"You do not propose to someone because they are depressed, Caradoc!"

Though, this didn't stop her face from being terribly red and hot, and her hands didn't stop shaking, and he was such a moron! Emmeline's eyes narrowed into even thinner slits as her---boyfriend sounded so silly after so many years, but she couldn't possibly call him her fiance after that ridiculous joke of a proposal.

Caradoc stood in front of her, cheeks forcefully being pushed out by the air (and probably angry words) he was forcing to keep to himself. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with him? Who--who would even THINK that something like that would--

"...we can get married, if you'd stop being depressed."

The words just kept repeating themselves in Emmeline's head, bouncing around madly and making her twitch. How could he joke like that? How could he even think that after more than fifteen bloody years, making an idle comment like that would be okay? It wasn't as if Caradoc didn't know her, that he didn't know she would want to get married, that she'd want Andrew's family to be solid and complete and not hanging in this strange limbo that they had his entire life. He knew that she wanted to be his wife, she had been acting like it since before their bloody son was born, so---so why.

"Fine, then, I take it all back, there you go---lost your chance," he snipped, straightening his back and lifting his eyes in the snottiest of manners. Emmeline felt a rage build through her chest she hadn't felt since the First War, and she stormed across the room, glad that she noticed a slight flinch from him.

"LOST MY CHANCE? LOST MY---SUCH A BLOODY CATCH YOU ARE, DEARBORN!" Emmeline shrieked, pushing him repeatedly with terribly hard pounds of her hands. "POOR ME, POOR EMMELINE DOESN'T GET TO BE THE WIFE OF THE BIGGEST JERK ON THE WHOLE FUCKING PLANET!"

"Would you---cut it out!" he griped, finally just grabbing her wrists and holding them down in front of her. Emmeline attempted to stomp onto his feet, but Caradoc jumped back slightly and smirked. Really. He was smirking at her. He dared to smirk after he had just suggested and revoked the idea of marriage. She should blast that stupid smirk off of his face with the nastiest spell she could muster.

"Forget it, I'll just return the ring and we'll forget it, will that make you happy?" Caradoc snapped, tugging her back and forth with his grip, "It should, because obviously the idea of getting married sends you into a fucking conniption."

"Yes, I'm going to forget that the only solution you could find for my depressed state was to offer up something that you have been----you--" Emmeline's hands balled into fists, still being held down by Caradoc's tight grip. He didn't have a ring, Caradoc wouldn't get a ring. He wouldn't think to get a ring.

No, no, correction, he would think about how he would absolutely not buy a ring that resembled an engagement ring, ever.

"No you don't."

"Don't what?"

Emmeline huffed through her nose, beginning to get antsy once more (once more, it was only for five seconds that she'd genuinely believed his 'proposal' to be true and meaningful), "Have a---you know."

"What do you care? You don't want to, anyway," he said in an almost lofty voice, lifting his chin to look away. Emmeline could not believe how this had turned around in mere seconds, that she'd gone from insanely furious to nervous and concerned--concerned that he actually was going to take this all back. Or that it really was a joke and she'd have to lock him out of the bedroom for three weeks while she cried about it.

"Do you have a bloody ring," she snapped, this time managing to step down hard on his right foot. The surprise caused him to lose his grip and she darted away immediately, standing in front of the door as if ready to stop him from leaving and avoiding the answer. Caradoc ignored her movements, however, and walked to the chair he had been sitting in before she assaulted him with a throw pillow, and opened the top drawer of the side table. There really wasn't a ring in there, it was just an empty box that she was going to jam right between his eyes----he tossed it across the room and Emmeline jerked and caught it, pulling it close to her chest.

"I swear on my life Caradoc Evan Dearborn, if this box is empty, I'm going to turn you into a fucking goat."

She didn't wait for him to respond, however, and opened the box; largely because a huge percentage of her mind did want a reason to hex him into a four-legged animal, and the other part---well. That should be obvious.

Emmeline's cheeks sucked in tightly at the sight of the engagement ring, and she kept her eyes down and locked onto the diamond as Caradoc spoke, "If it will make you happy, we can get married."

He'd changed his wording around, see. That was better---not by much, but it meant something else, and it was---better. Emmeline felt her entire body, every system of blood and nerves begin to shake and tremble along with her bones. Finally, after what felt like a complete hour of silence, Emmeline looked up at Caradoc. He was smirking again, obviously pleased that he'd absolutely rattled her into a state of numbness. That smirk.

Her eyebrows lifted in what looked like an expression of disdain. Emmeline pulled the ring out of its place and put it on her finger, tossing the box back to Caradoc and leaving the room with a very loud slam of the door.

