emmeline-whoisleft - Tumblr blog

[emmeline-whoisleft]

aidenavry‌:

Aiden quickly realised that Emmeline’s sarcasm was less playful banter and more of an offensive technique because she was hurt. He believed she had every right to react the way she did after the way he had been treating her the past few months. Aiden’s paranoia and anxiety was an issue that affected every aspect of his life, and it had filtered into the relationships with with the people he loved. Evan, Emmeline, even his own sister, were all starting to reel their heads at his odd behaviour, but Aiden just couldn’t justify his actions because he was just as confused by them as they were. What frustrated him the most was the fact that this was an issue that was personal to him and shouldn’t have to hurt the people he cared about, and yet it did. 

‘Fair enough,’ he sighed defeatedly, looking down at the ground for a moment whilst he constructed his next sentence. Aiden had hoped his innate jauntiness would loosen up any tensions between them, but this was clearly something that had affected Emmeline much deeper than Aiden initially assumed. It was unusual for him to have nothing to say. Aiden Avery, who without even trying, could conjure enough natural charm and grace to influence a whole room of political figures to his favour if he so wished, could not design a sentence worth saying to Emmeline at that moment. She was different, and she could not be charmed in the same way a politician or a socialite could, and he knew it would be offensive to even try. 

The next interrogative caused his stomach to flip unpleasantly. He knew the unanswered letters would crop up as a subject at some point, he just never expected it to arrive so quickly and backed with so much hostility. There was though, a hint of that familiar humour to her tone however, that eased his mind slightly. He could work with that. 

‘I’m…sorry, Emmeline, I really am,’ he replied with a sheepish expression. ‘You have…every right to be mad at me. My behaviour the past few months, not great, I’m sorry. But listen,’ he continued, whilst moving towards her like they were an old married couple after a petty quarrel trying to pick the pieces up again. ‘How about we do that now?’ he proposed, easing a soft smile onto his features as he did. ‘And you know what? Since I’ve been such an arse, I’ll pay for everything. Sweets and all. I’ll even buy you extra cauldron cakes, if you’d like. To make up for last year.’

His sigh, in a way, was enough to make her glare less hateful. Emmeline couldn’t say she understood what made her old friend self-isolate, to ignore her. She presumed it was something to do with the loss of his brother. Loss affected people in different ways, at different times. But she never wanted to guess exactly what emotion he was feeling, and why he’d retreated into himself. In a way, it wasn’t all that different, Emmeline supposed. It was a struggle to get him to talk to her in the first place, but his absence this time was sorely missed. Her brow relaxed a little more as she took in his defeated composure.

His silence said more than he probably thought it did. And she slumped her shoulders in her own version of defeat. She was never going to stay mad at him for long. Emmeline wondered if he knew that. That didn’t mean she was any less hurt by his lack of contact, or that she felt any less forgotten during the time when he’d opted to put their friendship on hold for whatever reason. But she could allow him understanding. For now.

This time when he moved, she stayed still, her defensive position relaxing into something more trusting.

“I am mad.” Emmeline clarified, and she mentally scolded herself for not sounding anything of the sort. “I am mad and… worried.” The last word was added quietly, the last of her irritation leaving her as she remembered his expression when he first apparated there. It looked about the same as she was feeling. Anxious, unnerved. She could only make guesses why, all landing back to Archer. But she wasn’t about to say that to him. Instead, she reached forward and wrapped her arms around his middle. “You. Are an idiot.”

But his offer still made her smile and she snorted against his chest. “Damn right you’re paying for everything.” Emmeline pulled away, looking up at him with a large smile. “And then you’re going to tell me all about how boring your life is without me constantly bothering you.”

Here We Go Again : Open

[emmeline-whoisleft]

gretchen-whoisleft‌:

“Having some trouble?” 

By definition, Gretchen was incapable of lurking. She was too bright, too happy in the spotlight and, often, wearing something too shiny to be ignored. All of that changed when she was undercover, but when she was undercover she did her very best not to be Gretchen at all. She would dive into her characters and her disguises and her missions, shedding her identity like she’d once done every morning for fun and keeping her Order work at an arm’s length from the rest of her life. 

She was here as Gretchen, today. On a personal errand nonetheless, wearing a jacket embedded with sequins and letting her blonde hair fall in a highlit cloud around her face. 

