“‘Liza! ‘Liza! Eliza!”

Elliot let out a great huff of annoyance and sharply banged on the front door of his mother’s flat again. For the third time, to be more precise. He rubbed his face, still exhausted from the quidditch match he’d attended the night before. Surprisingly, Elliot and his father had a rather good time at the match, even if Arkie Alderton had spent the entire game trying to figure out which broom each and every player was flying. Elliot had enjoyed himself once he’d tuned out his father’s incessant rambling and reminded himself that anything would be better than being forced to bed at eight o’clock by his mother.

Doing anything with his mother was out of the question when it came to Elliot, and that was why he was shouting for his sister; he knew that when he picked her up, she was to be packed and ready to leave so that he didn’t have to see their mother. Since the divorce, Elliot could count the number of times he had been alone with his mother on one hand, and it wasn't all his fault. She had plenty of chances to visit him, or invite him in, but his mother's head was always in another world and Elliot to join her in it, not when she'd up and left him and Eliza the way she had. She hadn't even fought their father for custody, and these weekend visits were only for Eliza's spirits.

“Eliza!” Elliot shouted again, frowning in concern. It was nearly ten, they both had to be awake. Where was his sister? He pressed his ear to the door and let out a breath of relief at the sound of footsteps. Elliot stepped back as the locks clicked and the doorknob twisted to pull the door open. He was ready to tease her for sleeping in, but let out a strangled sound at the sight of Eliza covered in blood.

“What happened?” he let out, dropping to a knee. From--from head to toe, there was blood, Eliza’s clothes were soaked with blood and water. Elliot’s heart was in his throat as he took his sister by the shoulders. Eliza stared emptily, eyes red from crying, her hair plastered to her face.

“Eliza,” Elliot croaked, running a hand down her cheek, “what happened, little girl?”

Silence. Eliza continued to stare at Elliot as he checked for injuries, did she slice her hand open? Did she bump her head? Nothing, there didn’t seem to be anything, she wouldn’t be able to stand if she’d lost this much blood---

Elliot felt a terrifying cold streak through his body and he gripped his sister’s shoulders.

“Eliza. Where’s mum?”

At the word, his sister’s blank expression cracked and her shoulders sagged. Eliza lurched forward and let out a wail that pierced straight to Elliot’s heart. He held her tightly to him, his eyes wide with fear of what laid behind her in the flat. His hand combed through Eliza’s hair soothingly as he stood, and Elliot lifted her up into his arms. She’d never felt so small to him.

“Where is she?” Elliot asked, trying not to move too quickly, but if his mother was hurt, if she’d lost this much blood already---”’Liza, where is she?”

Still sniffling, Eliza lifted her head and pointed toward the master bedroom. Elliot’s breaths were short and frantic and now that he knew where his mother was, his body seemed to unfreeze and he was able to move quickly. He dropped Eliza onto the couch and ran to his mother’s bedroom, shocked at first to see that the bed was done up, as if it hadn’t been slept in. Elliot paused for a brief second, wondering if Eliza had been pointing elsewhere, but that was when he noticed the bathroom light was on. He shot to the door, not noticing the squish of the carpet, that is was soggy and soaked nearly to the dresser.

“Mum!” Elliot shouted, grabbing onto the frames of the bathroom door to keep himself from slipping. The sight before him caused Elliot to gag on his own breath. He faltered, knees buckling but somehow making it to the bathtub where his mother’s lifeless form, fully dressed, sat in a pool of water and her own blood. She was blue in the face, eyes wide and vacant. She looked so much like Eliza in that moment.

In his head, he knew she was dead. He knew she was gone, that she’d done this to herself. Elliot knew that his mother was dead, but any sense that these facts made were completely ignored by his body. He cried out, reaching into the tub to pull her up, to sit her up but she was so heavy and rigid.

