Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed so far! I appreciate it very much, and especially Romulus Lupin (Argh! Your review had me nearly in tears!). Hope you'll also enjoy this installment and please review. The lyrics at the end are Travis, "Writing To Reach You". Many thanks to the fabulous Liss for the beta. Thanks.

II

Emerson Apparated into the foyer of her childhood home, listening to the familiar melody of the arrival chimes, and smiled to herself. There was no place like home, indeed. Even though she had her own flat, she always loved coming back to Ballynore. There was nothing quite like being with her family.

The living room was deserted and she headed for the family room, looking for someone, anyone. Her eyes lit up when she spied somebody lounging on the suede couch in the far left corner of the room. "Oh, hey!"

The young girl who'd been sitting on the couch, legs tucked under her, nose buried in a book, looked up and broke into a wide smile. "Emerson! What, is it nearly ten already?"

"No, Vina. It's actually after ten," Em replied, smiling at her baby sister. "Get your arse upstairs and get ready, will ya?"

Davina blushed. "Sorry. I just got caught up in this book. I'll be right down."

"Where's Mum?"

"In the kitchen," Vina replied, jerking her head in that direction. "I won't be long."

Grinning to herself, Em watched her sister hurry from the room, all coltish legs, creamy skin and freckles. Davina was going to be an attractive woman, with her almond-shaped hazel eyes and that glorious mass of auburn curls that Em knew her sister detested. Why, Em didn't know, but Vina was always begging Mum to let her straighten her hair. So far, their mother hadn't relented.

Speaking of Mum, Emerson badly wanted to talk to her. The events of the night before seemed so unreal now in the light of day that, were not for the aching soreness between her legs, Em would have thought it'd just been a strange and elaborate dream. But if it had all just been a dream, there would then exist the question of why she'd been having such highly erotic imaginings about Brandon Wood, of all people.

However, Em knew that, as her soreness attested, it hadn't been a dream. Everything that her mind kept presenting to her over and over again had really happened. She had slept with Brandon, had lost her virginity to him, had experienced pleasure beyond anything she'd ever known. She really had woken up to his arms around her, to the soft sound of his breathing.

And she had lain in disbelief in her bed for a full half hour, staring at his sleeping features and wondering why she wanted to scream, laugh and cry all at the same time.

As she headed towards Ballynore's expansive kitchen, Emerson's thoughts made her cheeks flame scarlet. Just thinking about what had happened had her body burning with hunger. She couldn't deny that she wanted him again, wanted him to make her feel the way he'd repeatedly made her feel last night. She wanted to experience him again, on her, all over her, within her. His lips, his hands, his-

Stop it. This is Brandon you're thinking about like that!

Emerson shook her head sharply and squeezed her eyes shut. God, she was so confused. How could it have been him? He was just her best friend, that's all. He was just her male equivalent of Lyna, whom she could talk to about anything. For goodness sakes, how many times, for instance, had she helped him pick out an outfit for a date he had? How many times had she whined to him about her boyfriends, and he'd just listened and made his funny remarks that made her laugh her way to feeling better?

Yeah, but he said he loved you, remember?

Her heartbeat accelerated as she recalled the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice when he'd said those words and Em found herself suddenly blinking back tears. She was so silly; why was it affecting her like this? He was just her friend. Wasn't he?

With a sigh, she leaned her head against the wall, trying to compose herself before she went into the kitchen where her mother was. She'd thought she wanted to talk to Mum about this, but now... what could she say? She wasn't even sure what was bothering her and why it did. How could she explain to another person, even someone as understanding as her mother, when she didn't even know how to sort it out in her own head?

No, maybe it was best to keep it to herself, at least for the time being. Maybe she would just stay here for a few days, try to muddle through her jumbled thoughts and emotions. She just had to come to terms with what had happened between them and what it meant for their friendship.

That morning, Emerson had written a note to Brandon before she'd left her flat, saying that she was going to be at Ballynore. She'd been planning to go home anyway, having promised to take her little sister shopping in Muggle London. But now she realized that it would be good to lay low with her family, get herself sorted out. There was surely no way in hell she would be able to accomplish that in her own flat, not with it having been the scene of the crime, so to speak.

Upon entering the kitchen, she saw her mother sitting in the breakfast nook, a cup of tea before her and parchments spread out atop the table. For a minute, Em stood in the doorway and stared at Hermione Granger Potter, one of the most brilliant minds to grace the wizarding world in centuries. Hermione was in her late forties now and Em sincerely hoped that she would look even half as good when she was her Mum's age.

Her mother glanced up suddenly and smiled when their eyes met. "Hey, there!"

"Hi, Mum," Emerson said, walking over to give her a peck on the cheek. "What's up?"

Hermione smiled. "Nothing much. You here for Vina?"

"Yeah, and as usual, I caught her entranced in a book with no idea what time it was."

Hermione chuckled, her brown eyes twinkling with pride. "That's Vina for you."

"I can't believe she's starting at Hogwarts this year. Wasn't it just yesterday we were bringing her home from St. Mungo's?" Em mused, feeling strangely old. She'd been ten years old when Davina was born, and naturally, that created a big difference.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Mum said, blinking rapidly for a moment, before taking a deep breath and smiling again. "Can I fix you something? Eggs, kippers?"

Em shook her head. "No, I already ate, thanks." She hesitated for a second, then blurted, "Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"What is it?" Mum said, pushing her parchments aside.

That was one thing Emerson loved about her mother - Mum gave you her undivided attention. Em took a deep breath, unsure of where to begin, before realizing suddenly that she couldn't. Not about this.