He was still sleeping on the couch for three weeks.

Emmeline kissed his lips slowly, trying to feel every last groove of his mouth. Her hand traveled up Ben's bare chest and up his neck, resting in his hair. Yes, she could lie like this forever, she was sure.

"How are you feeling," he whispered into her mouth. Emmeline felt his hand press gently against the bandage on her side, and she barely winced.

It was really no surprise that they would have amazing sex.

Caradoc wasn't one to be humble, he rarely had anything but incredibly good sex, it was simply good to know that his instincts had once again been correct, and a romp with Emmeline Vance was satisfactory. More than satisfactory, to be honest, and with the relaxed state he was in right now, there wasn't a need to downplay the fact.

It also helped that they were now able to have said amazing sex more than once a month. It had last been the weekend of the Longbottom fake wedding, and he wouldn't call it painful, but Caradoc was certain he'd never want to go through that bit of a drought again. What a tease; he'd gone from sex all the time to completely cold turkey in February, had to wait until May for one night of indulgence, and then she had the audacity to go back to school and starve him for another month.

Really. If she wanted to make things even, she should quit her internship and stay in bed for four months. He could find plenty of ways to make the experience quite enjoyable.

He often found himself musing about the adequacy of a sexual encounter a bit after the fact, and this time was no different. They were in her flat, a place that had become something of a refuge from the pitifully empty and quiet Dearborn Manor. It wasn't that Caradoc didn't like the silence, it was mostly the fact that his blasted house-elf felt the need to fill it up with asinine offers and dutiful following. Around. Every. Room. So it had become quite apparent that he would simply have to raid Emmeline's fridge and seduce her at all hours of the day.

Not at the same time, of course. But sometimes one thing led to another...

The feel of her fingertips dancing on his bare shoulders completely stirred him awake from his semi-slumber. He was facing away from Emmeline, so he felt no qualms about the sly grin that slid upon his face. There was no need to rush things, and it was always more fun when she initiated the encounter. Caradoc felt the blankets shift, her leg gently kneed this, and yes, those were lips on the back of his neck. Emmeline was clearly trying to take advantage of her rare full day off from work, and who was he to deny her of that?

He'll fake his sleeping state for only a bit longer.

"I know you're up," she murmured as her mouth moved higher. Caradoc rolled his eyes under their lids but didn't stir; no she did not. This silent disagreement didn't seem to faze her at all, however, and when hands started to wander, Caradoc found it an appropriate time to 'wake' on his own terms, thank you. He rolled onto his back and grinned, though it fell slightly as he caught on her rather amused expression.

"It's not that hard to tell when a person isn't sleeping," he muttered, annoyed that she was so proud of herself, but still moving to hover over her form. Emmeline's eyebrows knitted as her hands when to his shoulders, and she tapped her fingers lightly.

"I didn't know you got the tattoo," she said, stretching her neck to kiss his chin. Caradoc stared almost dumbly down at her, head dipping low to take a quick look toward his left arm; no, his dark mark was still very much concealed. He took a moment to enjoy the view that was lying beneath him, but her statement irked him.

"You can't see it," he stated. Emmeline's smile broadened and she reached her hand around to pat at the back of his neck.

"This one," she said, pressing down, "the Order one?"

Those mother fuckers.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Caradoc shot up, plastering his hand to the back of his neck. They couldn't have, they could not have---they just wanted him to be a 'part' of their little 'club' and---he had the vague memory of feeling like he'd been sleeping on the Order couch for a few hours and not realizing that he had----he--no, no he had dozed off, that was the only---unless...they propped him back up in the same bloody position? No, they weren't that smart, they were not that---

Caradoc leaped off the bed and into the bathroom, grabbing a hand held mirror to use against the one on the wall. His hair had grown a bit since---there was no possible way, Emmeline was going blind, she had inhaled too many potions at the hospital---"I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL THEM!"

He turned, enraged, toward Emmeline, who was standing in the doorway with the sheet wrapped around herself. Caradoc quite suddenly realized, as he noticed that she was naked beneath her covers, that he was in the same state but without the benefit of a--"Give me that!"

Why he suddenly felt the need to be covered up, he did not know, but perhaps it was the complete and utter violation of his body that the other Order members seemingly did not care about. She struggled, of course, and Caradoc's mind couldn't settle enough to fight the vice like grip Emmeline had on the sheets. They ended up twisted and tangled, ending up in a ridiculous position with the sheets over their heads, completely eliminating the reason for the cover in the first place.

