* I'M COMING FOR THE TITLE !

          eyes open groggily, heavily shadowed by dark circles that crowd underneath them. his back aches as he sits up, emma’s voice catching his ear and pulling him from sleep. ugh. “i must have rolled off the sofa,” shoulders hitch in a shrug and he makes to stand. a hand rubs the back of his neck in an effort to wipe away the crick there. he’s an uneasy sleeper. always has been. either kept awake until the sun had begun to rise or plagued by dreams that keep him tossing and turning. regulus has woken up on his own bedroom floor multiple times despite the large bed there. “sorry, i came in early this morning,” he pauses before following her into the kitchen and picking a spot on the counter to lean against while scrubbing absently at his eyes, not quite awake yet. “walburga found out i helped sirius at the attack. needless to say she was not pleased.” there is an exhausted sort of bite to the words, her name acidic in his mouth. his chest still aches with the stinging jinxes she had thrown at him.

     The aftermath of Merlin Day has left Minerva nothing short of tired. She was overworked, stressed, grieving — she couldn’t even begin to list all things she had done and all she yet had to finish. Talk to parents who had lost their kid, talk to those who were worried they would lose their kid, teach her classes, talk to students who had lost a friend, a parent, a brother, a sister, a someone … the lest was endless. Checking up on her niece was another box to be checked, but it wasn’t one that was part of her work to do list, but of her personal one ( and that list was, as always, much shorter than her work one ).

     “I wouldn’t consider myself just anyone,” she said, giving Emma a bit of a smile. While she didn’t play for her team ( the magpies, of course ), she was very glad to see her niece flying on a pitch this grand. “I mean, I’m Emma Vanity’s aunt — that’s quite a status.” It was a joke, a rare one; her sense of humour was reserved for moments like these. “Hm, do you reckon they will stop badgering me if I send some pictures of you? That’d be unethical, of course, but they are quite annoying, and at this point … I’d do anything.”

       When she spotted her aunt across the pitch, Emma immediately dropped her broom and jogged over to greet her -- between both of their demanding schedules, she never seemed to find the time to visit, which was a shame in its own right. It was a breath of fresh air to see her, hear her voice; Minerva had easily been one of her favourite people growing up -- an inspiration of sorts -- and even during her schooling ( then, however, she would have never admitted to it thanks to inter-house rivalries and the revoking of house points ), Emma had always seen Minerva for exactly who she wanted to be: strong, steadfast, and a braver woman than anyone  could ever imagine.

    “ Well, tell them to sod off ! You’re good at that, especially with your scary professor voice. I sure can attest to it. ” Emma’s smile pulled wider and just a touch cheeky, but it’s all bark with no bite. She wrapped her aunt in a hug then, quick enough not to transfer her sweat and grime onto her robes but tight enough to convey thank Merlin you’re alright. “ It’s so nice to see you, auntie. I heard about the -- the attack. How have you been ? ”

emma padded into her living room, eyes still half lidded with grogginess; practice last night had been brutal -- of course on her own insistence. any and all negative emotions she had, she channeled into her game; and the end result left her battered and sore. the sight of a stirring person on her living room floor was enough to wake her up with a little jump -- though, after taking a few minutes to process, emma breathed out a sigh of relief. her apartment, though a little desolate and seemingly enormous for one person, had served its purpose: a refuge, for one of her dearest friends.  “ shit, you scared me for a moment. the couch is more comfortable than the floor, by the way. ” she laughed it out, raking a hand through her hair as she skirted around regulus’ form to reach her kitchen. “ how long y’been here, reg ? i didn’t hear you come in last night. ”

the world as they knew it was falling through the cracks and emma vanity was getting a damned tattoo. however, the only thing that she let herself think of in that moment, was why in the hell did she not get one sooner. 

emma had been mulling over the prospect of a tattoo for what seemed like forever, and she’d been granted one too many ( drunken ) occasions to live out that image in her head of her, inked. but there never seemed to be the right time or place or person, to do it -- that, or she’d simply been putting it off indefinitely, under the guise of careful consideration and time constraints. BULLSHIT -- there's no time like the present, which is exactly what she had said leaving her flat that morning with a crumpled paper of the shop’s location ( courtesy of and recommended by her teammate, whose ink she’d been envious of for ages ) and a seemingly clear idea in her head of what she wanted. 

