A/N: Here's your regularly scheduled weekly update! Enjoy!

-C

Never, ever been a blue calm sea. I have always been a storm. – Storm, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)

Catherine knew the search was in full swing, and plenty of people were involved in finding her daughter, but she couldn't stop thinking how she was sitting at home, waiting. Harry hardly came home, didn't seem to sleep even when he was home, and would exchange quiet, whispered conversations with Rabastan while she played with the dogs or practiced brewing complicated potions for the hope of keeping her skills sharp.

"Cat?"

She didn't look up from her work, but told her husband to come in to her lab. She glanced up when she was able, and she saw the tiredness and wear on him, the extreme levels of exhaustion and distress. She wished there were something she could do to make this easier for him, but she knew he was the one searching because he was the one capable of handling the pressures of the search. As frustrating as it was.

"Diggory's doing his best," Harry said, kissing her neck gently. "He doesn't have the same level of contacts in France as his predecessor, and most of his focus has been on Germany. But he's managed to get a few discrete contacts to get us permits. We'll leave as soon as they can get them."

Catherine nodded, leaving her potion to simmer as she slipped her arms around Harry's neck feeling the solidity of him. She pressed her lips to his, drawing him into a kiss. With Ryana gone, apparently visiting family, and with Harry leaving to France for Merlin knows how long, she would have no choice but a cold, empty bed waiting for her at the end of every day.

"If I went with you," she said weakly, "I wouldn't be in the way."

"Kitty, please," he sighed as she suckled on his neck. She felt his fingers twitch where they were clutching at her back. "Please."

"You wouldn't even notice I was there…unless you wanted to," she said, teasing lightly as she nibbled on the tender skin of his throat. Harry groaned, his hands sliding up her back, toward her hair. He was considering, she knew.

"Cat," he sighed, breathless, "if it were up to me, I'd never let you leave our bed, but there's something more at play here."

She sighed, pulling away, trying not to feel the disappointment as he gave her that regretful look.

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Harry sat with Severus Snape, rubbing his knuckles together anxiously. For the first time in years, he wanted a cigarette. He hadn't craved one since he and Catherine had to retreat to France in the early years of their marriage.

"Moody looked over the photographs and footage?" Harry asked, not looking at the headmaster. He felt sick to his stomach.

"Yes, and he had a few ideas of possibilities. We're looking for any faces in both places with her," Severus said softly. "Scorpius is trying to use a set of spells to see if he can read the ticket she's holding. Do we know what her fake ID says?"

"No," Harry said, rubbing his arms. "Gareth couldn't remember, and Colly said she changed it sometimes, depending on where they were. My wife's daughter, alright. Too bloody clever for her own good."

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Rabastan watched Catherine run the dogs through a series of exercises, and he admired the smoothness of her hair from a second-story window. He could see the strength of her legs, despite their slimness. Her torso was so thin and trim, one wouldn't imagine she'd birthed two children. He licked his lips, resting his head against the window frame.

Cara no longer had the flush of youth, although she did not look elderly. And while Catherine was not young in the way her daughter was young, but she was still quite youthful, and Rabastan did not have to struggle to imagine how vigorous she would be in lovemaking.

Catherine did not laugh or give excessively positive praise when the youngest dogs did their exercises correctly, but the dogs seemed aware this was not down to a defect in them, but to a deficiency in the welfare of their owner. They were highly perceptive creatures, and a small voice in the back of Rabastan's head told him to get rid of them, but it was a bridge too far. The canines could not be held responsible for the ill in Catherine's world, and they could be managed much more easily than Ryana Cotton could have been.

She rubbed the back of her neck with a gloved hand and turned to look up at the house. When she spotted him watching her she gave him a weak smile. Rabastan decided she needed tea, something warm to welcome her back into the house.

He paused before going down to the kitchen, however, stepping into the master bedroom. He breathed in deeply, smelling the scent of her, and a bit of her husband on top of it. The scent of Harry was not precisely offensive, but Rabastan felt it took away from the appreciation of Catherine's ownership of the room. He closed his eyes and touched the chair at her vanity, feeling around for loose hairs left on the back of the chair.

No such luck.

With a sigh, Rabastan went back downstairs, put the kettle on, and listened intently as he heard Catherine coming in through the mud room. He licked his lips, telling himself this was not a time to lose control of himself. He could be close to her without losing his grip and giving in to the urge to wrap himself around her and never let her go.

He could, but he didn't particularly want to. He wanted to give in to his desires and feel her hair, smell her skin, kiss the smooth column of her neck and tell her she was beauty in perfection.

But he said nothing when she came through to the kitchen. Instead, he poured her a cup of tea and told himself he could handle the temptation.

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Cynthia walked up the Amsterdam port, watching locals at their coffee shops and tourists with their guidebooks. Rhiannon told her to get out, see the sights while they were here – which suggested to Cynthia they would be moving on, perhaps soon.

The squat they'd found was in fairly good shape, perhaps recently abandoned, left with some serviceable furniture and good insulation. The windows were boarded, of course, and she found some signs of druggies using the front of it for their habits, but she put up wards, so only a wizard would be able to find the place, and only if they knew what they were looking for.

