Yep. Caradoc was going to kill her.

Emmeline stared out through the high grass at the dirt road that the muggle farmers used to use, wondering when was the last time one of their autos had driven down the path. She rolled from her shoulder onto her back to stare at the bleak sky, and wondered if anyone had walked through this field in the past year and a half, and how long it would take someone to find her if she didn't get up from this slumped over position.

She groaned, pressing her hand to her side. Slowly she lifted it up to her face and winced at the thin layer of blood on her palm; her charms had broken. Emmeline's head dropped back into the grass and she tried to wrack her brain on something that could help, but she knew that the apparation from London to the Order's headquarters had been too much for her healing to keep her injuries from reopening. Part of her had never really believed how much magic was used in disapparating, but she definitely felt it now.

What had happened, anyway? They hadn't even been on a mission, it was just---it was the middle of bloody Diagon Alley, strolling and searching for some place that wasn't the hospital's cafeteria for lunch, and everything erupted into madness. Spells and hexes being thrown everywhere, and Emmeline hadn't even caught sight of a death eater when the ground in front of them was literally blown apart, and she was---well, fuck. She didn't even know what had hit her, just that there was a lot of glass, and she woke up slumped up inside of Fortescue's, the side of her head freezing as it was pressed up against the glass of the ice cream.

With a deep breath, Emmeline's hands pressed into the ground and she pushed herself up into a sitting position, eyes barely scanning over the grass. She could see the Order house, she could hear the voices coming from the house, but it seemed like more than a lifetime away. For a moment she wondered if people were looking for her---

"Fuck," she muttered as she dropped forward, onto her hands. Emmeline's chest heaved heavily as she tried to gain some focus. It had at least been a day. When she'd woken up, she'd managed to make her way out through the back of the ice cream parlor where she promptly began to do some healing spells on her lower abdomen; she probably should have headed to St. Mungo's, but there was still a lot of racket going on in front of the store, and she would've been killed in an instant. The spells stopped the bleeding, but---she passed out again, soon after.

The rest of the day, or the day she'd just had---pretty blurry. From the sun's position in the sky she could tell it was rather late, but Emmeline paid no mind as she pushed herself to her feet with tremendous effort. She stood straight for a moment, but her own height was too high an altitude for her mind to handle and she dropped back down to the ground again.

It wasn't until the sound of rushing footsteps rustled through the grass that her eyes opened again; could've been hours later for all she knew. Emmeline would have been more surprised to see James Potter's face breaking through the high field had she not been bordering unconsciousness.

"Déjà vu," he muttered, and Emmeline let out a low, low chuckle; he'd been the first person she'd seen after the Greenland incident, too, and James' words meant she must've looked similar to that state.

Brilliant.

"C'mon, I got you---saw you from the upstairs window, lucky that, yeah?" Emmeline nodded, feeling a wave of nausea hit as he bent and picked her up from behind the knees. She and James shared a look, brows furrowed, and he started back to the Order house. "Dearborn's going to kill you, you know."

"I figured," she muttered as they crossed the threshold of the house, the warmth hitting her face pleasantly.

What the hell had she eaten today to make her vomit orange?

Emmeline sat back on her feet, hand to her mouth as the delirious thought passed through her mind. It was a better thought than what else was hovering around in there, and tears quickly refilled her eyes as she allowed her thoughts to drift back to the previous night---to a few hours ago, before she was a murderer.

It had been an accident, it was an accident. He had come out of nowhere, he was attacking her, how the hell was she not supposed to---to defend herself, to fight back? She'd thrown up the shields, she'd used all the spells and jinxes and hexes she knew, that she had taught other people back at Hogwarts how to use, but he wouldn't stop. She'd--she'd just done what---what she had to do to survive, Frank had said that---

Feeling another wave of nausea Emmeline fell forward toward the porcelain seat, but thankfully she didn't retch again.

She'd tried telling herself that the man, the death eater, she'd tried to remind herself that he would have killed her if she hadn't got away, that it was the only thing she could do. Emmeline found no comfort in the justification and sat back again, pressing the heel of her hands into her eyes as she forced back more tears. The toilet flushed on its own after a moment, as all magical toilets did, and she let the whirl of the water drown out the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

A towel thrown at the side of her head shook her out of the stupor she was settling in. She didn't dare look over at Caradoc and immediately put the towel to her mouth, eyes blazing at anything and everything but him. She wasn't sure when he'd arrived, or how long he'd been standing there watching her get sick and cry. It was rare for the two of them to even announce their arrival anymore in each others' home; Emmeline often found Caradoc rummaging through her refrigerator, and his house had the perfect nook for some light reading.

Dropping the towel to her lap, Emmeline's hands pressed to her face again, hands running up over her cheeks and eyes to rest on her forehead. A throbbing headache had taken place of the nausea and now all she wanted to do was get into bed. But, getting into bed would mean--no, she couldn't allow herself to fall into a mindset that would freely allow her to think of the night's events; nightmares would come, they always did. She didn't pull her hands away when she heard (and saw, out of the corner of her eye) Caradoc enter the bathroom. She didn't move when he sat down on the tiled floor behind her, and the only part of her she allowed to shift were her tight lips, which slipped into a deep, quivering frown as Caradoc's arm slid around her shoulders and pulled her body into him.

Her chest heaved heavily and Emmeline's hands dropped to his shirt, clutching the fabric immediately. She couldn't look up at him, she couldn't look at anything it seemed; her eyes were bouncing all over the the bathroom not able to focus. Emmeline knew she couldn't speak about it, not yet at least, and the thought made her wonder if Caradoc had ever--yes, he must have, he was a death eater after all...how silly of her to never have thought about it before, and she shut her eyes as his other arm went around her protectively, his face pressing into her hair.

This shouldn't be something they shared, had in common; they were barely out of school, they weren't adults, and those thoughts were easy to have in vulnerable states like this, but---she knew. She knew they were different, that they both had their own parts in the war no matter how much she wanted a portkey to take everyone she loved away from all the madness. But, again, she knew. She knew she'd keep on fighting, and strangely enough the thought comforted her. Emmeline pressed her face into Caradoc's chest and let out a deep breath, ready to start moving on.

