Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Notes: Well, here is the first piece of a one-shot futurefic that I promised to readers of my "Safe in Harbor" universe. To anyone who hasn't read that fic, its outtake "Rubber Chickens and Cake" and especially its sequel "Above It All", what I'll be posting will make absolutely ZERO sense. Anyway, as usual with me, what was supposed to be a little ficlet has swelled to much more than I intended. Which is both annoying and reassuring at the same time. I intend to post installments every few days. Reviews are very welcome. Thanks to all those who have waited so patiently and hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter universe and characters are property of JKR and all those other lucky bastards who own assorted bits and pieces. Any characters that you don't recognize from canon, however, are mine. Additional disclaimers/references are posted at the end. Many thanks to Lissanne for the beta and constant encouragement, and also to hogwartshag for advice and encouragement.

Writing To Reach You

"Do you think the boys are already there?" Emerson Potter asked her best friend as the two of them hurried down the slightly crowded cobbled streets of Diagon Alley.

It was a hot, dry day in mid-August and the two women were heading to The Leaky Cauldron to meet their lunch mates. It was a weekly tradition they had, to meet up once a week for a midday meal at the old pub. The women were running a bit late today, though, having gotten distracted by a new shipment of utterly chic robes in Madam Malkin's.

Carolyna Lupin smiled, her honey eyes shining with anticipation. "Probably. You know how early they always skive off work. Nothing gets between them and their food. At least, not for long."

"Or in Davis's case, nothing gets between him and his Lyna," Em commented, eyeing her friend. "Right?"

She laughed at the blush that crept up her best friend's cheeks, knowing that there was no way Lyna could deny what she'd just said. The women had always been extremely close and even now, four years after Hogwarts, they were as tight as ever. Even with their very busy lives since leaving school, they made a point to talk every day and meet up several times a week, depending on their schedules.

At twenty-one years of age, Emerson Potter was beautiful and healthy. She was about five foot seven, with smooth olive skin, long ebony hair and bright green eyes. She had a ready smile, an easy laugh and a tenacious amount of energy. She had her whole life ahead of her, and as with any other person, she hoped it would be a long one. There was so much she wanted to do, so many dreams to aspire for. Yet, sometimes she found herself thinking that she had experienced more in those short years of her existence than most people got the chance to in their entire lives.

When Emerson thought about her life, she marveled at her blessings. She had grown up in a warm and loving family, with her parents, two brothers and a little sister. She'd been a good student at Hogwarts, consistently ranking in the top five percent of her year. Beginning in her fourth year, she'd played the spot of Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and in her final year had been awarded the Captaincy. That had been one of the proudest moments of her life, and the sweetest thing about it was that she knew she had accomplished it all on her own. The fact that she was Harry Potter's daughter had had absolutely nothing to do with it, contrary to what bitter rivals had murmured. She had always been determined to never live life coasting on her famous parents' names, and had been determined to earn her own way.

But there was more to her than Quidditch, however. The knowledge sometimes caused raised eyebrows, in both admiration and bewilderment, that, for all professional intents and purposes, Emerson Potter was a fully trained and certified Magical Zoologist. Which was more or less the equivalent of a Muggle veterinarian. The realization that that was what she wanted to do with her life had come upon her startlingly one night in her fifth year, shortly after her class had begun examining the career brochures laid out for their perusal. Em had always loved animals, magical or otherwise, but until that night it had never occurred to her to pursue that fondness as a career. But as soon as she'd had the thought, she'd known it was exactly what she wanted to do.

Most people were initially surprised by the fact that she was studying such a scientific field. They just didn't have her pegged as the academic type, figuring that if anyone would be juggling big name classes it would be her brother, Ben. But as Emerson liked to say, next to Ben, everybody looked like a dunce. Just because she wasn't anywhere near his level of genius didn't mean that she didn't enjoy learning, especially if it was something she was truly passionate about. And this most certainly was one of those things.

Her mother had helped her with the decisions as to where to go for that training, and Em had decided on Excalibur Wizarding University, one of her Mum's alma maters, which had the best Magi-Zoology department on the continent. But the summer after graduation from Hogwarts, to celebrate the milestone, Em and Lyna had taken a trip to the United States. Among the places they'd visited was Berkshire Academy, where Emerson's birth mother, Julia Thomas, had been a student.

Coincidentally, not far from Berkshire was the prestigious Muggle university, Harvard, in Cambridge, Massachusetts. On a whim, the girls decided to go on a tour of the campus, and Em was entranced. Had it been the crisp, sweet air of the late summer's evening? Had it been the noble venerability of the old buildings, standing proud and steadfast even after hundreds of years? Had it been the people, hurrying to and fro, yet swift to give a quick smile as they swept along in their quest for learning? She would never know what it was, but something about the school stirred Emerson and she fell madly in love. She vowed right there and then that she would attend Harvard if it was the last thing she ever did.

And she swore that she wouldn't consider herself a real Magical Zoologist, Veterinarian, Healer, until she had her Harvard degree.

But there had been no time to undergo the proper admissions procedures. So that dream had needed to be placed on the back burner for a time, and she'd gone through with her first choice. Excalibur's Magi-Zoology program was very intensive, but fueled by her vision of attending Harvard, Emerson had completed the four-year program in just over three years.

And to make her achievement even sweeter, her acceptance letter from Harvard's School of Veterinary Medicine had arrived the day after her graduation from Excalibur.

That was six weeks ago, and at the end of this month, Em would be leaving her family and friends to attend the prestigious school. She knew that she didn't need the Harvard degree to be a Magical Zoologist, but she had convinced herself that she needed the veterinarian education, to be truly well-rounded. After all, Muggle animals needed care too. And besides, what was life without dreams? And weren't dreams meant to come true, if one worked hard enough for them?

She would be gone for two years and she knew it would be very hard being away from those she loved most in the world. But in the meantime, she could spend as much time with them as possible, with her family and her friends. Which was how comes she and Lyna were hurrying to the Leaky Cauldron, heading for a meal with-

"Finally," somebody said in exasperation, startling her out of her reverie. Looking up, she smiled at the speaker.

"Hi, Brandon. Hey, Davis."