So lurking she was not, but people watching had always been a favorite hobby of hers. It beat hanging out with the strange shopclerk at the front of the store, and two people had tripped over a loose floor tile coming into the darker back corner of the shop in the last half hour. It was amusing – not the most mature thing to be amused by but sue her – and Gretchen had always found a way to amuse herself in Dervish and Banges even without the help of other people acting the spectacle. They had cardigans and stationary and Sneakoscopes; foe glasses and magical locks and interactive astronomical maps. 

Gretchen tilted her head to the side and unabashedly pointed a finger at Emmeline’s wand. 

“Is it acting up, or was that the spell you, er…meant to cast? Mine gets cranky sometimes, too. Especially after a long day.” 

Crap.

Emmeline’s heart dropped as she realised the stranger had, in fact, seen her trouble with her wand. She kept a smile on her face, pulling her wand back from her sleeve and swished it around carelessly. It was only upon studying the other woman’s face that she finally recognised her. Not by name, not by reputation, but by a mutual link. “Oh.” Emme said suddenly, letting her arm fall to the side. “You’re… are you Geraldine’s sister?”

She was relatively fond of the middle Ollivander sister, but then again, it was the only Ollivander she really knew, and even that was an accident. The Ravenclaw alumni didn’t seem offended by Emmeline’s incredibly slow responses of owls and infrequent well wishes since she’d graduated Hogwarts, but when Emme remembered, she’d made an effort to see her. Her sisters, however, she’d not noticed.

Which seemed impossible now, given how much of a presence this Ollivander sister had.

It did nothing to ease her unsettled mind. She’d wanted to speak to Geraldine about it over the break, get a new wand – for she was sure it must have been broken. Emmeline tried to play off the issue with an innocent smile. “Oh, I’m ridiculously clumsy. I think I’ve stood on, sat on, dropped, smashed this wand. All by accident of course!”

“It’s probably just… mad at me or something. But it’s fine, really. I don’t need whatever is in here anyway.” She shuffled on her feet awkwardly, looking round the other woman for hopes of a quick getaway.

friends in unlikely places | gretchen & emmeline

[emmeline-whoisleft]

tazie-whoisleft‌:

Anastazie did not appreciate being run into. She supposed no one did, really, because who would enjoy being hit with an unexpected and unpleasant force? But she felt she deserved to feel an extra bit of indignation considering that she was always aware of where she was walking, so any collision must be caused by the other person not paying enough attention to get out of her way.

Not that she could say that to Emmeline now, of course, even if her apology was sparse at best. She knew the girl from the nearly six years that had spent living in the Ravenclaw tower, though Anastazie had often wondered in Emmeline truly belonged in her house.

The qualities of Ravenclaw could manifest in a lot of different ways, and she knew that. It could be someone who threw themselves into school, wanting to learn as much as the professors were able to teach them in the seven short years they got at Hogwarts. It could be someone who didn’t care much about classes but wanted to spend their time chasing their more abstract curiosities. However strange they may be, there was a level of devotion that was admirable. At the very least, there is supposed to be a certain creativity and wit that – in Anastazie’s humble opinion – made Ravenclaws the most engaging and interesting students at Hogwarts.

But she struggled to find that reflected in Emmeline. For a moment, she was even intrigued to find her with her nose buried in a book, only to be instantly disappointed when it was just about Quidditch. It was always about Quidditch.

“I don’t know much about brooms,” she said with a polite smile instead of saying what she actually wanted to say, which was that yes, it was too flashy. “Are you thinking of getting a new one, so close to graduation? It won’t get much use in the time you have left, will it?”

Emmeline looked up at last when she heard the familiar voice of Anastazie Dolohov and sent a tighter, more polite smile. She didn’t retract the Quidditch magazine immediately upon realising her company, but she did let her hand relax and allow the page she had been observing to be lost. It was one of the things she’d picked up as she jumped through social groups. Certain pureblood families had an air to them. The Blacks, The Malfoys, The Dolohovs. All of them made her equally unnerved, even if there was no justifiable reason for it.

Not until recently anyway.

Anastazie, nor Antonin, had never done anything that Emmeline would consider threatening. Beyond the, sometimes unfair, reputation Pureblood elite families had, there was nothing to suggest Emmeline should feel uncomfortable around the younger Ravenclaw. And yet, she did. Perhaps it was because Emme herself was so used to wearing masks, that she wondered if the politeness Anastazie had was a façade.