“Mum, mum, mum,” Elliot gasped, attempting to drag her out of the water. There had to be something, he had to do something! He struggled but managed to pull her out the tub and to the floor. Elliot’s head went to his mother’s chest to look for a heartbeat. He couldn’t see, his tears were streaming so freely and strongly, but his hands moved to her neck, pressing fingers to her skin to look for a pulse. She was so cold, “Mum, mummy---”

He felt a shadow fall over him and Elliot looked up through his bleary eyes at his little sister. Eliza stared past him and down at their mother. Her hand reached out and rested on his shoulder and she shook her head. “She’s dead.”

Elliot let out a breath, now just as soaked as Eliza in water and blood, kneeling on the tiles of their bathroom floor with the body of the mother who’d abandoned them.

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“Sorry.”

Elliot frowned at Elsie from across the bed, his head propped up by an extra fluffy pillow. His fingers twisted against hers, their hands locked. It had started off as a really good night, a really good night with dinner and a late night movie on the telly, but in the middle of a perfectly good couch snog, the wailing of his three-year-old son erupted.

Liam had crawled out of bed in a hot sweat and with how quickly his fever had risen Elliot had been panicked enough to almost floo to St. Mungo’s. It had been Elsie that had calmed him and his son down, taking the little boy in her arms. He was wrapped in his favorite blanket, and while Elsie rocked him back and forth, Elliot managed to slip some fever potions into a sippy cup. He was shocked to see how easily his son took the drink; normally Liam could taste the potion and threw the cup against a wall, but the boy seemed distracted by Elsie’s soft words and humming.

Soon they’d found themselves sitting in Elliot’s bed, as Liam had refused to lie down in his. With quiet words and slow movements Elsie had managed to lull him back into sleep. Liam took up the middle of the master bed, and the two adults were forced to stay with him. Any movement on the bed made the boy sit up and demand they stay.

Elliot knew he should be glad that Elsie was so good at handling his son, but it was rare that they got to have date nights, any more. It wasn’t exactly easy when he was sick so often now that he was…with the week leading up to the full moon his mind was never right, and then during was…after was no better because his body was recovering so…it was just hard to get used to, and he’d only been what he was for a few months now, how were they going to last through all of this?

Elsie frowned at his apology, “Why are you sorry?” she whispered, eyes going from him to dart down to Liam to make sure their voices didn’t wake him. “You didn’t get him sick.”

“Well---our date night’s ruined,” he said, trying not to sound as upset about it as he really was. He should have his son’s well-being first and foremost on his mind, but it was hard to when you knew that nights like the ones they almost had were few and far between.

“Nooo,” she let out, smiling widely, “we’re still in bed together, aren’t we?” Elsie giggled at her joke, using her other hand to cover Liam’s exposed ear, “Isn’t that where you wanted to end up?”

Elliot’s face flushed and he puckered his lips at her. Elsie laughed again, her grip on his hand tightening. She really was something, wasn’t she? Elliot had given her every chance to leave and get on with the real life she deserved after he’d been released from the hospital. How could he ask her to stay with him and deal with this curse of his when she had so much life ahead of her? It was unfair to ask that of her, to just be some---some werewolf’s girlfriend when she meant so, so much more to him.

They stared at each other for a few more moments in the darkness, but before long their eyes shut and their breathing grew light and constant. Elliot had nearly drifted off into sleep when he spoke,

“Elsie,” he whispered, trying hard not to fall asleep. Their fingers were still intertwined, resting on Liam’s back. Elsie let out a hum, letting him know that she’d heard but sleep was taking over. Elliot forced his eyes open and let out a breath, “Will you marry me?”

Her eyes fluttered open at his words, and Elliot felt his heart stop for a second as she looked him over. A small smile lifted on her face and she nodded once before closing her eyes again. Elliot couldn’t remember feeling as happy as that simple nod had made him in his life, and he let out a breath before allowing his body to succumb to sleep.

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He didn't like holding her hand anymore.

