Sex changed less than Emma thought it would have. Weeks went by with life going on as usual, with trips to the Room of Requirement maybe twice a week. Emma's lifestyle decisions were only slightly altered. She ordered some lingerie and borrowed a bit of Katie's until it arrived. She had Tien brew her some contraceptive potion, which Tien did with surprising happiness. Emma decided to set aside her alarm at Tien's eagerness to make the potion and just be grateful. She would deal with whatever her friend's odd plans were at a later date.

Despite her expectations that Fred would want sex all of the time, he was actually far less demanding than she was. After all, he had classes (although not very many), Quidditch, and business, with the DA on top of it all. He had said over and over how it felt as though he was always trying to fit her in when she ought to be his top priority, but she understood completely. How was he ever going to reach his goals if he didn't have the capability to focus on them?

Although his mother, according to Fred and George, thought the twins were incapable of doing anything properly, the boys were actually incredibly disciplined, just not on issues that they weren't concerned with. The joke shop certainly didn't fall into that category, and Emma knew she would always be the mistress to the business. She thought it would be difficult, but she found herself not minding at all.

"Are you going to the match today, love?" Fred asked her one morning at breakfast, referring to the Gryffindor/Slytherin match.

"I would love to," she said honestly, "but I've got this incredibly long essay that I've barely written a word of due Monday and I really ought to get it done as soon as possible."

He frowned playfully, but Emma knew he didn't mind so much.

"Well, how about you come and find me when your paper's done?" he said, kissing her neck. "I'm sure I'll want to see you."

Emma laughed, agreed to do so, and hurried off to her dormitory, settling down with her books, parchment and quill, less than eager to write her essay, but knowing it wouldn't write itself, despite her desire for it to do so. It took nearly four hours, but she finally managed to get it wrapped up and edited.

"Right," she said to herself proudly. "Now for fun."

Emma put away her things, wandered to Gryffindor, to find Fred staring blankly at the fire of the common room with the other Gryffindor players not far, except Harry, who was actually nowhere to be found.

"So…" she said slowly, sitting on Fred's lap, "did you lose?"

"No," Fred grumbled, "we won."

She frowned.

"So… why the long faces?"

"Because," George snapped, "Fred, Harry and I have been handed lifetime bans because that squirmy little ferret provoked us to punching him."

"I didn't do anything!" Fred cried, frustrated.

"No, but that's only because we managed to physically restrain you," Angelina said bitterly. "I've got no bloody clue what I'm going to do now! No Beaters, no Seeker… it's a disaster! That cow!"

Emma frowned. She hadn't expected them to speak that way about Professor McGonagall.

"Who…?"

"Umbridge," Katie explained darkly. "Queen of the Killjoys herself. Who else?"

There wasn't much to say to that. Umbridge was certainly getting her way in ruining their time at Hogwarts, their last months at school. Their childhood, really, that's what she was ruining. Because even though they were of age, they were still children until they left those halls never to return again as students. It was bad enough that they had a war waiting out there for them, but not to have the last vestiges of their childhood… well, it was cruel, there wasn't any other way of putting it.

Emma took Fred and led him to the Room of Requirement, curling up on the couch with him and letting him complain. He needed to get out his frustration, but she was at a lost to help him. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to fix this mess?

Sex. It obviously didn't fix anything, not really, but she was able to help distract him, to help him release some of his frustration, his aggression. When they were lying together in the bed, skin on skin, catching their breath on the way back down, he whispered, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Emma chuckled.

"Thank you, I suppose," she sighed. "I'm rather fond of you, as well."

"No," he muttered, holding her even tighter. "No, that's not it at all. I love you so, so much, Emma, and if something happened to you, if something happened between us, if I ever lost you, I don't know what I'd do. It took me far too long to realize how much you meant to me, and I spent so many years just taking you for granted but I love you and nothing's ever going to change that. Promise me; promise you'll never leave me."

She clutched onto him.

"I promise I'll never leave on purpose," she agreed. "But this is a war, Fred. Things happen."

"No," he growled. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Emma. I'm going to protect you. You have to let me protect you. I can't live without you. Nothing is going to happen to you, do you hear me?"

She sighed at his stubbornness, sighed at the realization that he was never going to stop treating her like a piece of china, but would she feel the same for him if he behaved like anyone other than Fred Weasley?

Probably not.

"I promise, Fred," she whispered, tracing her fingers along his chest. "We're going to be fine, all right? We'll make it through this. We'll be just fine."

And they fell asleep tangled up together, drinking in the rhythm of their breath and heartbeats, so synchronized one might have thought they were truly one.

Weeks flew by faster that Emma could have imagined. It wasn't fair, she thought, that their first term was already nearly over. She suddenly found herself in the Room of Requirement again, but this time under much different circumstances.

