CW: There is an inappropriate relationship represented in this chapter, involving a minor. If that upsets you be mindful, or skip.

As promised, the plot's picking up.

Drop me your thoughts!

…..

Emma shuffled into the kitchen, clad in her favourite pair of floral muggle pyjamas, a stark contrast to the professional robes she wore at St. Mungo's. Today was her day off, but that didn't mean she could completely relax.

With a steaming cup of coffee in hand, Emma leaned against the kitchen counter, her mind drifting to the day ahead. Dumbledore's upcoming visit loomed over her thoughts–but Dumbledore was not the only one that was in her mind as of late.

Her gaze shifted to the pile of angry letters from Pia stacked on the kitchen table. Emma sighed, knowing that Pia's impatience could become something worse. However, she also knew that sharing the details of her work as an Order member would only fuel Pia's demands.

Emma sat down at the kitchen table with her quill and fresh parchment paper. She was going to keep Pia informed but it would be on her own terms. She acknowledged Pia's desire for more updates but expressed that the best way to share information would be in person, over the holidays, if possible.

As she penned the words, Emma couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. She knew she had been avoiding spending Christmas with Pia ever since she had moved to London, many years ago. It had become a pattern, an unspoken agreement between them. Being a Healer provided a convenient excuse, as accidents and illnesses did not stop during the holiday season. But deep down, Emma knew it was more than just an excuse. There was a strained dynamic between them, a lingering tension that she preferred not to confront–how many Christmases ago was it, after all, when everything was shattered?

December 1982.

The chilly winter evening enveloped Emma and Arty as they stepped into the cosy pub they stumbled upon during one of their walks. The warmth inside contrasted with the frosty air outside, casting a welcoming glow upon them, and she felt her cheeks warm with excitement, for the first time in a long year since Peter vanished and her mother was not well.

Arty guided Emma to a corner table, his hand resting gently on the small of her back. "You'd like this place, Em. It's got character, like you," he said with a grin, prompting her further inside the small Scottish pub.

Emma blushed, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, as she took in the space. She had never been to a pub before, she was not allowed. But with Arty to accompany her, the bartender did not seem to mind that she was clearly under the legal age to be there.

As they settled into their seats, Arty's green eyes sparkled behind his thick glasses. "You know what, Em? I think it's high time you tried something new. How about we start with a cider? It's sweet and it won't get you drunk," he said, winking at her.

Emma bit her lip. "I don't know, Arty. Pia's been going through a tough time lately, and I promised I'd behave well for her. Maybe I shouldn't…," but she was clearly curious. At fifteen, her family did not let her drink.

Arty leaned in closer, his auburn curly hair falling into his forehead casually. "Hey, don't worry about Pia right now, love. Trust me, a sip won't hurt anyone. Plus, I'll make sure you're taken care of," he beamed at her and rolled up the sleeves of his corduroy shirt jacket.

Arty passed Emma a glass of cider. "Go on, have a sip, love. It shouldn't burn, you know," he said.

Emma took a tentative sip, feeling a sense of rebellion surge through her. The warm liquid slid down her throat, leaving a tingling sensation. She couldn't help but beam back at Arty, a newfound sense of freedom lit up her body.

"Pia will properly freak out if she finds out," Emma exclaimed, half smiling.

Arty leaned in closer. "Don't you worry. We can keep it our little secret. No need to trouble Pia with the details. It'll be our special thing, yeah? Consider it, dunno, educational. I am your teacher, after all," he said, letting out a throaty laugh.

"I'm so happy with you and Pia. I miss Mum and Dad, obviously, but being here with you both feels nice," she confessed.

Arty's smile softened, and he gently bent over to caress her hair. "You're right, darling. We are a nice little family, and we'll take care of you. When things are better, you can return to your mum. Unless of course, you prefer to stay with us. It's been wonderful having you here," he offered, adjusting his glasses, always smiling.

Emma nodded and smiled back, still in awe of the buzzing atmosphere and the alcohol in her blood.

Arty leaned in closer. "You know, Emma, our little walks and conversations mean the world to me. Pia has mad hours at the paper she's working for, and well, let's just say, she doesn't quite share the same interests. But with you, it's different, innit? You're a brilliant pupil, a fine young lady in the making," he said.

Emma blushed, her eyes darting away momentarily, but eventually gave him a smile, eager to please, yearning for affirmation. "Thanks, Arty," she murmured. "It's proper lovely to be with you and Pi," she said, her eyelids getting heavier as she rested her elbows on the table and touched her face. "I can't wait to officially call you my brother, after the wedding," the girl said with a tired smile.

He gave her a small hum, and his gaze intensified, studying her face intently. His fingers then grazed against hers, and despite the jolt of confusion etched on her face from the intimacy of the gesture, she hesitantly opened her palm to him, letting his touch linger more than she wanted.

