Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! Much appreciated, and please keep it up! As always, a shout-out to Liss for beta-ing. Enjoy!

V

September 24th

Brandon Wood was grinning as he stared at the gleaming brass plaque on the door before him. Number twenty-five. This functional creation of wood and metal was all that separated him from the love of his life and he was nearly giddy with excitement.

Raising one gloved hand, he rapped strongly on the door and stepped back. While he waited for a response to his knock, he looked back behind him at the walkway that he'd strolled up to reach his destination. It was lined with skinny poplar trees that were already sporting vividly colored leaves, the grass all around covered with a smattering of leaves as well. It truly was a beautiful place, with the venerable old buildings of the college harmonizing so well with their surroundings that it seemed they had simply sprouted from the ground right along with the trees. He could see how Emerson could've fallen in love with it.

Emerson. Man, his heart was racing just from the thought of seeing her face again, her eyes, her dazzling smile. These past weeks had been sheer torture for him, even though he'd had that situation at work to deal with. In a way, he'd been glad for the tension because it had served to distract him from the pangs of longing that struck him almost constantly. Of course, that buffer went away every night when he would retire to his bed and have to will himself not to do anything drastic. Like abruptly sending off a letter of resignation, just before hightailing it over to the States so he could be with her.

Once he was back home in Britain, he'd had his family and friends to be with, which had helped a bit. His younger brother, Andy, was hoping to make the squad at Puddlemere, so he'd helped out there, resurrecting his old Quidditch Captain persona from Hogwarts to push his brother over and over again until they both had to land and dismount for fear of literally falling off their brooms out of exhaustion. Just because their father co-owned the team didn't mean that Andy was guaranteed a spot if he showed interest. He would have to try out just like anybody else but from what he'd seen, Brandon was confident that his brother would make the team.

Turning back to the door, Brandon frowned. Wasn't anyone home? He glanced down at his watch before knocking again. He knew that her classes usually ended by five o'clock and it was now almost six. Granted, she wasn't expecting him until seven, and not at her doorstep either. But he'd been able to wrangle out an early exit from work in order to get here early and surprise her. He hoped she wasn't still stuck in classes. There was no way to know how long strange men were allowed to stand and stare at the door of two attractive young women before someone called the authorities.

Maybe he should go to the main office and ask for her. Biting his lip indecisively, his head whipped around when he heard the bolts being unlocked on the other side of the door and his heart began to pound. He couldn't help the smile that bloomed on his face, but it fell a bit when the door opened and he saw someone that he didn't recognize. He had a fair idea of who she was, though.

"Kady?"

The petite young woman's eyes widened. "Oh! You're Brandon, aren't you?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Come in!" She opened the door wider and he stepped inside, pulling his gloves off as he went. Kady closed the door behind him and he turned. "Sorry it took me so long to answer. I was getting dressed."

He smiled at her. "It's okay."

She stared up at him for a moment, and he sensed the appreciation in her gaze. "Damn. I can see why Emerson is so gaga over you."

He smiled again before looking around. The room was clean and crisp, just the way Em had described it, and he could see a glimpse of a pond through the wide bay windows. But- "Where's-"

"She's in her room," Kady interrupted. "She said something about taking a nap before you got here. This week has been crazy for her, cause she started work at the animal hospital. I guess she wanted to recharge."

Brandon nodded. "Okay. She wasn't expecting me until seven anyway, but I thought I'd surprise her."

Kady grinned at him. "She'll like that." They were silent for a few seconds before she held out her hand. "Well, it's nice to finally meet you, Brandon. Em has told me so much about you, and she's been really looking forward to your coming over. I have a date, so..."

"Have fun," he said, grinning back as he shook her hand.

"Oh, thanks. And you, too."

Oh, I most definitely will. Brandon smiled to himself as he opened the door of Emerson's bedroom. His heart was doing hyperactive palpitations in his chest and his breath died in his lungs when he saw her. She was fast asleep under her covers, which were half off the bed already. His smile widened as he stared at her, her face relaxed in slumber, her hair spread out over her pillow, her breaths soft and deep. She was so beautiful and he had to resist the urge to grab her, hold her tightly in his arms and never let go.

He couldn't do that, though, so instead, he closed his eyes for a second and took deep breaths, willing his heart to settle down. Trying to be quiet so as not to wake her, he shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the chair at her desk, looking around her room as he did so. It hadn't yet taken on the mess that was characteristic of her West End flat, but he was sure it was only a matter of time. Emerson was fond of saying that a neat desk/room was a sign of a sick mind, and she was as healthy as it came, thank you very much.

The clock on her bedside table was displaying that it was ten after six and Brandon rubbed his eyes. He didn't know how long she would sleep and he couldn't very well stand there and stare at her that whole time, could he? Well, he could, but he was already obsessed with her enough as it was. He could read a book, but the thought held no appeal to him at the moment. And although he was her boyfriend, he didn't feel comfortable with perusing her things without her consent. Deciding to just lay down beside her on the bed, he took off his shoes and stretched out carefully, trying not to tip the mattress too much. Her scent enveloped him immediately and he nearly swooned, his every nerve tingling with the urge to touch her. Unable to resist, he reached out and brushed a lock of her hair from her face. She sighed and shifted closer to him but didn't wake up.

