Who: Caradoc Dearborn and Emmeline Vance
What: He needs to explain himself
Where: Her flat



It was a good thing that his will was already written out, because Caradoc was fairly confident Emmeline was going to kill him for more reasons than one. Literally. He was not going to make it through the night alive, or even the next hour, because he knew once she saw his face at her doorstep again, she was going to murder him. Mercilessly. And he was okay with that--- well, no, he wasn't, because he hated it when she hit him, but he would... understand? Sort of? Not really, but he supposed he could try. Or at least pretend to.

Taking a deep breathe, Caradoc rose his hand to the door. Maybe he should just leave and come back later, when there was sunlight. She hadn't tried to contact him since Sunday, so maybe that was an indication that he should just leave her--- alone. Even though there wasn't that option anymore (she didn't know it), since he had waited too long to talk to her. So. Now he had to. At least before she went back to school.

Sighing once more, Caradoc hesitated before his hand came down on the door with three sharp raps. His eyes closed as his knuckles hit the wood, almost as if the door itself would jump to life and attack him also. Here goes everything.

Her entire flat was unpacked. Everything. Every box was empty, every book was on a shelf, every fork in the drawer. All the boxes were folded and sent to the curb, every piece of bubble wrap was thrown out, and the nails on the wall all hung her picture frames and pieces of art she'd collected over the years. Because? She'd spent every day since Sunday in her flat, organizing and keeping her mind off of Caradoc. Mostly off of killing Caradoc, but she couldn't deny there were other reasons he was on her mind.

The sharp knocks made her frown, the pages of the book in her hands crumpling slightly as she gripped the edges hard. Last time someone had knocked---well, technically it had been Dedalus, but, these knocks reminded her of Sunday. Which she couldn't stop thinking about. Stupid fucking Caradoc--

Emmeline dropped the book to the couch (she had such a nice living room set, she would admit--nice big ottoman in the middle instead of a clunky coffee table, sigh) and crossed to the door. Of course it was Caradoc, and Emmeline nearly smacked the door. But, instead, she opened it, glared at Caradoc with the meanest, sharpest glare she could muster, and then slammed it shut in his face. Emmeline leaned against the door, listening to see if he'd leave, but she really hoped he didn't.

His lips pulled together in a strained sort of way once the door whooshed open and close, making a little breeze hit his face. At least that reaction was much more favorable than her opening the door, hitting him, and then closing it in his face. Alright, so he was going to have to coax her a little. He could do that. Or he could just keep on talking until it annoyed Emmeline so much that she opened the door to get him to stop, giving him time to slip inside. But plan A first, since that once was the most likely to get him on her relative good side.

Caradoc crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back on his heels. He let out yet another sigh, and then spoke. "Open the door, Emmeline," he said, looking down at the ground to his feet. He supposed he could always break in. But that wouldn't get him on her good side either. See, usually in these sort of situations, Caradoc would just give Emmeline a quick shock-snog and be done with it, but seeing the circumstances... he didn't think that that would quite work.

"I know you can hear me," he said a few moments later, now leaning, toe to heel, slightly in his spot. Ugh, she was going to leave him out here, wasn't she? See, that didn't exactly work out with his whole plan so--- that would have to change. "Come onnnn, it's cold out here."

She frowned deeply, crossing her arms as she leaned heavily on the door. He stayed, which was good, but Emmeline wanted him to learn a bloody lesson---which really, couldn't be done if he just turned around and left. She waited a good minute after he last spoke, hoping a brisk breeze swept past him and turned his eyelashes into icicles, before she opened the door. Emmeline couldn't help the hurt frown that crossed her features, eyes a softer glare because she really couldn't understand why he'd come in such a whirlwind to leave her alone in the dust.

"You're not allowed to sit on my couch," she said with a straight face, opening the door wider and turning so he could enter. Emmeline made sure she found herself centered in the middle of the sofa, arms and legs crossed tightly because she was not going to risk any sort of attack, whether it be it snog or verbal. Nope, he either had to explain himself or leave, and if she liked his explanation, she would send him on his way and snog him tomorrow. No, he still needed to be punished.

Her eyebrows rose, and Emmeline's shoulders moved slightly as if telling Caradoc to get on with it, "Go on, explain."

He almost thought that she would leave him out there; that would have complicated things a bit. But, low and behold, as the door creaked open, Caradoc lifted his head up to meet--- another glare. She was going to make this challenging, wasn't she? Not that he expected anything less. "I'll refrain. Promise." A small smile twitched onto his cheeks as he spoke, and he followed her inside, closing the door behind him.

Everything was unpacked? As Caradoc walked in, he noticed the vast difference of the flat from Sunday. Either Emmeline was extremely dedicating to moving into her new home, or she had just been that mad at him. He was going to go with the latter, because almost no one liked packing and unpacking house things. Which was exactly why he had given Juliet his old flat, fully furnished. No hassles. But anyway.