It used to be their thing, what all of their friends made fun of them for. Elliot and Elsie held hands, like a pair of fourteen-year-olds walking the corridors of Hogwarts. No matter what, on the street, sitting on the couch, under the table, they were always holding hands, and it felt so good. It was a way to be connected without being on top of each other, it was a way to show reassurance when you could feel the other's nerves. But since the accident, Elliot had barely held her hand for more than a minute at a time, pulling away awkwardly or completely avoiding the connection from the start.

Elsie's shoulders slumped as another attempt to latch onto him failed, and she watched Elliot hurry into the kitchen with their dinner plates. Liam was passed out on the couch behind her, and Elsie moved to pulled the baby's blanket over his small body. She wondered if Elliot was pushing away from his son like he was with her; everyone knew how long it had taken for him to learn how to be a single-father, so with this ailment now...

She sat by Liam's feet, smiling tiredly as Elliot returned, wiping his hands with a dish towel. "I can't believe he's asleep already."

"All that ice cream," Elsie responded with a pat of the boy's foot. Elliot nodded with a short smile and sat down beside her, his hands clasped together as he hunched forward, staring at the ground. Elsie watched how his own hands easily intertwined and she felt---she was suddenly jealous. It was stupid to feel this way, but she wanted to hold his hand, she wanted to be the one he held onto. "Why won't you hold my hand anymore?"

Elliot blanched, his head twisting to look at her quickly. She saw nervousness in his eyes but Elsie kept herself steady; she needed to know. She watched his mouth open and shut, making it obvious that he had been, in fact, avoiding her hands. When he didn't answer, Elsie pushed a breath out of her nose and stood, ready to leave. But---her hand was grabbed and she looked back at Elliot with a questioning glance.

He was wincing. She felt her heart beginning to break. Why was he wincing? Did it feel that terrible to touch her?

"Your rings--" he muttered, his grip on her getting tighter, as if forcing himself not to let go, "They're---silver."

Elsie's eyes widened to the size of the full moon (oh, bad metaphor, bad, bad!) and she stripped her hand out of his. Her rings were pulled off and thrown across the room in an instant. Oh, God! How had she not realized! How could she not have known, she'd pulled out all the books on werewolves and lycanthropy from Flourish and Blotts, and---oh! Elsie dropped back onto the couch, kissing him hard. "Why didn't you say something?" she muttered onto his lips, refusing to let him pull away.

"You shouldn't have to change what you do or--or wear because of me," Elliot muttered, though his eyes had shut in what looked like relief as her hands slid into his. For the first time in what felt like years, the grip was comfortable and perfect, and Elsie would swear she was never letting him go.

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Elliot stormed out of the diner, refusing to look back at Elsie’s pleas. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to trying to have a normal evening out, nothing was ever going to be normal anymore...they were only trying to fool themselves.

“Stop, Elliot! Elliot stop!”

His hands flew up, and he kept his quick pace, “Don’t start! Don’t even start!” He needed to get out of there, he needed to get to the apparation point and just go.

He almost made it out of the alleyway when her hand managed to grab hold of his wrist, and Elsie tugged him back. Elliot had enough sense not to forcefully pull himself from her, so he stopped but refused to face her.

“Elliot,” she gasped, her voice strained with her tears. He couldn’t look at her, he couldn’t see her like this, miserable because of him. “I want to be with you---you just have to let me!”

“No!” he snapped, pulling his arm away, but she had a vice-like grip around his wrist. “I’m not going to---I can’t even afford to take you out!” Elliot’s budget had been based on his savings account the past few months, and even a night out to a boring diner proved to be too much for his wallet. How ruddy humiliating was it to not have enough knuts to pay from a fish and chips? “We’re over!”

Elsie swept in front of him, putting her hands to his chest to try and keep him from going any further. He hated the desperation in her eyes, it made him want to give her everything she wanted, but he knew he couldn’t give her a damn thing. Elliot was useless, he was a pitiful excuse for a human being...if you could even call him that anymore.