Caradoc's hands gravitated up to Emmeline's face, his fingertips softly brushing away the fresh tears forming under her eyes. A faint smile twitched onto his lips as he looked down at her, and at that moment, his chest began to fully ache. The way she was looking at him, the way her beautiful blue eyes [yes, even he would admit now that no other word could be used to fully describe them] seemed to absorb every inch of his skin, only made him feel more sober by the second.

Her eyes should not be allowed to be that blue.

"I'm fine," he said to her in a soft, hushed tone, his hands moving only to hold the sides of her face with care. Caradoc watched as Emmeline pulled her face into an even larger frown, and let out a painstaking sigh as her shoulders sagged where she stood. She shook her head slightly.

"That's---" She gripped onto his sleeves tighter, as if letting go would make either one of them disappear instantly. "You were---"

"Almost killed?" Caradoc supplied gently, leaning in closer to her to let his body bend and crouch fully over her. He looked straight into her eyes, the same faint smile still playing on his lips. "It's pretty hard to kill me," he mused, which only made Emmeline give a something of an distressed whine.

"That's not--- funny," Emmeline mustered, frowning again. She moved in her spot, looking down at their feet and then at the wall, then back at his face after a few moments. Yes, she most definitely wanted to kill him for disappearing without a word like he had for nearly a day after a rather long battle. He was most definitely not allowed to do that, and it had driven her up the wall not knowing what had happened. A fresh wave of tears swelled in her eyes, which only made her smack him in the arm. He had her crying over him.

Caradoc dipped his chin low to rest his forehead on her forehead, and let out a low breath. "Maybe just a little bit?" he tried, mouth still twitching. It went silent for a few minutes, and neither one of them moved.

"Where did you go?" she asked suddenly, in a small voice. By now, her tears had stopped, but her eyes still had a teary look to them, almost willing to appear even bluer than they relatively could be.

Instantly, his chest gave another discomforted pang. But his hands never loosened from around her face, and he did not break the gaze he had with her. It made it much harder to lie, so he didn't. "Why don't you like your eyes," he said, not stated so much as a question, but more as a simple statement. "I like them." He found them to make her look distinctive, entrancing even.

Her face hung frozen for a second, the only movement being her eyelids covering her eyes almost as soon as he had finished his sentence. Eventually she looked back at him, cheeks still pink. "I---" No, he wasn't allowed to change the topic; this was very serious business, and by saying something like that he was most certainly trying to put the focus on something else. Even if she had felt her heart begin to pump faster after he had said it.

Maybe he didn't have to tell her. Now, anyway; later. Her head turned to the side slightly, her eyes wandering across his face. After a bit of though, her lips formed into a small smile.

"I'm glad," she said steadily.

Her fingers locked as she stretched them behind her back, and Emmeline let out a great, but silent yawn. She glowered at the neon green robes that were crumpled at her feet, and kicked at them to push them around the side of her dresser. Today---today had been a very long day. Well, every day since the McKinnon massacre had been a bad day, but this one had been doubly stressful.

Ugh----Emmeline frowned as she pulled her shirt off; she hated that the thought of the horrendous events so quickly passed through her mind. It was such a spectacle (a spectacle) to the public that you couldn't go anywhere without hearing it on the wireless or the whispers in the corridor; the Prophet still had stories running, nearly three weeks later. The hospital, she'd have to admit even though it was running her ragged, at least kept her busy enough to avoid the talk. It really wasn't something to think about.

"Dear, you look horrid," her mirror's snooty voice drawled, and Emmeline's lips curled into a smirk.

"Thanks," she muttered, pressing her hands into the top of the dresser to lean forward and examine herself. Being pale wasn't anything new, but with solemn amusement she noted how the bags under her eyes matched the purple of her bra, and she blinked slowly, keeping her eyes shut for longer than necessary, trying to etch the image into her mind; this is what you look like when you work forty-eight hour shifts. Try to avoid this when possible.

"If you just used some concealer, or even bothered to put makeup on at all---"

"You're inanimate," Emmeline snapped, slapping her hand to the dresser (her dog jumped off the bed at this, but only to curl up again at the foot of it), and the mirror huffed but fell silent. It was only appropriate that she had purchased the mirror with such a strong sense of self-worth, it really did hate being reminded that it was nothing more than some charmed glass. Some days it fogged up so she couldn't see her reflection, and Emmeline would have to compliment the 'majestic' framework it sat in before she could use it again.

She turned away, hands moving to the strings of her scrub-like pants (it was the new style, with all the younger healers, to mix the attire of wizard healers and muggle doctors. Sometimes robes got in the way of some of the...messier situations), and her thumbs were pulling at the elastic waist when she heard rattling in the kitchen. Max's head popped up at this and Emmeline looked down at him, shock crossing her face.

Everyone in the Order had been walking on pins and needles. She knew no one was sleeping well, she knew that the paranoia they all had been dealing with since the beginning had grown a tenfold, and Emmeline was no exception. She swept up her wand and crept to the slightly open door of her bedroom, and peered down into the flat. All the lights were off, and she listened carefully for another---yes, there was the rattling, a drawer closing, cabinets opening---Emmeline bit her tongue, putting her hand down to Max's face.

"Stay---" she commanded, and he went rigid; Emmeline knew though that he'd come charging if there was trouble. Shutting her eyes, she listened for the footsteps and scrunched her face tightly when they hit the one squeaky floorboard. Emmeline disapparated with a pop, and appeared where she believed she'd end up right behind the intruder. Lucky for her, she had, and it was less than a second before she rammed him in the back. Her wand was pressed into his lower back, and her other hand was at the base of his neck.

"What do you want?" she snapped, quickly recalling the defensive work Frank had taught her, though her heart was beating straight through her chest so who knew if she'd actually be able to perform them. Sh did notice, however, that the burglar or---whatever he was, wasn't struggling.

"A fucking fork," Caradoc Dearborn's voice rang, and Emmeline stumbled back, flicking on the lights of the kitchen. What---oh, oh, and she put her hand to her head, not believing she hadn't thought of the possibility of Caradoc being in her flat. He was always in her flat, it just---her morbid thoughts, they had completely---He spun around, looking furiously down at her and waving the fork. "Is that all right? Is it okay if don't use my fucking hands to---"

His lips curled up into what Emmeline could only read as a wolfish grin, and she stared, bug-eyed and confused, until a small breeze made her shiver greatly. Oh--Emmeline's arms crossed tightly over her nearly bare torso and she felt the blush engulf her face as Caradoc snickered greatly.