Cynthia felt a kind of melancholy as she watched a young girl with her young man, clearly on a date, comfortable enough in their relationship to be affectionate in public, but certainly early enough in the relationship to need to be physically attached at all times, not letting go of each other's hands.

She watched the young girl and thought of Cecilia, who had a similar build to this girl. Or, had once had. When she was alive and uncremated, and had a build at all.

This was the hardest part for Cynthia, to see her sister's ashes and know all the life force that had once been her baby sister was reduced to a pile of ashes, not to be buried, but to be dumped out in the Black Lake. It was a thing Muggles were doing with increasing frequency, but Cynthia found the concept of cremation disturbing, and she knew it had pained their mother to do it.

Of course, Cecilia had never known they'd have to enact her wishes so soon. She might have changed her mind a dozen times in a normal life span, but she didn't get the chance.

Cynthia supposed she'd have a traditional burial, a proper one, buried with her wand, under a tree or something, maybe on the grounds of the Manor, or by the sea at the villa.

She felt a horrible shiver down her spine and decided it was time to go back to Rhiannon. She was remembering again, and she didn't want to remember. Once she began to think of her sister, or the funeral, or the accident, or even her mother, she would feel a horrible, suffocating sadness, and all she wanted was to curl up and have it be over. What it was, she couldn't say, but she didn't want to suffer anymore.

Rhiannon was stretched out on the haggard sofa when Cynthia arrived back, and she beckoned Cynthia forward, sitting up enough to coax Cynthia into a kiss. To kiss comfortably, Cynthia knelt beside the sofa, eager to feel the sensations of Rhiannon's physicality and forget her misery.

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Sirius sat with Remus, who was bringing the news from Mad-Eye. It was strange, meeting in Remus's office, but Remus didn't have much time out of the office or classroom while Severus was away looking for Cynthia.

"They've got more CCTV footage, stills and film," Remus said softly. "They're looking for patterns, for more sightings of her at train stations. They want the Marseille and Paris footage to see where she got off, but the French government is a difficult nut to crack, and Diggory's not back from Germany yet. I'm sure he'll help, though."

Sirius hummed. He'd never quite forgiven Cedric Diggory for the youthful obsession with his daughter, although he didn't really blame the boy. Diggory had hardly been the only one to find Catherine irresistible, even when she was at her most obnoxious and self-absorbed. Sirius just felt lucky she picked Harry instead of some idiot.

"What's he going to want in return?" Sirius said softly.

"Not everybody operates on favors, Padfoot," Remus said with a sigh. "He's a Hufflepuff, not a Slytherin. From everything I can tell in his life and career, he just feels very strongly about doing the right thing. You've never seen him clearly because he had a thing for your daughter."

"Maybe he still does."

"If it helps you find your granddaughter, are you really going to complain? You've never let something simple like using people get in your way before."

If Remus hadn't put a small lightness in his voice, Sirius would have been half-hurt by those words, but he knew they were true. Sirius had used, stepped on, even destroyed an awful lot of people since his days in the war. He sometimes looked in the mirror and couldn't find a hint of the boy he'd been, who ran away from home and vowed to never be like his family. He had friends, people he loved, a job he was good at, and children and grandchildren he would die for in an instant. But had he lost himself somewhere, or had he perhaps found himself? And which was worse?

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Lily stopped by the shop in Birmingham, greeting Kevin Whitby warmly as she selected her purchases carefully. She always bought from her daughter-in-law's apothecary, knowing anything they didn't have, they'd get it for her quickly and with good quality.

"How is she?" Kevin asked softly. "I know about…Cyn. Not much, but Kenrick knows she's gone. How's Kitty?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Lily said with a frown. "I don't know how long the search will take…"

"Hopefully it will be over soon," he said earnestly, "but I'll be here as long as she needs. Can't even begin to imagine the hell she's in."

Lily could. When her son had done the unthinkable and killed someone to free his wife from the hold of drugs, she truly had several days of mortal terror, wondering what might become of him if their plans came to naught somehow. But they were so well-practiced at damage control.

This, this was different. All the damage control in the world wouldn't assure Cynthia would come home alive, well, and soon. She thanked Kevin for his support and left with her purchases, trying not to appear too shaken as she walked back out into the streets of wizarding Birmingham.

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James watched Remus read a letter from Severus as they stood in Remus's office. Perhaps they should have invited Sirius, but James suggested he take some time to be with his wife. Cara was a stabilizing influence on Sirius, and as he was clearly so rudderless, he needed all the time with her he could get.

"Diggory's returning from Germany early," Remus said softly. "A good sign. We should be able to dig into France soon."

"You reckon she's still there?"

"I'm bloody hoping she's still there," Remus said, in a moment of uncharacteristic desperation and frustration. "If she's just run away for some space, Marseille is a practical, responsible choice. We'll find her, we'll bring her home, maybe get her some grief counseling or medication or whatever she needs. But if she's not in Marseille…"

James nodded. If she wasn't in Marseille, then her motives for running away were more unclear, or perhaps her record of responsibility and practicality had run its course, and how would they find her from there? For everyone's sake, it would be best if she was simply hiding out at the villa.