Emma's head throbbed and the same old visceral feeling of disgust settled deep within her. She stared at the sealed letter, her mind racing with memories she wished she could get rid of.

With a gruff sigh, she sealed the letter and prepared it for mailing through the muggle post, to avoid any suspicions with the Order.

...

Sirius stood at the head of the table in the library of Grimmauld Place, the letter from Harry open in front of him. His eyes shifted from Kingsley to Snape, who were both standing at different corners of the room.

"So?" Sirius's voice cut through the silence. Kingsley crossed his arms, his expression sceptical, while Snape had a sour expression.

"You truly believe every whimpering note from your attention-seeking godson, Black? I have more pressing matters to attend than to indulge in Potter's dramatic letters," Snape said. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Sirius' left eyebrow twitched. "How about we entertain the idea that Harry might just have a valid point for once?" he asked, getting ready for a fight.

"I understand that rational thinking is not your strong suit, Black, but perhaps you could spare us your melodramatic tirades. Nothing is going on with Malfoy, Dumbledore is not concerned, and neither should the Order," he retorted. "I honestly do not understand why we were summoned here, perhaps you can entertain an answer, Shacklebolt?"

"Listen to me, you little–" started Sirius, while Snape was up on his feet now, his hand instinctively going inside his robes, clutching his wand.

"Gentlemen, let's not let personal animosities cloud our judgement," interjected Kingsley, raising his hands as a sign of peace. He then turned to Sirius, "I don't think Harry's concerns should be dismissed outright," he said looking at Sirius calmly. "Perhaps we should consider Harry's observations, Severus," Kingsley turned to Snape.

Snape's sneer softened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. Sirius' fingers drummed impatiently on the table, a rhythmic beat that betrayed his restlessness.

"Harry is not exaggerating and he does not want attention–the Malfoy kid is onto something, especially if we consider the visit to that crooked shop at Knockturn Alley. He could be transporting artefacts for Merlin's sake!" he said.

Kingsley leaned back in his chair. "The boy's probably compensating for his father's failings with You-Know-Who's ranks, I reckon. Trying to make a name for himself, and prove he's more than just a whiff of Lucius. Wouldn't be surprised if he's dipping his toes in the Dark Arts, maybe even aiming to be a proper Death Eater soon."

Sirius nodded. "That's what I'm bloody afraid of. We can't afford to underestimate him. He's got the cunning and the resources to cause trouble, mark my words."

"Dumbledore sees no cause for concern regarding Draco Malfoy, and neither should we," Snape reiterated.

Sirius continued undeterred. "What if this is bigger than just an angry kid? We can't ignore the possibility of Death Eaters infiltrating the school, using Malfoy as a pawn to gain access," Sirius said, addressing Kingsley.

"Infiltration by Death Eaters? Really, Black?" said Snape, amused. "Hogwarts has extensive security measures in place. Your fear-mongering only serves to create unnecessary panic, but I guess you are craving for something to do in your free time," he said sardonically, emphasising the free part.

Sirius flushed angrily.

Snape then turned to Kingsley who was looking at Sirius.

"Draco Malfoy is simply a misguided youth. To suggest that he poses a threat to the Order or the school is an exaggeration fueled by paranoia," he said, giving Sirius a side glance.

"I am not paranoid, and neither is Harry," hissed Sirius, aggressively.

After a moment, Kingsley replied. "Sirius, I understand your desire to protect Harry, but let's not indulge in overblown worries–at this point, at least," he added, seeing Sirius getting ready to interject.

Sirius shot a scathing glare at Snape. His body leaned forward, his hands planted firmly on the table as he retorted with a mix of anger and determination.

"I know you relish in your role as the cynic, but it's time to set aside your pride and consider the bigger picture. Harry's instincts could be the key to averting a catastrophe," said Sirius.

"Oh," said Snape softly in a mock-sweet tone. "Like the time when he lured everyone to the Ministry to save you, Black? I suppose you do remember that day very well, after all," he said.

Sirius made his best effort to ignore Snape's jab about the Ministry and the veil. "I won't let Harry or anyone else suffer because we underestimated that conniving little snake," he said to both men, looking at them meaningfully. "Understood?"

Shacklebolt, who had his hand on his broad jaw for a while, nodded. "I will speak with Nymphadora and Moody to find a way to add more of us to the school. In the meantime, keep calming Harry, Sirius. Downplay his worries, but don't ignore them. If anything is coming up with the Malfoy boy, I trust you will know, Severus," he said.

Snape nodded curtly and disappeared a moment later, leaving Kingsley emptying his drink and an angry Sirius Black looking away, his gaze fixed on the fireplace.

