Dearborn—if he so much as bothers with noticing you're around, there might be something worthwhile about you, after all.

Not so much as him, of course.