This chapter was missed during original posting. Apologies! If reading concurrently to active posting, please reread this chapter, as it has information that is relevant to chapters 30 and 31 that were assumed to have been known, thus the late posting.
(MK, 12/22/2024)
*dot*
Daphne sat at a corner table in the dimly lit Three Broomsticks, the warm glow from the candles casting flickering shadows along the walls. Outside, the winds howled, fiercely rattling the windows, a winter storm wrapping Hogsmeade in its icy grip. The chatter of patrons around her was a comforting hum, but it felt worlds away. Her heart felt heavy, tethered to the thoughts that spiraled in her mind like the snow swirling outside. The decision to drop out had been liberating and suffocating all at once. She recalled the feeling of euphoria when she walked out proudly, telling Professor McGonagall her intentions and seeing the looks of surprise from her fellow roommates. They questioned her as she threw everything into her trunk haphazardly. She even stopped by Emily's private suite, her best friend trying to convince her to stay but it was no use.
Since leaving Hogwarts at the end of November, her life had shifted dramatically into a strange limbo. It was a decision that had haunted her with equal parts exhilaration and regret, but one that she had believed would bring her closer to the life she wanted. She had envisioned her new path centered around Arlo, a life full of warmth and dreams unfurling in his cozy cottage. Yet here she was walking in the dark toward Hogsmeade, her teeth chattering as the temperature had dropped drastically since stepping off the grounds. It took even longer given the sudden snow storm that blew through, and no matter how many warming spells she used it was to no avail.
When Daphne did arrive she knocked several times, hoping he would open the door. She waited nearly an hour before giving up and briskly made her way to the Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosemerta hurried her to the fireplace, brushing off any lingering snow. Her fingers were an odd color but after a bit, a room was offered for the night.
The nights alone in that tiny room were marked with waves of uncertainty and despair. Her father had found out she dropped out, and a howler had been sent within a day. Graciously her mother had sparingly paid for the room until the start of the year, but after that she was told to find living arrangements. She often found herself scribbling her thoughts in a journal, searching for connection in the written word that she was no longer surrounded by at Hogwarts.
Arlo's duties consumed him greatly, and slowly the letters she had once eagerly awaited transformed into sporadic notes. Those letters were stacked neatly in the bottom of her trunk and it made her feel more alone than ever as she reread them several times in the days that followed. The ache for him grew alongside as she wanted to build a life together. She missed him fiercely, yet every encounter felt tinged with hesitation this year. Yet, she longed for more—more than just letters, more than stolen moments, and more than the unresolved tension that stretched thin on the edges of her heart.
Daphne, where are you? I haven't seen you in several days. Emmy tells me you left. You actually left without a plan? What were you thinking? You realize it's winter in Scotland. Please tell me you are somewhere safe. - Arlo
It was the first letter he had sent in awhile. Her eyes watered as the accusatory tone, but it was his hand that penned this letter and it was his concern that made her heart boom that he cared to write to being with.
I'm safe in Hogsmeade. My parents paid for a room for me until the start of the new year. The walk from the castle was terribly long. I was hoping to see you, but you weren't home. - Daphne
With Arlo entrenched in his long hours at the castle—deep into his training during the winter months—he hardly found the time to leave for Hogsmeade, let alone drop by for a visit.
You went to my cottage? Why? I've been staying in my office given the weather or with Emmy to help with Aurora. Rosie said she'd look after the home in my absence. I'm not planning on returning until the term ends. Madam Pomfrey wont let me go before then. And I have exams at St Mungo's right after too, so I won't really be home until March or so.
I'll try to stop and get you when the term ends. I wish you hadn't left the castle. - Arlo
It was a logical dilemma, but to Daphne, it felt like a wall built between them, intensifying her sense of being cut adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Having wandered the empty streets in search of familiarity, she often stood outside his cottage imagining what it would be like to finally see him again. The hollow ache of that realization sunk in with each passing day as she waited for him to retrieve her. She felt like a ghost in her own life, observing families and friends embracing the festive cheer that seemed to belong to everyone but her. On the nights when the stars twinkled brightly above, she would find solace in the small things — a steaming cup of tea in front of the fireplace or the warmth of a blanket wrapped around her — she tried to fill the void with anything that made her feel less alone.
But at the end of each day, she was still met with the haunting reminder that Arlo was out of reach, laboring away at the castle, while she spun in a cycle of unfulfilled dreams and solitude. She began to question her choices. Had she made the right decision by leaving? Was the future she envisioned with Arlo worth the price of this isolation? Would he actually welcome her into his world, into his home, or would he remain forever at a distance locked away in the one place she grew to hate. Many times, she poured her heart onto paper, detailing her days of solitude. But like every time before, she hesitated before sending them. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if, in the silence of his office, or with Emmy, he hadn't thought much of her absence? The doubt clawed holding her back as she watched the days grow closer to Christmas and the quiet longing made her heart aching for connection yet filled with apprehension.
Still Arlo hadn't appeared yet.
*dot*
Arlo sat in his cozy cottage, the familiar warmth contrasting sharply with the biting chill outside. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, but the warmth of the flames could not fully penetrate the turmoil in his chest. Emily was seated on his lap, a steaming mug of tea cradled in her hands as she gazed at him with an expression that oscillated between concern and something deeper. The ambiance inside the cottage felt charged, the shared secrets hanging heavily in the air between them. The fire crackled louder, sending small sparks into the air, and outside, the wind howled ominously, rattling the windows of the cottage. But inside, it felt safe, like a fortress against the chaos.
"You look really tired," she whispered, wiggling a finger down his chest.
