Explicitly Emma

“Moll’s out looking after her gran.” he explained when she asked, “Apparently it’s infectious or I doubt she’d be willing to leave the twins for more than five minutes. Eh, Georgie,” this last bit is directed at the infant in his arms, who squeals in delight. It’s hard to believe that these boys are fast approaching 8 months. “Yeah, I was telling Moody things were getting a little hectic.” As if to punctuate his point there is the sound of something breaking inside his living room.

Now she’s uncomfortably sober and being handed an eight month old child, being invited into this rambling home and being given an unexpected personal look into what life with children is like.

“Hey, Georgie,” she says softly to the infant as she tucks the boy against her hip, careful to hold him firm as not to drop him but gently enough not to feel she’s going to crush his small frame. Goodness, babies feel so fragile though.

Emma lets her gaze sweep over the front room as she enters. Certainly messy, but she spots three other boys in various spots in the room--one of them taking a moment to notice as he had hidden behind the sofa--and the mess makes sense. Though she considers how outraged her own parents would be if she’d strewn toys and other things across their immaculate villa. Just as she’s turning to Arthur, interested in knowing the names of each child, the presumed fragile boy in her arms catches hold of a chunk of Emma’s hair and yanks.

Curiosity caused her to pause when she heard the crash down the alley she was passing - partially because she was distinctly sure she heard the word Salazar exclaimed - and her eyes widened in surprise when a person she knew stepped out of the alley. “Em- Emma?” she asked in confusion, eyebrows knitting together, “What are you doing down some Muggle side-alley?”

“It’s a secret pastime of mine.” The sarcasm drips from her words as she rolls her eyes and gives a glance back to the alley she’d appeared from. The distaste stands out in her expression. “Someone seemed to find it funny to illegally charm objects into portkeys in Diagon. Or so it seems. I was looking at scarfs at a cart vendor one moment and then I find myself here.”

Hands smooth down over her clothing, searching for any other stains or unsightly items clinging to her before letting out a sigh and looking back to Narcissa with a plaintive gaze. “Merlin, I don’t even know why you might be in this part of the city but I’d appreciate some company. Especially if you can point me back to our side of things. I’d be hopelessly lost otherwise.”

She wrapped her jacket tighter around her as she walked on the sidewalk, blowing a blonde curl out of her face as she eyed the shops and restaurants she walked past. Marlene was thinking of going into one the clothing shops when she heard a familiar voice and turned around, eyeing a seriously pissed off looking Emma. “People around here stare at you weird if you’re talking to yourself.”

“I thought that held true no matter where a person was,” Emma returns as she folds her arms over her torso, a mild pout puckering her lips. It doesn’t escape her notice that while she feels distinctly out of place in this area, Marlene appears at ease, as if she’s used to being in a densely muggle area. Without conscious thought, Emma finds herself inching nearer to Marlene and away from the milling people that pass them on the walkway.

She lets out a sigh through her nose as she considers Marlene, who stands just a few inches taller than her. “Happen to know where I am? I was thrown here by portkey and blast it all if I know a thing about the--other--city areas.”

As she speaks, Emma shifts her weight uneasily from one foot to the other with a furtive glance at the unfamiliar shop fronts and the clanking metal contraptions on the road.

“Do you even know how to bake? I sure as hell don’t.” Her hazel eyes gleam with amusement as she takes the bottle back and takes another swig for herself. “But the rest we can certainly do. But why take someone home with you when you always have me here?”

Ludo watched the expressions pass over Emma’s face as she seemed to ponder something, something about his broodiness, he was sure. But, before he could give her a proper reply, her finger had moved from her own lips to his, and his eyes crossed to look down the bridge of his nose at the appendage. Only a few moments can pass in this positon before Ludo barks a laugh.

“Are you implying that because I have embraced the brooding lifestyle, I have not had my fill of my old thirteen year old sparks?” He raises an eyebrow, as her finger falls away; his own sharp gaze catches hints of a singe on her skin, tracing up her delicate wrists. “Or are you talking about our old thirteen year old spark? I do not know if that still exists, what with you being water and all…”

“Vic, if you believe you’ve already had that fill, then your glass must have been mighty small. And here I thought you had the size to go much longer before you reached your brim.” Emma glances down the length of him with obvious consideration before leaning closer still to him. Finger falling away at his laughter, she lets it circle the rim of her glass, now empty but not disappointingly so. The draught does its job, as it mingles in her belly with the alcohol she’s consumed.

“Are you forgetting how well water can conduct sparks? Magnify them and carry them longer distances than they might normally be able to accomplish on their own?” With a mock pout, she looks up with playful hazel brown eyes. “I always fancied a spark to burn a path through the water. And I’m a sprite of water, fae manipulating the element. I tell it whether to douse a flame or divert away from it.”

Her hand moves away from the glass rim to float through the air between them, as if she is entirely capable of doing just as she claims. “But perhaps you see our spark having died out long ago, Vic. Your mood as of late--tonight notwithstanding--makes me believe this conversation is only a fluke of the enchanting evening.”