“Hello, Anastazie. I hope your day is going well.” It was genuine. Emmeline didn’t wish ill on anyone, even those who made her a little bit more twitchy. And she was a fellow in her house, someone she tried to consider family, even if her switching social groups often did leave her with a vast amount of acquaintances and very few who she would even consider friends.

Emmeline glanced back down to the magazine in her hand. “I thought it’d be nice to end my final Quidditch season ever on a beautiful piece like this.” She told her, a small smile playing on her lips. She didn’t think Ravenclaw was going to win, even with the amount of faith she had for her team. But she was so proud of them nonetheless, and they deserved to feel their best out there, regardless of the results.

“Then, I don’t know. Hang it above my bed, maybe. For memories. Sentimental, that type of thing. Probably sounds silly.”

where to go from here | open

[emmeline-whoisleft]

ways to prepare | benjy & emme

@benjy-whoisleft

The Ravenclaw Common Room was often a peaceful place, where Emmeline felt remarkably at ease. While she never liked the stereotypes that came with the houses, she did notice the main living space did often play host to mostly studying students rather than fiendishly loud games. She’d been guilty of that more than a few times, especially when she went through her obsession with Exploding Snaps. Merlin, the glares she got for playing that in the Common Room were something she wouldn’t forget any time soon.

It was quieter than usual, with it heading into the later hours of the evening and most students either already in their dormitories or grabbing the last amount of scraps they could from the Great Hall. Emmeline had set herself up a small area to overlook the grounds of Hogwarts. She surrounded herself with notes and books, in an effort to finish off her last bits of study. Instead, she’d settled into a good book by the Muggle author, Susan Cooper. It was always interesting to read fantasy novels, especially with their disillusioned belief as to what witches would be like.

Honestly, Emmeline had barely been paying attention to her surroundings, but heavy footsteps caught her attention. Coming through the portrait, looking utterly exhausted and worse for wear was Benjy Fenwick. Immediately, Emmeline panicked. Was he hurt? Did he get into a fight with another Pureblood? Memories of how malicious some of them could be flooded through her, and her palms grew clammy.

But he was wearing a faint smile, it seemed, and her racing heart began to slow. He didn’t look injured, just very sweaty. She raised her free hand above her head and waved to get his attention. When she finally got it, she smiled widely, trying to push away her previous anxiety for him. “Have you been running? Or did you maybe take a dip in the lake?”

[emmeline-whoisleft]

aidenavry‌:

It’s been a while since he’s seen Emmeline (but then again, it’s been a while since he’s seen anyone - other than Cleo, that is). Through the dull mist of trauma that seemed to drape over everything these days, he could just about distinguish a handful of purer memories untouched by the dark fog, ones that so happened to be connected to the young woman in front of him. Throughout his time at Hogwarts, Aiden rarely went out, nor did he actively seek other friends beyond the four corners of a classroom or late afternoon extracurricular activities. But Emmeline was one of the very few who approached him first, full of energy and dimpled grins, a stark contrast from the stiff smiles and graceful demeanours belonging to the usual crowd he surrounded himself with.

Although Aiden’s family never explicitly stated to avoid muggle-borns, it would be a lie to say he wasn’t often encouraged to prioritise connections with pureblood families lingering the middle to upper tier. Everything will always be a game of who knows who, a game which required a level of ambition that Aiden just did not have. Not that that was an issue. Aiden’s mild manners was a quality his father cherished. It meant if anything, he would be able to get along with all walks of life - a very favourable attribute when heading into politics. 

‘Less icebreaker more just…perpetuating a British stereotype,’ he quipped back, dropping his hands into his cloak pockets with a level of informality he reserved only for close friends and family members. His heart rate had, thankfully, began to slow, and his thoughts were emerging clearer than before. Perhaps it was a coincidence, or perhaps it was simply the product of seeing a familiar, friendlier face over the ones he would usually interact with at the Ministry or at home. With a drop however, he remembered the stack of unanswered letters sitting in a drawer by the kitchen, all invitations from the younger Ravenclaw to visit her smaller flat. It was a pastime he previously indulged in on a regular basis, but recent times had brought a degree of isolation that was previously unlike him. But he couldn’t tell her the real reason for it. Not yet, anyway.