Brandon had never had such a feeling of contentment as he had at that moment, lying beside the warm body of the woman he loved, and his heart swelled within him. Gently, he drew the covers more fully over her, breathed in deeply of her scent again, and closed his eyes.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, he was being startled awake by a loud shriek, followed immediately by a warm, distinctly female body landing on top of his own.

"You're here! You're here!"

Her arms were so tight around his neck that he thought he would suffocate. "Em. Neck. Breathe."

"Oh, sorry." She loosened her grip but didn't remove her arms, beaming down at him, her long hair framing her face. "Oh, Brandon, you're here!"

He smiled back at her. "I'm here."

Emerson's bottom lip trembled and she burst into tears. Brandon pulled her down onto him, hugging her tightly as she sobbed into his chest. The happiness that coursed through his being had him wanting to bawl too, but Em seemed to be doing enough of it for the both of them. He just held her, stroking her hair while she cried.

"I'm so happy," she sobbed. "I love you s-so much. I love you, B-Brandon."

He smiled, squeezing her tighter. "I know. I love you, too, Em."

Gradually, she calmed down and they held each other for a long time, she sniffling as she stared at him, her eyes shining. Brandon reached out and wiped her cheeks and she beamed at him so delightedly that he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Hi," she said softly.

He touched her face. "Hi."

She bit her lip, her eyes wandering all over his face as if to refresh her memory of his features. She reached out and touched his lips and the contact seemed to jump start something in them both. He watched her eyes darken, her pupils dilate, even as he felt the rumbling of the volcano within him that had smoldered in forced dormancy for the past month.

Which one of them moved first, he would never know; maybe they both had. But the next thing he was aware of was the warmth of her lips, the sweetness of her mouth, the smoothness of her tongue as it mated hungrily with his own. Her hands were everywhere, in his hair, cupping his face, under his shirt. He pushed the covers off her, needing to touch her too, and he groaned when his hands finally made contact with her soft skin. She was wearing only an oversized t-shirt and knickers and she raised her arms so he could pull the shirt off her.

She cried out when his mouth latched onto her breast and Brandon thought he would faint from the fury of emotions that gushed through his body. She was so warm, so soft, so perfect. This woman who didn't seem aware of her own attractiveness, who thought her breasts were too small, her hips too narrow. This woman who drove him mad. Four long weeks he'd been away from her, hungering for her, forced to shift through the memories of those frantic two weeks they'd spent in each other's arms, together in every sense of the word. She'd been like this every time too, eager and vocal to the point of nearly making him blush. And so responsive; she orgasmed easily, which he couldn't deny made him feel like a stud. The fact that she'd seemed to want him every single time he'd wanted her, and with much the same intensity, had startled him then, just as it did now.

"Brandon," she gasped, pushing at his jeans, her legs wrapped around his waist.

She rubbed herself indecently against him and he growled as he captured her lips again. Slipping out of his clothes in record time, he tugged off her moistened knickers, settled between her legs and thrust into her. They shouted in unison, her nails digging into his bum, urging him on as her hips met the desperate rhythm that he set. They were incoherent, lost, lips, teeth, cries and moans. He was home, he was safe, he was where he belonged, inside her, comforted and cocooned. His brain was gone; nothing else existed, he was beyond any knowing but of her, her name escaping his lips in worshipful mantra. The precipice rushed up to meet him and even as he recognized it for what it was, her screams filled his ears as her body shattered beneath, above, around him and he tumbled over, gratefully. The pleasure was intense almost to the point of pain, so that although neither of them had lasted even four minutes, it took them nearly twice as long to recover.

They lay limply in each other's arms, stunned by the rapid climb, summit and descent of the encounter. A bead of sweat trickled irritatingly down Brandon's face but he couldn't even muster the energy to wipe it away.

"Fucking hell," Emerson muttered weakly.

He chuckled. "Don't you mean fucking heaven?"

She giggled, turning in his arms to look at him. She leaned forward and licked away the aforementioned annoying bead of sweat, her eyes boring into his, and his penis twitched.

"You are a vixen, Emerson Potter," he said in a low voice, moving her slightly damp hair aside to bite her neck.

She squealed and snuggled against him again, wrapping her arms around him, and for a few minutes, they were quiet. "How did you get here?" she asked after a while.

"Same way we agreed, except I took an earlier Portkey. Then I walked from the terminal to here."

She sat up, her long hair flowing over both shoulders to lightly cover her modesty. "With your bags and everything? How far of a walk was it? I was just going to Apparate down there and back with you."

"Well, my bags were in my pocket, since I'd shrunk them. And the walk wasn't that long, actually. Under ten minutes. I didn't think Apparation would be a good idea, since I wasn't sure where your room was. God forbid I ended up in the librarian's bathroom while she lay soaking in the tub, or something."