He stared sadly into her perfectly blue eyes. “I’m going to ruin your life.”

Elliot let out a breath, his words ringing in his ears, tears stinging his eyes. He couldn’t let Elsie waste away with him, no matter how desperately he wanted her to. She was this shining light of a person that deserved to see the world and all its wonders. Elliot would never be able to live with the guilt of taking her future away from her.

“We’re not over,” she choked out, shaking her head. Her hand went up to his cheek and Elliot felt as if the brick walls had begun to crumble down on top of them, the weight of the world crashing onto his shoulders. But...he was still standing. “I love you, Elliot.”

Her words shook him, he felt like collapsing but he kept his ground. Elliot tried to resist, he tried to force himself away from the beautiful woman that for some reason loved him, but he couldn’t pull himself away. He lurched forward, his arms wrapping around Elsie and pulling her as close to him as possible.

He held her tightly, his lips inches from hers. Their noses were ready to crush each other. Elliot let out a breath, “I’m fucked up.”

Elsie smiled, letting out a laugh that sounded like heaven, “Me too.”

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Elliot frowned down at his little sister, who had somehow managed to make her big brown eyes seem even larger as she tilted her face up to silently beg him for ice cream. He’d already spent quite a bit of his own money on their school supplies as their father had once again managed to not give them enough to handle their textbook list this year and the new robes they both needed and the repair Eliza’s cauldron needed because of a mishap during her last lesson.

Ice cream was certainly not within the budget.

“Fortescue’s is expensive,” Elliot said, unable to outrightly deny her the treat. She had been good during this whole shopping excursion, not once complaining about the crowds he’d been dragging her through.

Her bottom lip stuck itself out and Elliot knew he’d lost the battle. He dug his free hand into his pocket, unwilling to let go of his sister’s with the bustling pavement. He’d already gotten into some words with a crotchety old wizard who thought it was all right to barrel into a twelve year old without apologizing. He counted the sickles and knuts he had left and figured out that they had enough for two cones and probably a single topping. Elliot turned to tell Eliza the good news, but was shoved roughly in the shoulder, causing his coins to go flying into the crowd.

“OY!” Elliot shouted, whirling on the culprit, hands going up in annoyance, “Watch where you’re going you bloody idiot!”

“Shut yer trap!” the wizard shot back, but his wife tugged him away by the arm. Elliot glared at the man long after he’d turned around and then let out an aggravated sound as he realized all of his money had been scattered and kicked about by the throng of people moving about.

“I’m sorry, Liza, I----Eliza?” Elliot felt his throat close as he realized that his sister was not standing at his side. He twisted around, frantic, “Eliza!”

Elliot spun around again. She had been right here! He’d only let go for a second! She knew not to run off on her own, what if someone had taken her? Elliot began to push through the crowd, jumping, standing on the tips of his toes and shouting for his little sister. Everyone in Diagon Alley seemed to be taller than him, or wearing a tall hat, or had an open umbrella for the dreary day. There was no way he would be able to spot a small almost-second year with all these people. Elliot felt his breath go short and he let out a cry of terror as he stumbled back onto the pavement. How could he have lost her, where would a little girl go, where was she---

She was right there. Elliot blinked through the glass of the shop, wondering how Eliza had managed to make it through the crowd, across the street, and to an empty table at---his head tilted up to check the sign hanging in front of the store and---yep, she’d found a table at Fortescue’s.

He burst through the door like a madman and nearly knocked her table over with the force he’d thrown himself with.

“Eliza! You’re not supposed to wander off!”

“I got pushed,” she squeaked, hands going to her cheeks. Elliot dropped into the seat across from her, unintentionally mimicking her actions as he tried to cool down his face. He felt like he was ready to hurl from the anxiety he’d managed to achieve in the short time he’d thought Eliza had been kidnapped. He stared at her, trying to figure out what to say, if he should scold her or not, and then noticed that there was a third chair at the table with a blue cloak draped over the back.