"Yes, well, I am tired. From that bloody fifth year puking all over me," he winced at the thought, leaning back into the chair more comfortably. "Nearly my entire supply of Pepperup potions before I realized it was a simple case of the common cold."
"You work entirely too hard, you know," she whispered, rubbing his chest.
Arlo grinned realizing she was right. Her long hair cascaded down his shoulder as they sat there staring into the fireplace. The oversized chair enveloped them like their own private nook, its fabric soft and inviting lending it a homey charm. He sank into the plush cushions, feeling her warmth seep through his sweatshirt, her body nestled against his. The flickering light from the fire danced across her features, highlighting the gentle curve of her jaw and the way her lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners, betraying the hint of a smile. Her closeness was magnetic, and soon enough he found himself drawn back, resting his cheek on the top of her head, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender shampoo mingled with the woodsmoke.
She sighed contentedly, relishing the warmth radiating from him.
"Do you ever think about what comes next?" Emily asked, her voice suddenly serious, breaking the comfortable banter that had filled the air moments before. She shifted slightly, looking at him intently, those deep eyes filled with unspoken questions. Arlo contemplated her question, a frown creasing his forehead. He could feel the weight of uncertainty settling back into his chest.
"I try not to think too far ahead. Right now, I'm just focused on getting through the term without another incident," he replied with a wry smile, but he could see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes.
Arlo and Emily sat entwined in their oversized chair, a sanctuary of warmth and intimacy amidst the brewing storm. He lifted his hand to her cheek, gently forcing her to hold his gaze. The soft fabric cradled their bodies, amplifying their closeness, yet the palpable tension between them hung like a storm cloud in the air, threatening to burst. Emily leaned back into Arlo's chest, her body molded perfectly to his. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing against him. It was a small comfort, but both knew it paled in comparison to the chaos each had left lingering outside. His heart ached as the thought of Daphne surfaced yet again, a bittersweet reminder of the choices he felt cornered by.
"But I'm being honest, Emmy, you're all that matters to me, and I want to see where this goes, you and me."
Emily bit her lip, her eyes searching his. The tension swelled, but this time it was different—electric, alive with possibility.
"Sometimes it feels like we are just waiting..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
"Yeah," Arlo said, feeling emboldened in the comfort of her presence. She leaned against him, his forehead brushing against hers, the intimacy igniting a spark between them. "I hate that I'm still with Daphne. Once she learns the truth, it will break her."
The flames flickered, dancing shadows across the walls of the cozy cottage, while the wind outside lent a raw edge to the night.
"Do you think David suspects anything?"
Emily's voice broke through his thoughts, fragile yet firm. She turned slightly, her gaze piercing into him, searching for insight in a moment that felt infinitely heavy. Arlo sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"I don't know. He's too concerned with duties at the Ministry to probably notice. He has some big case about an estate involving the Malfoys again in Wiltshire and he's been locked down on it for some time. Apparently Lucius believes the lands belong to him and it's being contested for the third time. David's not the most observant when it concerns you. Sometimes I think he knows something isn't right. Remember you told me earlier in term, how he is always busy at work?"
Emily nodded. "Well he is. Always busy on a case or something about traveling–"
"Well, during one of our dinners, he got very defensive when I mentioned you saying exactly that. He got pissed I was referring to his personal life; how I should mind my own business. David's a bloody prick and I thought I knew him better but you are a sore spot for him. The lengths he goes to is somewhat admirable."
Emily chewed her lip, a habit he found both endearing and distressing. She turned slightly in his embrace, her eyes glistening with an emotion that clenched Arlo's jaw into place.
"Every moment I pretend with Daphne, I lose a piece of myself. I don't want to be someone who deceives people. I'm going to be a Healer, I have to be honest."
A silence enveloped them momentarily, filled only with the crackling of the fire, as Arlo weighed his options. Emily's gaze softened, and she rested a hand on his cheek, forcing him to hold her eyes.
"We'll find a way. I don't want us to wait for some fairy-tale ending that might never come."
"I know," he murmured, his pulse quickening as he tried to project a sense of resolution. "But what if the truth shatters everything? What if we lose who we already are?"
He pressed his forehead against hers, battling the turmoil of emotions swirling within him. Emily's expression hardened slightly, the glow of the fire illuminating a newfound determination in her eyes.
"But what about us? Don't we deserve to be happy too? Isn't that worth fighting for?"
Arlo reveled in the passion behind her words, feeling the instinctual pull toward her strengthen. The flickering flames danced in the background, framing their moment of vulnerability and desire. He cupped her face, his thumb grazing her soft skin, feeling her heartbeat pulse with electric anticipation.
"I want to be the man you deserve, Emmy. I don't want to lose you. I don't know how to navigate this either … I'm terrified of making the wrong choice again and seeing you walk away. But I've never wanted children. I never thought I would want that life, and yet… being here with you, with Aurora …"
"Changes everything?" she finished for him, her voice but a whisper laced with hope and sorrow.
"Yeah," he said, looking up at the ceiling. Gently, Emily pushed the stray hairs out of his face knowing how difficult this all was. "I'm scared. Scared that if I step forward, I'll lose you both"
"Then let's forget everything else for a moment," she whispered, her voice a sultry promise. "We can pretend there's no one else out there, just you and me in our little bubble."
Arlo's resolve wavered, and he tilted his head down to meet her gaze, his heart racing at the intimacy of the moment.
"Just right now," he whispered back, surrendering to the closeness that enveloped them like a warm embrace. The world outside faded away, replaced by the quiet heartbeats of two souls seeking comfort in their shared solitude. "Just tonight."