Emerson laughed and he watched her, feeling so happy that he thought he would burst. Her laughter, there was just something about it that filled his whole being and made him feel lighter than air. He almost preferred her laughter over those little whimpers she made just before she came. Almost.

He could feel himself stirring again and shifted so he was lying on his stomach a bit. It continually amazed him how much he desired her. Not that he hadn't enjoyed sex before her; he was a young man, after all. But never before had he been able, or wanted to so much. And he knew it was her. It was all her.

"So tell me about your job," he said, trying to distract himself from the hunger that was regrouping within him. "Doc Meriwether sounds like something else."

Em smiled. "He is. His name is Lewis Meriwether, which he said is a spin on Meriwether Lewis, who was one of the first explorers of the American West. He's a bit wacky, but he's brilliant, and he truly loves animals and caring for them."

"What's usually wrong with the animals at the hospital?"

"Oh, it's all sorts of things. But we're almost always able to help," she said, her eyes coming alive and Brandon suppressed a smile. "Sadly, most of the time it's some kind of human negligence and we have to not only treat the animal, but also try to rebuild their trust in people, you know? But on Wednesday, somebody brought in a horse from one of those riding centers where rich kids get horseback riding lessons. Oh my gosh, Brandon, the horse was so beautiful! It was this deep brown color, and obviously very well cared for. But there was some kind of jumping accident and it broke one of its legs."

She sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulders, which bared her to his gaze and he gulped. "It's a good thing we're equipped to handle large animals like those, cause that poor horse! I got to help Doc Meriwether fix the leg, and it was such an amazing experience, all that adrenaline..."

She was still talking but Brandon found himself unable to look away from her small but full breasts. So well-shaped, with their light brown peaks that harmonized perfectly with her olive complexion and-

"Brandon!"

He started and looked up at her. "Uh?"

"Are you listening to me?" she asked, fixing him with a stern look.

"Er, um-"

She glared at him. "Were you staring at my breasts?"

"Sorry?"

She leaned closer and he saw that what he'd thought was annoyance was actually something very akin to lust. He swallowed audibly and she smirked, her hand trailing over his stomach and down.

"Ooh, what's this?"

Brandon closed his eyes and breathed hard through his nose as she grasped him. Opening his eyes, he saw that she was biting her bottom lip and that her nipples had hardened to firm peaks. He bit back a moan.

"Do you want me?" Emerson asked, softly and matter-of-factly, as she held him firmly in her hand.

As if she even needed to ask. "More than anything."

She smiled. "Then come here."

He didn't need to be told twice. They lasted longer the second time but the culmination was no less pleasurable, as if there was a backlog of emotions that would need more than two unlockings of the dam to alleviate the buildup. Brandon found the thought very pleasing, indeed.

"Are you hungry?" she asked suddenly, sitting up.

Her face and chest were still flushed from their exertions and he eyed her with a leer. "Yeah, I am. So very hungry."

She swatted him. "Lecher. I meant for food!"

"Oh. Well, yeah. Sure."

"All right." She slipped out of the bed and stood up and Brandon couldn't help but gawk at her. "We should clean up and go out, then?"

"Um, what?" Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Concentrate, Wood!

She crossed her arms across her chest, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "We should shower and get dressed to go out to eat."

"Ah, shower. Yes."

"Separately."

He frowned. "Why?"

She laughed. "You go first."

He whined for a few minutes but she wouldn't budge, so he gave up and slouched into her bathroom. Standing under the near-icy spray, he chuckled to himself at the irony of his situation. There he was taking a cold shower when he'd only just had incredible sex. Twice. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was a lecher.

"But only for you, Em," he murmured to himself. "Only for you."

Deciding to tease her a bit, he refrained from drying off before returning to the bedroom. She was rifling through her closet when he entered.

"Okay, it's all yours," he said, toweling his hair.

She turned around. "All ri..."

The word trailed off when her eyes landed on him and Brandon had to try very hard not to smirk. She stared and he watched her moisten her lips as her eyes traveled over him. The look in her eyes was scorching and he couldn't have stopped his body's reaction if he tried.

"Thought you were going to take a shower?"

Emerson blushed and looked away. "Yeah, I w-was. I mean, I am."

He had to will himself not to grab her as she passed him and when the door closed behind her, he sat down on her rumpled bed, breathing heavily. Was this normal? Sure, they were in the very early honeymoon stage of their relationship. Sure, they'd been forced by their circumstances to be apart for a full month, and they had twenty-three more months of this arrangement to endure. But was it normal to be so stimulated by another person? Was it healthy?

His stomach rumbled, voicing its disapproval of the way things were going, and Brandon sighed. One thing he could be sure of: nothing positive would be gained by starving themselves. Emerson was right; they did need to get ready and get some food. They had the whole weekend to be together, after all, didn't they? He was a somewhat civilized adult. Even if he had no control over the behavior of his penis, which seemed determined to exert its presence, he could keep his hands to himself for a little while, couldn't he?

