TW-GRIEF, UNDERAGE DRINKING

Chapter 12

If there was a hell, it was most definitely an attorney's office in Naperville Illinois. That was the only conclusion Vivian could come to as she listened to the lawyer her parents had apparently hired shoot legal jargon at her as if she could possibly understand what he was talking about. She was barely 16 years old. She had no idea what an executor of an estate or an insurance beneficiary was and frankly, she couldn't find it in herself to even pretend to care, a problem she had been having with basically everything in her life since learning the news of her parents' discovery. Why should she be concerned with estates and wills when her family is dead? Why should she give a shit about attending a Charms exam when all she could think about were bones bleaching in the sun? Why should she care about her friend's increasing worry for her when nothing could ever be okay again? All questions with answers she had yet to find.

And on top of all of that, the lawyer's office was absolutely sweltering. Who sets a thermostat to 78 degrees? It was inhuman, is what it was.

"...and since you're still underage, I will be representing you as your guardian while you talk to the detectives."

This caught her attention.

"Detectives?" she asked, speaking for the first time since taking her seat at the wooden desk across from Brian Alden, Attorney at Law. She seemed to be having a lot of miserable discussions at big wooden desks recently.

Brian nodded enthusiastically, shuffling his papers around to locate the detective's business card to give her.

"Yup, they just want to ask you a few questions for their investigation. Should be here any minute now. Matter fact-" he pressed the button on his intercom, barely taking a breath between sentences, "Anne, send the detectives right in whenever they get here, we're ready for them."

"What do they want to talk to me for? I don't know anything," she wasn't sure if she was ready for them. She had talked to a handful of detectives after Eli died, and it was not an experience she was looking forward to repeating.

"Just some standard questions I'm sure," he waved a hand at her. She was robbed of the opportunity to argue with him further when a man and a woman–the detectives she presumed–walked into the room, both sporting sharp clothing and serious looks on their faces.

"Detective Flores, this is my partner Detective Arnoldson. You must be Vivian," the man introduced them both, holding out his hand for Vivian to shake. She nodded slowly, returning the handshake and getting a distinct X-Files vibe from the both of them as they took seats opposite her. The woman had honey blonde hair cut into a stylish pixie cut, and the man was tall and chiseled. Very X-Files indeed. Brian Alden came around his desk to take the seat next to her, giving her what he must have thought was a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he sat.

"We're just going to ask you a few questions about your mom and dad today, okay?" taking her shrug as a go ahead, the detective flipped open the small notebook he retrieved from his pocket and jumped in. "Can you tell me the last time you saw your parents?"

"Like two years ago," she answered, unsure what information she could give that would provide the cops even the slightest clue in their investigation. Information she could tell them anyway.

"Do you remember the date?" he asked, jotting her answer down.

"It was sometime in the summer? '91?" she offered. Whatever the date had been, she had taken no note of it at the time, having of course no knowledge that it would be the last time she saw her parents alive. Even up until she learned of their deaths, she still hadn't known it would be the last time.

"Anything else about that day you can remember?" Detective Arnoldson spoke up, tapping her ballpoint pen against her own notebook in an anxious manner.

"Um…." Vivian flipped through her memories of that summer and that day, trying to recall anything that could have happened around that time that would narrow the date down. Immediately after her parents had left, she and Eli had gotten into it, arguing about the extended family, her desire for initiation, and his insistence she stay out of it–though of course none of the nomajs here needed to know any of that. "I think Twin Peaks was on?"

Both detectives seemed pleased with her answer, nodding as they wrote down their separate notes. And who said watching television never helped anyone?

"And when was the last time you spoke to your parents, hon?" Flores asked.

"Whenever they left," she gave the man an odd look. Duh?

"They never called or wrote or emailed or anything after they left?" Arnoldson leaned forward, her blonde eyebrows squinting at her as though Vivian simply hadn't understood Flores' question. "You didn't think that was odd? That they hadn't reached out to their kids in days or weeks or months?" she pressed after Vivian shook her head no.