Davis Chapman didn't seem to hear her but Brandon Wood scoffed. "What is it with women and being on time? Or shouldn't I say, not being on time? We were just about to go looking for you two."

"Quit your whinging," she replied with a chuckle, reaching for the grimy handle of the Leaky Cauldron's back door. "You're just mad about having to wait for your food."

He followed her inside the dimly lit pub, still grumbling. "I'm a hard-working man. Is it too much to ask for to want to start my lunch hour at the appointed time of twelve, noon?"

Em laughed. "Whatever. Twelve, noon, my backside. You routinely leave work long before twelve, boy-o, and don't try to deny it."

He didn't, only shot her a disgruntled look as they arrived at their regular table in one of the far corners of the pub. Emerson shrugged out of her jacket and sat down, then looked around for her best friend. "Where's Lyna?"

"Probably still outside with Chapman, feeling each other up, isn't she?" Brandon replied, jerking his shaggy head towards the door, where sure enough, Davis and Lyna were just now coming in, Lyna attempting to furtively smooth her blouse.

Em grinned. She so loved how mad those two were about each other. Of course they'd always been more or less like that, but something about being newlyweds seemed to bring out their inner gluttons. They couldn't seem to get enough of each other, even after how long they'd been together.

Which was very reassuring, after the fright they'd both given everyone.

Davis and Lyna had been an official couple ever since she was a fourth year and he was a sixth. They'd dated all through Hogwarts, and the relationship had turned progressively more and more serious as the years went by. Everybody expected them to get married sooner or later, including Carolyna herself, Em knew. It was just a matter of when Davis would pop the question.

So imagine what a devastating shock it had been when late last year, out of the blue, Davis broke up with Lyna. Lyna had managed to hold herself together long enough to Apparate to Emerson's flat, where she'd promptly gone into hysterics. She'd been crying so hard that Em had feared she would choke, and it was only after giving Lyna a powerful calming tea that Em had been able to find out what had happened.

Apparently, Davis had just dropped it on her that he thought they should see other people. She'd asked if he was breaking up with her and he'd said no, yes, I don't know. It was just that they'd been together since they were practically kids and how could they be sure that this was the right thing if they'd never had any other dating experience? That he didn't want to hurt her but he needed to see what else was out there and he hoped she understood.

"How could he do this to me?" Lyna had sobbed into Emerson's shoulder. "I loved him. Oh God, I love him so much!"

Emerson had been seething, even as she tried to hold back her own tears at the pain that her friend was in. She needed to be strong for Lyna, and somehow she'd managed to comfort her heartbroken friend and get her to sleep after a strong dose of Sleeping Draught.

Then, her rage consuming her, she'd Apparated to Davis's flat and rung his doorbell. The instant he opened the door, Emerson had slapped him across the face with all the force she could muster. As he'd staggered backwards in shock, she had gotten right in his face, shouting for the entire hallway to hear that he was a stinking, yellow-livered, chickenshit bastard, among the more printable labels.

"That girl," Em had said, trembling with fury, tears streaming down her cheeks now, "was the best thing to ever happen to your stupid arse, and if this is how you treat her, you don't deserve her. But she loves you. She loves you, Davis, and you had better be prepared to crawl on your hands and knees and beg her forgiveness! I don't care if it's through pouring hail or burning coals, you will crawl to her, you will kiss her feet. Because, and you know this is true, you will regret what you've done. You will want her back. And because she loves you, she will take you back. And I swear to God, Davis, if you ever hurt her again, I will kill you. I will kill you."

He had looked at her with his startlingly dark eyes, the imprint of her hand gleaming scarlet across his pale cheek. "I believe you."

"Good," she'd said, and she'd spun around and strode away, ignoring all the curious faces that were poking out of open doorways to peer at her.

Watching the couple now as they sat side by side, practically on each other's laps, Emerson couldn't help but smile. There was something so reassuring about them, something that made her believe that there was hope for the other people in the world who were still searching for that special someone. Part of the reason why Davis and Lyna's breakup had shocked her so much was because she'd come to view them almost as an absolute. Almost like the relationship between her own parents. It was like, if Davis and Lyna couldn't last, what chance in hell did anybody else have? What chance did she have?

She had been very distressed upon leaving Davis's flat. Once in a properly secluded spot, she'd gathered herself and Disapparated and it was only when Brandon's voice reached her that she realized that she'd unconsciously Apparated to his place. But instantly, she'd known that she couldn't have gone to a better person. If anybody could understand, it would be Brandon. She couldn't go to her parents, not with this, and certainly not to Lyna's parents. Uncle Remus and Aunt Tonks would probably overreact, while Lyna and her sister, Annamaria, had never been particularly close.

And somehow, the thought of going to her then-boyfriend for this comfort didn't cross Emerson's mind at all.

But Brandon... he knew all parties concerned and could really get why Lyna's pain upset Em so much. She had cried in his arms and ranted some more, and he'd patted her back and listened, like the friend that he was; like the friend that she'd needed at that moment.

Both men worked at the Ministry of Magic and over the next few days, Brandon would tell Em about how horrible Davis was looking. Em had scoffed and said it served him damn right, it was his own fault, and it was surely nothing to how Lyna was suffering. The poor girl could barely leave her bed without dissolving into tears and hadn't eaten properly in days.

Just as Em had predicted, within a week of the breakup, Davis was owling Lyna, saying how sorry he was and begging to see her. Her pride wounded, Lyna had held out for a full week before she gave in, and they'd made up nauseatingly quickly. Davis had explained that he'd just been terrified by the depth of his love for her and he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life and how could he feel so strongly about one woman, he was only twenty-three, but he was just such a fucking idiot and could she please, please forgive him and would she marry him?

Of course Lyna had said yes and they'd eloped on Valentine's Day, to the consternation of both their families. Aunt Tonks, in particular, had been very disappointed. She'd been secretly planning Davis and Lyna's wedding for years.

"So you'll never believe what old Warezell said today," Brandon was saying, his brown eyes twinkling.

Em smiled as she took a sip of her pumpkin juice. Brandon worked for the Department of Magical Games and Sports as a liaison between all the international Quidditch teams. It was the perfect job for him, incorporating his love of the game, as well as for travel and his fluency in multiple languages. Em knew he loved his work, but his boss, Timon Warezell, was quite something else. Warezell was this very old warlock who seemed to mix up words more and more as time went by, making for some hilarious anecdotes.