“Use my tongue,” Ted nods. That was something he and Andromeda – Come to think of it, the whole thing was something they hadn’t talked about. Ted presses his lips together before he glances at Emma, voice soft when he speaks. “Is there a specific way I should… You know – with my tongue?” He still  isn’t confident in speaking about the whole thing so he shakes his head and looks down at his lap.

Her next set of words receive a knowing nod from him. Most of what she said is obvious, as he assumed that was merely the whole point of it all. Please Andromeda, get some pleasure in return. It wasn’t rocket science, yet the whole concept was something he was still getting the hang of. “I can do that much,” Ted sighs and reaches across the table to take a sip of her drink.

“Do that much and more, Ted.” Emma watches him as he takes a drink of the beer, despite having turned its offering down moments before. So many people uncomfortable with the topic of sex will seek out anything to keep their hands and bodies distracted, despite hearing what’s being said and still finding themselves curious to know more.

Emma reaches out one finger to press into the table. “My finger will stand in as the tongue.”

She draws a figure eight or infinity symbol in slow motion as she explains, “This is an enjoyable way to move your tongue. Using the tip of it,” the finger turns to begin circling around a small area of the wooden table’s surface then, “or a simple circular motion around the clit does just as much.” Emma then moves her finger back and forth in a more-or-less straight line. “Or moving horizontally back and forth over it. Or vertically. Alternate between both directions for more pleasure.”

When she lifts her gaze from her own finger to look at Ted, she adds, “You might also choose to simply suck on the clit with a bit as you make motions with your tongue. It will draw more blood to the surface, making it even more sensitive. And temperature changes also feel good for some girls so you might take breaks and as you draw away, blow lightly over the area to chill the dampness.

“And if you use your fingers, working inside her while using your tongue and mouth on her clit, you could easily bring about an orgasm for her before you even penetrate her with your cock.” Emma’s gaze floods with mirth as she leans in close to point out, “Since you’ve not has much experience, you might not realise that girls can have more orgasms and climaxes during sex than your one. If you only get her the one when you come as well, it’s such a disservice to her body’s ability. Sometimes it can come off as if the guy only cares about his own orgasm if he doesn’t make more effort to get his lady off more than once during the time spent together.”

With a coy smirk, Emma leans back and then lifts her finger from the table to hold it up. “Ask any questions but I do have one for you: Are you aware of the g-spot myth? Perhaps something your brother tried to tell you of before you were so rudely interrupted?”

“Because we’re probably being timed.” Mike also pointed out, complete with him holding a finger up to point at her. “You can have a stiff one after we’ve done this.” Sure, he had drank that one time at the Halloween ball but that was mostly to relax himself to try enjoy the night, all those years of being sober were broke for a night so he had promised himself to stay on the straight and narrow from here on, no more drinking and to find another way to relax at parties. 

“Damn Alastor if he’s actually timing this.” The girl crosses her arms for a moment with a small pout. “We can’t all be duelists. Some of us have far better talents that should be put to use instead of making us waste our time in a clearing like now.”

“That’s understandable. It’s not an easy conclusion to come to and I didn’t expect an answer now. It’s just something for you to think about, to come to in your own time.” Words of wisdom come easy to the man. He’s been a witness to many horrors and has heard countless tales of tragedy. He’s been a constant observer and a voice of reason. “You do matter, Emma. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” He says quietly as he takes one of her hands in his, the meaning of his statement being that the world is not done with her. There is time to get better. To pick up the pieces.

“It’s gonna take time, you know. But if you’re willing to use what strength I know you have in you, you’ll overcome this. The thing is, Em, you hold all the power. This is your life. You only give power away in doing the things you do. You give power to the substances and the people that influence you - family included. The power is yours, you just have to be brave enough, willing enough, to wield it for yourself and not give in.”

He stands then and leans to place a delicate kiss to her forehead before sitting back down. The gesture isn’t particularly characteristic of him, but with Emma he’s always felt this instinct to protect and care for her. Though he hasn’t quite figured out in what full capacity yet. “You know what I want? I want you to see the beautiful, capable young woman that I see in you. I want you to look in the mirror and face all of the things you do not need in your life. I want you to find your worth, because it’s already there. It’s all there waiting for you to open your eyes to it. I believe in you, Em. You can get past all of this.” It may have been asking a lot of her, but he hopes it will work its way through her mind and come to give her perspective in time. Give her the strength she needs. He can only do so much without her coming to the same conclusion herself.

Every person who has appeared in her private hospital room has done nothing but force Emma to think on what she’d done to herself. The fact that people came to see her at all speaks volumes to her. Even when she’d been in school, surrounded by people she deemed friends or acquaintances, she believed herself to be alone. Alone in her nightmares. Alone against her family. Alone in her contrary views on blood purity. Being a Pureblood Slytherin brought with it a stark notion that no one could be trusted with the whole truth, with Emma’s whole person. In Slytherin, your self worth was defined by who you could manipulate to further your own agenda. While Emma could do that, she had never found the appeal in it.

