Well, I've procrastinated on the House Cup enough. I believe we should see an update next weekend with new numbers. You all have spoken - we will continue this House Cup through the very end. For future updates and expected posting dates, please take a look at my profile. I will be updating it with preliminary dates for the next chapter. You can also follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, or Reddit, if that tickles your fancy.

Please enjoy Chapter 22!

Louisa propped four-inch heels onto Charlie's coffee table with a grunt of effort.

"How do you wear those to work?"

"I've charmed them."

Charlie snorted into her half-filled wine glass, reaching for another square of cheese.

"It's come along," Louisa glanced to the newly delivered furniture, "It looks like you."

It had taken several weeks for her to find the flat after accepting Alastor Moody's offer.

Of appropriate size and location, it had fallen to neglect in its years of vacancy. Previously owned by a wizarding couple – whom Charlie knew only by name – that had relocated to the continent during the war, it had stood empty for nearly a decade. Cobwebs had grown in the corners, and Charlie had been pleased to secure the place for a reasonable price.

However, she had continued to live in the Leaky Cauldron for several months.

Charlie did not have the first idea of what to do with it. Her magic, though improving in each lesson with Remus, was still hazardous. She did not want to wave her wand at the walls of her newly purchased home, nor did she have any inclination to do things the 'muggle way'.

Snape's home had come with its threadbare furniture and cracked teapot. Walburga had taken care of the arrangements to their home before Regulus and Charlie had even walked down the altar. She did not have any inclination whatsoever as to where to begin or how to do so.

In the end, it had been Louisa to take hold of the situation.

She had arrived with her house-elf to begin the lengthy process of sanitizing Charlie's house. It had accumulated several boggarts – to which Louisa's solution had been to simply throw them out – and the window treatments had been infested with doxies.

Doxicide had taken care of the little beasts, and Louisa's house elf had scrubbed as though it was her favorite past time.

Charlie thought it likely was.

It had been Louisa who had commanded Charlie to pick out furniture in a thick catalog, and evidently selected her own accompanying pieces, for Charlotte did not recall choosing fur throw blankets to toss across the cognac leather sofa she had pointed out, nor the thick marble-topped coffee table. Louisa had chosen the wall colors – a rich, emerald green that softened in shades of mint throughout the house and paired nicely with the exposed brick walls which had been pre-existing – and it had been Louisa to select the thick high-pile rug that felt like clouds beneath their feet.

"It looks like a blended version of me and you," Charlie corrected her, chewing quietly.

"Because I plan to stay here on nights I'm too drunk to call for the Knight Bus."

Charlie's eyes rolled, "That will be the day, Lou."

"It's entirely plausible. My mother is arranging another meeting with an eligible bachelor."

"Another one?"

Louisa's mouth pursed, "She doesn't understand."

Evan and Louisa's mother had never accepted that Louisa had not been the first of their year to marry. After exclusively dating Augustus Rookwood throughout their time at Hogwarts and the years after graduation, it had appeared for all intents and purposes that eventually the two would marry.

Until Augustus had taken the coward's route.

"Are they at least good looking?" she asked hopefully.

"They're ancient, Charlie."

Charlie took a sip of her wine, "Then why not just go back to Augustus?"

"My father would never allow that."

The Rosiers, despite their retirement to France, still held expectations of their daughter. They were not unlike any other pureblood parents. The Rosiers were members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and their name would die with Louisa, as others had died in the war. They would not want their daughter to marry a man seen as a coward and blood-traitor.

"Maybe this one won't be so bad. What's his name?"

"He was one of Evan's friends, so at least our age – Avery."

Charlie paused, "Dominick Avery?"

Louisa shrugged, swirling her glass of wine, "I didn't pay attention to Evan's friends."

"He was a Death Eater."

"They were all probably Death Eaters, Charlie."

"No, I mean that I know him," she cut off Louisa's exasperated reply, "He's nice. Good-looking."

A single brow rose on her friend's face, "Explain."

Charlie laughed as she hurried to reassure her. Dom had, in fact, been Evan's friend at Hogwarts though with the pair being older than their year and their interest in boys had only truly bloomed after Evan – and Dominick – had graduated.