"We never heard from them when they were out of town," she shrugged, unsure what she at 13 could have done even if her parents had suddenly stopped communicating with them. She watched as the detectives exchanged a disbelieving look, which sent a spark of irritation through her. If they thought she was withholding information, they were welcome to try to get it out of her. That was all she had to offer them.

"What about your older brother? Could Eli have heard from them?" Flores jumped in, making no efforts to hide the dissatisfaction on his face.

Vivian sighed, looking down at her hands and fiddling with the ring on her index finger. She should have known Eli would come up in this. As much as she would have liked to keep him far from her mind while dealing with this latest tragedy, it seemed as though that was not going to be an option.

"If he did he never said anything to me."

Had her past self been asked the same question, she would have said absolutely not, with zero hesitation. But now? For god's sake the guy had been literally suicidal and she had been completely unaware. Who knows what else he had kept from her?

"When did your brother die?" Arnoldson asked, taking the line of questioning in a completely new direction.

"March 23rd, 1992. Why are you asking that?" she answered, looking uncertainly between the two detectives in front of her as an unpleasant feeling of tension began to build in her shoulders. That date had been and would forever be imprinted on her mind as the worst day of her life. But she had no idea how that had anything to do with their parents, or why the detectives would have any interest in his case, nearly two years after the fact.

"And you saw his body yourself?" Flores asked. He had an odd sort of eagerness in his eyes that Vivian did not understand and did not like one bit. He reminded her a bit of a bloodhound catching the faintest trace of a scent.

"I saw him die," she snapped, feeling her nails sink into the palm of her hand as she gripped it into a fist. She did not like detective Flores' tone one bit. "I watched him plummet to the earth with my own two eyes. Why are you asking about this?"

"Just making sure we get all the information," the detective answered in a placating voice, though Vivian did not miss the raised eyebrow he shot his partner. Something was going on here that she didn't understand and that did not help ease the tension that was quickly building in her.

"Do you think we could wrap this up detectives? I think you've asked enough questions for today, don't you?" Brian Alden, Attorney at Law, and Vivian's newest hero asked, though it came across as more of a statement than a question. She could only hope the thankful smile she sent the lawyer's way properly conveyed the gratitude she felt for him.

"Of course, Mr. Alden. I think we got everything we need anyway," Detective Flores smiled back as he and Detective Arnoldson tucked their notebooks back into their pockets. "Thanks for talking with us Vivian. Call us if you can think of any more details that might be helpful," he handed Vivian another business card and with that both detectives made their way out of the office.

"I thought he seemed like an asshole over the phone too," Brian said casually after the door had closed and, despite the miserable circumstances, Vivian managed a small chuckle in response.

0-0

Vivian had been curled up on her family's couch, hours into a Simpson's marathon with the volume set to max to try to fill the quiet house with noise when the bell rang, much to her displeasure. Now that the matters of estate had been settled, and the cops had their way with her, she had been prepared to spend the remainder of winter break home alone. She didn't have it in her to be social with anyone.

She hadn't even responded to George's letter that he must have written the second he returned home from Hogwarts. Or any of the subsequent ones he sent when he hadn't heard from her. He was worried about her, that was clear from his hurried letter. She admittedly had not been acting like someone who was coping super well in the days before she portkeyed home. She had taken quite the liking to drinking firewhisky straight from the bottle, attended maybe one class a day, completely abandoned any due assignments, and her "occasional" smoking habit was reaching nearly a pack a day. So she really only had herself to blame for the guy being so frantic about getting a response from her.

Although she knew a letter from her would help ease at least some of his worries, it had been three days since she received his latest letter and she hadn't even attempted a response. She felt guilty about it in the back of her mind, but she had far too many things currently on her plate emotionally speaking and she feared that even answering a letter asking how she was would send her spiraling. In an effort to stave off any such spirals, she kept herself cocooned in blankets, and turned the tv volume up high as her attempt to keep out the outside world.