"I'm going to kill them," he snarled, crossing his arms. As much as he hated to let his anger subside, his eyes were seemingly magnetized by Emmeline's rather flushed form, and Caradoc took a breath. Nope. No. He was far too angry for sex now, she was just going to have to seduce him another day, because it was not going to happen now.

"Could it wait?" she said, breathlessly, her hands going up his sides. No, it could not--"I have one day off every two weeks, and would like to use it properly." Emmeline looked up at him, that...smirk on her face making his lips twitch. From anger, of course. "I'll even help you plot."

"Against Longbottom too?"

Emmeline nodded without hesitation, and giving it a moment or two of thought, Caradoc agreed. Interrupting his sex life would mean those bastards had won, and he would not allow that.

Tomorrow, however...

Caradoc sat, crouched, with his head pushed up against the wall and his eyes shut tight. If it were possible, he would have balled himself up much more than he was right now into physically unachievable. If it were possible, he would stop his leg from jiggling itself off his body entirely. If it were possible, he would stop the spiraling thoughts cutting through in his mind and halt the sounds from pushing themselves relentlessly into his ears.

How much longer? How much longer was he going to have to endure this? It was very-- challenging for him to sit, out here by himself with the bright lights, when in there behind that closed door was Emmeline's very loud, and very painful sounding, screams. Because of him--- effectively, if he was to use her own words.

An exceedingly loud cry forced Caradoc to jump to his feet, and as if put on auto-pilot, he slid over toward the only door in the room besides the exit. Without hesitation, he raised his hand up to the door to open it, to go inside, because technically shouldn't he be in there too? It wasn't--- she was in pain, that fact alone was killing him, and--- that's what other people did sometimes, go in there for-- no, no, he--- they had chosen from him to stay out here for a reason.

With a snap of his heels, he turned away from the door, one hand going to the side of his neck and the other back to his forehead. They would call for him if anything went wrong, wouldn't they? Yes, of course they would, because, because--- a sudden new noise filled his ears which made Caradoc's heart beat even heavier, his skin jump to life, and his hand nearly jam itself into his glasses.

Was that--- how had a baby gotten in there? It took a few moments, but eventually Caradoc felt his stomach twist nastily as the realization sunk in.

Holy shit, holy shit, this couldn't be happening--- it couldn't have happened because things had been they way they were for almost a year now, so it wasn't possible that now everything had changed. That meant, that meant---

"Mister--- Smith?"

Caradoc had turned to face the door even before the Healer had called his name. Or his--- whatever, he didn't even care. The only thing he could wrap his mind around was what was behind that door, and how long it would take him to get there. He must have looked completely insane, just standing there silently, his hand still on his neck, but his eyes locked on the healer.

"Why don't you---"

He stopped listening, this wizard had ceased to be important to him the moment a small smile started to form on his lips. Caradoc didn't want that, he wanted to see Emmeline. He wanted to see the product of all her painful screaming. He wanted to see the result of the ridiculous amount of hard work the both of them had put in for the nine last months. He wanted to see his--- son.

He nothing sort of rushed into the room, automatically steering himself to her. Even if Caradoc had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to look at his surroundings, the objects and people that were around them were lost to him. The only thing he could focus on was Emmeline's face--- her tired, but content face, and eventually--- the small baby in her arms.

"How are you? How do you-- I'm--- I should have--- been in here--- I don't know--- why--- are you alright? Do you feel--" Caradoc spoke a mile a minute, his hand moving to brush the sweat-mattered hair out of Emmeline's face. It took Emmeline a few moments, but with time she took her gaze away from the bundle in her arms to look up at him.

"Why don't you hold him?" she asked quietly, and without waiting for a response, tenderly pushed him into Caradoc's arms. "Andrew," Emmeline smiled, obviously beyond pleased with herself as she eased herself back into the pillows.

There was something lurking around her backyard.

It was not only driving Max crazy, but Emmeline was beginning to feel more than paranoid. She only had a small space behind her flat, barely enough room for a patio table and some chairs, but there was something making sounds back there during the late hours of the night. She feared it was a raccoon, and the idea of one of those bloody...bitty bears sneaking around the rubbish bins and all that made her skin crawl.

So, she was going to trap it.

"You have to be quiet, Max," Emmeline said soothingly, trying not to fall asleep as the clock struck three. Her sleeping patterns had been everything but regular since sixth year, so it wasn't strange for her to be up at this hour, but normally she would just be reading, not squatted down by her back door, waiting for the trap to sound as she held her dog's collar tight. This raccoon did not know what it had gotten into; you really shouldn't bother someone who did nothing else in life than track down dark wizards and organize library books. Just think about what goes through the mind of a person like that.