"Oh--don't cover up!" he nearly howled, and Emmeline turned away quickly to stalk back to her bedroom, "Are you going to make it a habit of battling death eaters in your knickers?"

The wickedly evil grin would not leave his face, and Emmeline wanted to kill him for it.

"You're turning blue, you can't hold your breath forever," Caradoc drawled, leaning across the table, eyebrows high with amusement. Oh, she was going to smack that bloody smirk off of his face so hard that his ancestors were going to roll around in their graves with great wails of pain.

"I'm not really holding my breath," she blurted, her eyes widening frantically as her hands flew to her throat, "I was breathing through my nose---oh fuck! There's no antidote here! Sturgis just told me they had to brew more! Oh---oh, I don't know when this is going to stop--"

"Hopefully never!" he howled, pushing back into his chair and actually lifting the legs off the ground. "Tell me---" Caradoc wiped away a fake tear (or maybe it was real, he had been laughing so fucking hard for the past ten minutes), "how did this happen again?"

Emmeline tried, she tried to stop the answer from splurting out of her mouth like some---some word vomit, but she couldn't and it was unbearable, "Veritaserum is odorless and colourless and someone must have thought it would be funny to leave a pitcher of it in the fridge and I was thirsty because I'd been talking a lot," this earned another howl and Emmelin scowled greatly, "so I poured myself a glass."

She waved her hand frantically at the half empty (yes, her pessimism was absolutely dazzling right now), and Caradoc began to laugh again. Emmeline couldn't understand how he could find so much pleasure in her pain, though if she was honest with herself (how couldn't she be, she was bloody hopped up on Veritaserum!) she would have been just as tickled if the situation was reversed.

Though, he had been good so far. It wasn't as if he was asking--

"So, who was your first kiss?"

--embarrassing questions. Emmeline let out the longest breath she could through her nose, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest, trying to force her lips to stay shut. There had to be a spell, something that would glue her lips shut...though she wondered if that would end up being painful--

"Ben. At the Halloween ball in fifth year, but I didn't know it was him because he was wearing a mask," why did her truths have to be so wordy? "But I found out a few weeks later and it turned out he had a girlfriend so apparently he's been fucking me over since the very beginning."

Caradoc frowned, eyebrows knitting together. Emmeline couldn't be sure if he was annoyed by who it was (though she was quite sure he had known this) or by the added, truthful comments. She watched him carefully, eyes attempting to burn a hole through his skull to stop him from coming up with any more embarrassing questions.

"What's your favorite color?"

Emmeline faltered slightly, not sure how she managed it sitting down, but she did twitch a bit. She wasn't expecting such a simple question.

"Blue."

"Subject?"

"Charms."

"Book?"

"Gulliver's Travels."

And it continued like this, for what had to be at least ten more minutes of constant drilling, some not-so-simple questions thrown in to catch her off guard ("How's the sex?" "Bloody brilliant---oh fuck!"). She was glad for it, though, and maybe she wasn't giving Caradoc enough credit. This was stuff he'd find out eventually, during every day conversations.

"What do--" when he stopped, Emmeline felt her face flush; the easy questions were over, and she watched his eyes carefully. Caradoc bit his tongue, not exactly looking nervous, but it was almost as if he was turning the question over in his head, "How do you feel about me being a death eater?"

Again, she faltered.

"I'm terrified," she said before she could think of what was going to come spewing out. Emmeline felt herself get hotter, and she dropped her eyes to the table. He was going to think she was a bloody nutter after all of this, "I'm terrified that you're going to get killed---I'm terrified that someone is going to find out what you're doing and kill you for it and---I hate myself for being part of that and I wish you'd let me do something but I know I can't and I feel stupid---"

"What's your favorite animal?" he interrupted.

"Chinchilla---" the surprise of her answer and the shock that he'd interrupted her previous response meshed and she let out the word in a loud squeak, and he was laughing again. Though, Emmeline didn't mind it, now, and she lazily let her arm stretched her arm across the table lying her head on her shoulder. She smiled up at him as he continued to laugh.

"Your hair is different."

Emmeline smiled down at Caradoc, nose scrunching lightly as he batted some of her hair away and out of her face. She tightened her hold on the blanket around her body and shifted higher up on the bed, continuing to hover over his lying form. Her eyes were tired from staring at him for so long, it felt like years---but they were smiling all the same, and she leaned sideways into his chest. His hand reached up to idly run his fingers down her arm, and the goosebumps that had seemingly taken a permanent residence on her skin jumped alive again.

She let herself listen to her own careful breathing, paid close attention to the dance his fingers were playing on her arm, and was gently lifted by his rising chest. Emmeline needed to take in every waking moment, to make sure that this wasn't a dream, and if it was--she'd be able to remember everything for the rest of her life.

"It's longer."

"You remember my hair?" He nodded.

A frantic, lovely flutter erupted in her stomach and Emmeline sat up, crossing her legs underneath her, blanket still tightly held to her chest. Caradoc seemed to sense the urgency, but sat up almost lazily, slouching forward and pressing his lips to his bent knee. Emmeline took on a gentle smile and she tilted toward him.

"What else do you remember?"

"I remember that you're nosy," he responded immediately out of the side of his mouth, and her lips pursed, ready to retort, but Caradoc's chin lifted to rest atop his knee, "I remember your freckles."

Emmeline froze, not having expected an actual answer, but his eyes seemed determined. Her eyes ducked low for a moment as a blush washed across her cheeks and she listened to him take a breath.

"Your voice, I remember your voice---your fingertips." She lifted her gaze, biting her tongue as she attempted to keep her heart from thudding straight out of her chest. He had to know what he was doing to her, how much he was riling her up in that absolutely amazing way, that's what she remembered. Caradoc shifted again and now his cheek was pressed against his knee, shoulders slumped in what could be seen as defeat, but there was something else, "Your mouth. Your--eyes."

She couldn't hold back any longer; Emmeline leaned forward and kissed his chin, then dropped her head to the side to fully capture his lips. She could honestly say they hadn't left this bed in days, and why should they? No, no Emmeline was quite content in keeping Caradoc to herself---and, safe. He was safe here, and he needed to be. She could tell by the way he was talking to her, the way he was looking at her, he was concerned, worried----he was different.