Despite the terrible circumstances, it did feel a little nice to be back home, where the smells were familiar and the blankets were worn out to the perfect degree. But despite all the things she loved about being home, she still found the silence unbearable. She found that if she allowed herself to sit in silence these days, she started to have very ugly thoughts. About her parents and her brother and her friends and herself. About living a life where the people she loved left her over and over, in one way or another. About whether or not she would be able to go through this one more time.

She did not want to be around anyone when she was in a mindset like this. Keeping a low profile, she had told none of her old friends of her return and had begged the Elders not to tell anyone else of the news until she was back at school, a request they only agreed to out of pity, and pity alone she was sure, but a win is still a win.

Which is why she was so surprised, and truthfully, a bit annoyed when her doorbell rang. She had charmed every window in the home to appear dark so as to give off the idea that the house was empty. Had avoided every spot she knew her friends to frequent. Had practically locked herself in her home 24 hours a day since she arrived back in the country. Someone must have blabbed. She shrunk back further into the couch, hoping that whoever it was would leave if ignored, but, unfortunately for her it seemed that her visitor was determined.

"I know you're in there," a calm voice called from the other side of the door. She sat upright, eyes going wide as she lurched unsteadily towards the door. She knew that voice very well. Opening the door she was faced with the green eyes that had imprinted themselves onto her memory, for better or worse.

"Evander," she breathed out, still half in shock.

"Were you gonna make me wait out there all day? It's winter you know?" he sneered at her as he pushed his way into her house.

"How did you even know I was here?" she rolled her eyes at him as she shut the door, the wind sending a chill up her back despite the thick sweater she wore. If she wasn't even in the mood to talk to anyone, she certainly wasn't in the mood for Evander's attitude.

"How do you think? My dad told me," he answered, pulling his snow-caked boots off and giving her an incredulous look. "I'm sorry about your parents," he added, facing her again.

"What do you want?" she asked in a long suffering voice while she turned and made her way back to the living room and nestled back into her mound of blankets.

"I wanted to see how you're doing, is that so hard to believe?" he said as he flopped onto the couch next to her, kicking his feet onto the coffee table- like he owned the place, her mother would have said.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes in an attempt to hide the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

"Yes it is hard to believe," she said when she had finally regained the ability to speak. "In fact, I think our last conversation ended with you telling me I could "rot in Scotland for all you cared.""

"I don't recall using those specific words…" he winced, usual confident exterior diminishing slightly as he shifted his gaze to avoid her eyes.

"It was those specific words," Vivian confirmed. "What do you want, Evan?" she asked again.

"Move back here," his words rushed out as he suddenly moved closer to her, grabbing her hand to pull her face to face with him as she stared at him with wide eyes. "Come back to school, it hasn't been the same without you. Come back."

She scoffed, shaking her head at him in disbelief. He had hated her the last time they saw each other. He had said awful things. Unforgivable things. He didn't just get to tell her what to do now. Especially not now.

"I can't," she said, wrenching her hand from his grip.

"Why?" he said, frustration quickly mounting in his voice as he ran a hand through his dark curly hair. "Because your parents left you some note that said they wanted you to go there? They aren't here to force you to stay there."

"I don't want to," she stood and backed away from him, shocked by his harsh words. "I want to stay at Hogwarts. I like it there."

He also stood, the coffee table between them as his brows furrowed at her.

"Do you even hear yourself?" he practically shouted. "There's a war brewing in the UK and you think it's a good idea to stay at some thousand year old school without any of the family to protect you? You could get yourself killed."

"Oh my god, someone give him a daytime Emmy, I really believed the concern there for a second," she snapped back, feeling her temper flare in her chest as she flung her hands up in the air. "You are actually delusional, did you know that?"

"Well at least I'm not abandoning the only family I have left!" he was yelling now, rounding the coffee table to come face to face with her.

She barked out a disbelieving laugh, shaking her head at him as she willed the tears that were suddenly in her eyes not to fall. She was absolutely furious, but lately, it seemed that all her emotions resulted in tears.