"What'd he say this time?" she asked.

Brandon was already laughing at the memory. "Well, you know we're having this problem with those folks from the former Eastern Bloc? They keep sending us these long letters written in their native languages, even though they all read and write English well enough. Anyway, there's this particular letter that we were expecting from Romania, and it was a very important one, too.

"So the letter arrived and Warezell opened it. Immediately he started swearing and brandishing the parchment around, cause of course the Romanians had written it in their language. He started threatening them, and we're all sitting there feeling slightly alarmed, cause he looked pretty damn ticked off. And then he said-" Here Brandon adopted a deep, croaky voice, an eerily accurate imitation of an old man. "He said, 'That does it! They've misunderestimated me for the last time!'"

The table exploded in gleeful laughter, setting a rollicking tone for the rest of the hour.

"Well, at least he only speaks one language," Em commented, giggling. "If it were you, Brandon, for instance, you'd be mixing up several tongues in one sentence."

Davis snorted. "Or Klingon."

Em had a Muggle entertainment center at her flat and the four of them, as well as assorted other friends, had spent many a Saturday night drinking beer and guffawing over the Monty Python and Star Trek collections that her Grandpa Granger had gifted her. Brandon, in particular, had really enjoyed the timeless BBC comedy.

"No, make that the Gumby language from Monty Python," he said now, laughing. He sat up straighter, looking harried all of a sudden. "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise, surprise and fear, fear and surprise. Our two weapons are fear and surprise and ruthless efficiency!"

Emerson laughed so hard that she snorted pumpkin juice out her nose, which cracked them all up even more. The four friends laughed and chattered in easy companionship as they ate their meals, Davis and Lyna occasionally feeding each other, and Em found herself thinking how lucky she was to still be so close to these people. The past few years hadn't made it easy to maintain these connections, what with her being at school, Brandon and Davis working at the Ministry and Lyna teaching at Woodlands.

While she did, of course, have many friends at Uni, there was just something about retaining old friendships. Something comforting, almost nostalgic, because these were the people she'd grown up with, the ones who knew her best. Especially Lyna.

And even Brandon, she thought, watching the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed at something Lyna was saying. Far from the boy who had once thoroughly annoyed her, he was now one of her closest friends. They hung out together quite often, going to Quidditch games, and he was her jogging partner as well.

Emerson found herself wondering what it was about him that made her feel so comfortable. Maybe it was because he was always so dependable; he just seemed to always be available to her. With his lean six foot two frame, thick, brown hair that he'd taken to wearing in a longish, shaggy style, and brown eyes, he fit the definition of "tall, dark and handsome" quite well. He had a strong, straight nose and a well-shaped mouth that was almost always curved in some semblance of a smile or grin, mischievous or otherwise. He was good-looking, athletic and funny.

He is, isn't he? So how come he doesn't have a girlfriend?

Em frowned at the thought. She was always trying to set him up but he'd never really answered that particular question whenever she'd asked. Oh he dated, sure, but rarely more than three times with any one person and she knew it wasn't the women. He'd dated friends of hers who'd told her that he was the one who'd broken it off. How could that be? He was usually so open; at least with her, anyway. She always felt like she could share anything with him, just as she could with Lyna. He could make her laugh, even when it was the last thing she wanted to do, and she was just so happy that they'd become friends. He was a good one to have. So why-

"Hey, Em, ever heard of the band, Phantom Planet?"

She looked over at him. The two of them shared a deep musical appreciation, with very similar tastes, and as a result were always swapping albums. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"There's this album of theirs I'm looking for, but I haven't been able to find anywhere," he said, spearing a piece of pie with his fork. "It's called The Guest, and for some reason, nowhere I've looked has it, even though they have all the other Phantom Planet albums."

"I'll keep an eye out for it," she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "They're an American band, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'll be over there in a few weeks for school, anyway." She paused. "I still can't believe I'm going to Harvard."

There was a sudden silence around the table for a minute before Lyna reached over and squeezed Emerson's hand. "But this is your dream come true, isn't it?"

Em nodded, feeling her eyes prickling. "Yes, it is. But I don't want to leave you lot!" The men were staring at their plates, while Lyna looked on the verge of tears and Em suddenly didn't want ruin their lunch by being somber. Wiping her eyes, she took a deep breath and turned to Brandon. "Hey, you still have my Bob Marley Legend disc, don't ya?"

He adopted an innocent look, though his eyes were oddly blank. "I don't think so, no. You lost it?"

"I haven't lost it, you thief. I lent it to you. And I want it back."

He grinned lopsidedly. "Fine."

When they'd all finished their slices of apple pie and leaned back contentedly in their chairs, Davis glanced at his watch and grimaced. "Shit. The hour's up already."

"Already?" Lyna pouted, snuggling up to her husband, who put his arm around her and kissed her forehead. "I don't want you to go."

Davis looked adoringly into her eyes. "I don't want to go, either. But only about four more hours and then I can come home, okay?"

"Four hours. That gives me some time to get ready, then."

"For what?" the ash-blond wizard asked, sounding eager.

Lyna gave him a coy smile. "That's for me to know and you to find out, isn't it, Mr. Chapman?"

"Right you are, Mrs. Chapman," Davis responded, leaning in to kiss her.

Brandon rolled his eyes and stood up. "For God's sake."

Em grinned, elbowing him. "Isn't it sweet? Young love." At his irritated look, her grin widened. "Aww. Is poor Odie jealous?"

"I'm not jealous," he snapped, frowning at her, and something in his eyes made her look closer but it vanished before she could decipher what it was. He looked away. "Let's go, loverboy."

Davis and Lyna disentangled themselves reluctantly and stood up. Brandon laid some money on the table and strode away; Em watched him go, feeling startled. Was it something she'd said? What was it that she'd seen in his eyes? She worried her bottom lip as she waited for her best friend to leave off nuzzling Davis, then waved a distracted goodbye to him and Brandon, who had already walked away.