Sirius' annoyance with Snape lingered as he made his way upstairs to grab his coat and find a moment of solace in smoke.

He hoped that Kingsley knew what he was doing. He was lost in thought, still agitated by the meeting. He turned abruptly, however, when he neared the landing toward the first floor, distracted by a noise of clinking glassware.

"The hell?" Sirius muttered under his breath, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. But quickly, it dawned on her. It must be the Healer girl working at the Order hospital. His curiosity was piqued as he had only been at the new hospital wing once. With another jolt of recognition, he realised that she also needed his medical history, so this was a good chance to get this sorted out.

He slowly entered the corridor and looked around him, taking in the transformed space. The smell of antiseptic was prominent, but the place lacked the sterile environment of a hospital. He was actually quite impressed at the work done. Walburga's room was now a large hall, full of hospital beds and medical items. He smirked when thinking of his mother's reaction.

Sirius's eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of Emma, so they could get this medical history over with. If he was honest with himself, he dreaded the plan that Dumbledore had, and he also did not want to get his hopes up either.

The girl–Emma—was nowhere to be found though, and he kept walking further into the room, as he could detect a faint hum and the gentle clinking of glassware. She must have been at the apothecary–Walburga's former wardrobe.

"Hello?" he called out, to avoid startling her. Despite his efforts, she must not have heard him calling out because when she appeared, humming absentmindedly, she was caught off guard, causing her wand to slip from her grasp.

Acting on instinct, both of them reached for it, but Sirius was faster and their hands brushed fleetingly as he retrieved her wand from the floor.

"Here you go," he said briskly, giving her her wand. She seemed frozen for a minute but quickly collected herself, although she had a prominent blush on her face from being startled.

"Oh, thank you," she said, the surprise still evident in her face as her eyes darted from the wand to Sirius. "I am sorry, I did not expect anyone to pop by today," she exhaled awkwardly.

"No harm done," he said, shrugging. "Seems like I have a knack for startling you," he said with a self-conscious grimace.

"Oh, no it's not you–I just did not expect anyone to be here at this time," she said, avoiding his gaze.

"Fair enough. By the way, you mentioned needing my medical history for the potion, right?" he asked. "Yesterday, when you mixed up the rooms upstairs," he added, seeing her confusion.

Emma blinked, her gaze flickering on his face for a moment. "Yes, that's right, give me a moment to just gather my notes and my quill," she said gesturing at the back of the room.

Sirius took notice of her unease and frowned a little, as she made her way to the back.

He could not help but think if he still carried the same rugged roughness in his appearance from the toll of all those years in prison. Was it his looks that made this girl so startled every time they met, he pondered, as he realised that she had a pattern of being fidgety when she saw him. He scoffed, scratching his stubbled chin and feeling a bit self-conscious as he took a fleeting image of himself in the mirrors: the nightmares and the lack of sleep, as well as his constant restlessness, were not in his favour, although he had regained a healthier appearance since his escape.

Perhaps, it was not his looks, but the reputation that preceded him that elicited this reaction. His face was circulating in the prophet for two years, after all, with the headings 'mad mass murderer' and 'Death Eater' all over the papers.

He felt a surge of irritation but decided to sit down and divert his attention elsewhere, as he did not want to pity himself right now, especially in front of her.

"Sorry for the wait," she said as she reentered the room, and Sirius snapped out of his thoughts and looked at her. She seemed more confident now, more collected, as she was approaching him with her notes. He noticed that she was in Muggle clothing and not her hospital robes. Pulling her hair away from her face, she sat in front of him on a small stand while placing a notebook on the nearest counter. Her wand was now secured in the holder on her belt, and her quill was ready to take notes.

"Uhm–you mentioned you have not thought about your medical history for a long time," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, well, let's say I've been better since my grand escape from Azkaban," he said. He sniffed lightly, as the memory of the cold and damp prison came to his mind.

She looked surprised for a fleeting moment but then nodded attentively and she had a strange look like she wanted to say something but chose to keep it to herself. Her quill was jolting down notes. "Would you say that your sleep is the only source of discomfort?" she asked, looking at his face earnestly. "You feel well, otherwise?" she continued, her eyes darting at him briefly.

Sirius shifted in his seat lightly. Without being able to help himself, he returned the question. "What do you know about my nightmares?" he asked in a gentle voice that surprised him given the topic.

She was surprised for a minute but just raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement.

Sirius noticed that her eyebrows were full and arched, something that added a level of expressiveness to her features, especially her eyes which were very blue with a tinge of hazel in the middle. It was the first time he took a good look at her, and a jolt of realisation hit him. She was undeniably good-looking. The thought surprised him because he was so out of touch with trivial things like a woman's beauty for so long that having these thoughts felt almost foreign.