Max had been quite attentive for the first two hours of their stake out, but even he was finding the wait fruitless. He whined and lowered his head onto her thigh, falling asleep almost instantly. Emmeline frowned down at the dog, though it did occur to her that maybe she was being ridiculous. What was there to worry about? It wasn't as if the damn animal could get into the flat, that would be the only reason for concern. She was just finding things to obsess over, to make the days and nights go by faster, that had to be the reason why she was resolute in her target and capture endeavor.

Except she was falling asleep.

Emmeline's head knocked against the counter of the sink, jolting her out of the light sleep she'd fallen into. Bugger it all, it was fruitless--the raccoon must've sensed something was different, but. The man at the pet store had said that even humans get caught in these things, they're so well charmed. It looks just like a patch of grass, and then when the creature steps onto it, the air around it is transfigured into a cage of sorts. Really, Emmeline was quite impressed with the magic, never having seen anything like it, so how could this bloody---

The hissing of something in her backyard startled her wide awake. It had worked! Max jumped to his feet as well and started barking, but Emmeline pushed him back and away from the door so that he couldn't go and knock the cage open and let loose some rabid raccoon. That was the last thing she needed.

Emmeline stepped out into the summer night, barefoot but wand ready. She padded down the steps of the small porch and toward the trap, which was rocking back and forth in a fury. Merlin, she hoped the man at the Menagerie was right, that only her spells could release the animal because this would really be nasty. The moon was nearly full (her thoughts flitted to Remus, for a moment), so her backyard was well lit. There was something about summer nights that Emmeline could always appreciate; it was as if the sun had just gone out for a moment, leaving the warmth of the day for you to trek about in.

Kneeling down, she peered inside the front of the newly transfiguring cage, and was surprised.

"Hello," she muttered to the rather large cat inside. Emmeline hadn't been expecting this, having found herself so wrapped up in the idea of a raccoon. The cat was raging against the walls of the cage, seemingly furious at its closed quarters, and Emmeline knocked on the front, trying to capture its attention. The cat whipped its head toward her and froze, not just stood still, but he (she? no, it was definitely a male, by the size) literally looked like he'd been hit with pertrificus totalus, absolutely stock still.

"Are you going to let me take you out?" she said, sitting back and crossing her legs underneath her. Emmeline swished her wand, removing the outer layer so that she could see into the cage, but the cat couldn't get out. Bloody hell, this was a beast. No wonder Max had been going mad; she was sure this cat could put up quite a fight with her gigantic dog. He had remained still, however, and Emmeline took the moment to look him over. A beautiful cat, really; she'd never seen one like it before.

"Sorry for all of this," she said, as if talking to a friend. Emmeline leaned forward, tapping on the top to try and get the cat to break out of its stupor, "I just want you to stop driving my dog mad." Her lips pressed together as her words didn't seem to affect the cat at all, and she used her wand to unlock the cage. Carefully, she reached in and pulled the animal out, a moment later realizing she should've put on gloves, or something, in case, but---Emmeline managed to pull the large cat out and she let it drop onto her lap. A lovely, lovely cat, and so warm; it just added to the beautiful summer night.

"You remind me of my patronus," she muttered, running a hand down its back. The cat stiffened once more and looked up at her just once before digging his claws into her thigh as he pushed away and jolted off into the darkness. Emmeline groaned, looking down at the bloody spot that was seeping through her pajama pants. Lovely. Hopefully the blasted thing never came back.

Eventually, Caradoc felt himself rouse from his self-induced sleep.

It was a lethargic process, one that took well over an hour as every limb of his began to awake from what felt like decades of lifelessness. Though while doing so, Caradoc was somehow able to piece together where he was: on top of a mattress, sprawled across the sheets. The aroma that was around him seemed foreign, though at this point everything felt that way.

And eventually, he was able to drag himself from the bed blindly, blinking unceasingly as the sun pored through every little crack in the walls. Where---- was he, again? An unsteady hand rose to run itself into his hair, but sharp-shooting pains across his chest soon had him hunching over, looking down at the ground. What--- was--- Caradoc looked down at his bare torso, struggling to get his mind to grasp his surroundings. Peeling back his hands revealed one very large wound right in the middle of his rib change, and a few others spread across his left side. For a few minutes, he looked at them strangely like a child, completely unable to conceive how such gruesome looking wounds could be stitched on his body.

Eventually, the origins of his scars made themselves known him, and Caradoc found that he had dropped down to the floor soundlessly. The stone floor felt hot against his skin as he hung his head between his knees, suddenly feeling incredibly nauseous as memories and events began to trickle back to him. He sat there, for about a half an hour with his hands dropped to the floor palms down. Eventually, the sun had ceased being bright.