The two young women walked in silence for a moment, Lyna with a blissful smile on her face and Emerson with a frown. Now that she thought about it, Brandon always seemed irritated when Davis and Lyna displayed affection, which made no sense. Why should it bother him? The Chapmans (it still felt weird to Em to think of Lyna as a Chapman!) were married, and newlyweds, at that. It was natural for them to want to express their love all the time.

The four of them had always gotten along very well, and Brandon didn't seem to have a problem with Davis. It was only when-

Em's frown deepened at the thought that suddenly occurred to her, and she had to consciously will herself not to stop dead on the sidewalk. Could it be that Brandon had feelings for Lyna? Could that be why he was always scowling whenever the four of them got together and Davis and Lyna would get all cuddly and kissy? Could that be why he never allowed himself to date any one person long enough to establish a relationship?

"What're you thinking about?" Lyna asked suddenly, startling Em from her thoughts.

She adopted a nonchalant expression before looking over at her friend. "Uh, what?"

Lyna's eyes softened and she touched Em's arm. "How're you? I've been meaning to ask but keep getting distracted. But with, y'know, your impending move and on top of that, you and Jack breaking up. You all right?"

Em shrugged. "Sure. I'm fine. That was a good two months ago, anyway."

She hardly thought about Jack Crenshaw these days, even though they'd dated on and off for almost two years. They'd met at Excalibur, and he'd quickly charmed her. He was model-worthy gorgeous and lots of fun. Everybody kept telling her how good they looked together, and although he'd dropped out of Uni to pursue a modeling career, they'd stayed together. For a time, she'd even wondered if they wouldn't end up getting married, though the thought always made her vaguely uneasy and would always be quickly banished. They'd dated on and off through her three years at Excalibur, but just before graduation, Emerson had really examined herself and realized that her relationship with Jack wasn't working for her, not anymore. The breakup had been rather difficult because Jack hadn't wanted to let her go, making it more painful for them both.

"Yeah, but still," Lyna said, looking worried. "You two were pretty hot and heavy. Something like that doesn't go away that quickly."

"I'm fine, Lyna," Emerson replied. "Really."

Her friend still looked skeptical, but how could Em explain? She didn't miss Jack. She hadn't loved him, she realized now, and maybe she hadn't really known him all that well either. He was always traveling, on one modeling assignment or the other, and although she'd gone with him to a few locations, most of the time they were only together on weekends. Hell, she'd spent more time with her Uni friends, Lyna and Brandon than she'd spent with her own boyfriend.

Apparently giving Em up for a lost cause, Lyna changed the subject. "Have you gotten a gift for Marc and Marissa yet? Their birthday party's tomorrow."

"Yeah, I found this really cool vintage clothing store on the West End near my flat that I think Mari will like," Em replied, relieved for the change of topic. "I got her a gift certificate. And Marc? Well, anything with alcohol in it will do, right?"

They both laughed. Marc Weasley was notorious for his love of alcoholic beverages of all kinds, and he had a very high threshold as well. The Weasley twins' parties were always rousing fun, and Em was looking forward to the bash to be held the next day. It would be a good time to say goodbye to any far-flung friends as well, before she left for Boston in two weeks' time.

"-still need to pick up something," Lyna was saying.

Em nodded distractedly, having spied a dusty, old record store tucked away between a dry cleaner's and a coffee shop. She grabbed her friend's hand. "Let's go in here."

"Why?"

"I thought I'd look for that album Brandon was talking about," she said. "It sounded like he really wanted it."

And I really want to find it for him.

The thought startled her and Emerson wondered why she suddenly felt like the disc, if she could find it, would be a peace offering of sorts. She hadn't done anything wrong. Had she? She'd just been teasing him, in that same old good-natured way that they both teased each other all the time. Why had he reacted that way, and why did the thought that she might have upset him bother her so much? Perhaps because they were such good friends but, for that same reason, it shouldn't be weighing on her as much as it was. With as close a friendship as the one between her and Brandon, surely a minor misunderstanding wouldn't threaten the entire substance of what they had.

Could he really have feelings for Lyna, and why did that thought make her so uneasy?

She just needed to talk to him, that's all. She would ask him and he would answer. They could tell each other anything, and she didn't want anything to ruin what little time she had left with her friends. Really, they could talk about anything. Couldn't they?

******

If asked to pinpoint the exact moment in time that he'd fallen in love with her, he knew he would never be able to dredge up a memory. But strangely, he remembered when it was that he knew beyond a shadow of any doubt that he was completely, hopelessly, irreversibly in love with her. He must have been falling steadily, silently, obliviously all along until that second of startling epiphany.

He'd been in his final year at Hogwarts, Keeper and Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and she'd been a fourth year. She'd been on the team too, her first year as a Chaser. Though based on how well she played, if he hadn't known better he'd have sworn that she'd played the position a lot longer than that.

But the day, or rather the evening, that his eyes were opened once and for all, the team had just returned from one of his mandatory Quidditch practices. Gryffindor would be playing Slytherin that weekend and he was determined to get over that last, humiliating loss to the green and silver team. Not only that, but he had a legacy to uphold. Gryffindor had to win the Cup again this year - no ifs, ands or buts about it.

It was strange how he couldn't recall one word of the conversation he'd been having, or even who he'd been talking to, when he'd happened to look over at her. But he remembered that she'd been standing by the fireplace talking to her brother and maybe it was the firelight dancing on her long, jet black hair. Maybe it was the amusement in her stunning forest eyes as she'd listened to Ben. Perhaps it was the smudge of mud on her cheek, souvenir of the muddy pitch they'd just left?

Whatever the cause -- did it matter -- just like that, he knew. He loved her. Truly, utterly, madly. His eyes had widened at the realization and his heart had begun hammering frenetically against his sternum. A strange ringing erupted in his ears as he'd stared at her, and perhaps she'd felt his gaze because she suddenly looked up straight at him and smiled.

"Hey, Brandon! Good practice," she called.

He remembered having to swallow very hard before he could speak. "Yeah. You too, Em!"

And he'd lain awake in bed that night and cursed fate for its terrible timing.

He cursed fate for its lousy timing, still. That is, when he wasn't cursing himself for being a coward. He was pathetic, a twenty-four year old bloke, in love with the same girl for more than seven years and had yet to so much as give her a more-than-friendly peck on the cheek.