Brandon found that resolve sorely tested when Emerson returned to the room, wrapped in a large terrycloth bath towel. He forced himself to finish getting dressed, though he did spend a good minute trying to tie the laces on his Doc Martens before realizing that they were already tied. He'd been too preoccupied watching Em put on her bra to pay attention. He managed to distract himself for the next few minutes while he waited for her, but then he made the mistake of looking over to see how far she'd progressed.

And his mouth went dry.

She was wearing those jeans. The dangerously low jeans that hugged her hips. The jeans she'd been wearing the night of Marc and Marissa's birthday party, the night they'd come together for the first time.

Almost without realizing it, he was striding over to her and gripping her waist. She gasped when his hands wandered under her top to cup her breasts.

"Odie, what're you doing?" In response, he pushed himself against her and she sighed. "Again?"

But even as she spoke, she was moving her hips subtly, rubbing against him ever so slightly.

Brandon groaned. "That's not exactly the best way to discourage me, you know."

"Oh, it isn't?" she asked airily, raising her arms so he could pull the top over her head. She turned around to face him. "What's the best way?"

He kissed her and her question would go unanswered forevermore. Twenty minutes later, they lay in a tangle of sweaty arms and legs, their clothing littering the floor of her room. Brandon's face was buried in her fragrant hair and he felt utterly blissful. He didn't think he ever wanted to move again.

Emerson sighed. "This is insane."

"But it's fun, though, isn't it?" he whispered, just before his stomach rumbled loudly.

She snickered. "Yeah, but we really should get up and get some food."

"Yeah, we should," he agreed.

But neither of them made any move to get up and soon, her stomach joined his in noisy grumbling. They looked at each other and laughed.

"Actually, we don't have to go out. We could just order takeaway," Em said suddenly and he hugged her.

"Fantastic idea, love. That way we don't have to leave the flat and I won't end up getting arrested for public indecency on my first visit to this town. I'd probably have continued groping you even if we'd gone out, you know."

She rolled her eyes and slipped out of the bed, muttering something that sounded like "pervert". Brandon grinned as he watched her shrug into her bathrobe. "Maybe I am. But you know you love it."

"Whatever," she said, leaving the room, but he heard the laughter in her voice. "What would you like?"

He got up and put on his own robe before following her into the tiny kitchen. She was pulling takeaway menus out of a drawer.

"Chinese. Pizza. Mexican. Thai."

"Definitely pizza," he said. "Have you ever noticed how quickly Chinese food gets digested? Two hours after eating, you're starving again."

Em smiled, adopting an Asian accent. "Maybe it because of all work hard, yes?" He chuckled as he watched her call in the order. She hung up and came over to sit on his lap. "Fifteen to twenty minutes."

"Excellent, we have some time to burn."

She sighed as he undid the knot of her robe. "Aren't you tired of it yet?"

He adopted an outraged expression. "Blasphemy!"

"Really, Brandon. You are shamelessly insatiable."

"S'all your fault for being so damn sexy," he murmured, nuzzling her neck. "And besides, you're one to talk."

She straddled him. "That's true. But what can I say? I'm a healthy young woman."

"And I'm a healthy young man."

"You- ah. Yes, you a-are. Oh, do that again."

"Gladly, meine Frau."

Everything else uttered thereafter was incoherent and they were still breathing hard when the knock sounded on the door. Emerson stood up shakily, looking flustered. She slipped her bathrobe back on, smoothing her hair as she headed to the door, but stopped short before she reached it.

"Shit, I forgot the money."

She hurried into her room and back to the door, still smoothing her hair and Brandon grinned. Knowing her as he did, he knew she was trying not to make it apparent to the stranger at the door what she'd just been up to. The dining room was far enough from the front door that he didn't have to worry about the delivery person looking in and seeing him sitting there in a bathrobe as well. But when Em closed the door and strolled back towards him, he saw that the pizza person hadn't needed to see him to know what had been happening.

Emerson's face was red and she was scowling. "Jerk."

"Who is?" he asked, trying very hard not to smile.

"That pizza bloke! He was just, like, smirking at me, like he knew exactly what I'd just been doing."

"He could tell that you'd just been very enthusiastically shagged and had enjoyed it immensely?"

She glared at him. "It's not funny! What happens between us is private and I don't want it being broadcast to all and sundry!"

"It wasn't being broadcast. Maybe he was just smiling appreciatively."

"Oh shut up, Odie, and eat your pizza," she said wearily, picking up her own slice. Then she sighed and put it down without taking a bite. "Brandon, do you think I'm a prude?"

He gaped, nonplussed. "What? This from the woman who was just cursing like a sailor, telling me harder, faster, oh please, f-"

"Okay, okay! But I mean, I know it's logical to assume that two people in love are being intimate. I just don't want it to be confirmed, you know? Not that I'm ashamed of what we do, or anything like that. I'm not. It's just that-"

"You're a lady," he supplied, reaching for her hand across the table. "You want to keep some things private, leave something to the imagination."