"You are just like your father," she glared at him, hitting him with what she knew would cause him the most pain, returning the favor he paid her. It was a cruel thing to say, she knew, but in that moment she needed him to hurt like she hurt.

"How can you say that to me?" he asked, suddenly quiet. His face folding in the way she knew it would. "You know that's not true."

She shook her head at him again, still not over his own comment. She was still blinking back tears as the pair stared at each other, the silence stretching into minutes before either of them spoke.

"Stay," Evander finally said, pleading this time, the command from earlier having completely vanished from his voice.

"I can't be here," she said quietly, losing her battle when two tears slid down her cheeks. "There are too many memories."

His shoulders sagged, disappointment flooding his features before he quickly stepped forward pulling her wrist up to force a small velvet bag into her hand.

"Take your necklace back," he said quietly, their faces only a few inches apart.

She frantically shook her head, trying to hand it back to him like it burned.

"I can't-"

"It was made for you, it's yours," he shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets while avoiding her eye. "Besides you barely even got to wear it," he added, finally looking at her to lift one side of his mouth in a half smile. She was shocked to find no malice in his green eyes. In fact, she was almost certain that what she was seeing was sorrow–an almost nonexistent emotion to him as far as Vivian was concerned.

She looked down at the purple velvet pouch she still held. If she squeezed it she could just make out the gold ridges that lined the stone of the jewelry. She had no idea what to say, Evander's sudden change had caught her off guard. She was used to his angry side, used to long screaming matches between the two of them. She was not used to whatever side of him this was. While she was searching for words, he put both hands on her shoulders forcing her to look directly at him.

"I was serious by the way. I am sorry about your folks."

She stared at him, still finding herself mute. Nodding weakly she was only able to muster up a quiet "Thank you," before she was following Evander to the door and closing it behind him and, once again, she was alone.

The silence that had been oppressing before was all consuming now. Desperate for anything to distract her from the pounding in her ears, she opened the velvet bag and tipped it into her hand, allowing the necklace to fall into her palm. It really was eye catching, taking her breath away even now. A relatively small stone, the black opal was plated in gold, stretches of the metal dipping further down in some places, giving the illusion that the opal was bleeding fire. She didn't have to turn the charm around to know what was engraved on the back in impossibly tiny letters: For The Universe. Somewhat of an inside joke between the two of them. When they had first started dating, Evander had told her that he could only ever love the universe "Because the universe is the greatest force in my life" he said.

When he had given her the necklace on their one year anniversary, he had explained to her that that was simply no longer true.

Letting out a pitiful groan, she clutched the necklace in her fist while she rubbed her knuckles against her forehead. Evander really seemed to have quite the knack for popping up in her life with some brand new intensity when it was least convenient for her. Couldn't he just let her mourn in peace just this once?

Shoving the necklace back into its velvet bag and stuffing the bag into the depths of her purse to hopefully forget about it, she made her way to the kitchen, more specifically to her parents' well stocked liquor cabinet. Grabbing the first bottle she saw, she wasted no time in twisting off the cap and downing a large shot of the burning vodka. This day, among many, many others, was one she would very much like to forget. This entire situation was one she would very much like to escape from.

"By any means necessary," she said aloud to the empty house, raising the vodka bottle into the air as a toast to no one in particular before taking another shot, coughing slightly. "By any means necessary," she said again, her voice fading into little more than a whisper.

0-0

Vivian,

I miss you girlie! I hope being back home is okay, all things considered. I know you probably don't want to talk about it, so I'm not going to make you. Just want you to know that I've been thinking about you all break and I want you to let me know immediately if you need anything. You know I'm always here!

The cruise my parents and I went on was awful. It rained almost the entire time and they completely ran out of shrimp on the second day! Can you believe that? How do you let a cruise run out of shrimp that fast?