Emily smiled, and her lips found his — a soft, tentative kiss that spoke of the unvoiced desires between them. Arlo felt the fire spread through him, a fleeting escape from the turmoil that had sprinkled doubt on their paths. Here, in the flickering light of the cottage, it felt as if time had stopped, granting them a brief respite in the chaos of their intertwined lives. Hours passed after they fell asleep holding one another before they heard small cries erupting from Arlo's bedroom. There Aurora had been sleeping, and it forced them apart. Pushing back her hair, the air in the cottage felt heavy and charged with a new layer of tension.
As Arlo stood in the doorway, his breath caught in his throat, captivated by the sight before him. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting a soft glow on Emily, who cradled Aurora with a tenderness that took his breath away and everything else faded. Here, in the hush of the cottage, she radiated a quiet strength, effortlessly embodying the role of a mother. It filled him with an irrational sense of pride. His heart swelled with an overwhelming love for her, a feeling that surged through him like wildfire, igniting every fiber of his being. His mind raced, darting between overwhelming love, dawning realization of a potential future, and the unavoidable presence of Daphne and David. The moment felt fragile, like a glass bauble sitting precariously on the edge of a table, ready to shatter at the slightest disturbance. He swallowed, the knot in his throat tightening the thoughts and blurring the lines of logic he prided himself on as a Ravenclaw. How could he have ever doubted this profound connection? The instinct to do anything for Emily, pushing aside reason in favor of a longing for something more — something real.
He watched as she gently rocked Aurora, each coo and sigh from the child a reminder of the future he never knew he wanted. That future shimmered before him, beautiful and delicate, and he felt the weight of it pressing down as the fragile threads of their intertwined lives hung in the balance.
"Emmy," he began, his voice barely breaking the room's serene silence. She glanced over, her eyes filled with a confusing mixture of hope and fear. "Tomorrow, I'll have to pick up Daphne. She's expecting me."
Emily lowered her head with a nod, the recognition of what that meant settling in the air.
"And David?" she asked softly, brushing a finger gently over Aurora's tiny hand, as if seeking solace from their shared circumstances. Arlo watched, his heart aching at the sight.
"He'll be here for dinner tomorrow evening, like we do every Saturday."
Arlo felt the statements weighing heavily on him as he envisioned the evening ahead — a tightrope walk between friendly obligations and the burgeoning emotions between them. Emily bit her lip, the gesture a telltale sign of her inner turmoil.
"You know, if we keep this up, people might start to think I'm trying to run away with you," he managed with a small, teasing smile, though a part of him was grateful for this moment of distraction. Emily chuckled lightly, her breath letting out a soft sigh to follow.
"And what if we did?" she teased back, laying Aurora back down in the crib. Standing back up, she brushed her hair aside as he walked up holding her close. He tapped her nose, letting out a soft and playful scoff as they let out a small chuckle as he guided them to his bed, the weight of the moment settling between them.
"Yes, the beautiful woman who is stealing all of my attention and running away with me?"
She pulled back slightly, her deep gaze searching his face, her fingers still resting on his cheek.
"If you choose me… if we choose each other," she added, her voice tinged with seriousness. He nodded, considering her words, but the fear was still there, gnawing at him.
"But what if it's not enough? Aurora needs a father figure, and I can't fill that role."
Emily leaned closer, her gaze steady. "You won't know until you try. Aurora deserves love and warmth. She deserves a family who cares for her deeply."
Arlo's heart raced at her words, a blend of yearning and fear intertwining within him. He felt the weight of Emily's gaze, fierce yet filled with hope, and the truth in her statement pressed against his chest like an unyielding force.
"Emily, I just—" he began, but the words got caught in his throat. The enormity of the decision ahead loomed large, heavier than he had anticipated. Doubt curled at the edges of his mind, whispering fears about inadequacy and the potential for failure.
"Arlo," she interrupted gently, her voice a calming balm, "you're already a part of her life. Being her godfather isn't just a title; it's a bond. You care for her, don't you?"
"Of course I do," he replied, almost defensively, his thoughts racing. He could picture little Aurora with her bright, curious hazel eyes and her infectious giggle that lit up the room. He envisioned a future where the three of them could be a family only to stop himself from dreaming too big. "But I don't have any experience — what if I don't know how to give her what she needs? How can I be that for you both?"
Her fingers brushed against his cheek again, grounding him, and his pulse paused as her aura pulled him in closer. "Arlo, it's not about perfection. It's about love, commitment, and showing up for each other. I know you want to have all the answers, but you don't have to do that. You just have to be there — fully, completely, for both of us."
He searched her eyes for reassurance, needing to believe in her faith in him. A moment hung between them, suspended in the weight of her promise. Images danced in his mind—nighttime stories, laughter echoing through their home, and a small girl looking up at him through eyes that resembled Emily's. The warmth of that thought washed over him, igniting a flicker of hope amidst his apprehension.
"I'll talk to Daphne tomorrow after dinner, I'll explain everything," he said firmly caressing Emily's cheek watching her eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions — hope, uncertainty, and an unwavering determination. Arlo felt a flicker of relief at the words, a momentary easing of the heaviness that had settled on his chest. She smiled softly, her eyes brightening for a moment.
"You're a good man, Arlo. It's part of the reason I find it so easy to be here with you. But at the end of the day, you also have to consider your happiness." The weight of her words lingered in the air.
"You're right," he admitted, looking down at Aurora's sleeping face once more. "Every time I look at her, I can't help but feel an urgency to protect her — to make sure she grows up in a loving environment."
"That's why you're a good man. With everyone you meet," Emily replied, her voice steady despite the tremor of vulnerability lacing it. "What we have is real, but it's only going to work if we embrace it completely. You deserve happiness. You deserve love. And I want to share my happiness with you."