"Now, wait a minute, there. I have, that though," Brandon said aloud to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Aren't we forgetting Christmas of that year, at Hogwarts?"

"Um, no, seeing as how I wasn't there," his mirror replied snarkily.

Brandon scowled. "Shut it. I wasn't talking to you."

Why was he arguing with his mirror, anyway? He was already late for Marc and Marissa's birthday bash. Though, knowing the twins, the party wouldn't be kicking off until at least an hour after the printed start time. 'Fashionably late' was the Weasley twins' catch phrase.

But she was going to be there and he couldn't wait to see her, even though he'd seen her just yesterday for their weekly lunch with Davis and Carolyna. Which had ended on a rather sour note for him, but he didn't want to think about that right now.

He couldn't wait to hear her laughter, to greedily gulp the fragrance of her hair. To wish he had the guts to walk up to her and press his lips to hers and thus experience, for the second time in his life, what heaven surely felt like.

Because God knew the first time had been celestial.

The Gryffindor common room seemed to be even noisier and more crowded than usual as the annual House Christmas party entered its swinging stage. Perhaps it was because almost every resident of the house had invited someone from another house and almost every invitation had been accepted. Gryffindor was well-known for throwing spectacular bashes, after all.

But when he turned around, Emerson was gone.

She'd never ever brought up the mistletoe incident and being the coward that he was, neither had he. Their friendship had continued on relatively normally and they'd become rather close friends. It was as if he'd unconsciously decided that if he couldn't be with her the way he wanted to be, he could at least be someone she could always trust and count on to be there for her.

She seemed to think he was. At any rate, over the years, she'd frequently come to him with sensitive subjects, like ranting about her boyfriends. And he'd listened as best he could, trying hard not tip her off as to how much it hurt. He hated every one of those men, burning with jealousy that they were the ones who got to hold her hand in public, to kiss her (and more?) in private. They were the ones on whom her beautiful smiles were mostly directed. They were the ones that she cried over when they bruised her heart, leaving him to feed her strawberry daiquiris and jokingly (she thought) offer to break their legs with well-placed hexes.

"I'm so glad we became friends, Brandon," she'd said once, after her last big breakup, with Jackass, erm, Jack. "It's like having a male girlfriend, know what I mean? Like a male Lyna."

"Yeah," he'd managed, even as his heart screamed at him to tell her that he didn't want to be her 'male Lyna'. He wanted to be her man.

But the timing was wrong, as usual. She'd just come off the painful ending of a two-year relationship with that Jack Crenshaw bloke. It had seemed extremely intense and, for all intents and purposes, things had been going great. It had come as a surprise to Emerson's family and friends when she'd broken up with Jack and Brandon got the feeling that, so far, only Carolyna knew the full reason.

If he'd been getting his hopes up (he told himself that he wasn't, but he was full of shit), they'd been very quickly dashed again. A few days after her graduation, while having dinner at Ballynore, she'd announced to her extended family that she'd been accepted at the prestigious Muggle university, Harvard, in the States and would be leaving in under a month to pursue her doctorate in Veterinary Medicine.

Of course he'd known about her dream of attending Harvard, but somehow, he hadn't thought it would actually happen, at least not so soon. He'd managed to overcome his stunned disbelief to join everyone in congratulating her but that night, he'd lain awake in his bed for hours, wondering if this was how it would be for the rest of his life. Would he forever pine after her while she flitted on and about, living her life, oblivious to the fact that she held his heart?

As he stared at his depressed-looking reflection in the bathroom mirror, Brandon sighed, closed his eyes for a second, then he forced himself to finish his preparations. Upon checking his appearance again, he gathered himself and Disapparated, arriving in the living room of the flat that the Weasley twins shared.

"Hey, look who decided to show up!" exclaimed Marc Weasley. "Good of you to come, Wood."

Brandon grinned, glancing at his watch. "Party hasn't even started, has it? Seven o'clock sharp, my foot."

"You know how it is... women and needing an extra hour to get the leepsteek on just right," Marc drawled lazily, nodding his head in the direction of his sister, who came into the room carrying a bottle of champagne.

"Shut up, arsehole," Marissa said just as lazily. She smiled when she saw him. "Hello, Brandon."

"Marissa," he said, walking over to peck her on both cheeks. "You look great." She did. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail and she was wearing a stylish halter-top and a short, pleated skirt that showed off her long legs. Once upon a time, that sight would have had him trying to discreetly hide his body's reaction to her, but those days were long gone. He was glad they were no longer together but extremely grateful that they were still friends. Marissa was a great girl, just a bit too high maintenance for his taste. Besides-

"Hey, Brandon."

The voice sent tingles racing up and down his spine as he turned to face her. And his breath died in his lungs at what his eyes beheld. She could put any woman to shame -- those almond-shaped green eyes, those cheekbones, that nose. Those full, red lips that he knew from cherished memory were as soft and sweet as they looked.

Tonight she was wearing a pair of snug jeans that rode impossibly low on the swell of her hips and a clingy, deep green cashmere jumper that highlighted her eyes. The low rise of her jeans offered a tantalizing glimpse of her smooth, flat stomach, which made his blood roil. Although he'd seen her stomach often enough -- they were jogging partners after all -- something about this outfit made that slight sliver of skin almost unbearably sexy. Her long, luxurious hair framed her face and flowed down her back, and her skin glowed. She was radiant. She was beautiful.

"Hey, Em," he said softly, sure that anybody with eyes could see that he was absolutely, completely smitten with this woman standing before him.

And he found that, all of a sudden, he didn't care. He didn't care who knew. He wanted them to know. He wanted her to know. Maybe it was desperation, knowing that she would be leaving in a scant two weeks, moving to an enormous and vibrant land, the land of her birth. Maybe it was the knowing that soon she would be out of his reach, and available to any bloke with the guts, unlike him, to go up to her and tell her the honest truth that she was breathtaking. He wouldn't be there for her to go jogging with, among other things. He wouldn't be there to explore antique markets with, arguing with the vendors about the prices of their wares. He wouldn't be there to help her whip up the weird alcoholic concoctions that they laughingly created, consumed, and reaped the digestive consequences thereof. Not anymore.