‘How’s the tower without me?’ he asked whilst allowing himself to take a few steps towards her, letting the question be an excuse to shift away from the spot that had been haunting his dreams the past two years. ‘Duller, I expect?’

Emmeline wasn’t a needy person by nature. She was famous for failing to keep in contact, miss dinner dates with friends or just stay familiar with one group of people. When it came to Aiden, it was complicated. She’d made an effort with him due to their very obvious differences, and, honestly, because he was a difficult person to befriend. She liked challenges, and he was one. When they stopped communicating, a part of her felt betrayed, even if she was usually the type of friend to vanish, just as he did.

She’d understood, in a way. Thoughts of what had happened to Archer came to mind. Emmeline had been unsure how to approach him after that. She was never fond of the Slytherin Avery, he always frightened her a little. But when he’d died, she was sad for Aiden. There was no comfort she could provide, not really. She was never sure how to continue their friendship from there. Emmeline hoped that maybe letters after time had passed would get them back on track. Alas, she had gone unanswered.

Regardless of what happened, his greeting annoyed her. Sure, he’d let his guard drop, looking far more informal than he usually did. She was grateful he seemed at least somewhat trusting of her, even with the lack of contact. Still, she stared at him expectantly, waiting for something other than continuing with his weather opening. When there didn’t seem to be a continuation, Emmeline rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. Embracing a stereotype about how continuously overcast we are is a fantastic improvement on a lame icebreaker.”

She raised an eyebrow at his question. Hogwarts had become far less friendly over the last year, or maybe she was just picking up on things she hadn’t before. When he took a few steps towards her, she tilted her head to the side, taking a few back to compensate, irritation obvious on her expression. “How’s the tower? You didn’t think to ask this sooner? What do you expect me to say? It’s been six months, I’m used to not dragging you out to every social gathering now.”

She wasn’t, but she kept her glare in place anyway. “And you missed our Hogsmeade tradition. I had to pay for my own Honeydukes, which just simply isn’t on.”

Here We Go Again : Open

[emmeline-whoisleft]

caradoc-wil‌:

Caradoc really should’ve been paying more attention to where he was going, but he was (more than) half asleep and actually quite proud he’d managed to find his way to the Great Hall - all while more or less sleepwalking.

He’d been awake a bit too long, extracurriculars - tutoring, the Herbology club, having a smoke while also having a nervous breakdown - getting his mind off of actual coursework. It had actually done that a bit too well, considering it had been late when he remembered the essay that needed to be turned in, well, today.

Of course, Caradoc being both lost in thought and also pretty much dead on his feet due to sleep deprivation, didn’t notice the witch he was on collision course with - not until he actually did collide with her.

“It’s -“ he started, a jaw cracking yawn interrupting him. Shaking himself, trying to wake up by sheer stubbornness, he scrubbed a hand over his face before continuing. “Heh, sorry. It’s fine, I wasn’t exactly looking where I was going.”

It took a second or two of nonplussed staring at her before he realised that a, she’d asked a question, and b, might be expecting an answer. Looking at the magazine she was holding up, he couldn’t stop an unbidden grimace from crossing his face. Brooms.

“Well, it’s a - broom?” Caradoc replied, hesitantly. He wasn’t quite certain what the right answer would be, in this case. Brooms wasn’t his favourite thing - understatement - and while there were sayings about ‘know thy enemy’ this was an enemy he categorically did not want to know. “Looks. Fast and - sleek?” He was bullshitting a lot, pulling words he’d heard Davey use when talking brooms out of the air.

Emmeline brushed away his comment – she wasn’t looking where she was going either. She did give him a once over, frowning at his expression. “You look drained.” She told him honestly, lowering the magazine briefly. Emmeline knew Caradoc as well as most people in Hogwarts, which was not very well. She’d socialised with him, never found a personal issue with him. She mostly knew him as ‘the one Davey knows’ and that he spent a lot of time in Herbology. 

“No, really. You look exhausted. Do you want a coffee? Muggles swear by it.”