Emmeline didn't hesitate when he pulled her onto him and she fell close, and her arms reached under neath his as he took hold of the back of her head. The blanket was long forgotten, buried between her legs that were on either side of his waist, and Emmeline grinned, staring down at Caradoc's lips.

"I don't remember you being so sappy," she whispered in a tone that betrayed the jest. His chin ducked low to catch her eye, a moment before kissing her soundly.

"Things have changed," his lips delivered into her mouth.

Quidditch made people stupid, it was a fact.

Emmeline held onto the handle of her broom tightly, making slow circles around the pitch as the rapid pace game unfurled below. Being a seeker fucking sucked, by the way, and she'd have to seek revenge on all of the boys on her team that had forced her to take up the position. It wasn't her fault that the Gryffindor team of '77 had decided to reunite, even though she could tell that Frank, James, and Sirius had definitely been planning it for a while. She knew there had been a reason why Potter had asked her twenty times to bring her broomstick to the picnic, and here she thought he was just--no, no she had suspected something.

She stopped just then, floating aimlessly because she couldn't spot the fucking ball. Who ever created the bloody snitch should be dug up from their grave and smacked, because honestly, this was the worst invention ever created.

Except McKinnon could not catch it before her.

"And there goes Prewett with a save," Vinny Gudgeon's voice rang out, the sonorus spell still working its charm, "Say, Gleny, what's the countdown until baby Prewett arrives---oh, deflected again, it's gonna be a good season for the Pride---"

"Well, Vin, baby Prewett, who is officially named Tristan Everett for those who don't know," Emmeline rolled her eyes; it would be a surprise if they could find one person in the universe who didn't know what Glenda Prewett's son's name was, "Is due in the beginning of August, so! Just about three weeks!"

"Got everything ready? OH there's Marliecakes with a dive!" Emmeline's head shot up, but shook her head; it was a feint. "Aw, isn't she cute, feigning like that? You're awesome, babe!"

Emmeline feigned gagging, and rocked back and forth on her broom, taking in the people on the air. Well---let's see. Her team consisted of herself, Caradoc (who wouldn't play unless they officially named him captain, the baby--), Gideon, Edgar (his pregnant wife was also sitting on the sidelines, torn between rooting for the Gryffindors and her husband), Sturgis, Dedalus, and Aberforth. Abe, surprisingly, did not have to be dragged into the match, but was picked last when teams were getting called. Caradoc called the bartender their secret weapon, and it was proving true; as a beater, Abe was making sure that the opposing team (mostly Black and Potter) were going to be aching and limping by the time the match was over.

Sure, the bludgers weren't official match bludgers (too many broken bones, the companies said), but Abe was making sure the rubber balls were leaving their mark.

"With the score of seven to two, it's starting to seem like Team Awesome," Again, Emmeline couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes; the Gryffindors were so creative, "Is going to take this one, Glen!"

"Seems like it, Vin! With Hagrid, the beloved Hogwarts keeper of keys as their own keeper, it looks like nothing is going to get past them! Team Unicorn is going to have a hard time catch up."

"You did such a good job naming them, Gleny."

"I know, I'm very proud."

Emmeline was about to shout down at the two duffer Hufflepuffs to shut up, but was sent spinning around by a blur of blue. She barely held onto her broom, but was able to see that Caradoc sent her a nasty look over his shoulder, and yelled something about 'not just sitting there like a bloody sack of potatoes---' She couldn't be sure because she was to busy glaring at him for knocking her around. Really. It was just a stupid game, it wasn't even for a cup, or anything, it was just in Frank's gigantic backyard, in the middle of a picnic that Alice had arranged for the Order and their families. Sure--a few people had no idea how they all connected, but except for Caradoc, everyone was on pretty friendly relations. So, it was supposed to be a nice afternoon, not one that was going to make her grab the bludger bat out of Aberforth's hands and clunk her boyfriend repeatedly over the head.

This was pointless. Hagrid's huge body blocked all of the goals, everyone was tired because it was the middle of July and hot, and now she was pissed off at Caradoc for being an ass---ooh, hello shiny flying ball.

The snitch had decided it was time to go down to the ground and eat cake, because it had popped up a literal ten centimeters in front of Emmeline's face. With relative ease, she plucked it out of the air and let out a shout.

"Got it!"

All the momentum below her stopped (in midair, even after playing for a quidditch team Emmeline still found it mind boggling, the control quidditch players had with their brooms) as the players stared up at her, and she held her hand out, letting the snitch out of her fist to prove she had indeed caught it. Hollering erupted from the air and ground, and it took less than a second for her team to rush up toward her. Caradoc literally tackled her off her broom and she shrieked at the top of her lungs because for a split second she was hanging in midair---but his grip around her was tight and he pulled her onto his own broomstick, kissing her face furiously.

"I KNEW WE'D BEAT THOSE BLOODY GRYFFINDORS!" he shouted, and Emmeline just wanted some lemonade.

This whole capture and torture business was not going according to plan at all. Caradoc and Evan were not laughing manically (he didn't even know where Evan was), Caradoc did not feel accomplished, and he most certainly did not feel powerful one bit, with his hands tied behind his back, trapped in the middle of Juliet's room as this seven-year-old stared him down.

"We're still going to win," Caradoc sniffed, turning his nose up into the air. Just because he couldn't move didn't mean he wasn't allowed to be snotty. Because oh, that was definitely happening.

"We'll see about that," Emmeline tested, her hands going to her sides as she smirked down at him. She quickly stuck her tongue out, which only forced Caradoc give a disgusted grunt. This was so--- stupid. That's what it was, completely stupid.

And they had had such a perfect plan, too. Juliet and her friend--- Emmeline, had been playing tea or something equally girly in his sister's room when he and Evan had attacked, food flying and all. They had had the element of surprise, which had led them to near victory--- until the girls finally came up with a plan of their own to fight back with. And then.... he didn't even know. He didn't want to think about it, it was too painful to admit defeat [which they had not reached yet, because Evan was still out there somewhere]. But he did know he had to get out of here, and stat. How, exactly? He had no clue. But he was Caradoc Dearborn, so that did have to say for something.