she walked into the shop and was immediately greeted by the startling, though not offending, arrangement and decoration of the place -- it was like walking into one of muggle london’s more exciting parts, to say the least. the face that greeted her, however, wasn’t one she had expected to see, or rather just barely recognized. “ so, this is where you’ve been hiding all this time ? ” she’d gone four years without speaking so much as a word to him and pushing him to the peripheral of her mind, surely she could keep her cool. maybe, she wished she would have asked the name of the tattoo artist, before she’d dropped in on a whim; but what’s done has been done, and she had never been one to back away. emma eyed him up and down -- he looked worlds away from the ronan avery she had once known. “ i’ve got something for you, if you’re up to task. i want a tattoo. ”

a look into emma’s profile as a witch ! 

“ oh come on em, you know if ANYONE was looking for a photo here, it’d be you. i’m way more famous than you ! ” her smile was bright as she crossed the pitch, grass still wet with morning dew beneath her feet. “ especially now that i have this ! ” she lifted her right arm, wrapped up in bandages, sling tucked neatly against her chest. she’d been hit, during the attack, a stray curse had got her, left her with a few broken bones and open wounds, soon to be scars covered skin. she’d woken up to paparazzi, reporters screaming questions that she didn’t have the answers to — who did this ? did you see them ? 

“ now come over here and give me a hug, i don’t care if you’re sweaty ! ” she’d been so scared, earlier, thought she’d lost some of her friends, she’d been relieved to see them again, felt like she needed to let them all know how much they meant to her. “ thank merlin you couldn’t make it out ! i know you were bummed you’d miss our performance but oh i can’t imagine what would have happened if you had come. OH em i’m so glad you’re ok ! ”

       “ Well excuse me for being starstruck -- I tend to get fired up when I’m in the presence of a superstar ! ” She punctuated the mock-apology with a bubbling laugh, only to falter at the sight of the injured arm Flint was presenting to her. It crept up on her, in these little yet blatant ways ; no matter how good she had gotten at dodging the carnage of the war, it always managed to manifest in her life. Emma blinked twice, registering the casted arm of her friend’s, no doubt having been collateral damage in the attack. Without missing a beat, however, the wide grin came back to her features. 

          charitys laughter only increases when emma laughs with a mouthful of champagne and she has to hide her mouth behind a hand. “oh, god. shut up, emma. you look lovely, even if you still act like you’re on the pitch.” there’s no bite to the words, giggles pealing from her voice as she shakes her head. fingers wrap around those of her friend and she gives a soft squeeze back. “please. thank you for inviting me. i never get invited to any of the fancy ministry parties, and the few i’ve been to were boring as hell. this is lovely.”

          “emma!” she hides a grin behind the lip of champagne flute, giggle on her lips as she brushes strand of honey-colored hair from her face. “didn’t he fall from his broom in his third game that season in that horrifically embarrassing jumble? cried on the green for half an hour over a twisted ankle?” charity nudges emma’s side slightly and takes a sip from her glass. “anyways, the wasps are dreadful.”

      “ You see that bloke? ” Emma whispered in her very much practiced gossiping croon, a finger detaching itself from its hold on her champagne flute to point at a quidditch player across the room -- no shame, and he probably couldn’t even see them from where he stood. “ That’s Roy Keats -- Wasps beater, laughed at me when I got on the pitch on my first game in the leagues; called me princess like it was my name, and made sure to purposefully hit me throughout the game even when I stayed out of his way, ” Her face twisted in disdain that quickly fizzled away ( always a flair for the dramatic ! ), and turned so that she could flash Charity her signature triumphant grin. “ Sorry arse is now sitting at the bottom of the standings this season ! Fate works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it, Char ? ”

EMMA VANITY IS A NEUTRAL IN THE WAR, EVEN THOUGH HER OFFICIAL JOB IS AS A PROFESSIONAL QUIDDITCH PLAYER FOR PUDDLEMERE UNITED. THE TWENTY-ONE YEAR OLD HALFBLOOD IS KNOWN TO BE DRIVEN AND CHARISMATIC BUT ALSO RECKLESS AND TEMPERAMENTAL. SOME MIGHT LABEL THEM AS THE SPITFIRE.