Emmeline didn’t miss his grimace. She knew he wasn’t a Quidditch player, of course. Didn’t know he’d be so blank on the subject when he attempted to give her an answer. In a way, Emmeline considered it endearing that he was even trying, watching him attempt to form a sensible sentence with a small smirk. “Yes, it is a broom.” She confirmed with a laugh, looking back down at the magazine. “It’s a very pretty broom, Caradoc. Worth a lot of galleons. Don’t tell me Davey hasn’t educated you?”

She appreciated his attempt, and closed the magazine, putting a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. You don’t need to pretend to be interested. I was mostly talking to myself anyway, encouraging myself to waste money on something I’m only going to use for two months.” She dropped her hand and sent him a warm smile. “Do you want to talk about plants instead? I can’t promise I’ll no much, but I can try and contribute.”

where to go from here | open

[emmeline-whoisleft]

goingxstag‌:

Upon reflection, James decided sprinting through the crowded Great Hall was not one of his cleverest ideas. He’d done it a thousand times before; James was never one to move at a normal, sedate pace, and when he was excited about something, he tended to be able to move any slower than a jog. And, since he’d gotten a letter from home that morning that finally contained some decent news about his father’s health, excited might have been understating things. He was on his way back to the dorm to tell the others, the possibility of tardiness be damned, when he ran directly into Emmeline Vance. 

Luckily, his victim’s balance was good, and she simply took a step back to keep her feet. “Sorry, sorry!” he yelped, sliding to an abrupt halt, only to hear her offer the same apology. He grinned, then, and shook his head. “Guess we’re both hopeless,” James said lightly, and peered down at the magazine she was offering him – and, of course, that was all it took for James to forget everything from the past several moments and get lost in a haze of Quidditch. “Too flashy? Merlin, there’s no such thing! That broom is a work of art, Vance. It belongs in the Louvre, but instead, you’ll get to ride it.” He paused in his melodramatic monologue to look back up at Emmeline, the laughter in his dark eyes obvious. 

For those who weren’t in James Potter’s orbit, there were still several things things that everyone in the castle knew about him. His previous detention record and love of mischief was generally the first thing that came to mind, quickly followed by the fact that he was now somehow Head Boy. Most could probably associate him with his mates and Lily, too. But most importantly, it was standard knowledge that James could – and would – talk about Quidditch and brooms for hours on end if he wasn’t stopped. “I’ve been considering an upgrade myself, but with it being so close to the end of the year, I just can’t do it,” James continued, a twinge of sadness obvious in his expression for a moment before he was back to grinning. “So I’ll be begging shamelessly to give it a go if you end up ordering one of the new Nimbus series! I’ve got the Cleansweep, and it does just fine, but the Nimbus brooms are supposed to –” 

Abruptly, James realized that if Emmeline was planning on ordering the damn thing, she likely new all of the statistics. He huffed a laugh at his own enthusiasm and tapped the magazine page. “Well, I’m sure you know. Is your team ready for the next match? I haven’t heard much out of you lot, lately.”

Of all the people to run into she was honestly glad it was James Potter. Despite Quidditch rivalry between teams, she never felt any resentment to excellent players, and the Gryffindor definitely fell into that category. Of course, a part of Emmeline hoped his Head Boy duties would have made his talent on the Quidditch Pitch diminish, but he seemed just as excited as when she’d first played against him in a match. Unfortunate for her, but she was happy he was able to juggle things.

At his genuine interest, she beamed up at him, before returning her glance to the broom. “Oh, I know! It’s gorgeous. It’s almost too pretty to be used in a game. Do you see that finishing touch at the end? It’s a huge upgrade from their 1500 series – I think so much more love went into making this. According to research, those with excellent dexterity will find no broom better. Now, I don’t mean to brag, but-”

She paused in her train of thought, mostly because she wanted to hear his input and opinion. “Oh, it’s close to the end of the year. And I love my little Silver Arrow, honestly, she’s treated me so well. But she took a Bludger the last year, and she’s not quite been the same since. And if this is going to be my last year playing Quidditch, I’m going to make sure I look fantastic doing it.” Emmeline looked up again, wearing a large grin. “If I get it, you can play. Just don’t show me up.”