"Alright, look," Caradoc started, taking the back of one of her chairs to lean his palms into it. He had already decided on the way here that he had to tell her everything--- which he hated. Or at least the basis of everything. If she had just gone along with everything, there wouldn't be this problem. Well, he supposed that he had sort of created his problem, but never mind that, because it was never his fault.

At least he knew no one else would be hearing this, since he was technically the one to be doing it. "The Dark Lord wants you dead, if we're going to honest. But not yet, for some reason. But he doesn't exactly want you running around unchecked, ever since your Greenland incident. So, he decided that since you're such a threat, he'd put a death eater to recon you and make sure you don't get in the way for a while. But--- haha-- luckily for you, Dumbledore and I have a very good relationship and things worked out. With me so far?"

Definitely not what she'd been expecting. She'd been expecting some spiel about not being over Dorcas, or--or not thinking Juliet would approve, or...or she was too young, always pulling that age bit when---but not this. Emmeline's entire body slackened as he so bluntly revealed this scary information. And...she was a threat? No, no more like a nuisance, that was the right word for her, she wasn't a threat, all she'd done was not...die. She'd not died, and...oh. She'd managed to piss off Voldemort.

Emmeline leaned forward, pressing her elbows into her thighs (holy fuck she was still in her dress from the Bones wedding, how had she not realized---) as she buried her face in her hands. Breathe. Just. Breathe. She really wanted to be normal, but maybe she should have realized that snogging Caradoc Dearborn was nothing near normal.

"And what's your part in all of this?" she asked, lifting her head, pushing through her curtain of hair to look up at him.

Caradoc watched her carefully as she reacted, leaning forward slightly to the chair as she began to unfold. He hadn't exactly thought about how she would feel about all this, and he didn't think he could properly put himself in her place to judge her reactions accordingly. So he wouldn't, for now. At least she wasn't crying, that would just cause--- a much bigger mess than there already was.

He thought for a moment, trying to think of the right words to say. It wasn't exactly like he wanted to go out and say he was a death eater, because the last time that had happened, things had gone not so smoothly. Vivid images of yelling, threatening and throwing of shoes by particularly came to mind. It didn't look like Emmeline had any shoes on, and he couldn't think of any other way to say it fast enough to the point. So. Caradoc sighed again, and leaned back from the chair.

"I'm the death eater."

Mmmm. Caradoc tried to stay as still as possible after he spoke, but it proved to be challenging. He had never actually--- he could never quite fully prepare himself to say something like that out loud, and be perfectly fine with it. Mostly because it included trusting people to not say anything, but. Emmeline wouldn't, he was fairly sure.

"Bullshit," she said before she could stop herself, but Emmeline's eyes widened. Well, no, that couldn't be right. But where the hell would he get this story from? There's no way he could think this was funny, Caradoc had a strange sense of humor but this? No, no he couldn't make up something like this, telling her that he was a death eater, the thing she despised most in the world and---no. No, no. He wasn't a death eater.

"Wait--" she said, putting a hand up and standing, needing to move because sitting there made her feel like some idiot being lectured. She turned on a heel back at him, only to turn around again, then to turn back, "How, why--why are you---you? You're a---no. You---you're---"

She bit her tongue, and at the moment really, really hated how fast her brain moved. The first bloody time she'd talked to Caradoc, outside of parties and time spent with Juliet was when Frank and James had gone missing, and she'd suspected...she'd seen him leave Dumbledore's office, she had simply known that he knew something, even if---she'd suspected him to be a death eater way back then and---no, no, he couldn't be.

But he was, because Caradoc didn't fuck around when it mattered, and admitting to be a death eater mattered.

"So---Dumbledore, he---you--he knows? And---you didn't...well that would make sense, you don't want a lot of people knowing and...and..." she wasn't even looking at him at this point, just walking back and forth in front of her couch, probably creating a ditch. "And...so---so what? What are you going to do? With---me?"

She was taking this much better than Dorcas; so far, no things had gone flying and nothing had hit him. Emmeline hadn't even walked toward his general direction. Just kept on walking in a little circle in the middle of the living room. As she walked, his right arm slipped, elbow hitting the top of the chair and creating a place to rest his chin in his palm.

"Yes, I am," Caradoc responded, turning his head slightly to fully use his jaw. "Yes, Dumbledore knows." His other arm fell also, laying itself down the back of the chair. "And yes, no one else needs to know," he said finally, simply watching her walk for a few moments. Though once Emmeline asked her finally question, Caradoc jerked back up into a straight standing position, once again behind the chair and not touching it. What was he going to--- do? Wasn't that self-explanatory by now?

"We have to make them believe that I'm watching you," he answered simply, frowning slightly in the process. It would be rather easy for the next few months, since Emmeline would be heading off to school soon anyway, but. Caradoc pulled his lips back for a few seconds, holding back what he felt at the tip of his tongue.