"Um, I was just wondering if you'd heard from that colleague of yours about the transliteration of my papers," she said instead, and mentally patted herself on the back. It wasn't a lie; she had been wondering about that. Most of her wizarding academic records that could be translated into a Muggle equivalent had already been successfully completed; otherwise she wouldn't have been accepted at Harvard, obviously. But there were still a few documents that, while not necessarily crucial, would make her transition much smoother. One of Mum's co-workers had promised to take care of the matter as a favor to Mum.

Hermione nodded. "Actually, I got an owl yesterday afternoon. Everything has been completed and he'll be sending the papers ahead to Harvard, as well as a copy to us for our records."

"Oh, good."

Mum was watching her shrewdly and Em looked away, pretending to examine the matching salt and pepper shakers across from her.

"Was there something else?" Mum asked softly, just as Davina sauntered into the room, shrugging into a light cardigan, her auburn curls pulled back in a low ponytail.

"Okie dokie," Vina said.

Em seized upon the chance to escape and jumped up. "No, that's it. Thanks, Mum." She smiled at her sister. "Ready to get some serious hardcore shopping done?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Vina intoned, grinning impishly as she mock-saluted.

"Snarky," Em replied. "See you later then, Mum."

Hermione's brow was furrowed slightly, the way it always did when she was puzzling over something, but she smiled. "See you later. Have fun."

The two Potter girls Portkeyed into London, then set out on a leisurely stroll through the vast city. With owning a flat on the West End and her time at Excalibur, Emerson had become pretty knowledgeable about the city, wizarding and Muggle alike, and she knew just where to take her sister for the best shopping and deals. They reused the customizable Portkey often, hopping from Camden Market to the Portobello Road Market in Notting Hill, then over to Chelsea to gaze wide-eyed at the snooty, reed-thin it girls in their snazzy sports cars around Kensington High Street.

"Don't they ever eat?" Davina whispered, staring at an impossibly thin blonde who was prancing towards them in a pair of just as impossibly thin high heels.

Em grinned and tugged her sister away. "I'm sure they do, just not very much. But speaking of eating, wanna go to Fifteen? The trattoria has great lunch stuff."

Davina agreed and before too long, they were seated on the rustic and relaxed upper storey of the popular restaurant, tucking into their steaming plates of tagliatelle.

"I always love coming here," Vina said with a sigh and Em smiled.

"Yeah, the food is pretty good here, isn't it?"

Her little sister colored. "Yes, it is. But also-" She hesitated a beat. "Well, Jamie is rather cute too, isn't he?"

Em's eyebrows arched and her eyes widened. Since when did her not quite eleven-year-old sister start thinking anybody was cute, much less Jamie Oliver? "Davina! He's old enough to be our father! Heck, he's older than our parents."

"I know that! I'm just saying..." Vina's voice trailed off and she reddened even more. "Actually, I have a crush on someone else, anyway."

Nonplussed, Em stared. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with my little sister? You're much too young to have crushes, Vina."

"Oh, sure, like you weren't crushing on Etienne when you were my age. Lyna told me."

"Th-that's different," Em sputtered.

Vina cocked an eyebrow, looking eerily like their Mum all of a sudden. "How so?"

Emerson rolled her eyes and sighed. "All right." Her sister beamed, and for a moment, they returned their attention to their meal before Em put down her fork again. "So who is he?"

Davina busied herself with her food, pretending not to hear. But her cheeks were flaming and with a grin, Em stepped on her foot under the table. "OW! What was that for?"

"Who's this bloke, then? That you're crushing on."

"It's Brandon, all right!" Vina burst out, mock-glaring at her as she reached down to rub her foot.

And in a rush, Emerson was awash with memories, emotions, glimpses of sensations. Brandon. One of the reasons why she'd taken her sister to so many places (Vina had thought they would only to go to Harrod's) was because she was trying to keep herself busy. If she was busy, she wouldn't have time to think about Brandon or about what had happened between them the night before. She'd succeeded only somewhat. After all, she and Brandon had visited most of the places that she'd taken Davina to, and her mind wouldn't let her forget that. Sometimes it'd been her and Lyna, other times the three of them together, or four if Davis came along. But more often than not, Brandon had been her partner in crime, haggling with the vendors in the markets, scoping out the trendy and not so trendy clubs and bars, whispering and laughing together as they people-watched.

But she'd repeatedly reprimanded herself, forcing her mind to focus on her sister, who would be the last one to leave the nest for Hogwarts. They deserved this time together and her intrusive thoughts had been more or less tolerable, until-

"-he's just so cute," Vina was sighing. "I just love his hair! So full and shaggy, like those surfer boys from California or Australia. And have you ever noticed his eyes?"

Yes, I have, Em thought. His eyes appeared brown from a distance, but up close, they were more hazel, glinting with flecks of green and gold. And the way he'd been looking at her last night, those eyes fringed with long, thick eyelashes... A tingle ran down her spine and Em forced her attention back onto Davina, who had become rather animated.

"I love how he doesn't talk down to me, just because I'm younger. He really listens to what I have to say." She paused. "Of course, it's just a crush. Not that I'd have a chance or anything, cause he's too old and besides, he's totally in love with you."

Emerson started. "What? Why do you think that?"

Vina shrugged. "Cause of the way he looks at you."

"How does he look at me?" Emerson couldn't believe she was asking her baby sister these questions. But it was as if her mouth had detached itself from her body and had decided to go its own way, ignoring any and all input from her muddled brain.