He contemplated the reality of what a future could look like if he chose to step forward into the unknown — a future intertwined with Emily and Aurora, filled with laughter, warmth, and, yes, complexities, but perhaps also freedom from the shackles of pretense. It would be cutting Daphne and David out, both permanent fixtures on their current life, so they would be allowed to love openly.
"I do want that," he breathed, looking up to meet her gaze, feeling something begin to shift within himself, a determination brewing. "Tomorrow, everything changes."
Emily's expression softened, understanding washing over her. Holding his hand, they sat on the edge of the bed looking down at Aurora sleeping quietly.
Gently pushing Emily, a featherlight pressure that sent her sprawling onto the bed, her quiet laughter trailing behind like a sweet melody. Her hair fanned out across the sheets, a halo of soft tendrils capturing the evening light that filtered through the curtains. Standing there for a moment, drinking in the sight of her, he smiled down at her as he removed his shirt and tossed it aside on the floor. The way the bed seemed to cradle her made his heart jump as did the way her eyes sparkled with surprise and delight as she looked up at him up and down. The air crackled with unspoken desire, tension riding high as he leaned closer, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.
With deliberate slowness, he lowered himself beside her, his fingertips tracing along her exposed leg beneath her heather gray chemise nightgown, the warmth of her skin igniting something deep within him. She tilted her head, her gaze steady yet filled with the vulnerability of newfound passion. He couldn't resist any longer; he nudged closer, an undeniable pull drawing them together. Their lips met softly at first, a gentle tease that quickly deepened. He captured her mouth with fervor, urgency lacing each caress, as if they were both trying to erase the boundaries that had kept them apart for so long. His hand slid into her hair, fingers tangling in the silken strands, anchoring her closer as she responded with equal fervor, her own hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him into her.
As they laid in the gentle glow of the firelight from the living room, Arlo could feel the subtle warmth of hope blossom in his heart. He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, inhaling the lingering comfort and calm lavender scent of her hair from her shower hours ago.
"Tomorrow," Arlo said softly, pulling the blanket up to their chests and pulling her against his chest. Their fingers entwined as he nestled his head into the crook of her neck. "We'll figure this out together."
"Together," she agreed, a soft smile playing on her lips, the kind that made his heart race, and for a fleeting moment, he could almost forget about the complications waiting for them just beyond the edges of their perfect little world. As they settled into a comfortable silence, the gentle rise and fall of their breathing in a peaceful rhythm. Tomorrow held the uncertainty of truth, but tonight, they would cling to the warmth of what could be. The night was theirs—filled with whispered dreams cocooned in safety away from the world that would inevitably come knocking come morning. Even as they lay wrapped in each other's comfort, the reality of what awaited them the next day loomed ever closer. An inevitable unraveling of secrets and emotions, with consequences that could unravel the delicate web they'd woven. But beneath the worry and uncertainty, one fact remained clear: they had each other. And in a world filled with difficult choices and unforeseen circumstances, that knowledge offered a sense of courage they would carry into the impending storm.
*dot*
As morning light crept into the room, illuminating the blankets of snow that laid on the world overnight. Arlo stirred slowly, feeling a mix of warmth and contentment while still sensing the weight of uncertainty. He smiled down at Emily, peaceful in her slumber beside him. The woman who had changed everything about his life looked serene, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath. Determined to let her sleep a bit longer, Arlo propped up on one elbow, seeing Aurora giggling in the crib nearby. Slipping out of bed, careful not to disturb Emily, he stretched quietly, shaking off the remnants of sleep, before padding softly towards Aurora.
"Rah-oh!" she cried out holding her arms up.
"Shh," he whispered, holding his finger against his lips with a smile. Leaning onto the rails, he saw Aurora happily batting at her red lion, the sunlight catching the silver flecks in her black curls. "Mummy's still asleep. Let's let her sleep some more."
"Mummy?" she squealed, beaming up at him with her big hazel eyes. Arlo couldn't help but chuckle, his heart swelling at her exuberance. "Rah-oh!"
"Yes, yes, we've established you're a ferocious child. But what do you say we find some breakfast to fuel your adventures?"
He picked her up carefully, her laughter ringing as he cradled her in his arms. With a smile lingering, he carried her to the kitchen, the soft weight of her in his embrace a pleasant reassurance. Once in the kitchen, he set Aurora down in her high chair, securing her safely with the straps. He busied himself gathering ingredients for pancakes, the comforting aroma of breakfast wafting through the air. While mixing flour, eggs, and milk, he cast glances over at the nine month old, who was babbling enthusiastically and attempting to grab anything within reach. Handing her a bit of dough, she smacked it cheerfully as its noise echoed.
"Is that good?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow playfully while pouring the cinnamon pancake batter onto the griddle. Aurora clapped her hands, her excitement infectious.
As he flipped the pancakes, he let himself drift into thoughts about Emily and the conversation they'd had the night before. He wanted to embrace this new role, to be the partner and father figure that both deserved. The fear that had been gnawing at him faded as he focused on the joy of creating a home filled with warmth. The pancakes were sizzling now, and a few minutes later, he transferred them to a plate, layering them with a pat of butter that melted slowly, making them even more inviting. By the time he finished, the kitchen was filled with the mouthwatering smell of breakfast.
He turned to see Aurora leaning over the tray of her high chair, her eyes wide with anticipation.
"Patience, Aurora! We have breakfast just for you," he teased, serving up a small piece on her tray.