Maybe it was the knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop her from coming back home with some bloke in tow, introducing him as her boyfriend, or worse, her fiancé.

He'd wasted seven years. Or had he? In those seven years, he'd become her trusted confidante, her partner in crime, her best friend, only slightly below Carolyna Lupin Chapman. And she had become his. But he'd let her go on thinking, as he'd told her all those years ago, that she was "safe".

"Marissa is who you want so why flirt with me?" she had asked, in bewilderment, on that long ago evening.

"Because you're safe," he'd answered, and had gone on to explain that he just liked taking the mickey out of her, that he didn't think of her that way. Well, he hadn't been lying. At the time that he'd spoken those words, they had been true. But it had not been the truth for a long, long time now, and wasn't it time for that new truth to come to light, before it was well and truly too late?

But the party got underway and it was the same old thing. How could he spring something like that on her, when she seemed to be having so much fun? He watched her laugh and chatter with everyone, himself included. He watched her dance, even danced with her himself, admiring the way she moved, the way she sang along to those songs that she knew, which seemed to be all of them. Once or twice, he thought he got the feeling that she was about to ask him something heavier than the party atmosphere warranted, but he quickly dismissed them as feeble wishings on the part of his desperate mind.

Eventually, he found himself sitting alone on one of the couches, absentmindedly nursing the same beer he'd had for an hour, hating himself for being weak. The fear of the loss of what he had with her now, incomplete though it may be, was enough make him hold his tongue still, just as he had been holding it for so long, and the self-disgust welled up in his throat like bile.

A new song began, pounding drums, two or three guitars blending seamlessly with the bass, creating a lush, full sound that he might have enjoyed more if he hadn't been so miserable. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was acknowledging the words of the male singer.

Everyday I wake up and it's Sunday
And whatever's in my eye won't go away
The radio is playing all the usual
And what's a wonderwall anyway?

Because my inside is outside
My right side's on the left side
Cause I'm writing to reach you now
But I might never reach you...

That was him. Emerson Potter had him all messed up. His insides were outside, his right on the left, and all that. Except he knew that, unlike the singer, he never would reach her. At least the singer was writing in the first place, whereas he couldn't even pick up a fucking quill. What a disgrace to the name of Gryffindor-

He couldn't stand it anymore. Jumping up, he dumped his half-full bottle in the rubbish bin and shrugged into his coat. He paused long enough to say goodbye to the twins, claiming that he was completely knackered, you know how it is, and hey, happy twenty-fifth birthdays!

His smile faded as soon as he turned away from them and he'd almost reached the Apparation spot when he heard her voice and froze.

"Hey, you leaving already?" she asked, sounding concerned.

Brandon turned around and forced a smile. "Yeah. Need to get some sleep. Guess I was more tired than I thought."

"Oh," she said, frowning slightly. She reached up to tuck a lock behind her ear and his stomach clenched. "It's just- remember that disc you were looking for? Phantom Planet, The Guest?"

She wanted to talk about music now? Couldn't she tell he was trying to leave? Couldn't she see how her very presence was causing him physical pain? "Yeah?"

She smiled with almost childlike delight. "I found it! In Muggle London, one of those used CD shops. It's at my flat. I meant to bring it here tonight, but I forgot. We could go get-" she broke off, as if recalling the reason for his imminent early exit. "Or I could give it to you next time I see you."

"No, let's go get it," he found himself blurting and swore internally. Great, let's prolong the torture, shall we?

Emerson smiled again. "Okay, let me just grab my jacket."

Within minutes, they were in her West End flat and she had hurried away into her living room. "It should be around here somewhere. Sorry about the mess."

He didn't care about the mess. He loved being in her flat, always had, because it meant he was surrounded by her - her scent, her colors, her books, her furniture, her stuff.

Her.

She was coming back with a plastic tote bag clutched in her hand. She was pausing at the low side table, fishing around inside it while jabbering on excitedly about how she'd just gone into the store on a whim, and there was the CD that he'd been looking for, the last remaining copy too, so she'd had to get it immediately, of course-

Almost of their own accord, his feet carried him to stand behind her. A part of him acknowledged how creepy it must appear, how stalker-like, as he just stood silently behind her, so close, breathing in the scent of jasmine from her hair.

She spun around. "Ta-da!"

Brandon watched her eyes widen slightly, obviously startled by his proximity, and then a part of him rejoiced in the fact that the emotion seemed to vanish almost as instantly as it'd appeared. She trusted him enough to not be alarmed. His head was screaming at him to step back, to not damage that trust by doing what he was about to do, to not be an idiot.

But he ignored it. Maybe she would hex him to kingdom come, and he knew she most definitely was capable, but this was a chance. This was an opportunity, away from all the noise and music and distractions, and if he let it go, he knew he would regret it to the end of his life. Before he could lose his nerve, Brandon stepped closer, dipped his head and kissed her.

The electric current that surged through his body at the contact had made his senses spike, it seemed. How else could he be so aware of her? Her lips were so soft, so warm; this was just as good as he remembered. Wait, no, scratch that - this was better. Because this time, the CD she was holding clattered onto the table. This time, her arms found their way around his neck. This time, she was the one parting his lips with her tongue.

And he was in heaven.

They broke apart, gasping, eyes wide, still clutching each other. Brandon scarcely dared breathe, fearing that she would recoil, would slap him silly, something. She did something, all right: she stood up on tiptoe and copied his bold action.

With that, whatever self-restraint he'd had left promptly vaporized and he was kissing her hungrily, greedily. His hands wandered through her silky hair as his lips left hers to nuzzle her neck. She moaned and suddenly they were stumbling to the couch in the corner. She was on her back, he was on top of her, their tongues dueling hotly.

Her hands under his shirt were driving him wild and as her nails grazed his skin, he surged almost painfully against his jeans. Groaning, he rained kisses over her face, suckled at her pulse point, caressed her smooth stomach.

"Oh God, Emerson. How I want you," he said in a strained whisper, more to himself than to her.

The slight hitch in her breathing told him that she'd heard him but her hands didn't pause in their travels over his skin. "Then take me."

Brandon froze. She hadn't said that. She didn't mean that. She couldn't possibly- "Don't tease me, Em," he said in a low, dangerous voice.

