this story will touch on sensitive topics such as but not limited to: child abuse, alcohol abuse, depression, anxiety, self harm, mental illness, mentions of underage sex, incorrect terminology/insensitive discussions of mental health, in-universe blood purity beliefs, manipulative, sexist, possessive, and toxic behaviour. this note will serve as the final warning for all and any future chapters as the story goes on. If you are sensitive to any of these subjects or find them in any way triggering, please read with caution.

this is a slow burn work, and when i mean slow burn, i mean achingly, ember like slow burn. Like, more like a thaw out than a slow burn, so if you're here for the long haul, i hope you enjoy the journey.

I do not own any characters or places unless stated otherwise.

This work is also being crossposted to ao3. I recommend reading there as it is better edited and proof-read.

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prologue.

Emilia Greene didn't like the rain, didn't like water in general; lakes, puddles, the ocean – anything with large bodies of water turned her off if she was even a meter within them. It was not that she couldn't swim, well it was true that she couldn't, but her aunt and uncle had insisted on her lessons because they would be damned if their niece sat like a wallflower for the teachers to coo over and write home about asking why Emilia didn't have the proper swim gear or the permission to get in the pool with the other students. The lessons went to waste, and she could barely keep her head afloat, and Emilia hated it nonetheless, and had floundered in her swimming lessons and she supposed it was just her luck to be born in a place where it rained all the time.

There' was only one exception to her loathing towards water and the rain – it always signalled the return to Hogwarts; British weather wasn't always the best regardless of what time of year it was but it always got worse in the Autumn and was the sign of the time turning for when she would go back and it made Emilia inwardly ecstatic about it all. She was already packed two weeks in advance for her return and entry into her last year and Emilia felt as if she were a child awaiting the night before Christmas, a buzzing beneath her skin that she could not contain and didn't attempt to quell; her aunt and uncle had no interest in going with her to Diagon Alley and the novelty of the Wizarding world had worn off when third year had rolled around and they showed no attempt to leave the Muggle world as that was their place and Emilia was too different, too... unnormal.

Not that it bothered Emilia, she was quite happy to spend her days in and out of Diagon Alley, to buy the books she needed as well as buying non-essential books on the sly with the money left over; her guardians couldn't figure out Wizarding money and made no move to try and pry the change from Emilia's hand since it wasn't as if they needed knuts and pennies anyways. Her suitcase was threatening to pop by the time she had everything zipped up, filled with clothes and books and novels of both Muggle and magic alike and she was excited.

Emilia had never thought herself to be special and after being lumped in to live with her maternal aunt and her husband, being mundane was expected and all but enforced. When Professor McGonagall had knocked on her door the summer after her eleventh birthday, her entire world was flipped upside down and she had half thought it was all a joke even up to the point she ran through the wall at the station.

Yet, for nearly seven years in a row, Emilia had ran through that very same wall and has not yet met brick and swallowed stone and cement, so perhaps the idea of it all being a dream might be a bit unfounded.

It was raining the day she left for Hogwarts; her coat was zipped to her neck and hood over her hair and the taxi driver had to heave the suitcase into the trunk with her help and he asked if she had stuffed a lorry load of concrete into it; she supposed the weight of knowledge was far too heavy for some people and laughed at his comment before they left for King's Cross.

The ride was silent, radio spitting out crackles and static every so often and grey clouds suffocate the sky over head, rumbling and spitting out fat raindrops that splattered and slithered down the glass windows; her copy of The Hobbit laid in her lap, yellowed and old with dog ears from years of rereading and it would be her only company on the train to Hogwarts, the spine threatening to split apart from her flipping through the pages. Emilia doubted she would have time to reread it during the school term as, despite passing her O.W.L's, the time ahead meant even more work for her as she began work for her N.E.W.T's. Though, she supposed it didn't seem too arduous once she remembered that she only had this year left – a home run until she was out. Maybe she could use the money her grandmother left her to buy a flat and get a Muggle education; she could still feel the old woman's wrinkled, cold hand clutching at her cheek and gasping for breath as she pinched the chubby skin, already dead eyes staring at her only grandchild and blindly remarking how much she looked like her mother.

Even after all these years, Emilia still wasn't sure if it's an insult or not.

Traffic was choking the road and causing congestion, smoke from the clogged vehicles making it hard to see and Emilia decided not to risk waiting for everything to clear up as she tapped the driver on the shoulder, telling him that she was going to walk the rest of the way and paid him in full for the ride.

The rain was unrelenting, merciless and Emilia kept her book tucked in her jacket under her arm as he handed her suitcase off to her, passing her a wave and a g'luck t'ya before he went to sit in his car, unmoving and still. Time around him went on and Emilia rushed, lugging her suitcase behind her heel and heard it rush to catch up with her, wheels clicking and clacking over the stone. It was like every other year, every other September. As she ran through the stone and brick wall to 9¾, Emilia hoped that it would be a normal year.


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