It was the last DA meeting of the term. Things were going well, there was much improvement with everyone in the group, and Harry sent them away with high spirits. Fred even snuck a kiss under the mistletoe on the way out. Emma couldn't believe that anything bad would possibly happen.

That night, she slept in Fred's bed, not because they were doing a sleepover, but because she wanted to be close to him, although she couldn't explain the sudden, driving need to do so. Fred didn't mind, and she curled her small body into his strong, protective frame and they fell fast asleep. Her dreams, however, were far from peaceful, and when they were violently awoken by Professor McGonagall several hours later, Emma took a moment to realize that it wasn't just a part of her strange, dark dreams.

"Miss Norwick?" Professor McGonagall said, frowning. "Never mind that now, Weasley, and you as well, Weasley, I need you both to come with me. I'm going to get your sister. You will wait for me in the common room. I won't be long. Miss Norwick, it's best you stay here for the night. Professor Umbridge might be out and about and I don't want you getting detention for being out after curfew. Come to my office tomorrow and we'll have a bit of a chat, is that clear?"

Emma, being sleepy and confused, could do nothing but nod and fall back asleep as Fred pulled on some robes over his pajamas and kissed her on the cheek as George scrambled out of bed.

"What's going on?" she muttered.

"I don't know," he whispered, "but I'll let you know, I promise. Sleep tight, love."

But he didn't come back. In fact, he didn't even write her a note, and when none of the Weasleys were at breakfast the next morning, she started to panic. On her free period, she rushed to Professor McGonagall's office, where the stern professor was looking a bit tired and ragged, and not at all herself.

"Miss Norwick," she said. "Please, come in. Have a seat. Would you care for a biscuit?"

Emma blinked down at the biscuit tin and politely declined.

"Now, I am aware, of course, that Mr. Weasley and yourself are in a relationship. I may be old but I'm not blind. I would request, however, that if you are going to sleep in his bed, that you not sleep there when I come around to visit. It's highly inappropriate." Professor McGonagall paused. "But at least you were decently dressed."

Emma blushed furiously, but nodded.

"I understand that you seventh years are doing whatever you please, and that's certainly not advisable, but there is very little we can do to rein you in. After all, you are consenting adults. I simply ask that you consider your actions when younger students are present and try not to paw each other in public places. I think this is a reasonable request."

"Of course, Professor," Emma said softly. "May I ask something?"

"Yes, Miss Norwick."

"What happened to Fred? I mean, he didn't come back, his whole family is mysteriously missing, he didn't leave me a note, and Professor To – I mean, Umbridge – looks as if she swallowed a newt and it didn't agree with her."

Professor McGonagall looked down at Emma with scrutiny.

"Well," she said finally, "he has left early for break. His father had an accident and is in St. Mungo's. The situation looked particularly dire last night, but it appears he will make a full recovery, in time. It's best you don't try writing to him until break, however. I doubt very much this would surprise you, but mail is being monitored, and he won't be able to give you any more information while you are at school."

"Of course," Emma said.

Professor McGonagall hadn't said as much, but Emma knew that this was about the war. His father had been injured, likely in something to do with the fight against You-Know-Who, and the Weasleys were likely in whatever place it was they had been over the summer, the place Fred couldn't tell her about. She would write him as soon as she got home, she decided.

"Oh!" she realized. "I was supposed to be going to stay with the Weasleys over the holidays. I don't suppose I'll be able to do that, now."

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips thoughtfully, a certain softness in her eyes that Emma had never seen before, and then she said, "I will talk to the headmaster and something will be arranged. One of us will let you know when we have come to a decision. Now, I believe you have class. You had best be on your way."

"Yes, Professor, thank you!" Emma cried, gathering up her things and rushing off to class.

Emma spent much of her day worried, wondering, not sure if things were okay. That evening, she received a note that told her to go to the headmaster's office, (password: Fizzing Whizzbee), and she hurried away instantly. She had never been to the headmaster's office before, and when she knocked on the door she felt remarkably self-conscious.

"Enter."

She made her way inside, nervous to find herself alone, face-to-face, with Albus Dumbledore. He had been her headmaster for seven years, but she'd never had a real conversation with him.

"Professor," she said softly, and he motioned her to sit down.

"Miss Norwick," he said gravely, his twinkling blue eyes fixed on her through his half-moon spectacles. "It has been brought to my attention that your holiday plans were a bit shaken up by the events of last night. I must ask you several things. First of all, what do you think of Harry Potter?"

She blinked.

"H-Harry? He's a very nice boy. I – I don't suppose you're asking in that sense, though, sir." He shook his head and a smile played on his lips. "I believe him, Professor. Fred has told me… well, he's told me more than he probably should have, but I believe every word. I recognize that there's a war out there, and I realize that's probably what happened to Mr. Weasley."