Davina bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. "The first time I noticed, I just thought it looked really familiar. But I couldn't place it. It was only a few days ago that I realized why it's familiar."

"Why?"

"Cause the way he looks at you is the way Dad looks at Mum when he doesn't know anyone is watching him watch her. And everybody knows our Mum and Dad are totally in love, right? So since Brandon looks at you the way Dad looks at Mum, it means he's mad in love with you, doesn't it? It's kinda dreamy and gross at the same time." Vina shrugged again. "It's not that hard to figure out."

Yes, it is, if you're as dense as I am. I had no idea he felt that way until last night.

How it must have hurt him to hear her talk about Jack and all those other blokes. And she'd been completely clueless... which was why her own response to his words and actions was so confusing. Why had she-

"Emerson?"

Em looked up at her sister, who was gazing at her expectantly. "Um, I'm sorry, what?"

Vina rolled her eyes. "I said, what's our next stop?"

"Oh, uh, well, I thought we'd just go to Harrod's, since that's where you wanted to go in the first place," Em answered, mentally kicking herself for letting her mind wander. Her sister deserved better. "What do you say?"

"Yeah," Davina said quietly, biting her lip before looking up and all of a sudden, fixing Emerson with a pleading puppy-dog look. "Em?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we get my hair straightened?"

"Why, Vina? If I had hair like yours, I wouldn't ever want it straightened. It's so soft and curly and lively!" Em exclaimed, reaching over to finger Vina's auburn curls.

Davina moved her head away impatiently. "Maybe so, but you don't have hair like mine. You have this." She gestured at Em's long mane of gleaming ebony waves and sighed wistfully.

She looked so mournful that Em had to try very hard not to smile. As she paid for their meal and stood up to leave, Em threw her arm around her sister's shoulders and hugged her. What could it hurt to grant her her wish? And besides, perhaps if Vina got what she thought she wanted, she might realize that it wasn't what she really wanted after all.

"Okay, we'll get your hair straightened. Temporarily."

Vina gasped, stopping short to gape at Em. "Really?"

"Really."

"Yes! Thank you, Em! Thank you! Thank you!" Vina cried, jumping up and down on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, acting once again like the almost eleven-year-old that she was. Then, a thought obviously occurring to her, she froze suddenly, her eyes wide. "But what about Mum?"

Em laughed. "Don't worry. I'll take the heat, if there's any. Let's go, then. One hair-straightening coming up. I know just the place."

Vina linked arms with her happily and they headed for the nearest alley so Em could change the destination on their Portkey and transport them there. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of amusement and delight, so that only when they arrived back at Ballynore did Em have a moment to recall her own inner turmoil.

Her sister's new look was met with mild exasperation from their mother and gentle pride from their father.

"Look at my baby girl," Dad said, grinning at Vina, who blushed crimson. "Of course you were just as beautiful the way you were, Vina. No need to change anything at all."

Mum huffed, shooting Em a look of chagrin. "Well, at least it's only temporary. You spoil her too much, Emerson."

Emerson smiled, watching her sister, who kept tossing her newly straight locks every few seconds as if unable to believe her good luck. "Everybody deserves to be spoiled every now and then, right? Besides, I won't be here to do that again for quite a while."

A sudden silence fell over the room before Davina burst into tears and launched herself at Em. "Oh, Emerson! I'm going to miss you so much!"

Em hugged her, smoothing the sleek auburn head. "You'll have missed all of us, anyway, since you're going away to Hogwarts, remember?"

"I-I know," Vina sobbed. "But you won't be here, like Mum and Dad and Ben. I love you, Em."

"I love you, too," Emerson whispered, blinking rapidly and looking up, she saw that both her parents were emotional as well.

"Oh Merlin, the estrogen bogeyman strikes again," muttered a lazy voice from the kitchen doorway. "Can't a bloke have a single day free from all these sob-fests and lamentations?"

Emerson and Vina raised their heads to glare at the speaker. "Shut up, Budget," they chorused.

Their parents exchanged an amused glance while Luke shrugged and yawned hugely, reaching up to scratch the back of his disheveled head. At nearly fourteen years old, he was tall for his age and very good-looking, with his curly brown hair and green eyes. And as was typical for teenage boys, he had a ravenous appetite, evidenced by the fat chicken and ham sandwich he held in his hand.

Mum fixed him with a beady eye. "Dinner is in an hour, Lukas."

"I know. This is just to tide me over until then," Budget replied, flopping down onto a chair. "Man, that party sure wore me out. I'm really glad you let me go, Mum and Dad, even if it was under the condition that Ben was the law unto me. It was great, though, wasn't it, Em?"

Er, I wouldn't know. I was too busy having my brains shagged out by my best male friend. "Um, yep, it was."

Luke chuckled suddenly. "Did you see when Marc tried to break dance on the coffee table? The best part was how hysterical Marissa got when the table broke. I thought she was going to pass out from laughter."

"Yeah, those two are always a lot of fun," Em said noncommittally, then hurried to change the subject. "Where's Ben?"

Dad answered. "He went to pick up some books over at Oxford. He should be back in time for dinner."

Something in their father's voice made Em look at him closer and she couldn't resist smiling over at him; he beamed back at her. It was clear to her that he was thoroughly delighted to have all his children home, albeit temporarily, and it always made her happy to see her father happy. If anybody deserved happiness, it was Harry Potter, and she was so glad that, for as long as she could remember, he had had mostly that.

