The weeks to follow passed fairly uneventfully, save for Emeline's second full moon, which went considerably smoother than the first.
It took a few days recovery, but her side wound was now healed and her collarbone's gash was scarring over.
However, both her and Remus' fingers were quite torn up again, and they knew they'd need to figure out something to aid in not trying to claw their way to each other during the transformation.
Sirius was growing antsy as the letters flooded in more frequently in regard to Harry's connection to Voldemort and it had Emeline concerned, too. There were more guard missions, high emotion and hurried whispers than she cared to admit.
On a positive note, Remus was always happy to let her lay her head at the Burrow on guard nights, seeing as Tonks typically went with him now. Sirius tagged along to the Burrow occasionally, but the other nights he had many far-off thoughts written across his wrinkled forehead.
He'd prefer to stay home.
In their spare time, Remus had taken to brushing up Emeline's defensive skills and felt bloody awful everytime a simple spell knocked her on her feet.
He was never attempting to actually hurt her, but she was struggling with her defense in the element of surprise. A straight-forward duel was fairly easy for her, but someone coming from the sidelines?
It worried Remus.
When she'd had enough, they poured over old textbooks Remus had lying around and tried their hand at other practical skills.
She'd even begun picking Severus' brain at Grimmauld Place on brewing Wolfsbane potion. By some stroke of luck, he seemed keen to show her when things settled a bit.
This particular week, Sirius opted to follow the Order to Headquarters, (having stayed far away from his family home of late, he felt somewhat guilty), and Emeline had a bit more quiet with George than normal when the Order headed to Grimmauld Place.
She found herself immersed in his and Fred's handwritten spreadsheets and floor plans this evening. Listening to them drone on and on flooded out her worry for Remus and Tonks being on yet another guard duty.
It was quarter after two in the morning when Molly arrived in the fireplace, brushing soot off her dress and immediately resting her hands on her hips.
"You three should be asleep, you know." She said sternly, though her face was soft and her tone dripping with exhaustion.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley."
"Sorry, mum!" The twins chorused in.
They were extremely cautious of their mother as of late.
Not only was an Arthur-sized wound still open, but they'd already left Hogwarts for good. She'd dealt with enough of their hare-brained schemes for now.
"No matter, children. Fred, could you help me lock up the perimeter, please?"
"Ofcourse!" He leapt to his feet and shot George a wink.
In turn, George grabbed Emeline's hand and set the paper he was holding (with a list of new candy ideas nearly lining the entire parchment), down.
"Fancy heading to bed?" He asked softly. Her stomach flipped and she nodded silently, following him up the flights of stairs to his bedroom.
Emeline was surprised when she realized the twins did not share a bedroom anymore.
Seeing as they did practically everything together, and they always regarded the Burrow as 'not much', Emeline simply assumed one room made sense.
Regardless, there were two.
George opened the door to his richly maroon bedroom, strewn with all types of joke spell-books, gag gifts, quidditch moving posters and replica models of their ideas for the shop.
She took note of the bouquet of wild flowers, dried out and tied together lying on his end table. He also had her shirt thrown haphazardly on the bed and she noticed two things then: one, that she wasn't sure how he got said shirt and two: his blush as he grabbed it and handed it to her.
"Must've left this one night."
She was sure she did not.
"You have it. Seems as though it keeps you company." She replied smoothly, throwing herself down on his bed.
It was such a comfortable mess of blankets, both plush and sewn, an old jacket of his which smelled gloriously of his cologne and the most worse-for-wear stuffed teddy that Emeline had ever seen.
He moved to sit in the corner, his bed butted up against the wall, and motioned for her to cuddle over with him.
She climbed into his lap and laid against his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart.
"Are you sure you want to work at the shop?" He asked softly, stroking her hair with his free hand.
The other was wrapped loosely around her waist.
"Absolutely!" She yawned. "I'm looking forward to it."
"Two more weeks." He reminded.
"I know, Georgie. Two more weeks." She murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck as she turned to face him.
Though cradling her, he leaned down to kiss her gently and smiled when he pulled away.
"It's all of our dreams come true. I wish he was here to see it."
She rested a hand on his chest as he looked past her thoughtfully, eyes fixated on the model of the shop.
"He's still right here." She tapped his chest. "I've never stopped missing my mum. It hurts when they don't see things the way they used to, but they do see them. I know he'd be proud."
He looked back at her now, his eyes misty, and pat her thigh to get her to slide out of his lap.
"Why don't I get you some of my sleep clothes?"
She nodded, recognizing just how painful tight jeans were to lie in someone's lap in.
"Thank you. I love you."
He stood, moving to his closet before turning to her with another large smile. There was a single tear down his cheek now, which he wiped at hurriedly.
"I love you too, E."