She didn't mean to, but Emmeline let out a sharp gasp at his words and turned to face Caradoc, hands covering her mouth. Because she really felt violated then. She could understand the Voldemort thing, she could understand the death eater thing even though she wanted to smack him for ever getting involved with--that, but---Make them believe? So he had to follow her around, and what was the easiest way to be around someone, a teenaged girl, without causing much suspicion? Oh, oh, this was brilliant. This explained their Hogsmeade weekend, this explained all the supposed 'stalking' in the journals, building up Sunday when they nearly---

"Are you---" Emmeline stopped herself. Of course he was serious. There was no way he wasn't serious. He was supposed to 'watch her' and by watch her, it meant fake date her. Fake be her boyfrie---ugh, she couldn't even think the word, she couldn't even think that these past few days she'd actually caught herself daydreaming about it. She had stopped pacing a while ago, and Emmeline dropped her hand, only to cross her arms uncomfortably over her chest.

"This is what Sunday was about?" Oh, and she absolutely hated herself for letting her voice quiver.

Caradoc's right eyebrow shot up in slight surprise as Emmeline turned to him, and mimicking her, he crossed his arms over his chest. That way she was looking at him; he didn't like it. It was that accusing, nearly dishonored sort of look he got from nearly one person a day after doing something-- well. But he hadn't this time, why was she---

Oh. Hm. Yes. See, this was the part of the conversation he had hoped they would never get around to. Caradoc had aspired to believe that Emmeline would have gotten so wrapped up in the fact that he was a death eater assigned to keep an eye on her, that the whole 'Sunday' topic would go avoided for the time being. But, no no. How silly of him to actually think that, for once in his life while knowing her, she wouldn't do anything he didn't want her to do.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, he leaned further away from the chair, and looked down at the ground. Sunday was... something different. There, he'd admit it. He wished it wasn't, because then, it would all be so much easier to just let her think that it was all some nice little plan he had concocted to win her over and not get her too involved. But no, once again, things were never easy. And--- he didn't want her thinking that.

"No." Caradoc shook his head, bringing his gaze back up to eye level.

No, it wasn't. Emmeline's tongue twisted and then she bit it because---she needed to keep quiet. This was a lot of bloody information to take in, and though she was sharp, this...this was not a lecture on animagi. This was not a procedure for a potion, this wasn't a retelling of the two hundredth and twenty-seventh goblin rebellion. This was listening to Caradoc Dearborn tell her that Voldemort found her as an annoyance, this was Caradoc telling her that he was a death eater and had been for quite some time, this was Caradoc telling her that Sunday did mean something other than convincing her to follow along with this plan.

Emmeline's hands went to the side of her head, pushing her hair back and just holding them there for a second. This did not feel right at all. What was missing? Well, a normal bloody life, but--no, she shouldn't just be standing stock still, this, was--Her eyes shot back up at him and her mouth dropped into a frown.

"Why aren't you over here?" she said quietly, though the glare in her eyes showed that it was only because she could barely get herself to speak, "Get---get over here, you tell me all of this and you're not---get over here."

She--- what? Caradoc stood still for a moment, figuring everything together. Her face certainly did not convey the same thing that was coming out of her mouth, but--- right. With a snap decision, he decided that he didn't really care what she was fully trying to say, and that he didn't need to be told twice, because the outcome was beginning to look extremely good at this point. Even if he would much rather have it be her that came to him, but there would be other times for him to ruin a thing like this.

A crooked smirk broke out on his face as he continued to watch her, head tilted slightly to the side. Everything had been acceptable? Well, that was always reassuring to know coming from Emmeline Vance. "Well, if I remember correctly," Caradoc started, walking out from behind his chair (yes, his now) toward her. It only took a few steps, and once he was there, he stood close to her.

"You wouldn't let me stand near your couch," he finished, the smirk still alive on his face as he lifted his chin up slightly to make a funny look at her. She was rather attractive with that glare-pout she seemed to love to use.

"You remember incorrectly, because I told you you couldn't sit on my couch."

But she smiled lightly at his face, because this could have gone a lot worse. Merlin, look at her life---she was accepting that Voldemort hated her and that her---well, that Caradoc was a death eater all in the span of ten minutes (it seemed like everything with them was going rather quickly). She should be having a nervous breakdown just about now, but, honestly, she was in such shock that her mind couldn't process a breakdown. If she tried to truly react to all of this, she'd end up having an aneurysm and keel over and die---and then Voldemort would be delighted. And we can't have that.

Her hands went to his shirt, tugging at it lightly because she didn't know what to do next. Well. They were supposed to put up a front to keep the plan from failing, and...he'd just said he'd snogged her for his own reasons (whatever they may be, they could be even worse than Voldemort's for all she knew) so...

"But if it's all right," she said quietly, lifting her chin and taking a breath. Emmeline would really rather ignore all of this until the morning. Or until...not right now. Definitely not now. Long time, she had a long time to freak out, but not now. "I'd rather have you distract me from all this trouble you've brought."

"Mmmm," Caradoc hummed, tucking his chin low to enhance his gaze on her for a few seconds. With one arm, he pulled her as close as he could get her, and smiled a pressed smile. "I think I can do that," he finished in a low tone, taking his other hand to hold onto the side of her face.

And of course it didn't take him long to kiss her, because that was obviously what they were going to do. Yep, he was definitely very good at distractions when it came to ones like these.