Her face lit up as she grabbed the pancake, taking an enthusiastic bite. The joy in her expression was priceless, and Arlo let out a laugh at how messy their morning was already becoming. Just then, he heard soft footsteps padding into the kitchen, followed by the sight of Emily rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"What's all this?" she asked, a smile forming as she wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling at Aurora. She walked into the side hug he offered as he sat out a plate for her, followed by a quick kiss.
"Breakfast for us and our little star," Arlo replied with a grin, gesturing at the spread. "Thought you could use a few extra minutes of beauty sleep."
Emily shook her head playfully patting his cheek. "And here I thought I'd be the one spoiling you both."
"The only spoiling happening here is with pancakes," he teased back, his heart fluttering at the sight of her brushing her hair aside.
Laughter filled the room and blended seamlessly with the sound of Aurora's delighted babbling. In that moment, as they sat together — the three of them, a budding family — Arlo felt everything shift. The worry that had lingered began to dissolve in the warmth of love and laughter. Today, they were together, and that was more than enough. Spending a little time together, he spent most of it examining his exam notes for January's Healer testing. Emily sat in the oversized chair reading to Aurora, who was dozing off as the minutes ticked by. Looking over, he smiled knowing that Emily respected his ambition to become a world-class Healer, and wouldn't pressure him into something he disliked. It was the one thing he admired most about her. Eventually, both girls were asleep in the oversized chair, the book long forgotten as it fell from Emily's hand to the floor. Going over to retrieve it, Arlo glanced at the clock seeing it was nearly three in the afternoon.
The weight of their words lingered in the air as he stood up, stretching and reaching for his outerwear. He could see the flicker of something unsaid in Emily's dreamy expression, but he couldn't let it hold him back any longer. With every moment he spent dressing, he was inching further away from the promise he had made to Daphne long ago. Now the emotions had changed and he no longer felt chained to that reality she wanted of him. Reaching for his coat, scarf, and hat, the walk wouldn't be too terrible now as the wind died down and he made up his mind.
"Emmy," he said softly, nudging her awake. Her eyes fluttered open a moment as she took him in fully dressed for the short walk. Wiggling from under Aurora, she stood up and pulled her cardigan close as she hugged him. Silently, she offered more to him than anyone ever had before. She was right though, he told himself, he had to be Gryffindor brave, and they needed to be Ravenclaw wise to tackle their problem.
"Please stay warm. It's terrible out there," she mumbled, pulling the hat over his wavy brown hair.
"I'll go get her," he said with a firm resolve, his heart racing at the weight of decisions yet to be announced. "I won't leave her waiting any longer. No matter what happens after."
Emily's eyes softened, and a trace of something unspoken lingered in her gaze.
"We'll be here when you get back."
He wrapped his school scarf tighter around his neck, pulling on his black winter coat. The cold outside beckoned him with a clarity he so desperately needed, pushing him to confront the complicated threads that bound him to both women. With each step he took away from the warmth of the cottage, he knew he had to face Daphne. He had to confirm the distance his absence had created to her. The icy wind nipped at his cheeks as he made his way toward The Three Broomsticks, determination steeling his resolve. As he navigated the snow-laden streets, the weight of Daphne's emotions that he knew would not respond in his favor began to creep in.
Arlo finally reached the pub, the familiar sights and sounds a stark contrast to the calming snow outside. Pushing through the heavy door, the inviting warmth enveloped him, and there she was — Daphne — sitting alone in the corner, looking just as he remembered in moments of warmth and laughter, but now touched with an aura of solitude. Her blonde hair was wrapped on a messy bun above her head and she mindlessly played with her food and cup.
"Daphne," he said, stepping closer, and for the first time, he felt the gravity of what lay ahead — a conversation fraught with feelings. He had come to collect her, yet he knew he had a greater task ahead — one that required honesty and vulnerability. It was time to bridge the distance created by his choices and to untangle the threads of connection that bound them all together.
*dot*
Daphne sat in the corner booth of The Three Broomsticks, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her teacup while her plate remained mostly untouched. The lively chatter and laughter around her felt distant, muffled by the weight of her thoughts. She had expected to feel relieved when she finally received Arlo's message to meet but now, with every passing day, that hope wavered, replaced by a swirl of anxiety. The steam from her cup coiled upward, teasing her nose with the scent of chamomile, but it couldn't quite reach her heart. She picked at the slightly congealed remnants of her meal, the food taking on the texture of her emotions — stagnant and unappealing. Each poke of her fork felt pointless, a futile attempt to gather the remnants of the bright future she once imagined with Arlo.
As she lost herself in thought, a cold rush of air swept through the entrance, and she looked up to see the heavy door creak open. The first thing she noticed was Arlo's tall stance, his silhouette cutting through the light of the snowy afternoon. He entered with a mix of determination and apprehension, and as their eyes met, a wave of vulnerability washed over her.
"Daphne," he said directly, his voice reaching even over the din of the pub as he approached. She found herself holding her breath as he approached, feeling both comforted and unsettled by the sight of him. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, and she felt the urge to draw him into her world, yet she remained seated, her fork hovering over her plate.
"Hey!" She looked up, caught off guard.
"Get your coat. We're going," he said, a hint of urgency in his tone. He hadn't even removed his hands from his coat pocket and there was a firmness to his tone she hadn't necessarily enjoyed.
"Right now?" she asked, brow furrowing.
"Yeah, right now. Just your coat — nothing else," he replied, standing oddly still and dismissive. Daphne hesitated for just a moment before nodding and going to her room, getting her items. A flicker of impatience in his eyes settled. As he followed her up the stairs, she noticed the little things that still stirred her — his wavy brown hair peaked out from his hat, how the navy blue scarf accentuated the sharpness of his jaw, and the warmth of his presence that somehow aroused memories. But the warmth felt like an illusion now, a flickering candle that would soon be extinguished.