“Who are you sitting with?” he asked tensely, wondering if his sister could be naive enough to have gone with a stranger. Eliza tittered, her hands dropping to her lap.

“Your friend from school.”

“I don’t have any friends,” Elliot responded, causing his sister to laugh again. His face remained serious, as he could not recall who Eliza may have thought was his friend and his gaze lifted as a tray of ice cream was placed neatly in front of his sister by a pair of prettily manicured hands. Elliot’s eyes traveled from the hands up the arms and he bit back a groan. “Branstone.”

Elsie Branstone smiled, pulling the third chair back and taking a seat. Elliot’s slumped position immediately straightened, and he ran a hand through his hair. Eliza giggled once more before pulling the plate of ice cream to closer to her.

“Eliza and I bumped into each other,” Elsie explained. She pushed her spoon into the mint green ice cream and scooped up a small chunk, “She said you were going to get ice cream.”

“She did, did she?” Elliot sent his sister a look out of the corner of his eye, but Eliza had busied herself with her chocolate frog and strawberry ice cream. Elsie smiled and gave a little shrug.

“I thought it’d be best to bring her here than to go searching for you.”

Elliot nodded, unable to exude his usual gruff attitude he usually reserved for Elsie. She’d done a good deed by helping Eliza, it had been smart to take her to Fortescue’s even if Elliot himself had landed here by accident, and to top it off, she’d bought his sister ice cream and even let her get a few different toppings. If she’d done this for anyone else, his first thought would be a complaint about how utterly perfect Elsie was, but he couldn’t even kid himself this time. Elliot dropped his gaze, letting out a breath.

“Thank you,” he muttered, digging into his pockets. He couldn’t look her in the eye as his neck heated up in embarrassment for a variety of reasons. Eliza kicked his knee under the table, and Elliot finally got some nerve. “Look, I’ll pay you back when we get to school...”

“It’s no problem!” Elsie said, waving her spoon about. “Fortescue has a ‘buy ten scoops, get one free!’ card, and,” she laughed and gestured to her nearly half eaten bowl of ice cream, “this was scoop ten, eleven, and twelve.”

“I can’t stand mint chocolate chip,” Elliot said, though he shook his head with a look of amusement. He hadn’t known she had a sweet tooth. Elsie hummed happily as she ignored him, turning to Eliza to ask how her ice cream was.

Elliot watched the two for a moment, surprised to see how easily Eliza was holding the conversation. He let them be and turned to stare out the front window of the store and at the ever changing crowds, feeling strangely jealous at how easy it was to get lost in them.

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Elliot winced, biting his lip to hold back the foul words that were ready to slip from his mouth. The hold Professor McGonagall had on his ear was enough to make a grown man scream, but he knew that if he let out one sound of discomfort, he'd be stuck on bathroom duty for the rest of his Hogwarts career. Maybe, perhaps, the rest of his life.

"Sit, Mister. Alderton," she snipped, letting go of her grip on him after she'd led him to a chair in front of her desk. Elliot frowned and rubbed his ear before lowering himself down, watching McGonagall carefully as she rounded her desk. She sat and crossed her hands primly on top of each other on the desk, her eyes boring into him. Elliot stared on back, blinking and unyielding in his attempt to seem to not care that he had been dragged from the Great Hall all the way up to Gryffindor Tower during the first evening back from Easter break.

This lasted for at least five minutes. He and McGonagall had had quite a few staring contests within the past few months, but none to this extent. They normally took place in the classroom, where she only had a limited amount of time to try and break his spirit, but in the comfort of her own office, Elliot was frustrated to find that his professor had the upper hand.

"Okay," he finally let out, slumping in his chair. Elliot rubbed his ear again as it still throbbed. "What did I do this time?"