She looked relieved. "Exactly. While I want there to be no doubt about my feelings for you, I want to be discreet at the same time. Is that possible?"

He stood up and knelt beside her chair, gathering her into his arms. "I'm sure it is. But you don't have to worry, Emerson. I don't think you could ever not be a lady, even if you tried."

She smiled and kissed him lightly on the lips. They held each other for a moment before Brandon went back to his chair, and they set to polishing off the pizza, washing it down with large bottles of butterbeer that he'd brought from home. Their conversation was easy and light, the effortless communion of two people who knew each other through and through, and didn't have to make any pretenses. They talked about everything, his job, her classes, their families and mutual friends. They talked, rather shyly, about their future together, their hopes and dreams. They just talked for a long time, openly and honestly, and again, Brandon felt that blessed sense of contentment, of belonging and home. She was his home.

Eventually, they returned to her room and made love again, and when at last she slept peacefully in his arms, he gazed into the darkness and sighed blissfully.

Life was good. Life was very good, indeed...

His eyelids drooped shut as he snuggled closer to her warm body, but it seemed he had barely closed his eyes than he was being shaken awake.

"Brandon, wake up."

He groaned and rolled over, not opening his eyes. "'Smatter?"

"Nothing's the matter," his girlfriend's voice replied, sounding irritatingly chipper. "It's just time to get up, is all."

"Emerson, it's Saturday," he grumbled thickly, pulling the covers up to his head. "The day was created for the express purpose of having lie-ins."

She giggled. "That's true, but it's almost noon, Odie. Don't you want to explore the town?"

"No."

"Don't you want to meet my friends?"

"Erm... no."

"Hmph. Well, I guess that means you don't want to eat either."

"N- uh?" Brandon said, pushing the covers down and opening his eyes for the first time. Even through the bleariness of sleep, he could see that she was smiling at him from where she knelt beside the bed and he couldn't help but smile back. "Of course I want to eat. But as last night proved, we don't have to leave the flat to do that, do we?"

Emerson stood up and walked over to the window. "Yes, we do." She punctuated her words by pulling open the curtains and a blast of blinding sunlight streamed into the room.

"Emerson!" he yelped, shielding his eyes. "Give me some warning before you do that, would you?"

She giggled. "Sorry. But we can't stay in the room all day."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one, your pasty Britishness could do with some of this good, ol' American sunshine."

He pretended to flinch as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Ouch. That smarted. But last time I checked, you were British, too."

She chuckled. "I am that. But thanks to my Papi, Herb Thomas, I also have a nice dose of Jamaican blood, which means I happily escaped the pastiness factor of being British."

"Yes, you did," he said softly, walking over to put his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck, breathing deeply of her scent, which was a mixture of jasmine and her, and he all of a sudden found himself to be quite wide awake. "Have I told you how much I love your skin?"

"Yes, you have. And you need a shower, my slightly stinky, but still sweet boyfriend."

He suppressed a smile by pouting. "I don't want to be 'sweet'. "

She reached up to run her hands through his hair, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Okay. How about 'my slightly stinky but still dashing, suave and debonair boyfriend'?"

"Now you're getting warmer," he replied, chuckling. But he stepped away from her. "Don't get started without me."

"I won't." He began to walk away but her voice stopped him. "Brandon?"

He turned back to look at her, and his heart did flip-flops in his chest at the look of adoration in her eyes. "Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here."

Brandon smiled at her, loving her. "I'm glad I'm here, too."

He took a long shower before returning to the bedroom and getting dressed. Upon deciding he looked presentable, he went out into the living room and saw her sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her, flipping through a magazine.

"I'm ready, then."

She looked around at him. "Okay. Let me just grab my jacket."

She stood up and walked towards him and his eyes traveled over her slowly in silent appreciation. Maybe it was because he'd just woken up before but he hadn't really taken in her outfit. She was wearing a long, white cotton skirt that fell to her ankles. The flowing material appeared to be very lightweight, almost like a gauze, and was paneled at regular intervals before ending in a slightly ruffled hemline. A pale blue camisole and sandals completed the look, and her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. She wasn't wearing any makeup, with the exception of lip gloss, unless he was mistaken.

"You are beautiful," he whispered as she neared and he delighted in the blush that crept up her cheeks.

He took her hand and pulled her to him, before lowering his lips to hers. His guess about her lip gloss turned out to be accurate - strawberry flavored, to be exact. Her lips were soft and warm, and she opened her mouth to allow him further access, her hands tangling in the hair at the back of his head. Brandon deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth to move sensuously against hers and she moaned. The sound seemed to stoke the fire within him so that he began kissing her harder as she pressed herself against him, their breaths coming faster, his fingers now dancing upon the skin of her lower back.

"Ahem, sorry to interrupt," came a voice from their left.

They broke apart grudgingly to face the speaker, who turned out to be a grinning Kady.

Emerson pulled out of his embrace and smoothed her top. "Hey. What's up?"

"I need to borrow your library card," Kady said, stifling a yawn. "I seem to have lost mine, and there's a paper I need to work on this weekend. I figured you two lovebirds would be all wrapped up in each other so I needed to strike early."