“Sure, I know.” She agreed, shutting the magazine. “But it’s nice to have a second opinion. You wouldn’t believe how many people don’t want to talk shop with me. Disappointing.” At his question, she simply laughed. “Why would you hear anything from us? We’re ready, and we don’t need to show off about it. Unlike some other teams.” Her expression reflected that she was joking, even if there was an element of truth to it.

where to go from here | open

[emmeline-whoisleft]

THE  WIT  AND  CHARM  OF  AN  UNLIKELY  FRIENDSHIP .     EMMELINE   +   AIDEN .    1   /   ?      (   @emmeline-whoisleft   )

[emmeline-whoisleft]

friends in unlikely places | gretchen & emmeline

@gretchen-whoisleft

Sundays were often quiet in Hogsmeade, something that Emmeline greatly appreciated. She didn’t hide her paranoia, nor anticipation, when she was walking through the high street. Those who were here so early in the morning didn’t seem to care about the way she wrapped her robe closer to her chest and kept her wand in her hand by her side. It was absolutely useless, of course, but they didn’t know that. And regardless of how it wasn’t responding to her, she still felt safer having it brandished.

Emmeline had a shopping list this time – the last time she went to Hogsmeade, things she needed went forgotten. She needed some quills still, and some ink. Then she needed to buy some clothes from Gladrags Wizardwear, remembering her closets in her new flat were disastrously empty. Her last stop was Dervish and Banges, at the very end of Hogsmeade and the furthest away from Hogwarts.

Truthfully, she’d been putting it off. It was a little out of her comfort zone. But she wanted to buy a present for her little brothers, and they sold a whole lot of unusual things that she was certain would entertain her siblings for a while.

The shop was quiet and dark when she entered, cluttered with mostly useless looking items. The man behind the till looked up from his book to nod at her presence before returning his attention back to his piece of literature. Emmeline didn’t care about his lack of greeting, heading through the shops to browse. The further back she went in the shop, the harder it was to see, her eyes straining in the dark.

She held her wand up, cast Lumos. But her wand, instead, flicked backwards out of her hand and landed on the floor behind her. Emmeline turned, frustrated, picked it up and tried again. The same thing happened. It was only when she turned the second time that she realised she wasn’t alone. Another witch was in the shop with her, although whether or not the new arrival had noticed her magical issues was another matter.

She tried for ignorance. “Good morning!” Emmeline said happily, tucking her wand up her robe sleeve but not letting go of it completely. “They have amazing things in here, don’t they?”

[emmeline-whoisleft]

[emmeline-whoisleft]

Emmeline hated Hogsmeade.

She supposed, logically, it was unfair to dislike the location. The village had been a source of joy for her since her third year, and it brought back memories of wonder and enthusiasm. The shops were welcoming, the food was – sometimes – less than spectacular but still a welcome change from the continuous feasts that were laid out in the Great Hall. She’d buy her weight in Honeydukes sweets, end up giving most of them away in fear of being sick. Then she’d have a Butterbeer, maybe smuggle in a shot of Firewhiskey, and enjoy her life.

It was a shame how one bad memory could taint otherwise wonderful ones.

Emmeline refused to let fear rule over her, but with a useless wand in her pocket and an inability to defend herself, to say her nerves were playing up was an understatement. Whether it was intentional or not, the first place she noticed upon entering the village was the alley leading to some backstreets where the incident took place. She half expected to see the witch who haunted her nightmares standing there, waiting to finish her off or torment her further. It did nothing to steady her racing heart to see it empty, and as she continued on her journey, her gaze wandered over her shoulder more often than not.

She figured she’d made a mistake by coming here, but she was running out of ink and her last quill had been snapped in half as she hurried to finish an essay. And while Emmeline was certain she could have simply just asked someone else to borrow equipment, it would just be hiding – and what example would that set? Still, walking down the cobbled street just to prove a point didn’t seem worth it any more. And she was prepared to turn and leave again, take off running if she had too-

And then she saw someone apparate a few feet away from her, rather awkwardly, looking somewhat distressed. Emmeline recognised the face immediately – friendly, another good memory. And someone she certainly did not expect to see in Hogsmeade any time soon. While her panic did not subside, and her eyes still checked her surroundings before she approached him, she automatically felt a little more comfortable seeing Aiden Avery.

Emmeline blinked in surprise at his words, glancing upwards towards the sky then back at him with a raised eyebrow. “I was expecting a warmer greeting, but if we’re back to ice-breakers about the weather, I’ll play along.”