"He was a Death Eater. I was partnered with him a few times. He has younger sisters, a few years behind us. Two, I think."

"You said he was good-looking, Charlie. I need to know if he's your kind of good-looking or mine."

Charlie's eyes narrowed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're married to Snape."

"Snape is not ugly, Lou."

Louisa snorted into her wineglass, "Maybe not to you."

After supplying a length description of Dominick Avery's appearance, personality, and NEWT scores, Louisa appeared satisfied.

"Maybe I won't drink myself into oblivion this weekend after all."

The blonde's eyes shifted to look at Charlie and narrowed.

Between the quick renovation, move, and her lengthened lessons, Charlie realized that their interactions of late had been more of a business arrangement than friendly terms. Louisa, who had never asked for an explanation for her separation, had also not asked for one when Charlie had told her she would be withdrawing her divorce complaint from the Ministry.

However, the leniency on her curiosity was likely wearing thin, and from the quick sip she gathered from her glass, Charlie doubted it would last even a few more minutes.

"I'd like to have a straightforward conversation," she began, and Charlie's stomach knotted with dread.

Nearly three months ago, Dumbledore had said similar words.

"I'm not leaving him because I can't," Charlie cut her off quickly.

Louisa waited patiently, her long nails tapping the nearly empty glass in her hand.

It had taken several weeks for Charlie to accumulate a good enough reason that would satisfy Louisa. Though she did not particularly like lying to her friend, Charlie could never forget that Louisa was fundamentally a stereotypical pureblood. She did not have qualms about using phrases such as 'mudblood' in public, and she specifically frequented only shops owned by other purebloods or at least half-bloods. When the stationary shop in Diagon Alley had changed ownership to a kind-faced muggleborn wizard, Louisa had not hesitated to change her patronage.

At times, Charlie questioned whether Louisa managed to treat her muggleborn patients in the same fashion in which she treated her pureblooded ones.

She doubted it.

"I can't have a third husband, Lou. No one would bother taking me at this point."

The blonde's lips pursed, "Plenty of them would."

"I've had two marriages that have resulted in no children. I probably can't have them. No pureblooded mother with a right mind will let her son marry a barren witch, no matter what family I come from."

Silence fell between the pair.

Charlie knew that even Louisa would have difficulty arguing her way out of her reasoning. Louisa, who had lost Augustus because he had taken the coward's way out of his conviction in blaming the Imperius Curse for his actions during the war, would see that Charlie's excuse was built on a solid, indestructible foundation.

"You can have children, Charlie," she said instead, "I ran those tests. It's possible."

"No one is going to touch me, Lou."

Louisa finished off her glass of wine, "Is that what you want, though? Will you be happy?"

Happy.

Charlie doubted there was anything at this point, short of divine intervention, that would make her happy.

"We've agreed to a separation," she lied, "Until things calm down. It could change."

"Separations can last years, Charlie," Louisa began carefully, "Unlike Severus, you have a biological clock that determines how long you can have children. Even magic can't change it. Have you considered that?"

"I'm only twenty-three, Lou," Charlie forced a laugh, "I've got a decade."

"From your examination results, that's cutting it close."

Louisa crossed her ankles on the coffee table and stared out the window. The blinking skyline of London looked back at them, winking signs advertising late night coffee shops and cafes cut across the rainy summer night.

Charlie had come to the conclusion over the last eight months that her opportunities for having a family had been broken the moment she trespassed into Snape's mind.

Her lie was not entirely untruthful. At twenty-three years old, she was already considered old in the wizarding post-war world. Their school friends had already married and had children. Some, even younger than Charlie, had already had multiple. The war had brought couples together faster, their desire to bring a new life into the world even stronger. No pureblooded – or even half-blooded - wizard wanted to leave the world without the opportunity to continue his bloodline. The only ones left were those who had been made widowers during the war or cast offs that no one else had wanted.

Dominick Avery's wife had been accidentally killed in a raid on Diagon Alley.

No one else had wanted Snape.

"Snape wants me to spy on the Ministry," Charlie reminded her, "I have to focus on that for now."