They all set about getting ready for dinner, and once Ben arrived, they sat down to eat. Dinner passed leisurely and conversation flowed freely and easily, punctuated with bursts of laughter. They talked about everything and nothing, about Puddlemere's continued success, about Mum's job. They talked about who would be captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team now that Ben had left Hogwarts and when it was that Luke might receive that honor (he was currently a Beater). They talked about Davina starting her first year at Hogwarts, while Ben started his at Oxford, one of Mum's alma maters.

"It would've been awesome if you were going to Oxford too, Em," Ben commented, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "You know?"

She nodded, smiling at him. "Yeah. Like we were together at Hogwarts. If I hadn't discovered Harvard, I'd probably be at Oxford with you. But I know you'll be fine by yourself."

They all knew he would be. Ben was astonishingly gifted. Not yet eighteen years of age, he'd already graduated Hogwarts at the top of his year, with more N.E.W.T.S. than any other person in the history of the school (even his mother). And at Oxford, he was about to undertake not one, not two, but three majors all at once - English; Classical Languages and Literature; and Linguistics, Philology and Phonetics. Ben was in love with words, with the English language, always had been, and Em knew he would be thoroughly invigorated with and by his studies.

After dinner, they all helped clean up then sat around talking for a long time, just spending time together. Emerson was happy for the opportunity to be with them, not only for the invaluableness of this quality time with those she loved best in all the world, but because it kept her mind off her own problems. And once she was snuggled up warmly in her childhood bedroom, having assured her parents that she planned to stick around for the next few days, sleep mercifully claimed her very quickly.

She found herself wide awake just after dawn the next morning, however, and the day passed in somewhat of a blur. She didn't talk very much all day, which was extremely abnormal for her, and perked up a bit only when Lyna dropped by for lunch.

"I meant to come over yesterday but, um, well," Lyna stammered, her cheeks reddening and Em grinned.

"Say no more. But you're here now, so it's all good."

Her best friend smiled at her, then sobered. "Have you seen Brandon?"

Ducking her head, Em flipped her hair over one shoulder and pretended to examine it for split ends. "Um, no. Not since the night of the party. Why?"

"Oh, I just wondered. Marissa said he left rather early, saying he was tired. I wondered if he was all right."

Em looked up. "I'm sure he is." Her friend was eyeing her curiously and Em jumped up. "Wanna check out what Vina and I bought in London yesterday? Did you see her hair?"

"Yeah. She was curled up on the couch reading a book when I got here, and you know that thing she does with her hair? Twirling it over her index finger?"

"Yep."

"Well, I caught her frowning at her hair as she tried to twirl it."

Emerson laughed. "Really?"

Lyna giggled. "I think she's finding out that straight hair isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Or ironed out to be."

The two of them chuckled together as they headed up the stairs, and the rest of the afternoon was rather enjoyable for Em. Lyna graciously declined the invitation to dinner, since she and Davis had a date that would include a meal. Her good mood fading, Em sat down to eat, feeling a bit distressed. Something upsetting had just occurred to her and the more she tried to push it aside, the more it popped up.

Sighing, she forced herself to act as if nothing was wrong, but she could tell that her parents and siblings were shooting her concerned glances. Which she tried to ignore, because if she acknowledged them, she knew they would take it as permission to broach the subject.

It seemed to work but as they worked their way through some delicious pumpkin pie, Luke, apparently unable to bear it anymore, blurted, "You okay, Em?"

She looked up at him and managed a small smile. "Sure. Pass the whipped cream."

Her brother frowned but did as she'd asked. Nobody else spoke up for a time but as Em helped her mother put away the dishes, Mum said, "Is everything really all right?"

Em opened her mouth to repeat that sure, everything was absolutely spiffy but her mouth betrayed her. "Ye- no."

Mum nodded, not appearing the slightest bit surprised. "Want to talk about it?"

Em stared at her hands for a second before sighing and nodding. Her mother began to lead her to the kitchen table but Em didn't move.

"Could we, like, go in your office? I'd rather nobody overheard."

Especially not Dad. He would probably don his outraged and overprotective hat and I don't think I can handle that right now.

They climbed the stairs to the office, which Hermione locked and soundproofed before they both sat. "Okay, I'm listening."

Em closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hesitated, then blurted it out. "Two nights ago, I slept with Brandon."

"You mean you spent the night at-"

"No, Mum," Em interrupted impatiently. "I mean, I had sex with Brandon."

Her mother stared for a moment, her expression unreadable. "I see. So what's the problem?"

Em jumped up. "That's the problem! I slept with him, just like that. You know how I felt about my virginity. How could I just- I mean, for instance, Jack and I were together for two years and I never let him get that far. For a time, I even thought I would end up marrying him and yet, I wouldn't let him cross that line. But Brandon says he wants me and just like that I just-" She gestured limply. "I just give him me."

Mum was watching her thoughtfully and her voice was soft when she spoke. "Do you regret what happened?"

Em looked at her and shook her head. "No. And that's the weird thing. I don't regret it at all. It was wonderful; he was wonderful. I'm just so confused." She walked back to her chair and sat down.

"Okay, let's look at this rationally, see if we can't clear away that confusion."

Em smiled nervously. "I think I'm afraid to really look at it because I don't think I like what I think I'll see. Does that make sense?"

"Perfectly," Mum replied, her eyes soft. "What do you think you'll see?"

Em nibbled at a nail before answering, her eyes filling up. "That I'm incredibly shallow. I think I know what was bothering me." Wiping her eyes, she looked up. "Have you ever noticed that all my boyfriends seemed to more or less fit the Etienne Weasley mold?"