As much fun as he was having sitting on the floor....

"Right, well," Caradoc started as he began to fidget in his spot. Getting his hands in front of him would be the first thing to do, but seeing as it was nearly impossible without breaking any limbs, he figured he could start with standing up. "As much as I'm enjoying this time together," he continued, sticking one leg out and planting his other foot on the ground. "I have a lot of things to do today, which do not include... you. Or seeing your face anymore." He slowly began to stand up.

"Oh no!" Emmeline warned, her face contorting. Before Caradoc had time to get his balance, the younger girl rushed over to him and shoved him back down onto down, harder than necessary if you asked him.

"You little snot!" he roared from the ground, utter shock spread all across his face. Not one had ever done anything like that to him, except for Juliet (but she didn't count), ever. And here ahe had just--- pushed him and no no, this little girl was most certainly not allowed to do anything like that.

"You're the one who attacked us first," Emmeline shot back, her arms crossing over her chest as she stepped away from him, but still stayed close. Just out of sweeping reach.

"That's not the point," he snapped, beginning the whole standing-up-process again. And again, Emmeline pushed him back down to the ground once he made it to his feet, just this time a bit harder. "Stop that!" he glared, ready to kill her with his eyes.

"No!"

"Uh--- how about yes!"

"No." Her voice dripped with defiance, which only infuriated Caradoc further.

"Here's the deal. You're going to stop being my sister's annoying little friend that no one really gives two---"

Suddenly, the door slowly began to open, making both Caradoc and Emmeline stop to see who it was that was opening it; her, mind stance, and him mid sentence. The person on the other side determined both their fates, so obviously, their squabble was long forgotten.

"The other one is taken care of," Juliet said in a prim tone, closing the door with a quick snap. His sister looked down at Caradoc, a sweet smile spread across her face, and then to Emmeline with the same expression.

Oh--- hell.

Caradoc let out a loud groan, considering Evan, wherever he was trapped, the luckiest man alive. It occured to him quickly, as both the girls approached him slowly, that he was definitely doomed now.

He watched his fingers skim lightly across her palm, taking specific time to graze over each line and crease with purposeful ease. They had been quiet for a while now, not saying much except for low murmurs as they lay on the couch in her living room. Originally, she had promised (after forcing him to lay down with surprising strength ) that they would only stay here until her nap was over. He hadn't been tired, seeing as it was only, two o'clock in the afternoon but, he didn't mind much about it. Which had been equally, suprisingly. But she was awake, now, and neither of them had showed interest in moving. Which, had obviously lead him to think about... things.

"What would you do if I died?" Caradoc asked in a deliberate tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. It had been on his mind before she had fallen asleep, and now it had become, with each passing minute, a morbid curiosity.

Well, for the most part.

He watched as Emmeline stopped playing with the hair on the back of his neck, hand first going limp, and then curling around his entire neck quickly. She turned her gaze to his face, eyes tight. "What," she replied as more of a statement than a question. Caradoc ignored her rigid tone, and pressed further.

"You heard what I said."

She pressed her lips together into a thin line and slipped her hand out of his grasp. Caradoc frowned, and then she put both her hands to his cheeks to squish the sides his face firmly. "Is this before or after I execute you for thinking that this is funny?" Emmeline stated, moving her hands closer together, as if by forcing Caradoc to make a funny face, he would suddenly become distracted about what they were talking about.

"I'm serious," he frowned further, eventually pulling his head out of her clutch. And he was serious, most likely the most serious he had been all day; it was a very real possibility, for the both of them and, he wanted to know. Again, morbid curiosity that couldn't be put down. Or wouldn't be. Emmeline's hands fell, and she heaved a heavy sigh.

"You'd be the death of me," she muttered darkly, not waiting to finish her sentence to press the side of her face into his chest. Emmeline sighed again, and then closed her eyes, eventually turning away from him completely.

This--- was not the response he had wanted. Caradoc grimaced, but moved his arms to wrap around her nonetheless. He wanted to know. There was a part of him that knew this was twisted, and beyond strange, because who thought about how people felt after you were dead? He did, apparently. And it didn't bother him as much as it should, with everyone around them dying and disappearing left and right.

He brushed her hair off her shoulder, getting a good whiff of almond. Caradoc knew he wouldn't have to deal with this for her; he would die before she did, he was completely certain about that.

"I have faith in you," he tried gently after a few moments, cautious. The edges of his lips hooked up slightly into a small smirk, and he turned his head a bit to look at her at a different angle. Feigning a light snicker, he flicked her hair.

She didn't respond at first, simply jerking her head up to scowl darkly at him. "This isn't funny, Caradoc! What is that even suppose to mean? What do you want me to say?" Her voice started off harsh, but quickly declined into a low whisper. "That--- that I'd simply die without you or I wouldn't be able to go on, or-- or--- how can I even imagine thinking about that because--"

Swiftly, Caradoc moved his hands to pull her lips to his soundly, instantly stopping any more words from pouring out of Emmeline's mouth. He held back a grim smile once they finally parted. "No, that's enough. I get it."

"Go to sleep."

"No."

"It's sleepy time."

"No."

"Yes it is."

"No!"

Caradoc felt his mouth pull together tight as he crossed his arms over his chest. Andrew, holding onto the bars on the side his crib as if in a jail cell, looked up at him with sheer defiance in his eyes. Alright, so maybe he was acting more like his father everyday, but, that didn't mean Caradoc had to fully believe it yet. Publicly to Emmeline, at least, because he had known since the first day they brought Andrew home that he had Dearborn in his blood.

"Yes. See? The sun is going down, ergo as do the need of your eyelids because you are suddenly getting very sleepy," Caradoc said, releasing his hands from around his chest to make something of a 'greater moment'-type gesture. But of course, Andrew did not buy it one bit.

"No," Andrew replied, slowing down the word to let it last about five or so seconds. He let go of the bars to flop down into the crib, sitting up stick straight. Caradoc sighed, his left hand coming up to his head to rub the side of his face. He utterly despised the fact that all Andrew could say was 'no,' not having yet shown any other vocabulary. It would only be a matter of time before he picked up on other words; preferably something along the lines of 'Dada' before 'Mama' if Caradoc played his cards right.