A hurt look flickered across her face. "Why would I tease you?"

He stared at her in disbelief for a long minute, scarcely daring to believe she could really want this. Could she-

"Are you sure?" he asked, hating the desperate hopefulness in his voice.

She nodded seriously, her eyes not leaving his. "It's crazy but right now, I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life."

He threw his arms around her and hugged her fiercely, whispering her name over and over again as joy swelled through his being. Why had he waited so long? If he'd known she would respond this way, he never would have suffered through all those years of painful silence.

But there was no time to berate himself for his earlier cowardice. She wanted him too, and he wouldn't let her wait. He knew that he couldn't. He kissed her again, almost reverently, and she began tugging on his shirt. He helped her pull it over his head and she kissed her way down his chest, making him break out in goosebumps. After divesting them of their shoes, he suddenly realized that he didn't want their first time together to be on a couch. No, this deserved a bed.

He stood up and took her hand, leading her to her bedroom. The sound of the door closing behind them seemed to jolt him back to reality and he was suddenly terrified. What if he wasn't any good? What if he couldn't please her? He was far from being a virgin and all of his lovers had more or less subtly praised his bedroom skills. But this was Emerson, the woman he loved, the woman he'd hungered after for so long. What if- what if she changed her mind?

"Conceptus Detentum," Emerson said softly, pointing her wand at her abdomen, and strangely, that put his mind at ease. Because if that didn't indicate that she was serious, he didn't know what would. "Well, I finally get to-"

Brandon kissed her, cutting off her words, and she kissed him back. He cupped her face and explored her mouth unhurriedly, before dropping his hands to lift the hem of her jumper. Gently, he pulled the soft cashmere over her head and the blood gushed even more to his lower body when he saw her breasts, encased in a barely-there black lace bra. He kissed her again as he unbuttoned her dangerously low jeans and pushed them down her shapely legs. She stepped out of them, leaving her clad now only in the bra and a tiny pair of matching lacy knickers.

Oh Merlin, she was so beautiful! Let him get through this without coming in his trousers like a randy schoolboy, please Zeus.

She made as if to unbutton his jeans but his hands grabbed hers.

"No, this is your time," he murmured, delighting in the blush that stole up her cheeks. It was the truth, just not the whole truth. But he couldn't exactly tell her that he was sure that keeping his pants on was the only thing preventing him from ripping the knickers off her and driving himself into her, could he?

They stretched out on her bed and he found that the slow pace wasn't enough for him anymore. Kissing her frantically, he undid her bra and beheld her breasts for the first time. Not wanting to wait, his hands skittered down her body and he slid her knickers off her too, his eyes lingering on the neat patch of black hair that covered her mound.

Brandon was overcome. His heart was hammering so hard he thought it might burst, and he had to stop. He had to lay his head on her stomach and will himself not to turn into a blithering mess. This woman, all of this beautiful woman, waiting for his touch, waiting for him.

After a minute, he raised his head and was surprised to see that she was flushing deeply.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

His heart sunk within him. She was backing out. He just knew it. "Why?"

She flushed even harder, if that was at all possible. "They're a bit small, I know."

The relief that she wasn't changing her mind was so intense that for a few seconds, he forgot that he didn't understand what she was talking about. And then his brow furrowed as he stared at her. They're- What- oh, her breasts?

"You're kidding, right?" he asked, incredulously. "They're perfect, Emerson. See how they fit in my hands?"

He cupped her pert, well-shaped breasts and she moaned as he caressed the soft masses, then gasped when he dipped his head to suckle the light brown peaks.

"Brandon," she moaned and he couldn't get enough of her.

He sucked her nipple into his mouth, released it slowly and went to the other one, licking and sucking and laving until she was breathing hard. His lips wandered to her smooth, flat stomach, down to her legs and he lightly kissed the soft skin of her inner thighs. Pulling her legs further apart, he opened the lips of her most intimate part and stared at the soft, moist petals of her flower, entranced. He couldn't believe he was doing this, that this dream was coming true. As if to convince himself, he dipped his head and tasted her.

She cried out, arching into his mouth and Brandon knew that nothing had ever tasted as good as she did, and nothing ever would. On a whim, he began tracing with his tongue the letters of the words he'd so longed to utter to her.

I... love... you...

She was moaning, writhing beneath him, her hands holding his head in place as his tongue flickered against and caressed her nub, her folds, probed her cleft, occasionally breaking stride to suckle her with his lips.

...so...

It was on the horizontal slash of the 'h' in 'much' that his name was torn convulsively from her lips and he tasted her anew. She trembled and sobbed and he couldn't wait another second. He had to be with her, right now. How he managed to rid himself of his jeans and boxers so quickly, he would never know. But the next thing he knew, he was naked and lying between her legs. He was gazing down into her beautiful face, flushed with passion, her hair spread out like a halo on her pillow. She shifted slightly, causing her wetness to brush against his tip and that was it.

Grasping her hips, he found her opening and entered her in one long, smooth motion. Starbursts exploded behind his eyes at the sensations, and his brain reeled. She was hot, she was wet, oh God, she was so tight. Somehow, through the dizzying Leonid shower in his brain, he registered her sharp intake of breath and small cry, felt her body tense. The eyes which had rolled back in his head promptly slid back into place and flew open.

He looked into her face and felt horror surge though his being. "Oh my God, Em."

Her eyes were watering, she was biting her lip and her face was scrunched up in pain. Oh Merlin, he had hurt her. He'd thought- he'd been sure she- why hadn't he asked her? Why had he just rammed into her like a mad dog without being sure?

"I'm so sorry! I thought you'd already- I thought-"

"It's okay," she whispered. "Just hold still for a bit, okay?"

Brandon didn't dare even nod, just stared at her wide-eyed as the implications of what had just happened began to dawn on him. He was her first. He was the one to take her virginity. Tears fell from his eyes and landed on her hair as he held her close, waiting for her body to adjust to him. Slowly, he felt her relax again but still he didn't move.

Emerson shifted beneath him, her hips bumping against his and he hissed.

"Em, don't do that." The wench just smiled and did it again and he groaned. She would be the death of him. "Emerson, I can't-" he managed through clenched teeth, trying to hold himself still, trying not to hurt her any more than he already had.