Em grinned. "Yeah. Be right back."

She headed into her room, leaving Brandon and Kady alone and he smiled at her. "So how was your date?"

"Oh, it was all right," she answered, shrugging. "I think I drank too much but luckily for us wizard folk, there's such a thing as a Sobering Potion, right?"

He chuckled. "Tell me about it. Em and I have this weird habit of mixing up crazy drinks and actually downing them. We'd be sloshed by the fifth or sixth concoction, then we'd take a Sobering Potion and call it a night. What brand do you use? Our friend, Marc, swears by Sir Abnegaty's but we prefer Pacific. It's milder."

"I like Pacific, too. But this morning I took Sir Abnegaty's, cause I needed that swift kick in the pants. Harvard is no place to be hungover."

Emerson came back into the room, shrugging into a deep blue denim jacket. She handed the card to her roommate. "Here you go. Hey, we're headed to Grafton's. You want to come?"

"I wish, but like I was telling Brandon, I drank quite a bit last night so I'm not really into the thought of food right now. And since I put off working on that essay, I have to do it this weekend. But you two have fun."

"Okay," Em said, hugging her. "I'm gonna bring you back one of those quiches you like so much, just in case you change your mind."

Kady smiled at her. "Thanks, doll." She pulled away and fixed Brandon with a beady eye. "This is a good one. Don't let her get away."

"Oh, I have no intention of letting her get away, trust me," he replied, putting an arm around Emerson, who leaned her head against his shoulder. They said goodbye to Kady and headed out.

It was a lovely Indian summer day, sunny and cool without being chilly. Brandon breathed deeply of the crisp, clean air as he strolled through the college town, hand in hand with his girlfriend. The sidewalks and walkways bustled with chattering young people, all happily taking in the brief respite from their studies. And although his stomach rumbled, he was enjoying the leisurely stroll too much to hurry.

"So, what's Grafton's?" he asked, as they turned onto a cobblestoned street lined with cozy shops and stores.

"Oh, only the best place for brunch in town!" she exclaimed. "Krishna Richards, my lab partner, took me there one Saturday morning and I fell in love as soon as I opened the brunch menu and saw 'Irish Breakfast'. "

He looked at her. "You mean like-"

"Bangers, black pudding, bacon, yep," she said. She stopped in front of a large, grimy-looking building with a creaking sign advertising their destination. "And we're here. We'll be lucky if we can find seats cause this place is really popular on weekends."

Brandon understood what she meant as soon as they entered the restaurant. A wave of sound gushed forward to meet him and his eyes widened at the spread of people arranged in the nooks and crannies of the room, all laughing and talking as they ate. There was a line of people waiting to be seated but surprisingly, the wait was only a few minutes. Once they were settled at a table, Brandon pulled open the menu and saw what she'd been talking about. The Irish Breakfast offering did sound appetizingly familiar but he grinned at what was directly below it.

"Grand Marnier Drunken Brioche French Toast," he read, looking up at Em, who laughed.

"I haven't had it yet, but Krishna says it's good," she said. Then, upon glancing across the room, she broke into a wide smile. "And speak of the devil."

Brandon looked around. A tall, attractive black girl was wending her way through the crowd towards their table. Upon reaching them, she threw her arms dramatically around Em. "Emerson!"

"Hey, Krishna. I was just talking about you."

Krishna pulled away. "Good things, I hope?"

"Only and always, you know that," Em said, and they both laughed. "Krishna, this is Brandon. Brandon, Krishna."

The other woman turned to him, nodding slowly. "So, you're the one I keep hearing about! Nice to finally meet you."

"You too," he said, shaking her hand, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face. He loved the fact that Em couldn't seem to stop talking about him to her new friends. Merlin knew, he couldn't stop talking about her, either, to the point that his brother had once told him to just shut up about Emerson already. His co-workers doubtless shared Andy's sentiments, though none of them had yet expressed as much. Meanwhile, his best friend, Eric Huckleberry, was all over the place with the Appleby Arrows and had thus managed to escape most of the Emerson overdose. But that would, of course, be rectified the next time their paths managed to cross.

"Can I borrow her for a minute?" Krishna was asking.

Brandon looked at Em, not bothering to hide the adoration he felt for her. "Just so long as you bring her back."

He watched the two women walk away, and even over the noise of the restaurant, he distinctly heard Krishna exclaim, "Oh my gosh, Emerson! He's just... mmm... Man Meat!" and heard the delighted laughter of his girlfriend in response.

Brandon grinned to himself. He should feel offended, shouldn't he, that she and her friend were talking about him like he was a slab of beef on a hook. But it would be more than a little hypocritical on his part since he did talk about her like a tasty treat, himself. He sipped at his coffee and people-watched while he waited for her return. The servers zipped efficiently through the crowd, delivering and collecting plates while the delicious aromas swirled all around the room. After a few minutes, he began to get impatient as the hunger pangs stabbed at his abdomen.