Now she thinks on how the power had never truly been hers each time she’d swallowed a potion or swiped a collection of pills from Eris to escape through. Emma feels painfully aware of how little power she feels, even now. The aches and pains of withdraw on her body, the whispering pleas her mind pushes as it craves the drugs once more. She feels as if she’s a bystander to the addiction at the helm of her being.

“It would be far easier if no one cared,” Emma breathes out as she lets her eyes fall shut, head resting against the pillow. “I’m so tired. Tired of battling my past. Tired of the conflict between good and evil, right and wrong. I feel like if I’d died from the overdose, it would have been so much easier than this; feeling the cravings, seeing how people look at me differently and are so disappointed at me. At least if I died, I wouldn’t have to see that or feel conflicted any longer. People would mourn me for the positive things and stuff away the bad things they saw in me.”

When she asked if they had practiced enough, Mike just gave her a look, rolled up his sleeve and took a look at his watch. “Emma, it’s been fifteen minutes. Not an hour, if it had been an hour then surely we would’ve made more progress than this by now. It’s your turn.” He planted his feet to get ready to cast protego but she looked like she was about to give up, honestly? So did he. He felt too old to be doing this. 

The red light shoots from her wand as the spell leaves her lips and she hopes it’s better than the last attempts she’d made at offence with Mike. Truthfully, she can’t imagine this practice is warranted. What’s the likelihood that she will see any action as an Order member? Emma tries not to think on it. Instead, she sends another hex directly after her first, challenging Mike’s reflexes to deflect a second attack.

“Besides, who says they’d know if we practiced our dueling for an hour or fifteen minutes?” she points out. “Whether you drink or not, I need a stiff one already.”

“It’s – He’s a guest,” He grimaces as he speaks. “He’s rather fond of chasing the dust bunnies out from beneath the sofa and is under the impression he’s here to stay.” Severus glances back at the kitten. “I plan to keep him until he’s nursed back to health.”

He reaches for the cup of tea he abandoned in favor of playing with the kitten and takes a sip, regretting doing so as the liquid comes spewing from his lips. The cup is sent toppling to the floor. “I’m sorry, what was that,” Severus coughs a few times and gives his wand a wave to clean the mess. “Emma, you of all people should know I’m not fit to be a parent. I can hardly care for myself.”

Then she sets the kitten on the sofa by Severus’ feet and shakes her head at the mess he’s made. Emma gets to her feet and heads toward the small kitchen as she returns, “Sev you aren’t going to get rid of the kitten. You’re going to keep him and take care of him and it will be good for you. So don’t fight it. He’s too cute to resist.”

When she returns from the kitchen, she holds a flannel in hand to wipe up the tea with, quickly doing away with the mess and then moving to sit next the young man on the couch. “Move your legs,” she insists with a nudge. “Besides, you have me to help take care of you. Merlin only knows what you’d do without me. Let me ask: when’s the last time you ate? Or had proper sleep? Or taken a relaxing bath?

“Also,” Emma takes the grey little kitten back up as he was just about to climb the back of the sofa. She holds him up, with his damaged eye and missing ear. “If I find out you’ve sent this precious guy away, I’m not bringing you any of Pierre’s finest chocolate cakes from Paris ever again.”

A knock at the door made him jump, flinching both arms to his side. The kitten, affectionately called Duster, pounced and dug its claws into his thigh in a last attempt at getting the string. Severus hissed out in pain and tried to get it to release him, but his gently swatting at it did nothing besides make it seem as though he was trying to play.

Upon releasing a groan, Severus glanced at the door and cleared his throat. “The door’s unlocked,” He hissed out when Duster dug his claws into him again. “I would get it but I’m – I’m rather busy. Perhaps it’s not a good time.”

And the furry grey thing lodged on his thigh.

“Well who is this?” Emma inquires with a broad grin, all confusion and concern clearing at the sight of a scruffy kitten enthusiastic in attempting to get Sev to play with him. She pads around the back of the sofa so that she can crouch down and admire the kitten from a better vantage. The furry feline lets out a mewl and as she reaches out, it graciously retracts its claws from Severus in favour of sniffing out the new person who gladly scratches at its head.

Amused eyes find Severus with an eyebrow arched. “Decided to take on parenthood did you?”

Bill was 8 now, and more help than his father had originally expected him to be. But he also started laughing whenever Charlie started teasing Percy instead of telling his younger brother off. And Percy’s screams and protestations always set the twins off. 

Five children was really quite impossible. Sometimes he wasn’t quite sure why he wanted more. He’d been complaining about it to Alastor Moody last time he saw the man, and to his surprise the Auror had promised help. 

She takes his hand when it’s offered the second time, though she questions what it might have been that he wiped off. The flaming red hair of the infant in his other arm helps to distract her from asking further than the cursory, “That’s me, and it’s no problem. Where is she then? I was told I should be here to give you help?”