Here We Go Again : Open

Despite the approaching birthday, Aiden never cared for March - as a month, that is. Winter he could deal with, it’s unfriendly winds blew you indoors and towards a book and a cosy fire. Summer had similar effects except it drew you outdoors and the fire came from above rather than from within the fancy four corners of a fireplace. Spring was such a strange interlude between two decisive seasons and it left Aiden feeling restless, yet restless was an emotion the young man felt too often nowadays. Every so often the sun would reach out deceptively warm rays through the open windows of his house, beckoning him from his usual spot in the living room to the outdoors. Every time he struggled to face a new day warped with indecision, and yet, the light always seemed to pry him out one way or another. 

His father would often remark how important it was to spend time outdoors in the fresh air, and that the only time one should lock themselves indoors is when you are sick or when it’s raining. Regretfully, neither of those things were happening so Aiden, with a defeated sigh and an anxious tapping against the side of his leg, extracted himself from the comfort of his armchair and headed for the door, making sure to wear his cloak as protection against the early spring chill. 

Aiden had the option to explore the countryside surrounding his home, but having done that this morning with Cleo (the newest, furriest, member of the Avery family) for a few hours, decided against it. His father would also emphasise how important it was to make yourself seen on a regular basis, as it acts as a casual refresher to those who may have momentarily forgotten your existence. Diagon Alley, as Aiden recalled, has both shops and people, so would act as both a memory refresher for those interacting with him, and as a mildly entertaining distraction from his own chaotic mind. Two birds with one stone, plus, he was sure he was in some urgent need of some more quills. 

It would have been a successful apparation if it weren’t for the rapid train of thought that led to Archer. Again, his brother wormed his way into his consciousness with the same level of infuriating intrusiveness he retained in life. The consequence of this landed him somewhat clumsily at Hogsmeade, aka the last place he wanted to be so soon after the incident.

It wasn’t that he had never been to Hogsmeade after Archer’s passing, but the wonderful location had been forever tainted by it, and he’s now unable to visit the village without experiencing debilitating heart palpitations and waves of nausea deep in his stomach. It took maybe seconds before the onset of symptoms began, and yet before he could quickly disappear again, he noticed with an internal groan that he had already succeeded in gaining someone’s attention. Painfully aware of how odd it would look for him to a) apparate somewhere with the air and grace of Bambi only to b) disapparate immediately after, he makes the reluctant decision to remain where he was, and hope whoever decided to approach him would gift him with a brief conversation.

‘Little overcast today,’ he called to the other through the, thankfully, decreasing heart palpitations. His mouth felt incredibly dry however, and whenever he swallowed it seemed evaporate before meeting his throat. What was wrong with him? The sooner he got out of there, the better.

[emmeline-whoisleft]

where to go from here | open

With Easter break rapidly approaching, Emmeline was finally feeling a little more at ease. She would go back to her small apartment, surrounded by Muggles who barely knew her and not know her shame of being a witch unable to cast spells. No one from the wizarding world knew her new address, or where her younger brothers had moved too. She wouldn’t lie to herself by saying she thought they were completely safe, because she knew any of them could be caught in an attack at any moment, but it definitely improved their odds.

There were things to settle at Hogwarts first, of course. Booking the Quidditch pitch for next term practices, writing up her last few essays – avoiding making eye contact with anyone too threatening. But the most important thing it seemed, with all the other responsibilities and issues floating around her, was to look at a new broomstick. As she was currently doing, sitting in the Great Hall and leaning over Quidditch Weekly.

There was nothing wrong with her old broomstick, and truthfully, she’d never replace it in her heart. But that thing had seen its share of games, and eventually, it would be a redundant model. Emmeline wanted to be ahead of the times, the best Quidditch Captain at Hogwarts. It was a difficult competition, after all, although she’d heard rumours of fragility among other teams.

Emmeline’s eyes did not move away from the magazine as she finished her breakfast and stood, ready to take her leave from the Great Hall. She wasn’t particularly set on a destination, when she collided someone, only causing enough damage to have her take a step back. Still, her gaze stayed put on the magazine.

“Sorry.” She said somewhat joyfully. “I was just looking at this – this beauty. It’s a Nimbus, I think they’re new. Merlin, just look at that craftsmanship.” She turned the magazine to the person she bumped into, pointing to the broom she was in awe with. “What do you think? Too flashy?”