"When your mother does this, you go right to bed for her," he stated begrudgingly, yet took a few steps toward the crib to rest his elbows on it. Andrew looked up at him, something of a perplexed look on his face. It seemed as if he was finally going to stop speaking, but then---

"No!" This time it came out quick and tonelessly, making a smile crack on Caradoc's face. He leaned further toward the crib, it now fully supporting his balance. At that level, the setting sun hit the top of Caradoc's forehead, so he lowered his head just a little. One eye brow rose as Andrew watched him intently.

"Oh, really now? So she's lying to me, then?" Caradoc mused, one arm falling into the crib. Immediately distracted, Andrew began to inch over to the dangling hand, his little fingers reaching out to intertwine and wrap between and together with the big ones. At that moment, Caradoc felt his stomach pang an anxious something. He--- this was--- okay, this was his son, not a bloody death machine; there was no reason why he should be--- he was fine. Andrew was his son, so of course he loved him, and alright maybe that thought had freaked him out frequently before, but now as he watched Andrew become innocently fascinated with his jingling hands, it occurred to Caradoc that this wasn't that bad.

Andrew let out a loud shriek as Caradoc pinched his nose softly, and then began to laugh loudly as he moved his hands quicker to grasp Caradoc's hand. A wide smile spread on Caradoc's face as he too began to laugh, and soon the both of them were making too much noise to go unnoticed.

"That does not sound like sleeping to me!"

True to their nature, both Caradoc and Andrew froze, their focus on the warning voice coming from down the hall. A lone finger went up to Caradoc's lips, so obviously it only took the baby a split second to burst into a complete fit of laughter. Rolling his eyes, Caradoc reached into the crib and pulled Andrew out, who continued to squirm and wiggle and laugh as they walked out of the room.

"Let's go visit Mummy."

"That's not enough, there has to be more!"

Caradoc kept his eyes shut and drew a deep breath, consequently taking in the strong smell of old wood. He supposed that was what happened when you planted your face to a table in near-frustration and refused to move it for an extended amount of time, but. He was tired of holding his face up in his palms, digging his fingers into the sides of his eyes, and tired of looking at Potter's blood-drawn face. They had to have been at this for at least four hours.

"What the bloody fuck do you want me to say!" he snapped, pushing his forehead into the wood one last time before wearily raising it. Blinking slowly, Caradoc tried his best at a glare. It most likely failed.

"No. There's something else--- something we're missing," James protested, letting go of his chair and stretching his legs to walk the length of the small room. "There has to be---" He stopped for a moment, eyes locking on the medium-sized basin in the middle of the table. "If you'd just---"

"No."

He might be tired, but Caradoc hadn't lost his mind. Like hell he was going to pull out his memory of the funeral just so that Potter could watch it. Caradoc had refused to use it in the beginning of their little 'meeting', refused to use it when Lupin brought the basin in the room after James demanded he do it, and would still refuse to do it for another four more hours if he had to. End of story. What did Potter think, he alone was going to randomly see something that would be the key to finding Black? "And for future reference, when we're here for another four hours---- no."

James screwed his face up tight into a sour frown, then let out an exacerbated sigh. His right hand went to his face to shield his eyes as he directed his head down at the ground. "What the fuck is the matter with you--- honestly. All shit aside, will it fucking kill you to do this one thing? I'm not asking for your fucking soul." His voice was cold, and toneless, and for a few seconds, it seemed like a completely different person was talking.

Caradoc watched James with slight interest, intrigued. But that didn't stop him from saying what was at the tip of his tongue [and really what he wanted to say]. "Because that's the way to get me to agree with you," he sneered, jutting his jaw upward and eyes in two tight slits.

James let out an angry cry, spinning on his heels to throw his arms to fall onto the wall. Taking deep breaths, he leaned on his elbows, head on the wall with eyes locked on the ground. "It's been three weeks," he croaked after a few minutes, refusing to turn and look to the other man. "Why won't you help--- why are you even here if you won't help."

Here, as apart the Order; Caradoc knew James meant that. He sunk lower in his chair, both hands running through his hair to rest on the back of his neck. His face hovered just a few inches over the table, and once again it became silent.

Bloody-- fucking---

Wordlessly, Caradoc reached for the Pensieve in the middle of the table. At the sound of moving stone, James jerked to life. He turned from the wall and jumped into his seat across from Caradoc, disbelief spread all across his face, but saying nothing yet. He chose to ignore the other man completely, finding James' near-love for Sirius somewhat sickening. He simply pulled his wand out of his pocket, then peered into the Pensieve once again.

"Are you---"

"Shut up."

"I can read your mind," Caradoc stated idly, taking a sudden intrigued interest in the spoon in his hands. He turned it over almost lazily, as if looking for invisible specks on the silverware to pick at.

"Can you now?" Emmeline mused from across the table, her eyebrows going high as she propped her elbows onto the table to lean forward slightly. She sent him a dubious look, but Caradoc was confident that she believed him. This was, after all, table talk.

"Mmmhmm," he hummed as a response, finding great pleasure in the fact that the morning sun was hitting his back favorably, nearly keeping his entire body comfortably warm. His fingers slid over the spoon, his thumb in particular resting on the back neck of it while the others wrapped around the rest of the bottom fluently. For a second, Caradoc thought of sticking his arm out straight to point the spoon up in her general direction, but that might be a bit too cliché. Not to mention he didn't want to move an inch from his spot; his entire body felt like it was radiating warmth.

"Are you going to read my mind, or not?" Emmeline prompted smartly, her lips curving into a neat smirk. She rested her chin on her knuckles, and choose to ignore her breakfast for the time being. Caradoc stayed quiet for a moment, as if thinking what to say as he balanced the spoon on the crook of his thumb.

"You act like I haven't before," he responded in a nonchalantly tone, placing the spoon down on the table carefully. Caradoc looked up at her with a wolfish grin on his face once Emmeline let out a low gasp.

"I would know if you were doing something like that," she protested, her hands flying palm-down to the table softly. Emmeline looked at him with subjective eyes, trying to read what little expressions he had left on his amused face. She pulled her lips together tightly as momentary silence lasped between them. He found it more than entertaining, which he was sure was most likely killing her.