"Should we tell Sirius?"

"In the morning," Remus said, rubbing his stubbly chin. "We'll tell him in the morning. I wouldn't take away his time with Cate for anything. It's probably good for her, as well."

"Remus, he hasn't got any thumbnail left. I'm worried he'll take to smoking again."

"I'm worried, too," Remus whispered. "But we'll just have to keep an eye on him, Prongs. Between us, we can manage. I'm just glad we aren't responsible for managing him and Harry and Kitty."

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Laura sat up when Jason came in, and she carefully measured out the dose of the potions Severus Snape left for him. He flinched away from them, but he took the dose without argument. She wished it wasn't necessary, but she knew Caroline was on a higher dose to keep her magical core in check. Laura could be grateful for small mercies.

"Gareth wrote," she whispered. "Says the gossip's unbearable. You remember the Hogwarts rumor mill. They'll come up with all kinds of nasty eventualities."

"Some of them might turn out true," Jason said softly, not looking at her, but staring at a spot of nothingness off the foot of the bed. "I have a horrible feeling she's not in France."

"What d'you mean?" Laura asked, shifting closer and touching his arm. He flinched slightly, but he relaxed under her touch. "Why wouldn't she be in France? That's where her ticket was for, wasn't it?"

"I know, but I just feel she's…in an unfamiliar place."

"Well, she's not spent much time in Marseille. Kitty struggles with it still, doesn't she?"

"No, unfamiliar, properly unfamiliar," Jason said, tugging slightly at his dark hair. "I'm sorry, Laura, I wish I could explain. I wish I could even understand! I just feel so bloody helpless. I don't know, I don't know how I feel or how I'm supposed to feel. I reckon I should be angry with my father for doing this to me, except I can't. I understand why he did it, now, even if he hadn't meant to. When Gareth was born, I thought of all the things Kitty and Caro had gone through in school and I had this moment of absolute fear his life would look like theirs. I thought, what have I done, bringing a child into this world with all its predators and pitfalls? He was so small, so vulnerable, so beautiful. Kitty was all that to Dad, and she was more because she represented the end of the hell of the war, the first thing Mum and Dad had in their marriage that wasn't necessity in a battle…. Nothing will ever be as precious to me as Kitty is to Dad."

"And nothing will ever be as precious to you as Cynthia is to your sister," Laura offered.

She found the ancient magic infused in her husband disturbing and frightening when they finally told her, but she understood why he wasn't angry with his father. Jason had always been level enough to understand accidents.

"When I was a kid, I wasn't sure my father loved me as much as he loved Kitty," Jason said, rubbing his temples. "And I hated it. I don't hate it anymore, as much as I know it's true. I just feel…heavy."

Laura kissed his shoulder blade through his shirt and wrapped her arms around him. He would feel the effects of the potion shortly, and then he would manage to sleep. She only wished he would feel rest, but perhaps this was too much to ask.

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With the news of Cedric returning to England, Harry took advantage of what was probably one further night in his wife's arms until they found his daughter. Catherine was quiet, hardly saying a word as he slipped into the room, barely acknowledging as he undressed and slipped into the bed beside her. He pressed a kiss to her neck and she hummed, but she said nothing.

"I love you," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her slender body. "I love you so, so much."

"Love you, too," she sighed, tracing her fingers through his hair. "Do you really have to go?"

"I need to find her, Cat."

"I know," she said, closing her eyes and squeezing them tight, and he wished he could leave this to everyone else. "I just…Harry, I feel so alone."

"You have your uncle," he said weakly. "And the dogs are here."

"I need you," she choked out through tears. "Every time my world has fallen apart, you've always been there, even when I wasn't sure I wanted you to be. I can't…. Harry, please."

He swallowed back his reasons, knowing nothing he said would change her mind, and nothing she said would change his. No matter what, this was always going to hurt them both. But when Cynthia was home, he told himself as he kissed his wife, then he could return to normal. Then everything would be an imitation of all right.

A/N: So, Cynthia is fighting her body's need to grieve, Sirius is being eaten up with guilt, and Catherine and Jason open up about their thoughts and fears.

Review Prompt: Who likes the puppies? I'm really enjoying the dogs.

Q&A:

Q: Doesn't Cynthia think of the consequences of what she is doing to her parents? (Marcytherock)

A: Right now, Cynthia's too wrapped up in her own overwhelming emotions to realize. In trying to suppress her grief, it's spilling out of her when she doesn't realize, and that's a crippling thing. She doesn't have the emotional capacity to manage this and think of what she's doing to her parents at the same time. It will eventually hit her.

Q: Is Rhiannon just a random woman or is she just playing an angle? (danceegirl92)

A: I wouldn't say she's a random woman. She's significant, although I don't expect any of you to guess, especially this early, who and what she is. There's no reason you'll guess at all. She's not someone we've met before. She is definitely playing an angle, but in her mind, she's helping Cynthia – not hurting her – as she uses her.

Cheers!

C