"Mind if I sit for a moment?" he asked, though it felt more like a formality. He had already crossed the threshold of her heart, and she nodded almost instinctively, trying to mask her emotions.
With a faint sigh, he took a seat opposite her as she packed a few items. The distance between them felt overwhelming, a vast chasm carved by months of separation and unresolved feelings. She studied his expression, searching for clues to what was behind his calm exterior—was it trepidation, resolve, or something else entirely?
"You look good," he said, a genuine smile beginning to reach his lips, though she sensed a shadow of uncertainty lingering beneath the surface. "How have you been?"
"Busy," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of bitterness as she threw things about in the trunk searching for her hat and scarf. "No, I've been so bored thinking about us and the future."
He nodded, his eyes searching hers as if trying to decipher the depths of something. She could see him battling something within, grappling with the weight of the words that loomed over them. She didn't want to make this harder; she wanted him to feel at ease, to strip away the padding of small talk.
"I—" he started, but the words caught in his throat. Daphne's heart raced as she leaned forward slightly, her instinct to comfort him colliding with the apprehension that gripped her.
"What's going on," she prompted, her voice firmer now. "You're never this quiet. What's going on, Arlo?"
He took a deep breath, the tension between them thickening.
"We'll talk later after dinner," he began, the weight of his words heavy with the unspoken implications of their past together. She could sense that he was at a crossroads, and whatever he had to say would ripple through their lives, potentially altering the course of their futures. Daphne's stomach flipped, a mix of hope and dread swirling within her. She had prepared herself for this moment, yet as he began to speak again, it was clear that their paths would collide in ways neither of them expected. He remained quiet otherwise as she mused about grabbing her things.
Within minutes, they were walking alongside the snow plaid street toward the north end of Hogsmeade. He remained quiet for the most part, even when he silently opened the gate for them to enter. His cottage was nestled on the outskirts away from major stores, something he valued in his life. Quietness, she reminded herself. As he stepped into the cozy warmth of the cottage, Daphne followed closely, the familiar scent of firewood and home-cooked comfort filling her senses. It felt different now, though, almost alien in the light of their current circumstances.
"Emmy! We're back," he called after closing the door behind them.
Daphne's heart swelled at the sound of Emily's voice echoing through the cottage. The warmth of fond memories flooded back, washing over her like a gentle wave. Emily had always had a knack for turning an ordinary evening into something extraordinary, infusing it with laughter and a sense of belonging that Daphne desperately needed today.
"Daphne! You're here!" Emily exclaimed, emerging from the small kitchen with a flour-dusted apron tied around her waist and a wide smile lighting up her face. She rushed over and pulled Daphne into a tight embrace, a rush of comfort pouring from her friend. "I thought I'd surprise you! I knew you'd be starving after that long day of... whatever it is you do!"
"Yes, well, it seems I've been busy doing nothing relevant," Daphne chuckled, her tension easing slightly as she stepped back to take in her friend's cheerful demeanor. "What's going on? Did Arlo invite you to dinner?"
Emily's gaze flickered between Daphne and Arlo, the question hanging in the air, almost palpable. Arlo disappeared to hang his coat up and returned with a blank stare in return.
"I—uh, I might have harassed him into letting me come over. I couldn't resist a little cooking to cheer you up!"
Daphne caught the slight reddening in Arlo's cheeks, and the way he stood slightly apart from the two of them, arms crossed. There was a certain stiffness in his posture, as if the weight of an unspoken burden pressed heavily on him. It was perplexing. Why would he seem so distant around Emily, their mutual friend?
"Sounds perfect!" Daphne replied, trying to lighten the mood. "Especially when you're doing the cooking. What's on the menu?"
Arlo remained quiet, his eyes flitting from Daphne to Emily, uncertainty etched across his features. Emily went back to her culinary endeavors, whisking something in a bowl while glancing sidelong at Arlo, who stood stationary near the door, deep in thought.
"Just some comfort food — a stew. The kind that warms you up on a cold day," Emmy chirped with enthusiasm, pouring a mix of vegetables into a pot as the aromas began swirling in the air. "You know, the usual. And there will be plenty since David is coming tonight as well. Like old days, us four together!"
Daphne smiled, but as she observed Arlo's silence, an unsettling feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She stepped closer to him, hoping to bridge the distance that seemed to expand with every second.
"You should join, you know. She'll need an extra pair of hands with all that chopping," he suggested lightly, hoping to coax himself out of the room. "I've had enough cutting things for a year."
"Right," she replied absently, his gaze still distant, as though thoughts plagued his mind like a storm. "I'll just... be right here."
The silence that followed felt charged, filled with unspoken words that hovered just above their heads. Daphne exchanged a glance with Emily, who raised an eyebrow in mild concern before returning to her task, humming softly to fill the uneasy air.
The girls set out to chop, stir, and marinate the meal into existence as Arlo reclined in the oversized chair with Aurora on his chest. The two looked absolutely precious as they both napped and as Daphne looked onward, she felt a tinge of jealousy.
"Arlo?" Daphne tried again, curiosity laced with a touch of concern. "Emmy, he's been acting a bit strange. Is everything alright with him?"
"I'm sure he's tired from studying so much. He has those exams next month to advance in the Healer program," she said, turning to her. The honesty in her tone felt frail, as if she were trying to shield her from something. But Arlo often studied and had done so ever since she met him. It was just his nature.
"What are the exams about?" she pressed gently. She desperately wanted to break through the invisible wall encasing him, but each inquiry seemed to bounce off the surface, unable to penetrate his guarded demeanor. Emily wiped her hands on her apron, her brow furrowing slightly as she considered how best to explain Arlo's upcoming challenges.