Louisa's eyes rolled, "If the Dark Lord comes back."

The blonde had not been fond of Charlie's reasoning for taking the job at the Ministry of Magic.

Lou had vehemently reminded her that she could secure her a job as a greeter at St. Mungo's if she was simply desperate for something to do, and when that had not worked, she had questioned whether Charlie should be buying a house or simply moving in with her.

Ultimately, Charlie had opted for her secondary excuse – that it was a means to avoid Snape until she was ready to move forward. Only due to their friendship had Louisa's questions ceased. It was not like Lou to continue questioning Charlie or her decisions. For as much as she was snobbish and at times even cruel, Lou had been the most loyal friend Charlie had ever had. She ultimately trusted every decision the dark-haired witch made.

Louisa, despite her loyalties, would never have used her as a pawn.

"I've agreed to let you take this job," the blonde began with a smile, "On the condition that I am in charge of any healing you require. Ministry healers botch it half the time, and I'll not be cleaning up their messes."

Charlie grinned, "They said the job came with a permanent bed at St. Mungo's."

"That isn't funny."

Even Remus had been surprised she had accepted the offer. He had taken instruction from Dumbledore on what areas she would need to show the largest amounts of improvement in, but most of the magic required of a hit witch or wizard was straightforward dueling. Charlie had always been relatively talented in that respect. After another two months of grueling lessons and meeting three times a week – for which Charlie had insisted she pay him for – she had come along nicely. But his reservations about the position had been voiced frequently.

This is a job for people with a death wish, Charlie.

Her contract with the Ministry had involved an agreement when written on parchment, was as thick as her middle finger. It had listed the various things for which she could not find the Ministry responsible for – including loss of limb – but also listed a fat pension should she become too maimed or disfigured to complete necessary job requirements.

It had certainly been better than anything the Dark Lord had offered her.

What pension had she received for her service to him?

"Hit wizards arrested Sirius, didn't they?"

Charlie made a quiet noise of agreement, her eyes avoiding Lou's carefully assessing gaze.

"How many of them died, do you remember?"

None of them, Charlie wanted to tell her.

She had been there, listening in the alleyway as he shouted obscenities at the aurors – once his friends – as they hurled curses at him. By the time the squad of hit wizards had arrived, he had been exhausted. Charlie had heard his screamed hexes grow dimmer, his voice catching on syllables.

Instead, she shrugged.

Louisa would never have understood why she ran to him that day. She had never approved of the relationship between Sirius and Charlie. When they had broken it off, she had been more than delighted to include Regulus in everything she had shunned Sirius from. Not that Sirius would have wanted to do any of the things Regulus had agreed to.

"I'm just telling you to be careful, Charlie."

Dumbledore knew what he was doing when he offered you this job.

Remus's words echoed between her ears as she saw Louisa out, the witch tripping over her stilettos as she raised her wand for the Knight Bus. Charlie waited until the blonde had settled in a seat before blowing her a kiss and closing the front door.

Charlie's feet padded against the hardwood floors as she scooped up wineglasses and empty plates to deposit in the kitchen. She would deal with them in the morning, or perhaps finally indulge Louisa enough to find a house elf.

Mad-Eye didn't do this for you out of the goodness of his heart.

Sitting cross-legged on the high-pile rug, Charlie stared out at London with glazed eyes.

It had only partially concerned her that Remus was suspicious of Dumbledore's intentions. For as long as she could remember, Remus and the other Marauders had looked up to Dumbledore with the awe reserved for those who had diligently followed the tales describing his victory over Grindelwald. But if Remus was questioning Dumbledore, then there was something to question.

She reached across the rug to snag the neck of a half-emptied wine bottle and brought it to her lips.

I can't imagine Mad-Eye made the recommendation for good reasons, Charlie.

Her lips twisted.

No, she did not doubt that Alastor had ill intentions towards her. From what she had heard from Severus, the auror had been strongly against Dumbledore's solution to her problem. Moody hadn't wanted Charlie to marry Snape or be involved in any capacity towards the Order.

It was strange of him, she thought, to allow her to join the Ministry of Magic.