"What did you do?" McGonagall repeated, staring at him in an astonished manner. "What you did is featured quite prominently on that neck of yours that I have half a mind to wring!"

He flushed, hand dropping from his ear to clamp over the rather new and still-sort-of-stinging tattoo on his neck.

"I think it's cool," he muttered in response. It didn't appear to be the right one, as McGonagall's nose flared up in anger. "I mean--is it against the dress code?"

"Is it--against the---"

Elliot dropped his head back, having known that his seemingly brash decision to get a tattoo over the break would cause a bit of a stir at school, as Hogwarts wasn't particularly known for its individuality and personal reflection. Not that either of those were the reason why Elliot had entered the seedy tattoo parlor in the first place, but...

"I don't see what the problem is, Professor," he said, slouching forward. McGonagall's hands curled upon the desk and she somehow managed to sit straighter than she had been (that was a bit scary).

"The problem is, Mister. Alderton, that firstly you are underage and were performing illegal acts that now the entire school including your little sister is aware of, and secondly, this is not the first form of destructive behavior we've seen from you, and I am here to put an end to it before it gets any worse!"

His expression hardened and Elliot felt himself slipping away from his weak attempts to placate the professor. "I don't care what other people think."

"Oh? Well, that's obvious."

"Why should I?" he snapped back, only slightly wincing as he recalled who he was speaking to. Elliot felt a shiver of anger rush through him, "I don't give a damn what they say! I hear them, I hear all the whispers and the shit they say about me and my sister, so---I don't care!"

McGonagall's expression had not changed or faltered during his quick outburst, and Elliot realized he was on the edge of his seat. He gripped the arms of the chair, nails digging into the fabric. The past year had been nothing but dodging questions and sympathetic gazes, knocking the front teeth out of kids who called his sister weird for her near inability to speak. What did they know? They knew nothing!

"No one knows what it's like," he let out, eyes widening at his words. Elliot had surprised himself, and he looked down in shame.

"I can assure you, Mister. Alderton," McGonagall's tone had changed, it was softer and very unlike the scolding voice that Elliot was used to, "that there are people who very much understand the heartache you're going through."

He brought his gaze up to meet the professor's and he felt as if her concern was honest, that it was more than that of a professor and a student. Elliot had a voice deep down inside of him that scolded him for his brash actions, his lack of studying, his drinking, his---everything that he shouldn't be doing, he knew he shouldn't be, and he regretted doing it. He did, he just---he needed something to keep his mind off of the real pain that he felt, and that night he'd thought entering that tattoo parlor would do the trick.

He didn't think that anyone really did understand, but it made him feel a little less angry to know that Professor McGonagall was sympathetic. Coming to school this past fall it had seemed like business as usual, but now Elliot realized that she had been keeping a keen eye on him. Perhaps now he understood why she always made sure to knock him awake at the breakfast table, or why she forced him to sit up front in class and feigning it was because of the alphabetically assigned seats they'd never had before. It...confused him to think that McGonagall cared, but it didn't upset him like most things did these days.

"Can I go to the dorm now?" he muttered, hand involuntarily going to his ear. McGonagall nodded, but put a hand out as he stood.

"One question. Why a dragon?"

Elliot's face burned and he shrugged, "It's stupid."

"Nothing you do is stupid, Elliot."

He let out a breath, squirming. Elliot looked over his shoulder to make sure the door to the room was securely shut, and then turned back to the professor. "I'm the dragon."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm the---dragon, when Eliza used to make me play castle with her...she doesn't anymore, but--she was a knight, and I was always the dragon. And...my mum was the princess she used to save, so---it---"

McGonagall blinked behind her glasses and Elliot felt like he was going to melt into a puddle of humiliation. The professor held his gaze for a few more seconds, but then she let out a soft laugh and shook her head.

"At least there's a story behind it. Go to bed, Mister. Alderton."

He managed a short grin and nodded, leaving quickly to take the castle by storm.

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