"Well, he's in his second year of the Healer program, and these exams are a big deal. They cover everything from advanced Potions knowledge to practical healing techniques," she said, her voice maintaining a bright lilt while her eyes flickered to Arlo, still slouched in the chair with Aurora.
"He's already passed a few certifications—like basic treatment protocols and magical remedies — so these exams are really the next step in proving he can handle more complex cases."
Daphne smiled, her pride for Arlo evident, as Emily washed her hands of the onions.
"He's been putting in a lot of overtime in the Hospital Wing for the experience, which I'm sure drains him more than he lets on."
Daphne nodded, trying to reconcile the vivid image of Arlo leaning over piles of textbooks with the distant man he seemed to have become. It also explained why he was so busy all the time.
"And how's he coping with all the work, then?" she asked, casting a sidelong glance at him. "You know how he gets when there's too much of it."
"Well, you know how Arlo is — stubborn," Emily laughed lightly. "He thinks he can handle it all on his own, so it's either too much studying or he's avoiding his emotions." She paused, a knowing look crossing her face. "We've talked about it. I think he tries to cram so much without taking care of himself."
Daphne couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for him. She sensed that while Arlo was achieving great things, he might also be floundering beneath the pressure.
"Maybe I can help cut through it all," she said softly, a hint of her own insecurities reflecting in her voice.
"You've been busy too!" Emily argued, stirring the pot of stew with renewed zeal. "Arlo needs a balance. Friends, a break, maybe even some comfort food!"
Emily flashed a smile at Arlo, who stirred slightly, but continued his peaceful slumber. Daphne took a deep breath, feeling both the weight of her concern for Arlo and the thicker air of unspoken emotion weaving through the room.
"And you don't think maybe he's also bothered by… well… us?" she ventured tentatively. Emily paused, her fingers frozen above a mixing bowl.
"I think he struggles with a lot of things right now — his studies and his feelings," she confessed. "You two have a lot of history, and as much as he tries to downplay it, his head is probably swimming with thoughts about what this could mean for you both moving forward."
Daphne looked over at him again, the slight crease on his brow, the way his fingers brushed through Aurora's hair almost absentmindedly.
"It's frustrating, isn't it? Not knowing where we stand. I just want him so much, but his walls are so high," she said, her voice tinged with frustration and tenderness. Emily nodded sympathetically.
"He cares about you a lot, Daphne. But the timing... it's all so messy. He probably feels like he has to keep his dreams on hold for something he doesn't want at the same time. He has to prove himself first in the career he's working really hard toward."
She sighed, her eyes falling on the thickening stew. There was an echo of truth in Emily's words, a flicker of hope amidst the entanglement of uncertainties. Deep within, she recognized the pushing currents tying their fates together, weaving them ever closer even when the threads felt frayed.
"Maybe I just need to give him a bit of space, let him know things can be different here. A little slower pace. I mean I don't have school lingering over my head so I can focus on being his partner," Daphne suggested, taking a step towards optimism.
"Haven't you ever thought that you dropping out has been a source of his frustration?" Emily's voice was steady, but the question struck deep, creating ripples in the delicate fabric of their conversation.
Daphne felt a jolt at Emily's words, the gentle stir of the bubbling stew suddenly feeling like the boiling point of her emotions. She had expected encouragement, perhaps even a shared understanding of her situation, but instead, Emily's remark hung in the air, pulsing with an uneasy truth. Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned to face her friend, searching Emily's expression for any hint of malice, but finding only concern.
"I… I hadn't thought about it. Not really," she stammered, her heart racing. "I didn't want him to feel burdened by my choices."
Emily placed the wooden spoon down and turned fully to Daphne, the warmth of her demeanor shifting to a seriousness that felt almost pressing.
"But that's it, isn't it? You protected him from your disappointment, but by doing so, you have pushed him further away by a choice he didn't like. Sometimes I wonder if he thinks you gave up on yourself, on your dreams, and whether that weighs on him."
A silence filled the kitchen, broken only by the gentle simmering of the stew and the soft sounds of Aurora dreaming on Arlo's chest. Daphne instinctively hugged herself, the chill of Emily's words creeping beneath her skin. She thought back to her decision to leave most of her ambitions behind, a choice fueled by uncertainty and an overwhelming need to break free from the shackles of expectations.
"But I thought he'd understand. I thought he'd want me for me, not for what I was doing or not doing," she said, and even to her, the words felt weak, a faltering defense against an unexpected accusation.
Daphne leaned against the kitchen counter, the wooden surface cool against her palms as she considered Emily's insights, each thought intertwining with a sense of foreboding.
"Do you think he feels sidelined because my choices have led me to a different place?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The thought felt heavy, almost paralyzing.
"I think Arlo feels everything. Pressure from his studies, thoughts that consume him because he wants to be best. He wasn't top of his class for nothing. He worked harder than anyone to get there. Arlo wants to be a successful Healer before thinking about a family or being bogged down by the idea when there's a war going on outside. It's messy — everything is messy, and you seem to only care about yourself."
"I didn't mean for my decisions to affect him like this." Daphne interjected, bitterness creeping into her tone. She ran her fingers through her hair, the familiar knot of frustration tightening in her chest.
Emily stepped closer, her hand resting gently on Daphne's arm.
"I know you didn't. But sometimes, the choices we make for ourselves unintentionally ripple into the lives of those we care about. We want to shield them, but it can also create distance."