With the training used by the hit wizards, she would become a better duelist than before. The training program for hit wizards lasted nearly a year. It was a third of the time required by aurors, but still extensive. She would learn how the Ministry tracked Death Eaters during the first war, and how they arranged for their arrests. It was information, that in the hands of a person with ill intentions, could be quite harmful to the Ministry of Magic, and therefore, the Order of the Phoenix. Moody had never thought she had any good intentions from the beginning, if Snape was to be believed.

If Charlie had learned anything from Severus and Sirius respectively, it was that Alastor Moody – while loyal to the Ministry – was Dumbledore's man. However, he held just as fierce a loyalty to those who worked with him in Magical Law Enforcement.

"What are you up to, Alastor?" Charlie hummed against the dark glass of her wine bottle.

Her thoughts carefully mapped out motives and means, racing through probable scenarios. Since the war, her mind had felt jumbled and too full. In the last eight months, she had begun to regain some clarity. There was no additional presence lurking about in her conscious to take up more space, to question her own thought process. She was alone once more.

There was no true benefit to having Charlie join the Hit Squad. She was not as talented as perhaps other, untraumatized candidates. No matter her reputation as a Death Eater, or after the war, there were plenty that would have disagreed with Moody's decision. While she carried moderate talent in dueling, she had been better at other things for the Dark Lord.

Charlie froze.

You will learn to disassociate from any actions you partake in.

Surely, she thought, Dumbledore did not mean any actions.

Possession was illegal.

But, as she recalled, the hit squad was authorized to perform illegal magic. They were not held to the same standard as aurors, or other members of magical law enforcement. Hit wizards and witches were the hit men paid by the Ministry. Arrests were to take place under any means necessary. Mad-Eye would likely be delighted to have found a witch capable of possession who could be used by the Ministry in the event the Dark Lord returned as Dumbledore had predicted.

An auror would be happy to have a witch in his pocket who could possess criminals to turn themselves in, divulge their locations, or even prevent them from committing crimes.

The hair on her arms began to rise.

It had never bothered Dumbledore that she had possessed people in the same way it had disturbed Remus. She could still recall the shocked expression on the werewolf's face when she had admitted her crime to him. The disgust and horror had been unrestrained.

Dumbledore had smiled.

As an obscurial, she had been a liability to the Order. If the Dark Lord could use an obscurial, whose magic was unrestrained and violent, it would have devastating effect on the wizarding – and muggle – world should he come back.

Possession was an entirely different beast.

In possession, she was an asset to them.

The wine bottle slipped from her fingers to roll across the hardwood floor, spilling burgundy liquid in its trail. She stared at the spreading zinfandel with widening eyes.

Charlie had thought herself capable of out-witting Dumbledore. She had believed, foolishly, that accepting this position only helped herself. It created a niche for her survival, placating both sides. Never had she thought it would create its own web of dangers.

Her heart hammered within her chest.

Of course, then, he had waited until she had successfully performed a new possession to provide her with such an offer. Now that the guise was up, they had known she was not going to stick around without a new purpose. Offering her a job, promising the protection of the Order, and making her valuable had seemed like a solution that satisfied both sides. In truth, it had been a new guise.

Mad-Eye did not want her for her dueling capabilities. There were dozens of wizards capable of vicious wand-waving who lacked morality. She was a single knut in a dozen for that. No, he wanted her for his own purposes. Charlie had learned possession in the company of Death Eaters. It was probably satisfying to think she knew enough about each of them to slip into their minds. How much information could she get for the Order if she could look through the eyes of, say, Bellatrix?

"Fuck."

The word echoed against the freshly painted emerald walls.

I honestly never cared much for Mad-Eye. I've always believed he was self serving to his own ideas and sense of morality, and that he teetered between his loyalty to the Ministry and that of the Order.

A few people have mentioned to me their dislike of our time jump. I don't expect many time jumps to take place in the story, but I've plot mapped this story to the heavens and I think we're going to see a few of them in the interest of staying true to my plot and the events that take place in the books. If this is absolutely unacceptable to you, I am not opposed to writing filler chapters but as I reader, I sometimes hate reading those. Please let me know your thoughts in the review section, or to message me directly!

House Cup

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