"Would you?" His voice was innocent enough to be believable. Eyes dancing, he blinked slowly and deliberately for her, eyelashes low, as the wolfish grin turned into a pronounced smile.

Emmeline pulled her arms close into her chest, face tight, fully knowing that he was enjoying making her squirm. And not knowing whether he was telling the truth or not. It wasn't entirely impossible that he could've done something like that without her knowing, but--- she shook herself quickly, only imagining what he had been looking for, or better yet, interpreted if he actually had. He watched her eyes turn into two small slits for a few seconds, then relax back into wide eyes once again. "You would do that to me?" her voice quibbled, almost as if on the edge of breaking. She pulled her chin low to look at him openly, everything but a closed book.

Caradoc sucked in a deep breath of air to hold back the snicker ready to break out through his lips. She had gotten very good at this game, he would admit. And he liked that she had, for more reasons than one. His head tilted to the side, gaze moving slowly across every feature of her face before finally catching her in a stare. Easily, he raised his hand to give something of a 'come here' gesture. But the only movement she made was letting her eyebrows pop up unexpectantly, and her face become perfectly innocent and guiltless.

She was going to make him move, wasn't she?

He let out a low hum, disappointed to have to move so quickly. Not that it truly mattered, there would be more mornings for them to bask in the warm light. Slowly, Cardaoc stood up and sauntered to her, purposely never breaking their gaze. In what felt like a fluid motion, he bent down to clutch the top of her chair and hover close to the side of her face. "No, never," he eased after a few moments, breathing lightly into her ear as he spoke. Caradoc lingered there a while longer only to brush his lips against the top of her ear gently. After that, with nothing more to say, he straightened up, then continued his way out of the room entirely.

Hm, yes. It was hard to contain his smile.

It was official. She was a sap in all definitions of the word.

She couldn't help it though! No, Emmeline was sure that anyone in her position would have fallen for it, and she pressed her face into the side of Andrew's neck one more time to get a good whiff of her freshly washed and pampered baby. He just smelled so good! No, seriously! What did they put in this baby soap that made it so entirely irresistible? It was---ooh, she had to smell him again, he was just so---cute---and---

"You're smothering again," Caradoc's voice drawled from the opposite side of the room. Emmeline didn't pull her face away from Andrew and she kissed his neck a few more times before finally pulling away. But only to let her son lie on her chest to hug. And hold. And be able to keep on smelling, because it was just toooooo nice and good and---

Right. She really needed some adult interaction.

It didn't take long for Andrew to start wiggling at the sight of his father, but Emmeline was in too big of a cuddling, I-need-to-hold-and-squeeze-you, mood to let him go so easily. She wondered if all new mothers got like this, or if she was just a nut job that got far too clingy to things that seemed to love her. It...was probably a little bit of both, but Emmeline wasn't going to pay it much mind. Nope, she simply pressed her nose to the top of Andrew's head and her stare daring Caradoc to try and take him. Normally it wouldn't be that hard to accomplish, keeping the baby away from him (Caradoc practically thrust Andrew into her arms the moment he started to whimper), but Emmeline could tell that he sensed she was feeling particularly selfish and was already plotting to ruin things.

"Give me."

Emmeline snorted and shook her head, twisting in the chair even though Andrew's persistent wiggles to get out of her grasp were increasing. Oh, honestly. There was no reason to like Caradoc so much, he was quite a stiff person if you asked her---

"Emmeline, could I maybe hold my son?"

"Noooo," she groaned, shutting her eyes when Caradoc spun the chair around. See, all right. This wasn't fair. She was the one that got all sappy and happy with Andrew, she was the one that held him all day and hugged and kissed and was so very loving with, and who does the baby want to go with every time he's within sight? His bloody father, who would have thought? "Just one more sniff!"

"You're disgusting," Caradoc said with a smirk of triumph as she finally released Andrew up into his arms. They shared a look, and Emmeline hated him (Caradoc, Andrew could do no wrong) for it. She chucked a squeaky duck plush at Caradoc's back and huffed loudly, picking up one of her son's blankets to stick to her nose to keep her company while Caradoc went off and was mean and kept her away from him.

Right. Right. She needed some adult interaction. But he smells so good!

"Drink it."

"No."

"Drink it."

"No."

"Caradoc."

"Why?"

Emmeline put her hands on her hips, not even trying to hold back the dangerous glare she was sending across the room. Caradoc gave it no heed to it and simply sat up straighter in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Or as tight as he could muster.

"I am not sick," he spat the words out as if they were venom to his lips. The thought was utterly absurd; Caradoc didn't get sick. It was a ridiculous notion, one that he was not going to believe for one second. He could walk, he was fully capable of functioning in every day life, there was no reason why she had to be so--- unexpectedly, he gave a violent sneeze, forcing his hand flying to his stomach.

"Yes, you are," Emmeline enunciated the words slowly, as if speaking to a child, and using the potion vial in her hand to point out the words clearly. She too crossed her arms over her chest, only forcing Caradoc to glare up at her from his crouched over position. "And have been so for over a week."

"So a fucking sneeze means I'm dying of the dragon pox?" he snarled, taking a considerate amount of time to sit up straight again. To a normal, not crazed person, it was obvious that Caradoc had come down with something nasty. But, since he refused to let anyone get in a three-meter radius of him, things were simply becoming aggravating.

Emmeline sighed heavily, breathing out through her nose. "Mackenzie warned me that you would be difficult," she stated, and at the mention of the name, Caradoc's eyes turned into two tight condescending slits. Mackenzie Goldstein was the absolute last name Caradoc wanted to hear coming out of Emmeline's lips, especially concerning ways to get what she wanted from him. "But luckily, I'm a very smart Ravenclaw," Emmeline's voice cheered up considerably, which only made him give a low growl.

"What did you do," he hissed, not moving an inch as he openly seethed.

"Me?" she asked innocently, one hand lazily placing itself on her chest. "I'm not going to do anything." A wide smile broke out onto Emmeline's face, to the point where she was nearly beaming. Caradoc found it sickening. And he was just about to go into how sickening he actually found it--- until Alice Longbottom waltzed right into the room as if on cue. Which she had, he hadn't lost his mind completely, and neither was he dumb.