"Uhm, well," she said briskly. "I've been obviously told by Eula and Dumbledore," she said. "But also people in the Order like to talk," she shrugged with a hint of naughtiness in her voice.

Surprisingly the lightness of her comment did not bother him, it brought him amusement. "Well, I suppose it's good to know that someone is keeping tabs on me," he replied with a small smirk on his face. She chuckled softly in acknowledgement but then her expression was more serious, even empathetic.

"Well, this is no simple sleeping remedy–it's difficult, but it might bring you relief," she offered. "I admit that I have never brewed it before, my speciality is elderly wizards and witches at St. Mungo's," she said with a hint of sarcasm, and her eyebrows were travelling up her forehead in amusement.

Sirius thought it was amusing too. "I suppose that physically I am in an equal state as your patients, most days I feel like a bit of a relic myself," he said in a self-deprecating tone that he usually kept for those close to him.

Emma's eyes widened in mock scandal as her wand was on his vitals. "Hardly," she replied, amused. "Your vital signs are quite active–I wouldn't call you a relic unless you are hiding a nasty infection of the dragon pox inside your trousers," she replied and Sirius let out a bark of laughter.

It was odd to be able to laugh like this. His experience with Eula Shacklebolt had not been amusing. "So, how long have you been a healer?" he asked.

"Well, it hasn't been a straightforward path for me, let's say," she admitted as she was hovering above him and peaking at her notes. "I've worked here and there and I actually met Eula in Scotland at an elderly residence for wizards and witches. I worked as a secretary there and I often kept company with all the older folks. Eula actually thought I'd be good at healing. So I moved to London to study healing under her," she said. "It's been a few years now since I've taken up the profession full-time."

Sirius nodded. "What year did you finish Hogwarts, then?" he asked curiously, as she was clearly younger than his peers, but not as young as Tonks and the Weasley lot.

"Oh, I actually didn't finish Hogwarts," she confessed. "I was homeschooled from fourth year onwards by my sister…and her then-fiancé" she added after a small pause. "My parents were ill so I had to drop out," she said, predicting his follow-up question.

Sirius simply nodded. He could detect regret in her voice.

"But, before I dropped out, I was actually a Ravenclaw," she said proudly.

"It's alright to be a swot, I guess," he replied humorously. "My whole family was in Slytherin and broke centuries of tradition," he added gruffly. "I was a Gryffindor, of course," he explained.

A frown appeared on her face, then, and it seemed that she wanted to ask something. "The room upstairs–" she started. "Regulus was your brother, right?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes," replied Sirius gruffly, surprised at the question. He could tell that she realised the mention of his brother had struck a cord because she was back at looking shy, reserved, and for some reason that made him uncomfortable.

"He was my younger brother, an exemplary son to my very old pureblood family," he explained. "But you see, little Reg was not just happy being the heir to the Black family, he joined Voldemort. So an idiot, really," he said coldly.

She was stunned at the revelation and her mouth remained slightly open. Their gazes met directly for a fleeting moment.

"That's too much," she choked out a reply and averted her gaze.

"It's nothing," he replied gruffly. "As you could see from his room yesterday, he did not leave much behind to bother with anyway," he added in a louder voice with more emotion.

"I am sorry though," she said.

"What for?" he returned in a gruff voice. "One Death Eater less in the world," he said, looking away.

Her face was strange, Sirius noticed. She looked sad suddenly, deeply upset. Was he too crass? he thought.

"Whatever he was, he was your brother. It must hurt," she added in a strained voice, her back now turned as she took the quill manually and closed off her notebook abruptly.

Sirius felt odd. Why was he telling him that? She didn't know Reg or their history. Yet she looked clearly upset.

"Physically, there isn't anything wrong with you," she began, her voice slightly strained. "The potion should work, especially if taken in a higher dose of dreamless sleep. Just make sure to follow the instructions carefully and seek guidance if needed."

Sirius noted the sudden paleness in her complexion. He couldn't help but wonder why the mention of Regulus seemed to affect her so deeply.

"I will do," he mumbled, confused.

Women had always been a bit of a puzzle to him. Remus, his one remaining friend, had possessed an uncanny knack for understanding them. He could effortlessly decipher their subtlest cues and respond with the perfect blend of kindness and sensitivity whenever Lily was exasperated with James. Sirius, on the other hand, was always irritated by these unspoken tensions. He was not as bad as James, of course. Sirius could pick up on the emotional charge–like now– but it made him uncomfortable, uncertain.

"Alright then," he broke the awkward silence. "I'll see you later, at the meeting this week," he said and made his way to the door.

Emma's eyes briefly met his, a mix of relief and something else flickering within them. She simply nodded.

With a quick nod in return, he left the hospital wing, feeling more confused.