Holy--- holy--- shit. How--- how---- was this actually happening? What--- could he not die? What possibly left for him to accomplish, what else was there left for him to do... here of all places? The significance of all this was beyond him. And eventually, as the sick feeling left him, he found himself staring at the bleak wall.

Well.

What a depressing piece of shit he was living it.

Just like his mentality.

How perfect.

Caradoc let out a sigh, and again like a child, shakily brought himself to his feet. Eat--- eating would be a start. And then next would be to devise a complex plan about how to get his ass out of here.

Dumbledore didn't honestly think he was going to stay here for the rest of his borrowed life. Obviously, it was impossible to kill him, so there really was nothing to loose.

His eyes flicked across the room, following a lone figure glide back and forth among bookshelves. If this cat form was useful for one thing, it at least achieved complete anonymity for one of the few things he had missed the most when he could walk on two legs in public.

She looked over at him for a brief second, and a warm feeling vibrated from his stomach creating an equally pleasing experience as the sun heating his back. Actually, it felt like the whole sun was warming his entire body with Emmeline's simple gaze. But he was too pleased to move even an inch from his curled position on the window cill near her desk, so all he could do was simply stare at her until she came over here.

A small, smug smile tugged on her lips as she walked by, only causing him to wish, yet again, that the end of the day was here so that they could leave.

"I think I like you better like this," Emmeline mused softly, reaching out to lightly brush her fingers across his head. She was luckly he felt so content at that moment, or else a much different reaction that he would later refuse to admit was purring would have occurred.

Even in these different eyes, Emmeline looked exactly as he had remembered her. Her hair shown beautifully in the sun, as her cheeks glowed with color just as brightly as her eyes shown. She hadn't changed one bit aside from a haircut, and for that he loved her even more for being the one thing that hadn't changed after all those months lost.

He had missed her, yes, there was no getting around that, nor did he even attempt to hide it. It had been extremely difficult before, the more Caradoc looked back on it, he had no idea how he had survived that long without even the smallest hint of her presence. But she was here, now, just as he was, and that was all that mattered. Things were going to be different now, he wasn't going to run away and hide anymore, there was purpose in his life again. All thanks to---

Caradoc woke with a start, jolting straight up in his bed. Covered in sweat, he simply breathed heavily for a few shaking moments, eyes racing back and across the room as he regained his ground. It had been so... lifelike, like she had truly been there, only a few centimeters away from her---

Three sharp knocks sounded from the door caused Caradoc to jump agilely from the bed. He crouched low to the ground instinctively, wand in hand, the hairs on his body standing on end. The question of who it could be never came to mind, only that this meant danger. No one came to this place, it was virtually impossible for muggles to find, and wizards never bothered with each other unless previously acquainted.

The door began to slowly open before he had the chance to reach it, sending Caradoc immediately into an arched combat position. Once he saw who it was, however, his body completely laxed with shock, then tensed up even more than before.

"Hello Caradoc," Albus Dumbledore stood dutifully across the threshold, smiling as if this meeting wasn't what it was. And because of that, Caradoc found his fingers digging deeper into the wood of his wand, going against ever cell in his body that screamed to violently slam the door shut in the other man's face.

"May I come in?"

"No," Caradoc hissed through his teeth. With time, he began to stand up straighter, but still very much ready to attack in case this was a sick hoax.

The older man let out a knowing sigh as he nodded his head slowly. "I understand--- you must not be very pleased to see such a negative remebrance like myself from your old life... but I have a feeling you might be interested in what I have to say."

Caradoc continued to stoically stare, which the older man took as permission to speak. He continued to nod, despite letting his eyes wander the walls of the house and the other man himself standing in front of him.

"My visit has something to do with Miss Vance, among other things, of course. Would you still not like me to come in?"

"What?" Despite feeling hollow, Caradoc's voice was sharp as the mention of her made his body jump back to life. What was wrong with Emmeline? Had Dumbledore ruined her life also? An energy that he hadn't experienced in over a year filled him, and for a few seconds a shell of his old self began to fill him. Was she---

"She is completely physically fine, of course. Working in a muggle library, actually, for the time being. But if I can come in, perhaps we can discuss further?" Albus Dumbledore stood patiently in place as if he had all day to wait for an answer. Which would have angered Caradoc to the point of spite, but his mind was too distracted and thrown off at the thought of Emmeline for him to do that now.

A grunt escaped him, which was the best welcome anyone could get. Smiling, Dumbledore took off his hat as he closed the door.