"Hello Caradoc," Alice started warmly, too warmly, a small smile spread across her face. She stepped forward carefully, arms held behind her back. Caradoc watched her with scrutinizing eyes, trying to quickly to figure out why Emmeline seemed to be so happy about her coming. "Wow, you really do look like a vampire," Alice commented, a sad, but knowing look now on her face.

"Oh, ha fucking ha."

Alice frowned, first focusing on the look of defiance on Caradoc's face, and then on the look of sheer joy from Emmeline's. Well then. Time to put him out of his misery. "Well you see, Caradoc," Alice started, taking a few steps closer with each word. But even before she could continue, Caradoc interrupted.

"Noooo," Caradoc flared in sheer horror, eyes darting from Alice and Emmeline. Emmeline would never....

"I'm sorry," Alice apologized, but the glint in her eye showed she was far from apologetic. Caradoc hissed again, preparing himself to get on his feet.

"I'm not," Emmeline piped, now following Alice with her wand out. Temporarily distracted, Caradoc jerked to look at her with his jaw open. She was, she would, oh they were over, so over, this was---

Apparently, Alice only needed a few seconds, because just as he turned his head from her, Caradoc felt a subtle pinch in his arm, followed by an immediate wave of lethargy. That was---- what? He blinked furiously to try and stay awake because he knew that he was slurring inappropiate words at them, but. Ugh. Ugh. Now he had to hate this Longbottom too.

A deep breath of strong wind filled her lungs, and Emmeline's eyes instantly went to the sky. Even though up above was rolling in dark, luminous clouds, it was still easy to make out the small black dots gliding silently by high above them.

"Dementors?" she questioned suddenly, eyes following one in particular as it slipped beyond their gaze, hidden by the trees. A permanent chill went up her spine, and sprawled itself across and through her skin; even at this distance from them, happiness seemed like something barely obtainable.

Beside her, Caradoc stood motionless for a few moments, his hands clenched together. He too had his eyes glued to the sky, the obvious strong wind not visibly unsettling him yet. The wind pushed her hair in front of her eyes, and only after she had pressed it behind her ears did he respond.

"Dementors," he nodded in an affirmative tone, pursing his mouth together tight after stating the fact. There were others, too, she knew that. But she wasn't going to ask what else was collecting beyond the trees, and Emmeline was very sure Caradoc was not going to tell her either.

A low exhale escaped from her lips, and the both of them stood wordlessly on top of the hill almost iconicly for what seemed like ages.

Suddenly, he moved. "Come on, let's go," Caradoc said sternly, only waiting a second to turn his back on everything. He looked at her, implying that he wanted her to walk down the hill and back into the Order house with him, but she slowly shook her head in protest. For a split second, it looked like he was going to argue, but instead he simply pulled his mouth together tighter and began to tread down the hill.

Emmeline's eyes glossed over the scenery, saving one last moment to take in her surroundings before following Caradoc. It was far too dark to only be four o'clock in the afternoon, yet the clouds shaded the sky so much that it made it seem like it was after nine. All around her seemed like one of those horrible storms that took a while to get started, and always made children quake in fear from the mere thunder of it. But except now, there was no thunder, only dead silence and the storm was coming for a far different reason.

Yep. He was going to kill her.

Once Caradoc found Emmeline, he was going to ream her for all she was worth, do a bit--- no, a lot-- of glaring, ream her some more with hard and vivid hand motions, and then refuse to talk to her for the rest of the week all under careful surveillance because she was going never going to be allowed to go anywhere by herself again. Ever.

And why? Well. Because she had decided to just randomly disappear off the face of the earth for the past two days with no inclination as to a faint inkling of where she could possibly be. Nope, nothing. No one knew squat. Not the Order, not her family, not her friends, not even fucking Death Eaters had any idea (which, only got him in more trouble because he was blooody suppose to be-- whatever) as to where the Emmeline Vance had gone off to.

She was most certainly not allowed to do this, even more, make him------ worry.

Caradoc ran a hand through his hair as a long sigh escaped his lips. He didn't even-- he refused to believe that--- what if she actually needed help? Or was this another Greenland type incident, except they knew this time and all of this was just the beginning of the shit hitting the ceiling? No, no, he would know if it was something like that. Where could she be, where could she possibly bloody be? He would be lying if he said he didn't feel his throat tighten up at the next thought that came to mind. What if she was---

No. No, that wasn't possible, and now he was jumping over the line of extreme. Caradoc shook his head, as if doing so would make any lingering thoughts of that disappear from his mind. But, they still hovered. Even as he began to pace in front of the fire place (how the fuck had Longbottom gotten to be in charge of all this, Caradoc would never know. But the bastard was most definitely getting a firm pay back for sticking him in Emmeline's own house, waiting for her to 'come home,' which they both knew was a slim chance of happening because why the hell would she just... come home), throughly burrowed in his own thoughts at this point.

She worried him. He would admit it, now, but only to the outer creases of his mind, and perhaps to her, later. Maybe. She made him worry, made feel actually quite insane because no matter how angry he got about it, or how skillful he was at pulling what he wanted out of other people, that still led him nowhere even close to her. She-- of course she meant something to him (more than something, but the descriptive words that were forming in his head would send him into instant shock if stated aloud), that was beyond deniable, and he didn't even know what he would do if---

She should not be allowed to do this to him.

A small frown formed on Caradoc's face as he stopped in his tracks, unsure about the surges and impluses still boiling (yes, still after two days) in the pit of his stomach. She made him worried, and nervous, anxious even, to the point where it made him question--- everything. What were they, exactly? Earlier, Caradoc had found ease in the fact that they didn't seem to know where they stood on any ground about where their relationship was (though, he knew, and she too; it was a wordless understanding), but now it bothered him. He wanted to know, he craved to hear it come from her mouth, here, where he knew she was safe.

Surely it wasn't--- love, because love wasn't--- them, but there wasn't anything else he could think of to fully put his finger on how he made her feel. It was... he could not have it taken away, whatever it was.

A sudden rush of noise came from the wall, and Caradoc jerked back to life as the fireplace lit up. "Caradoc! It's Emmeline. We---"

Even before Sturgis Podmore had time to begin his sentence, Caradoc had already left the room with the swish of his cloak and a loud crack. A rather dramatic exit, but he could barely contain himself as a swift feeling of urgent protective need over came him. No one else would touch her.