Mum frowned in thought before nodding slowly. "Various shades of blond hair, blue eyes. Yeah, well, except for-"

"Adam," Em supplied. "He was the odd one out."

Adam Levanan was her first real boyfriend. She'd begun dating him at the end of her fifth year at Hogwarts. He'd been in her year, but in Ravenclaw, a Prefect, dark hair and grey eyes. He introduced her to a great many things -- most of them sexual. Emerson's sixth year had been one of many sexual firsts for her. That was the year she let a boy touch her breasts and that other taboo place. That was the year she received her first orgasm from another person, and gave one back. At the end of that year, she received oral sex for the first time and returned the favor in the beginning of her seventh year.

That was as far as she was willing to go, and she'd thought it was that way for Adam, too. But after a while, he'd become restless, dwelling more and more on the fact that they hadn't done "it", and that "it" was the logical next step. Em had tolerated his whining and pressuring for a few weeks, but when he'd presented her with the ultimate cliché that boys had likely been springing on girls since the beginning of civilization, that if she loved him, she'd let him, Em had finally had enough.

"Well then, I guess I don't love you," she'd snapped, and promptly dumped his arse.

As far as Em was concerned, her body was her own and she was the only one who got to decide what she did with it and when. And she'd stuck stubbornly to her guns until two nights ago, when Brandon Wood had said in that strained, emotional whisper that he wanted her.

And she'd let him.

Which meant- could it be that, like Vina and her straight hair, what Em had thought she'd wanted, what she'd always gone for, wasn't what she'd really wanted after all?

"Do you know how Brandon feels about you?" Mum was asking.

Emerson's mind was whirling and she had to swallow hard before she could answer. "He said... he said he loves me." Her heart picked up its pace and her hands began to sweat.

"Do you believe him?"

Did she believe him? He wasn't the first bloke to say those words to her. She'd heard them more than a few times since she'd begun dating. But somehow, when Brandon Wood had said them to her, looking into her eyes as the sweat of their lovemaking faded slowly from their skin, something inside her had soared. Something about the fact that it was him saying those words had filled her whole being with light, had made her eyes overflow.

Had made her ask him to say it again with his body. And he had, again and again.

Feeling her eyes prickling, Em blinked rapidly. "I believe him."

Mum reached for her hand. "And do you love him?"

Tears rolled down Emerson's cheeks as the answer resounded in her head. She knew the answer, she'd known it all along, even as she'd wondered why she'd done what she had.

But how could it be Brandon Wood?

They'd known each other all their lives, sure, had overcome childish behaviors to become extremely close. He was the one she shared everything with, sometimes even before she shared them with Lyna. He was the one that she went to for comfort, oftentimes before the thought even occurred to her that she had the option to go to someone else.

How could it be Brandon Wood?

No, the question she should've been asking herself was how could it not be Brandon Wood? Even as her head had blundered about in the maze of confusion, her heart and her body had been standing in the clear. Because what had happened between them, that wonderful experience, would never have occurred otherwise.

"I love him."

The words left her mouth and with them went all her confusion and anxiety. It was as if saying them aloud had somehow released her, freed her up for the joy now gushing through her being.

"I love him," she repeated with wonder and conviction, and her mother smiled.

"I know."

"You do?"

Mum nodded, tears shining in her eyes now too. "I could see it so clearly between the two of you. How could I not, when you both reminded me so strongly of myself and your Dad before we had our own epiphanies."

Em hugged her tightly, smiling now. She couldn't wait to tell Brandon! She wouldn't wait to see him.

As if hearing the thought, her mother pulled away. "Have you talked to him?"

"Not since I came here," she said and frowned. "I asked him not to owl me. He's probably been worrying, wondering- I must go to him." She jumped up and hugged her mother again. "Mum, thank you so much."

"You're welcome. Now go."

As she hurried to her room to freshen up, her heart pounding with happiness, anticipation and a little fear, Emerson marveled at the absence of any uncertainty. She had never been more sure of anything than that she loved this man.

And soon, she would be telling him.

********

He'd awoken to find her gone and for a minute had been panicked that the night before had just been another blissful figment of his imagination. It wasn't as if he'd never dreamed about her before.

But as the fog of sleep cleared from his brain and he looked around, he realized that he really was in her bedroom, under her covers, stark naked. Surely he would be dead by now if he didn't have her permission to be here, like this? Wouldn't she have killed him with her bare hands, and upon hearing about it, wouldn't her powerful father, Harry Potter, have resurrected him for the sole purpose of murdering him painfully all over again?

So, no, he hadn't imagined it. He had been with her last night, had kissed her, touched her, made her cry out more than once. He had unceremoniously taken her virginity and no matter what she said, he knew he would always hate himself for how he'd taken her that first time. A woman that precious deserved something better than what he'd given her.

Without having to explore, somehow he'd known she wasn't in her apartment and upon reaching her living room, the note that zoomed into his hand confirmed his suspicions. His heart pounding within, he'd unfolded the parchment and read:

Brandon,

P.S. Don't forget your CD.

Brandon had gone back to his flat in somewhat of a daze, clutching her note and the CD that had started it all. For the next two days, he'd blundered about, torn between excitement that finally something had happened and cold terror that he'd ruined their friendship.

But he knew the thing that scared him most of all was the possibility of her telling him that she regretted what had happened between them, that she wanted to forget the whole thing and could they still be friends?

Every time that thought surfaced, Brandon would frantically reread her note, lingering on the line: ...I don't regret what happened last night. But then, like poisonous water snakes, the doubts would slither through the flood of relief. She hadn't regretted it at the moment that she'd written the note. What if she did now?