Looking around, he finally spotted her halfway across the room, chattering animatedly with Krishna and another woman. As if sensing his gaze, she looked up suddenly and straight at him. He waved slightly and she waved back, before turning to her friends and saying something that made them laugh. She hugged Krishna and began walking back towards him, and he watched her hungrily. The long skirt swirled and swayed about her hips and legs, enveloping her in an air of captivating femininity that caused more than one male patron to follow her progress across the room. Brandon's heart thumped in his chest as she approached and when she sat down across from him, he leaned over.

"I love you in that skirt," he whispered.

She beamed. "Thank you. I got it at Portobello Road. It was ninety-five pounds but I haggled it down to fifty."

"Good girl."

"What can I say? I learned from the best."

He moved her silky ponytail aside to nuzzle her neck. "But want to know why I like you in it?"

"Why?" she asked, sounding a bit breathless.

"Because it makes you look dainty and feminine. You are those things anyway, of course. But I love the fact that I'm the only one who knows that although you may appear to be a demure little miss, behind closed doors, however, you are a wildcat."

Emerson blushed, ducking her head to pick at imaginary lint on his shirt. Brandon raised her chin until he could see her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered and they stared at each other, the noisy atmosphere around them receding to a dull background roar.

The moment was broken by a loud male voice saying "Emerson!" right beside their table.

Looking up, Brandon saw a bloke in a server's uniform and apron, holding a tray of empty glasses. He was smiling down at Emerson in a way that inexplicably rankled Brandon and he knew immediately that he disliked this man.

Em pulled out of his embrace. "Matt! What're you doing here?"

"I work here," Matt said, nodding at his outfit. "My uncle's the manager and sometimes I help out when things get too crazy. Like now, as you can see."

"Yeah, I certainly see," Em said, chuckling. She turned to Brandon and smiled. "Brandon, this is Matt Adler from my Microbiology class. Matt, this is my boyfriend, Brandon Wood."

Matt looked over at him and Brandon saw that the feeling of dislike most definitely was mutual. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," he returned, fighting the impulse to wrap his arm around Emerson again. He was not that kind of jealous boyfriend. Was he?

"So, I guess I'll see you around," Matt said, turning back to Em and grinning broadly again. "Bright and early on Monday for class, right?"

Emerson nodded. "Yep. Enjoy the rest of your weekend."

They both watched him go, but with vastly different expressions. Though Brandon tried hard not to show how tense the brief encounter had made him, since Em didn't seem to have picked up on anything untoward.

"-but he's been really valuable to my getting settled," she was saying, before taking a sip of her coffee. "He's really nice."

He looked at her, debating whether to let his feelings known. "Yeah, well. To be honest, I don't like him."

She looked startled. "Really? Why not?"

"Because I can tell."

She frowned. "You can tell what?" she asked, her voice quiet and wary.

Pretending to examine the foil-wrapped pats of butter in the small bowl across from him, Brandon realized it would sound much too juvenile, not to mention possessive, to say "That he wants you but he can't have you because you're mine." So instead, he shrugged and looked up at her, forcing a smile. "Nothing. Now where's that server? I'm starving!"

Emerson's brow was furrowed as she watched him but she didn't push. She sipped from her mug again, then put it down and fiddled with her hands. After a minute, he realized that she was biting her lip in that way that he knew meant she was fighting not to blurt something out and he leaned forward.

"What is it?"

"Uh? Oh, nothing!" she said quickly, but he noticed she didn't meet his eyes. "Oh goodie, the food's here!"

Their meals had indeed arrived and he pushed aside his concerns for the time being. Besides, he would have to have some nerve to try to probe her when he was withholding stuff himself, wouldn't he?

But why did that Matt have to show up and smudge the perfect canvas what had been the weekend so far? Not that Brandon could blame the bloke for being smitten with Em; that showed that, at least, he had good taste even if he was honing in on another man's woman. The worst thing was that Brandon knew there was nothing he could do about it. He certainly couldn't forbid Emerson from being friends with Matt, because number one, he was definitely not that kind of controlling person. And number two, knowing Em, she would probably just tell him to go fuck himself and who the hell did he think he was, anyway, because he didn't get to dictate who she could or couldn't be friends with, and so on.

And she would be right, of course. So it appeared that, for the time being, he would have no choice but to keep his unease about this Matt Adler to himself. Meanwhile, he would be thousands of miles away from her the vast majority of the time, while this Matt got to be in her close proximity, trading notes, cutting up small rodents and invertebrates, treating animals at the hospital, because wasn't he the same bloke who had gotten Em her job?

Brandon sighed as he speared a piece of his Drunken French Toast, swirling it in maple syrup. He was being unnecessarily pessimistic, though, wasn't he? Surely he wasn't that insecure. Emerson loved him and he didn't doubt that. But still-

"Want a bite?"

He looked up. She was holding out a forkful of eggs, smoked salmon and tomato. He leaned forward and accepted it. His eyes drifted shut as he savored the delicate flavors that nevertheless exploded in his mouth. The eggs were delicious and the salmon added just the right touch, while the creamy hollandaise sauce contributed perfectly. "It's really good."