Oh, also George wrote me asking if I've heard from you. I know this is really not the time to bring this up, but he has taken quite the interest in you these last few months hasn't he? *wink wink*

Anyway the new term can't come soon enough. First night back, you, me, and Alicia are having a girls night.

Xoxo

Ang

P.S. Write at least one of us back! So we know you're okay.

Hey V,

I am so beyond sick of hearing George's moaning every time the mail comes without something from you (really he could put Moaning Myrtle to shame), so I'm writing you this letter in the hopes that with the added pressure from a second, better looking Weasley twin, you will write back. And if you don't, Vivian, quite frankly I think George is actually going to find a way to America and hunt you down, an outcome I'm sure none of us want.

In all seriousness though, I hope you're doing good, or even just good-ish. Our Mum made you a sweater but we don't think our owl would be able to make it overseas with anything heavier than a light piece of parchment so you can expect to receive that back at Hogwarts.

Write us back. I'm serious. I can't take it anymore.

Miss you!

Fred

Viv,

I'm sure by now I don't have to say that I miss you and hope you're okay. You've read plenty of that in all my other letters that you haven't answered.

Which is totally fine of course! I know you're going through a lot and I don't want you to feel like you have me hounding you on top of everything else. But as I think you know by now, I am a worrier. And you are worrying me. If I don't hear from you soon, I am of half a mind to knock on every door in Chicago until I find yours.

That's a joke. Mostly.

That being said, it would be an absolute dream if you replied this time. But no pressure. I am absolutely not waiting by the window day and night for the mail to arrive with the hope that it could be you, letting your favorite Weasley know that he can stop worrying about you.

Another joke of course.

Did Fred send you a letter yesterday? He wouldn't tell me what he said but whatever it was, it's all lies. Don't believe a single word that less attractive git says.

Unless of course, he exclusively talked about how great I am, in which case every word of it is the gods' honest truth.

Anyway, next year you're coming to The Burrow for Christmas, no arguments. I need someone other than Fred to distract me from Percy's constant bragging. It's truly insufferable.

I miss you, write me back, yada yada yada–you know the drill.

George

Vivian had to bite back the tears at her friend's latest letters. She had spent the better part of the last week in an alcohol fueled haze, barely noticing when another concerned letter arrived. It had been nice, for a little while. When she got drunk enough it felt like nothing could touch her, it felt like the world drifted away and left her mind blank. It had been nice to barely feel the days pass, waking up well after noon, barely remembering the night before gave her significantly less time to think those ugly thoughts.

But she knew she had to get it together. At the very least get it together enough to write her friends a letter before they figured out how to call a wellness check on her–the last thing she was in the mood for was to talk to more cops.

Taking a deep breath as though about to complete a strenuous task, Vivian pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. She was going to write a letter that was so reassuring, it was gonna knock their socks off.

Ang,

That is insane! How much shrimp were those people eating? I'm sorry your cruise sucked though. Next time go to Bora Bora. I've heard it's lovely this time of year.

I'm doing okay. Glad to be going back to Hogwarts soon though. I am absolutely dying for a girls night.

Oxox

Vivian

George and Fred,

I'm okay. Sorry I haven't written sooner. I guess I needed a little time to sort stuff out on my own. It's been a really weird couple weeks to say the least.

Give your mom a thank you from me for the sweater! She really didn't have to do that. Nevertheless I am going to wear it all the time.

I hope I can be there with you guys next year. Fingers crossed no more unprecedented events take place.

Miss you guys. See you soon.

Vivian

P.S. Fred–Don't worry, I won't tell George what your letter said. Your secret is safe with me…

Sealing both letters, she opened the kitchen window and whistled sharply, a high note then a low note. A few seconds passed before a large barn owl swooped down, staring at her expectantly while it perched on the windowsill.

"Please take this one to Fred and George Weasley at The Burrow–uh in England. And take this one to Angelina Johnson. I don't think she has a fun name for her house," She said, handing the owl the respective letters.

"Just a few more days," she muttered to herself as she watched the bird fly off. January 2nd could not come soon enough.