And as the second day drew to a close, a new thought joined the cadence inside his head: what if her staying away was because she couldn't bear to face him, too overcome with horror to look him in the eye?

Horror at what had happened; not necessarily at his looks or anything like that, because Brandon knew he wasn't unattractive. His experiences with women had taught him that much, though it certainly wasn't something he dwelled on. But in his travels for his job, he'd met plenty of women who eyed him appreciatively and more or less openly. Most of them were surprised to learn of the capacity in which he worked, oftentimes mistaking him for a Quidditch player, not simply a Quidditch department employee.

Sometimes he flirted back, sometimes he didn't. Sometimes he took them out for dinner and drinks, and if the woman was in agreement about the "no-strings attached" nature of the encounter and the mood was right, he might even sleep with them. And perhaps to make up for his dual-edged guilt -- guilt for "using" the women (which he always mentally scoffed at because the women were using him too, weren't they?) and guilt for cheating on Em (which was ridiculous, of course, because they weren't even together) -- he always gave his all to the physical aspect of the encounters. He always made sure to make the woman feel well cared for.

That was where it stopped, however. After that first time, when he'd woken up beside his date and she, being very impressed with the sex, had tried to get him to change his mind about the "no-strings" agreement, he'd made a point of always leaving before they woke up. He'd been able to let that first woman down gently, with no hurt feelings, but he'd rather not have a repeat of that event. Some of them might not be as understanding and he knew he had nothing to offer them.

Because, through no fault of their own, none of them was Emerson and she was the one who unknowingly had his everything. How ironic, then, that she had left before he woke up. Almost as if, like with he and those women, she had nothing to offer him.

"Stop it," he said aloud, reaching for the plate of reheated shepherd's pie on his desk. Thank goodness for his Mum because otherwise, he'd have starved to death those past days. His fridge was pretty much a disgrace to the name of the appliance as he'd been much too lethargic to venture out for groceries, and there was only so much takeaway a bloke could stomach.

But when he'd declined his mother's invitation to dinner at Woodhaven, she'd taken it upon herself to owl him two overstuffed baskets of what he'd missed. And of course he decided that there was no shame in being twenty-four years old and still having his mama cooking his meals.

Chewing absentmindedly on the last bit of carrot, Brandon banished the plate to his overflowing kitchen sink and took a long drink of water. When he put down his glass, he noticed the CD that Emerson had gotten for him and in spite of himself, he couldn't help but smile. Grabbing his wand, he gave it a few twitches and soon, the driving rhythm of "California" was echoing through the room. He closed his eyes for a minute, letting the music wash over him.

Upon opening his eyes, he sighed and glanced at his desk, which was overflowing with documents needing to be translated. Those pompous arses in the former Eastern Bloc were still up to their nonsense, even though all of them knew enough English to facilitate faster and easier communication for all concerned.

Instead, he had to first translate all their letters before the higher-ups could proceed. Not that he didn't enjoy what he did, but sometimes it got ridiculous. Funny how many useless spells wizardkind had invented over thousands of years (Cauldron-bottom calibration charm, for Christ's sake) and yet no one had bothered to make up one for rapid translations. Hmm, perhaps he should be the one to do that. But for now, he managed to force himself to focus for the first time in days and was soon absorbed in a rambling diatribe from the head of the Romanian Quidditch Department. Apparently, old Warezell had stepped on a quite a few toes with his last outburst.

Vaguely, he was aware of the soft guitar strains that signaled the beginning of another song but he wasn't really listening. He was near the end of the very upset letter from the Romanian Minister when somebody spoke, loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Hi, there."

Brandon jerked in alarm and whipped around. "Emerson! You scared the piss out of me!" How come he hadn't heard the arrival chimes?

"Sorry," she said softly, biting her bottom lip. As if hearing his unspoken question, she continued. "I used my key." She held up the key to his flat that he'd given her a long time ago. He'd forgotten that she had it.

Brandon stared at her, scarcely daring to believe that she was here. She had come back. She was here with him and she was so beautiful, wearing a knee-length denim skirt with a slightly frazzled hemline, an unzipped grey fleece jacket over a light blue tank top, and flip-flops. Her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looked the picture of casual elegance and he was suddenly aware of the fact that he had neither combed his hair nor shaved in two days and that, at not quite eight o'clock in the evening, he looked all decked out for bed in his flannel pyjama bottoms and plain, white t-shirt. His heart pounded in his chest and he knew it wasn't from fright.

For a moment they were silent, just staring at each other, and Brandon drank in the sight of her. He didn't know what to do, yet he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to hug her, to touch her face, reassure himself that she really was here. Oh God, he wanted to kiss her so badly.

"So, nice music," she said at last, gesturing at his stereo.

He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Yeah. Phantom Planet, The Guest."

She seemed to be trying not to smile. "It any good?"

"Yeah, it's great," he said, standing up and walking over to her. He stopped right in front of her, close enough to touch her but didn't. "I've been wanting it for a while now."

He watched her visibly swallow as her eyes darted across his face, lingering on his lips. She licked her own and Brandon had to will himself not to jump her. He was too uncertain of his standing to risk making a move. If anything at all was going to happen tonight, she would have to be the initiator.

She was breathing harder, he noticed, but still he didn't move and at last, when he thought he couldn't take the tension anymore, she began leaning closer. It seemed to take forever for her to close the distance between their lips but when they touched, they both jerked at the current that shot through their beings. The next thing he knew, they were kissing hungrily, their arms around each other and he was backing her into the wall. She pressed herself against him, her fingers in his hair, her tongue in his mouth.