Em smiled. "Isn't it, though? I'm surprised they served it with chips. I was expecting some kind of bread, like a biscuit or an English muffin."

"Well, Americans love their French fried potatoes, don't they?" he said, chuckling. "Try some of this."

He watched her mouth envelope his fork and his gut clenched, recalling how good that mouth was at doing other things. She sighed as she chewed the liquor-splashed French Toast and he couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Mmm. Tasty," she said, licking her lips. She peered at him. "Oh, you have some syrup on your chin."

Brandon gulped. "Do I? Where?"

"Here, let me." She leaned over and licked the side of his mouth. "Got it." And she kissed him, so lightly that he wondered fleetingly if he'd imagined it. The next second, he had no more need to wonder because she kissed him again, firmly this time. They broke apart slowly and she touched his face, looking into his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he whispered, feeling a bit drunk and giddy. Somehow he knew it wasn't the French Toast. Take that, Matt Adler!

She sat back and stared at him for a moment before sighing. "Brandon, does this ever scare you?" she asked, gesturing between the two of them.

This. He frowned thoughtfully for a second before looking at her. "Only on those days that end with 'y'." She shot him a look but he could see the humor in her eyes. "Only all the time, Em."

"It scares me, too," she said. "I mean, sometimes I'm frightened by the depth and intensity of my feelings, almost like I'm afraid they'll burn me up, literally, if I allow them. This-" she gestured between them again. "-is something I'm so certain of, as certain as I am of my own name. And then I think, how can that be? If we look at it in terms of time, it's only been a few weeks, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," he responded. He knew exactly what she was talking about because he had the same thoughts sometimes. "It's only been a few weeks, so how can these feelings be so profound? So certain? How can it be normal?"

She looked emotional all of a sudden and he reached for her hand across the table. "Maybe it's not normal," she said, quietly. "Maybe we're not normal. But what's 'normal' anyway? Who gets to decide the benchmark that applies to every single person or relationship?"

Brandon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Em. But one thing I do know."

"What's that?"

"You know, this?" he copied her earlier gesture, drawing that invisible line, that connection between the two of them. "I'm in. I'm all in."

Em squeezed his hand that she still held, her eyes filling up again even as she smiled. "I'm all in, too."

He sighed and she sighed, and they looked at each other and laughed a little, dispelling the slightly weepy mood. They finished the rest of their meal and left the restaurant, heading back out into the lovely day. She took him for a walk all over the campus and the city of Cambridge, pointing out places and people and sharing what she knew. They rarely let go of each other's hand and they stopped every now and then to hold each other and snog. Brandon could scarcely recall a more perfect day and he never wanted it to end.

But as always with time, it waited for no man and the rest of the weekend sped by much too quickly for his liking. They went to the "chunky peanut butter on burgers" pub that night with Krishna and her surgical intern boyfriend, laughing and drinking long into the night. Most of Sunday was spent in bed, making love again and again, with increasing desperation as the hour of his departure drew steadily closer. Emerson started crying during one culmination and her tears didn't stop for the rest of the evening.

He didn't want to leave her, but he had to, and finally he extricated her arms from around his neck and staggered into her shower. The warm water stung him down there, and he let his tears mingle with the liquid cascading over him. Of course he wasn't crying from the mild discomfort caused by the relentless, albeit pleasurable, friction that his body had endured. Oh God, how he wished he didn't have to go! How could he leave her? How could he be expected to do it over and over again for the next two years?

That last thought made him cry harder and he leaned his forehead against the cool tiles of her shower, fighting for strength. He had no choice; they had no choice. This was the circumstances that they'd been put in and they were helpless to do anything but make the best of it. All he could do was hope that the pain would get a bit more tolerable as time went on. He had to be strong for her, support her, even though he wanted nothing more than to keep her selfishly with him for all time.

Finally, feeling drained but resolute, he left the shower and returned to the bedroom. He got dressed, trying not to let the sound of her sniffles affect him too much. He put on his cloak, shrunk his bag and put it in his pocket. Then he sat down on the bed and looked at her.

"I have to go."

She nodded, her face crumbling again as she burst into tears. Throwing her arms around his neck, she sobbed miserably. "Oh, Brandon."

He held her fiercely, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that threatened. Once she'd calmed down a measure, he pulled away and cupped her face. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot and her nose was red, but she had never looked more beautiful to him. "I love you."

"I-I love you," she repeated, touching his lips, his eyes, his nose. "I love you."

They kissed tenderly for a long moment before he stood up, their fingers lingering against the other's before at last the connection broke. She sniffled, took a deep breath and tried to smile, even as fresh tears leaked from her eyes.

Unable to drag it out any longer, Brandon touched her face one last time, closed his eyes and concentrated, and was gone.

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

End Notes:

1. Grafton's is a real restaurant (actually called Grafton Street Restaurant) in Boston, and the menu items mentioned above really are on their brunch menu list.