She kissed him softly. "It's okay. You can move now."

"Are you- oh God," he groaned as she jerked her hips sharply upward. Grasping her shapely bum, he pulled almost all the way out and slid back in, watching her face for any discomfort. But she only sighed and closed her eyes, her hands gripping his arms tightly, her hips angling to meet his downward strokes.

They set into a rhythm, almost as if they'd done it before and Brandon knew he wouldn't last very long. Determined to take her with him, he raised himself up, resting his weight on one elbow. His other hand drifted down to the junction of their joining and she jerked when he found her small bundle of nerves.

"Brandon, I can't-" she gasped, tossing her head on the pillow.

He stroked her firmly. "You can. You can, baby."

It was nearly killing him, but he kept his thrusts slow and shallow, trying to help her build as his fingers caressed the center of her pleasure. Her breaths began coming harsher and her hips tried to move faster.

"Brandon, please," she moaned. "Please. Yes. Yes," as he increased the speed and depth of his thrusts, his fingers working her faster. Her nails were digging into his shoulders and he felt her muscles beginning to ripple along his length. He stroked her harder, thrusting deeper and she began crying out, her back arched, her walls tensing even more around him until she shattered with a scream.

She gripped him from within, flooding him in liquid heat, and at last he let himself go, pounding into her desperately as he kissed her, his lips absorbing her sounds, until he was the one helplessly crying out, sent tumbling over the cliff in her wake.

They clung together, trembling with aftershocks as they drifted a long while on that riotous sea before being washed aground on the soft sands of sated passion. Brandon's eyes cracked open to find himself looking into her green depths as he slipped out of her body. Her cheeks were wet with tears and he remembered. Feeling mortified at his own lack of sensitivity - how could he not have asked her something as basic as that - he reached out and touched her face.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you. I didn't think- it's just, I always thought... you know, you and Jack...," his voice trailed off lamely and he knew his face was burning.

Em laid her fingers lightly against his lips. "Really, it's fine. It would've hurt anyway."

"But still, if I'd asked-"

"It was going to hurt anyway, Brandon. But then-" her eyes softened as she gazed at him, "-you made it wonderful. I never thought it was possible for a woman to know pleasure the first time. I always thought, you know, that the discomfort would override everything else and-"

He kissed her, partly to shut her up because she was embarrassing him a bit, and partly because he couldn't resist. Their lips lingered softly and tenderly for a long minute before he gathered her into his arms and held her close.

Emerson sighed into his chest, her hand trailing along his arm. "And there I was thinking you had feelings for Lyna."

He pulled away to look at her in befuddlement. "What?"

She smiled a little. "It was just something I wondered."

"Why?" he asked, raising himself onto one elbow to look at her closely. What on earth could have given her such an idea?

"Well, I just noticed that you always got annoyed whenever Davis and Lyna would snog and cuddle and all that. I thought you had feelings for her, and that was why you didn't like for them to act like that. Like yesterday at lunch, remember?"

Brandon gaped for a second before chuckling as he lay back down and pulled her into his arms again. "Eww. I feel for Carolyna the way I would've felt for my sister, if I'd had one. Want to know why I always seemed annoyed, as you phrased it?"

"Why?" she said softly, peering into his eyes.

"Because I was jealous. Yeah, I know I said I wasn't, but I was. Not of either of them, but of them both." At her frown of confusion, he grinned. "I mean, I was jealous of them because they had each other to act that way with. And I wanted to be that way with you so badly."

She blushed. "Oh."

"And add to that," he continued, stroking her hair. "You'd just reminded us that you would be moving in a short while and I guess I was just a bit panicked that I would never get the chance to be that way with you."

They were quiet for a few more minutes before she spoke again. "You thought Jack and I had done it?"

Brandon hesitated, not wanting her to know he'd thought that much about her sex life. But why should he conceal it? They had now been together in the ultimate way in which a man and a woman could be together and he wanted to keep nothing from her. "Yeah, I did. I mean, you two were together for a long time. It just seemed very likely."

"I couldn't," she said quietly. "I just- it never felt right. Oh, it's not like I was some innocent little schoolgirl or anything. Before tonight, I'd done pretty much everything except intercourse."

His gut clenched at that and he felt a surge of jealousy ripple down his spine. That any other man had touched her, had tasted her juiciness, had suckled the firm girlish breasts that right now he couldn't resist reaching out and caressing.

But you're the one who got the real gift, don't forget.

The joy that washed over him at that thought had Brandon fighting not to whoop and he made himself listen to what she was saying, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"I just felt like I should wait. That wasn't the main cause or anything, but it was definitely one of the reasons why I broke up with Jack. He kept pressuring me, and I just- I wasn't ready. I wanted to wait, even though I didn't know who or what I was waiting for."

Her words hung in the air for a few seconds before her head jerked up suddenly and she gaped at him as if she'd only just realized he was there. "It was you," she said wonderingly.

It was me. She hadn't known it but she'd been waiting for me. His heart hammering within him, Brandon gazed earnestly into her eyes. "I love you, Emerson."

She didn't move, just kept looking at him, her mouth slightly open, her eyes clouded with a mass of emotions. His disappointment that she hadn't immediately repeated the sentiment back to him was fleeting, and he found that he didn't care. It didn't matter. He'd waited seven years for this. He could wait a little longer for her to sort herself out.

"It's okay," he said softly, stroking her cheek. "You don't have to say it back if you're not ready."

He watched her swallow hard as tears leaked out the sides of her eyes. "Make love to me, Brandon."

And he did.

*******
TBC
*******

End Notes:

a) The title "Writing To Reach You" and the lyrics in the story above are from the song of the same name by the band Travis. It's all theirs.
b) Harvard is obviously a real institution of learning, and no, I've never been there. So if my descriptions are off, my apologies. c) The word "misunderestimated" clearly isn't a real word but is a Bushism. That is, it was created by the mouth of President George W. Bush.
d) Monty Python and Star Trek are properties of their respective owners, as is the BBC.
e) Phantom Planet is a real (and kickass!) band, and they do have an album called "The Guest". And of course, so was the venerable Bob Marley. RIP, Bob. You still (and will always) rock!