"Do you promise to do a better job of keeping secrets than your significant other has done?" Professor Dumbledore said, although his voice was more amused than upset.

"Yes, sir."

"There are a few other things I must tell you, then. Firstly, Sirius Black is an innocent man."

Emma frowned. That was certainly not what she had expected. She certainly wasn't sure what it had to do with anything, but Sirius Black was the name her mother had used to scare her into behaving her entire life. The very idea that he could be innocent made her mind hurt.

But then, was it really that much harder to believe that the fact that Voldemort had returned?

No, not really.

She nodded slightly.

"I will let others explain the details of that to you," he continued, "but it is very important that you realize and believe that he is innocent."

"Yes, Professor. I trust you."

"Very well. There is something else I must tell you." He looked around, then said very softly, "The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix are located at Number 12, Grimmauld Place in London."

She frowned once more. Why was he telling her these things? She wasn't a member of the Order, she hadn't even qualified yet. Unless… unless…

"Fidelius Charm," she said softly, in awe. It was a spell so complex she could hardly dream of accomplishing it. And yet, it certainly wasn't out of the realm of possibility for one so powerful as Dumbledore, especially considering he needed the utmost of secrecy and security surrounding his organization.

"Very good," he said proudly. "Now, Miss Granger will be going to Grimmauld Place as well when term has completed. She and I discussed this earlier. You will take the train to London and then take the Knight Bus. Miss Granger knows the way. I trust you are acquainted with her?"

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Very well," he said with a smile. "I think that will be all. I hope you have a pleasant holiday, Miss Norwick, and I suspect I will be seeing more of you in the future."

"Thank you, sir," she said, unsure of how to interpret that last part. "I hope you have a nice holiday as well."

Emma made her way through the halls, found her way into Gryffindor Tower, and searched for Hermione Granger. The bushy-haired wonder was working on Arithmancy in her dormitory, and she looked up at Emma and smiled.

"Oh, Professor Dumbledore said you might be going with me. I have to say, I was a bit surprised, but then, Professor Dumbledore does follow his own rules, doesn't he? But he always seems to know what the right thing to do is."

"Yes," Emma agreed. "He certainly does."

The following morning, Hermione Granger and Emma Norwick found themselves in a compartment together on the train back to London, which, as Hermione Granger had pointed out, would make things more efficient. Emma couldn't argue with efficiency.

They caught the Knight Bus, which Emma had never been on before, and could honestly say she never wanted to be on again, and found themselves on a street called Grimmauld Place. The eyes of passersby slid right from number eleven to number thirteen, as if number twelve didn't exist. Although, from what Emma knew of the Fidelius Charm, it didn't exist, as far as the general public was concerned, much like the Leaky Cauldron to Muggles. They climbed up the stairs and paused.

"What are we waiting for exactly?" Emma muttered, shivering a little in the cold winter air.

"We're not supposed to ring the doorbell," Hermione explained. "The noise disturbs this portrait that likes to scream at people. It's quite a fuss, so we avoid it at all costs, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to unlock the door without it."

Emma frowned.

"Well, why don't you try?"

"Well, what if I do it wrong?"

"And what if we both freeze to death out here waiting for something to happen?"

Hermione bit her lip, nodded, and tapped her wand smartly on the door. They could hear a series of clicks as the door unlocked and she swung it open.

"See?" Emma said. "Was that so hard?"

Hermione led Emma through the hall and downstairs to a kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was busy baking.

"Oh, my goodness. Emma!" Mrs. Weasley said brightly. "Professor Dumbledore said to expect an extra surprise, but he didn't say who! Oh, but Fred will be so delighted to see you. Here, have a seat, you must be starving."

In truth, Emma was quite hungry. She sat down and jumped a little when she realized that the man she had sat down beside was none other than Sirius Black, the infamous mass murderer… who was apparently not a mass murderer at all. He looked up at her, sized her up, and said, "Hey."

"Hello," she muttered.

"Sirius," Mrs. Weasley said, "this is Emma Norwick, my son's girlfriend. Emma, this is Sirius Black. He owns the house."

And that was why Professor Dumbledore had mentioned him.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, holding out a hand, which she shook nervously.

"Likewise," she muttered. "You-you'll have to forgive me, but I'm afraid it's going to take me a while to get used to the thought that you aren't actually a mass murderer."

"Understandable," he said with a bit of a smile. "You'll have to forgive me, but it's going to take me a while to get used to the idea that one of those twins ended up with someone as classy as you."

Emma blushed, and Mrs. Weasley said, "She's intelligent, too; she's a top student, a Ravenclaw."

"My, my," Sirius Black grinned. "Definitely out of his league."

Shaking her head, Emma replied, "No, I'd not say that. I think he's out of mine."