They broke the kiss only for gulps of air before their lips were fused together again and Brandon groaned when he realized that one of her hands had left his hair to burrow inside his pyjama bottoms. Something in his head was screaming at him to stop everything immediately, that they needed to talk before things went any further. But the voice was drowned out in the rush of desire that flooded through his being as she began to stroke him. And as the passion surged hot and urgent between them, he was helpless to do anything but be consumed by the delicious fire.

Reaching down, he pushed her skirt up, his fingers bypassing her knickers to touch her. She was nearly dripping and she moaned deeply as he caressed her. Breathing harshly, she pushed down his pyjamas, freeing him, both her hands stroking him now.

"Emerson," he groaned as he lifted her right leg, giving him better access to her wetness. His middle finger slid into her and as his thumb circled her clit, she began to tremble.

"Brandon, please. Now," she whimpered, moving against his hand, her eyes dark with desire.

He kissed her as he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Pressing her into the wall, he pulled her knickers aside and began to enter her slowly. But she jerked her hips forward sharply, drawing him all the way in and he saw stars.

She began rocking frantically against him, her teeth grazing the skin of his neck. "Fuck me, fuck me," she pleaded, and how could he refuse her? He was nearly blind with his own hunger and desperation.

Gripping her hips tighter, he pulled away then slammed into her with a growl. It was hard and fast and vocal, both of them grunting and groaning like savage beasts. She met his every thrust eagerly, her head thrown back against the wall, her legs locked tightly around his waist. She was so hot, so fucking sexy, and Brandon couldn't stop kissing her as he pounded into her body, wanting her, needing her, all of her. It wasn't long before she began crying out his name as her body shuddered in his embrace, her walls greedily milking him so that he exploded forcefully into her welcoming warmth.

They slumped against each other, their breathing ragged and somehow, his legs managed to hold them up as they trembled against the wall. Finally, he slipped out of her and helped her stand. She leaned her head against his chest for a moment, breathing deeply as he dropped a smattering of light kisses over her damp skin. She cleaned them up with a wave of her wand and they fixed their clothes and sank down feebly onto the carpeted floor of his office.

As they regained their senses, Brandon felt the beginnings of an awkwardness creeping between them as the music continued to echo in the room. He didn't know what to say to ease the growing tension and an uneasy silence reigned for a few minutes.

Emerson was blushing, her legs stretched out before her as she fiddled with the hem of her skirt. She kept glancing at him and, after a few false starts, managed to speak. "So... thanks for letting me have that time alone. I just needed to, you know, figure things out."

He looked at her. "And did you figure anything out?" He hated the hopefulness in his voice but he couldn't help it. But surely what had just transpired meant that any decision she had made was in his favor? Didn't it? Unless it was a one-last-shag-for-the-road kind of thing...

"Yeah, I did," she said, but didn't elaborate.

He looked at her again. "What did you decide?"

"What do you think I decided?"

Feeling irritated, Brandon glared at her. She had no right to be coy, not after these past days of limbo that she'd held him in. As if realizing the same thing, she had the good grace to look abashed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I-I want to be with you, Brandon. What just happened between us wouldn't have if I hadn't."

Yes! Yes! Joy gushed through his being around that slight brain twister and his heart hammered harder than it had been doing just a few minutes ago. A small part of him wanted to be angry with her; he wanted to resent her for those two days, for all the panic and fear that he'd experienced. But how could he, when she'd just given him the one answer that he'd desperately been hoping for? She wanted to be with him. She didn't regret what had happened. He hadn't ruined their friendship.

Reaching over, he pulled her to him and she went gladly, clinging just as tightly to him as he was to her, both of them nearly giddy with happiness. He buried his face in her neck, breathing her in and thanking the gods for this blessing, for this dream finally coming true.

"I'm so sorry for making you wait," she murmured, her hands gently running through his thick hair. "I can be a bit of a doofus."

He smiled, pulling away to look into her eyes and she smiled back. They kissed tenderly, wonderingly, for a moment before hugging each other again.

Em sighed into his chest as he stroked her hair. "Can you believe it's us, together? If anyone had told me back in first year at Hogwarts that we would end up together, I think I'd have laughed my bum off."

"Now that would be a shame as it's a pretty cute bum you have here," he replied.

She laughed and he felt a rush of happiness. "Already acting like a boyfriend, Wood?"

"Why shouldn't I? I am your boyfriend, aren't I?"

She gazed at him in silence and his heart twitched painfully at the adoration in her eyes. "Yes, you are," she said finally, her voice soft. "And I'm your girlfriend."

My girlfriend. He kissed her again and she melted against him with a sigh, her arms encircling him to travel up and down his back. Brandon wished they never had to stop, that they could just stay there on his office carpet for eternity, exploring each other's mouth, her warm breath against his cheek, her breasts pressing against his chest. But gradually, the kiss wound down and they hugged each other fiercely, exhilarated and terrified all at once by this new direction that their friendship had taken.

It was a long time before either of them spoke. "We have lousy timing, though, that's for sure," Em said suddenly. "What with my going to America in two weeks."

Brandon froze, dismay crashing upon his head. How could he have forgotten that? She was leaving. She'd been planning it for months, years. But-

"You're still going to go?" he blurted, his eyes wide with anxiety.

She looked at him quizzically. "Yeah, I am. Everything's been arranged. Well, except for my packing but I have two weeks to do that. It shouldn't take that long, even."