It had taken her nearly thirty years to understand what the word 'family' really meant. By definition, it meant 'a social unit living together,' which she had initially thought must involve her parents, and herself. When she was younger, until about the age of seven, Emmeline tried desperately to live up to this definition. She loved her mother, she loved her father, and wanted to please them so very much, but failed because she was too nosy, or talkative, or simply didn't enjoy the things they did. Her parents were not meant to be a mother and father, and had accidentally stumbled upon the titles. Emmeline figured this out, and never tried to gain any sort of unity with them from then on.

At Hogwarts, it was easy to find your social unit. There was no denying that Emmeline felt a strong bond with all the Ravenclaws, and would have enjoyed spending the rest of her life in the tower had it been possible. Her roommates were people she knew she could constantly rely on and go to when the rest of the world went to hell, but by the end of the war they had their own families, their own units, to attend to. They drifted apart, talking through owls at the holidays and for birthdays, but nothing was like it was during the war.

It was eight years after Voldemort had been defeated that Emmeline was hit with the epiphany. On the first day of summer, a beautiful June Saturday, the overwhelming feeling of love and family came over her. She was sitting on a large checkered blanket with the sun beating down on her bare shoulders, in the middle of New York City's Central Park. Her hair was loose around her head and her sneakers had been put to the side ages ago. Beside her was a picnic basket, and on the other was her boyfriend-husband-thing. Caradoc laid on his back with a shirt under his head and a newspaper over his eyes. Emmeline was sure he was asleep, but that wouldn't be for long.

Emmeline turned her head and watched with a grin as their newly turned five-year-old son Andrew rushed toward them and with a leap landed straight on Caradoc's stomach. There was shouting and grunting, but Emmeline let the boys squabble as she focused her attention back on her current project. Her arms were outstretched as she held the tiny hands of her daughter, Madeline, high above the baby's head. She was wobbling like a puppet, her legs slipping out from under her as she attempted to move forward.

But Madeline was a determined little thing, she was definitely a Dearborn, truly a Vance. Emmeline watched with complete adoration as her daughter forced her feet firmly to the blanket, and with only a second of hesitation, she let go of the baby's hands and let out a gasp at how well she was standing on her own.

"Look!" was all she said. Caradoc and Andrew stopped their fight (Andrew hanging over his father's shoulder, nearly upside down) to stare at the baby, and with bated breath, they waited to see what she would do next. Madeline wavered in place, hands out to her sides as if walking a trapeze. Emmeline put her hands out to beckon the baby, feeling that this was it and her daughter would take her first steps, but---whoosh, a gust of wind dropped Madeline back onto her bottom and she let out a surprised squeak.

"Ohhhh!" they all let out, and it was Andrew who jumped between his parents to pat his sister on the head and comfort her quickly, "You stood for so long! That's gotta be a record!"

"Yes, she stood much longer than I've ever stood," Caradoc 'agreed.'

Emmeline laughed when Andrew's face contorted in thought about his father's statement, and she laid back on the blanket as her men began to squabble once again. She put up a hand to block the sun from her eyes and was ready to let the heat of the day lull her to sleep. But before she could let the thought sink into her mind, Andrew's face shot into her line of vision, and then the hands of a crawling Madeline pushed into her side, both of her children demanding her attention. She loved when her family wanted her.

"You can't sleep," Caradoc said, standing. Her biggest child of all was now in need of attention, "We're bored."

It was obviously summer, Caradoc thought with a silent curse toward the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains of the bedroom at five o'clock in the morning. It had been the big selling point of the house, the real estate agent had made such a sales pitch about the natural light the townhouse owned. Think about your electric bill! Caradoc did not give one damn about an electric bill, but he'd known that Emmeline would love the bright mornings and well-lit days.

Well, he thought she would have. In the month they'd been in New York, it had felt like Emmeline hadn't liked anything about the place, that she was completely uncomfortable in their home. The fact that Caradoc had actually referred to the house as theirs would have surely made her twitch with excitement a few months ago, but with everything that had happened before they'd left England, he knew that it was going to take some time to get her back to normal. Or something next to normal, anyway.

The early morning sunlight didn't usually bother him; he'd wake, groan about it, and then pull Emmeline over to him as she was his living, breathing pillow that would send him back to sleep for another hour or two. Caradoc's arm stretched out to reach for her, eager for the extra warmth to lull him back to sleep, but all he managed to do was puff the air out of their comforter. His eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly at the sight of the empty bed. He glared sleepily toward the bathroom door and saw it wide open, no sound of running water. Where was she?