He felt a glimmer of irritation. How could she be so blasé about it? They'd just gotten together and she was talking about her departure as if it didn't cause her the slightest twinge of distress.

"Well, the prospect of our being apart certainly doesn't seem to be bothering you any," he commented dryly.

She pulled out of his embrace and glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean? Of course it bothers me. But what do you want me to do, wail and carry on? That's not my style and you know it. We'll just have to make our way the best we can."

The words slipped out before he could stop them. "Or you could just not go." Ugh. Great going, dickhead.

She gaped at him in disbelief. "Please tell me you didn't just say that. You know how long I've wanted to do this, Brandon. I don't want to leave you. But I have to do this."

"Why?" he asked, sounding harsher than he'd intended. "I mean, I know why. But why Harvard? Why not Cambridge or Oxford? I know they have Veterinary programs too. I checked."

She was shaking her head. "I don't know how to explain it. I just- I must do this. If I don't, I know I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

The rest of her life. "How long do you want to be with me? I mean, how long do you see this, us, lasting?"

She looked startled by the question, her eyes wide. "How long do you want to be with me?" she parroted.

"To the end of my life and beyond. This is it for me," he said seriously, grasping her hands. "Do you know how long I've loved you?"

She shook her head, tears falling out of her eyes now to roll down her cheeks.

"Seven years. That's how long I've waited for this, Em. I don't know if I could stand being apart from you now."

"Come away with me," she said, her voice choked with emotion, kneeling beside him. "Come with me to America. I'm sure you can still work for the Ministry from there. We could work something out with them."

He shook his head, feeling frustrated. She didn't understand. "I don't think you get it. I want to marry you." At her shocked expression, he gave a rueful smile. "I know, I'm pathetic. We only just got together and I'm already talking marriage."

"You're not pathetic," she murmured, gazing at him with tears in her eyes. "I love you, Brandon."

He stared at her, the words he'd so longed to hear from her now resounding in his head. She loved him, she loved him-

"I love you," she said again and he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her all over her face, his tears mingling with hers.

She straddled him and he felt himself stirring again. Perhaps she felt it too, because she suddenly reached up and pulled her tank top over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra and his mouth was on her breasts before she could blink.

"Hold on," he whispered before Apparating them to his bedroom. They collapsed on his bed, kissing desperately. She flipped them over and wiggled out of her clothes before pulling his own off him. Kneeling between his legs, she grasped him and without any warning, took him into her mouth. Brandon nearly passed out at the sudden assault of sensations and he wondered fleetingly where she'd learned to do what she was doing so expertly. He found that he didn't want to know.

She sucked him while simultaneously doing something with her tongue and he yelled. "Emerson! Oh bloody fu-"

He pulled away from her maddening mouth and captured her lips greedily, kissing her as he pushed her back until she was lying on the bed. His mouth and hands wandered all over her body, kissing and caressing. His fingers found her again and her hips moved with him, her little sounds of need driving him mad. He felt her body beginning to tense around his fingers and pulled them away abruptly, smiling at her small cry of dismay.

Twice more he did that, bringing her to the edge but stopping before she could topple over. She was nearly sobbing with want, begging him for release and he kissed her, this beautiful, wild woman whom he loved, who loved him back, as his fingers resumed their sweet torture of her. This time, he slid down her body, letting his fingers continue their work and when he felt she was close, he let his tongue twitch slightly against her nub. She came instantly and so hard, that from just watching her, Brandon found himself struggling not to lose it too.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he took deep breaths and fought for control of himself as she pulsed around his fingers and her cries echoed in his ears. She was killing him... this woman was murder.

Finally, when he'd regained a measure of control, he lay back on the bed and pulled her on top of him. Her body was boneless and trembling as he positioned her and impaled her on his length. Her mouth opened in a silent cry, her head thrown back and her eyes squeezed shut. He began thrusting up into her and after a moment, she caught her breath and began to move with him, leaning over to kiss him, her now loose hair forming a curtain around their faces. He sat up so that his back was against the headboard and she was straddling his lap. He grasped her head and kissed her and she wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging helplessly to him as their bodies moved together.

His lips left hers to nuzzle her neck. "Say you'll stay," he whispered raggedly into her ear. "Say you'll stay."

"Brandon," she gasped. "Brandon."

He leaned forward, supporting her neck and lower back as he bent her over backwards so that her long hair brushed the covers, his hips moving faster. "Please, Em. Don't go. Don't leave me."

She was sobbing now and he knew she was close. "I love y-you."

"I love you, Emerson," he whispered back and felt her fall apart, his own body shattering with hers and he knew no more.

When he came to, she was watching him, her love shining clearly in her emerald eyes and he smiled. He smiled even as his heart clenched within him, because he knew what she was going to say. He'd always known, even as he'd tried to change her mind.

But his Em was stubborn. She was fierce and independent; she stood up for herself and for what she believed in. That was the way she was and he loved her for it. He loved her because of it, that she was strong, that she could stand on her own two feet, but yet, she let him support her.

This woman... his woman.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly. "You're right."

"I must go, Odie."

He leaned over and kissed her. "I know. I'll wait for you."

She gave a sob and threw her arms around him. He held her while she cried, praying for the strength to get through the next two years. It would be hard, he knew; long distance relationships always were. But they would make this work. They had almost ten years of solid friendship to go on, and they would make it.

He would give it everything he had because he knew she was worth it. He knew that she was so worth it.

********

Maybe then tomorrow will be Monday
And whatever's in my eye should go away
But still the radio keeps playing all the usual
And what's a wonderwall anyway?

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