Caradoc crept out of bed, slipping on his glasses and peering into the bathroom to make sure Emmeline hadn't fallen and busted her head in the shower (his mind, it went to the worst possible scenarios sometimes--). Maybe Max had needed to go out, that damn dog couldn't fit through any of the dog-doors they'd looked at. Maybe she'd gone for a run, but he couldn't remember the last time Emmeline had willingly done any sort of exercise like that. Maybe she couldn't sleep, but she'd definitely been there earlier in the night, Caradoc remembered quite clearly. He couldn't help his concern; it hadn't even been six months since Voldemort was defeated, and these few weeks of 'normalcy' hadn't been able to erase the paranoia of being in the middle of a goddamn war. What if she'd finally snapped, like he'd been so scared she was going to? Emmeline had seemed to be fine, just quieter, sadder, but maybe she---

---maybe she was making breakfast?

The smell hit his senses when he reached the top of the stairs. Caradoc had to think for a moment, as not much cooking had actually been done in their rather large kitchen since they'd moved in. He slowly made his way down the stairs, wondering if he actually was smelling bacon, and...pancakes? Caradoc stopped at the foot of the stairs and thought for a moment, taking in the smell. Blueberry pancakes?

It would have looked strange to anyone besides the two of them, creeping around your own house as if waiting for an attack. Caradoc finally, slowly made his way into the kitchen and he could not stop his look of surprise as Emmeline was indeed standing in front of the stove, attempting to flip what looked like an omelet with just the frying pan. She was still in pajamas, and from the looks of the back of her head and simply rolled out of bed and decided to prepare this breakfast feast.

He winced as she finally flipped the omelet, holding back his laugh as half of it landed over the side. Why was she doing this? Were they expecting company and he hadn't remembered? Not at this early of an hour. What had caused her to simply waltz out of bed and make such an effort after showing no motivation for anything since they'd arrived in New York? Caradoc stayed at the end of the table, watching her move with rather impressive skill, watching the different skillets carefully as to not burn anything. It was like she wasn't herself, but this was Emmeline, an over-achiever and perfectionist.

"Smells good."

Emmeline jumped and spun around at his voice. Luckily, she'd just put down her spatula. Caradoc grinned as her face deepened with a great blush and he cross the kitchen to her, his eyes examining the plates of food. She really had gone all out.

"Bangers and mash?" he let out incredulously, honestly surprised and happy to see the very British breakfast. It was a good feeling to see the reminders of England, but it was an even better feeling to see how proud of her work Emmeline was. She squirmed and stood by the table nervously, as if waiting for his approval. Caradoc tried not to get too distracted by the food, and reached out to pat down her wild hair, "What's the occasion?"

Her blush deepened and she let out a breath, "It's our anniversary." Emmeline's eyes ducked to the ground as Caradoc stopped chewing. They had one of those? "At least---it's---it's dumb, sorry, I just---was thinking about---things and---just eat."

Caradoc watched her set the table, pulling out cloth napkins he didn't know they had, setting the utensils out with meticulous precision and the pulling out a pitcher. They had an anniversary? Why hadn't she mentioned this before? It occurred to him, if he was doing the math right, that...she must be thinking about the first time they snogged, because he'd never formally asked her to be his girlfriend (still hadn't). How had she not made a big deal about it the first----Caradoc swallowed the food in his mouth as he realized; their 'first' anniversary was two months after Dorcas had died, and he'd disappeared. They'd never had a chance for him to tell her that he didn't do anniversaries, and that caused a clenching in his chest. Oh.

"Come back to bed," he finally said, latching on to her elbow. Emmeline looked up, aghast, but Caradoc pulled her toward him.

"But all this food--" she protested, but he silenced her with a kiss, his arms going tightly around her. Caradoc was glad that Emmeline was showing some signs of coming back to herself, and if she wanted today to be special, for them to celebrate the anniversary of their first snog (girls were ridiculous) then he'd let her have it.

"The food can be heated up," he said against her mouth, pulling her back out of the kitchen. Emmeline made some quick swishes of her wand toward the stove (behind her back, and wordless, quite impressive, yet again), shutting off the flame before they burnt their house down. If he was going to have to celebrate today, then he was going to do it in a way they both approved of. Good morning anniversary sex and then a breakfast buffet, you couldn't really ask for a better way to get back on track.

Emmeline lifted Xavier up onto her knee, patting down the four-year-old’s hair as the wind whipped through it. He looked up at her, his nose scrunching with his bright smile. She loved these warm early summer days, and would have to appreciate them because there would only be one more summer that she would have Xavier all to herself. Andrew and Madeline were in grade school now, and it left her home with their youngest, a different kind of feeling than when it was just Andrew. She and Caradoc had no idea what they were getting into with their first child, but now she felt like an expert, and life wasn’t as hectic anymore.

Xavier loved to be read to, and these quiet times in the park often ended up on a bench with a book. Sometimes, he even insisted on reading the pages himself, making up stories that lasted for quite some time. Emmeline loved listening to him, and would miss having her children this young and innocent. She, of course, was now sure that she was done having babies, having gotten three more in her life than she’d ever expected. She was going to cherish these last few years of Xavier’s special time with her, which was why she often stowed him away with her on these random trips.

“And then what happened?” she asked gently, tying the lace of his shoe. Xavier sighed and waved his hand around.

“And then---a wizard came, with—with purple robes, and glasses and a long---white…” He tugged at his chin, looking for the word. Emmeline let him think for a moment before answering for him,

“Beard?”

“Long white beard!” Xavier nodded happily, and Emmeline noticed his eyes were locked not on the book, but on something behind her. She turned and let out a startled sound at the sight of Albus Dumbledore, standing on the edge of the playground. The headmaster smiled softly at her and stepped forward.

“Hello, Ms. Vance, and I’m correct in saying that this is Xavier?”

Emmeline unconsciously let her grip on her son tightened and she nodded, completely caught off guard. She had not seen Dumbledore since she’d left England with Caradoc nearly fifteen years ago; his sudden appearance in the middle of a playground caused her nothing but fear and concern.

“Could I have a moment of your time?” he asked, sitting down on the bench beside her. Emmeline kept a stern expression, but she supposed that she was going to have to hear what Dumbledore had to say, anyway. She slid Xavier off of her lap and ushered him to the playground, where he happily stumbled through the sand and toward the jungle gym.

Emmeline pressed her back against the bench, watching her son with keen eyes. Her heart was ready to pound through her chest, knowing that whatever Dumbledore had come to speak to her about was going to be difficult to swallow.

“Voldemort has returned.”

Of course. Of course. Emmeline couldn’t help herself, she let out a laugh at how utterly ridiculous her life was and turned to face Dumbledore, shaking her head. She wasn’t going to accuse him of lying. If Albus Dumbledore believed that Lord Voldemort was back, the bastard had never been dead in the first place.

“And what would you like me to do about it?” she said, “I’m a housewife, a stay at home mother of three, what exactly would you like me to do about it?”

Dumbledore nodded, tilting his gaze toward the playground. Emmeline felt a sudden rush of anger, not wanting him to look at Xavier. How had he known where she would be? Had he been following her? Had he approached Caradoc? Had Dumbledore been watching them this entire time?

“The Order is being reinstated, and I would like you to return to England as one of the leading members throughout the first war---“

“As one of the only ones still alive, you mean,” Emmeline spat, bristling at the word, the idea of the Order. How many funerals had she attended because of the Order? How many friends had she lost? How many were still suffering because of what the Order had put them through? “No, sorry---“

“Severus Snape is going to continue being a double-agent for us,” Dumbledore interrupted. Emmeline blanched; it had caused such a stir when he defended Snape on trial… “There is no doubt in either of our minds that he will be asked the whereabouts of the Order members still alive and well, and as skilled as Severus is, not even he will be able to convince Voldemort and the other death eaters that you are in England and not living in a brownstone in Brooklyn with Caradoc Dearborn and your three children.”

Emmeline felt as if he’d shot a bludger into her chest. Her head was spinning, she felt like she was losing all the sense she ever had and all she could manage to do was look out toward the playground at Xavier. He was so happy, he was her happy boy, and she could no longer feel any of that happiness.

“If I’m not in England, they’ll come looking for me,” she said, stating what Dumbledore had talked around in his very effective ways. “They’ll come looking for me.” She thought about how easily her location could be traced through her old friends in England, “They’ll come and they’ll find them.”

“That is what is most likely to happen. But if you’re in England---“

“If I’m in England, they won’t have to look any further,” she said with a nod, feeling her misery overcome every inch of her body, “They’ll assume I came back to help the Order. What kind of person with any sense would leave their family behind to join a war that had killed so many of her friends before?” Emmeline blinked and looked at Dumbledore again. He seemed forlorn, but thoughtful.

“I’m sorry,” the headmaster said, standing. Emmeline lost contact with the man, her gaze going back toward Xavier. He was waving her over to examine the pile of sand he’d built up, but Emmeline couldn’t move from the bench. Dumbledore left out of the corner of her eye and she let her hair whip in the early summer breeze, feeling her life get blown away with it.