A pang of guilt twisted within Daphne, and she thought of Arlo, sitting alone and distant, consumed by thoughts that might very well involve her. He thought back to him sitting alone at his desk in the Hospital Wing, fervent over the student's illnesses or his pending testing that was always coming up. Why couldn't she have been braver, tried harder to communicate?
"I need to talk to him," she resolved, a knot forming in her stomach. "I have to address this before it spirals out of control."
"Yes, and honestly, Arlo needs to talk to you too," Emily encouraged, looking away for a moment. "But you have to be prepared for what he will say, too. This could unfold in ways you don't expect."
Nodding slowly, Daphne felt a heaviness in her heart, but beneath it, the flicker of determination ignited.
"I want to understand his side just as much as I need him to understand mine," she murmured, glancing momentarily at Arlo. The way he was still peacefully asleep with Aurora was endearing yet painfully heartbreaking.
"Good," Emily said, her voice brightening. "Everyone deserves clarity."
With renewed purpose, Daphne focused on the stew, stoking the flame carefully, as if nursing that same warmth within her, almost eagerly anticipating the moment they would share their truths. As she stirred, the act became a symbol — she was stirring not just the ingredients in the pot, but the ingredients of their past, hoping to blend their futures into something wholly unexpected yet tangible.
"Now, once we've got this stew mastered," Emily laughed lightly, breaking the tension, "Please set the table. David will be by around six."
A small smile crept onto Daphne's lips.
"Only if you promise to help me with the conversation after," she replied, the weight of her earlier apprehension feeling lighter. Emily looked away and it was unusual the way she turned away.
Just then, a sharp scream rang out throughout the cottage as Aurora awoke crying as a groggy Arlo stirred awake, blinking against the muted light streaming through the window. The corners of Daphne's mouth turned into a genuine frown, one spent of uncertainty, as she prepared to confront whatever lay ahead. It didn't matter how many walls there were between them; she was ready to tear them down and build something new—together.
Arlo handed Aurora to Emily for a moment as he reached up to the higher shelves grabbing more plates and goblets, while rubbing his eyes. Attempting to help but the way he kept her at arm's length felt maddening, and her heart raced as she watched him from afar, navigating the complexities of their situation. Dinner arrived with its simmering aromas, but the real feast of the evening was yet to be served. Daphne could feel it—the urgency of their unspoken words, the emotional debt owed between them, ready to spill forth like the first flakes of snow melting away under the warmth of flickering flames. All she could do was wait, uncertain but hopeful, as the shadows of their past danced on the walls.
As dinner simmered a soft knock came to the door, and Arlo went to open it. Daphne's heart raced as the door swung open, revealing David's familiar stoic tall frame. His expression was sullen as he stepped inside, brushing snow off his overcoat. Arlo's welcome was warm, but she could feel the tension crackling in the air. David's eyes flicked past Arlo to Emily and Daphne, and he froze for a moment, silently evaluating the situation. His eyes narrowed as he addressed the older male.
"Didn't expect to find the girls here," he said, his tone flat, as he thrusted his coat into Arlo's chest.
There was an edge to his voice that made Daphne's stomach twist. She forced a smile to mask her anxiety, hoping against hope that everything would go smoothly.
"Is this what you mean by spending the holidays with Arlo and Daphne?" he questioned Emily taking notice of the apron she wore.
"Change of plans!" Emily replied brightly, her enthusiasm almost forced. "Arlo wanted to surprise everyone over dinner to treat everyone since it's been forever!" The sound of her cheerful tone clashed with David's demeanor, and a silence stretched briefly before he responded.
"Right. Because Saturday is me and Arlo. No girls … boys night," he said, his eyebrows knitting together slightly. Daphne felt the tension build as he glanced between them, trying to gauge the layer of familiarity that surely seemed strange. Arlo had said he didn't have the time to eat at his cottage, so why had he lied about being home and not informing her?
"Just thought we'd mix it up a bit!" Arlo interjected sheepishly, his voice rushed. He took a few steps back to make room for David to enter the cottage fully, and Daphne noted how the space between them felt too large, like an invisible barrier that separated their histories. The former Slytherin stepped further inside, scanning the cozy space.
"It smells good though," he admitted begrudgingly, though his eyes still bore the weight of discomfort. Arlo glanced affectionately at the girls while Daphne tried to stifle a grimace at the way his attention shifted so easily, like an unspoken affirmation that everything was all right between them.
"I figured it would be fun to have a dinner together — like old times," he added, a bit too quickly, and she caught a hint of unease creeping into his voice.
"Just the four of us, then?" David asked, the skepticism in his tone annoyed. He folded his arms across his chest as he leaned against the wall, watching them like a wary hawk. The air thickened, and Emily shifted slightly, her eyes darting between her boyfriend and the boys. Daphne felt the weight of the moment, and when Emily cleared her throat, she braced herself for what was to come next.
"Actually, it felt right to have a gathering tonight, what with holiday cheer and everything," Emily said quickly, a smile plastered across her face. "I thought it'd be nice to reconnect! Right, Daphne?"
Daphne nodded, but felt her breath quicken — it was as if everyone was trying to navigate a minefield, And she had been lonely in the Three Broomsticks, unsure what or where she stood with Arlo….
"Yeah, absolutely. I just thought it would feel nice to share a meal with friends," Daphne added her voice, although she could tell that David viewed their presence as a concerning change rather than a welcome event.
"Well then," he replied, leaning back slightly but still not fully convinced. "Let's see how this goes."
He stepped further into the room, producing a wine bottle that had chilled on his way over. They settled around the table, but they felt a growing tightness in their chests. The atmosphere was charged, all eyes occasionally shifting towards Arlo, who remained focused on the task of serving the stew as he shared small anecdotes from work.
"Just last week, a third-year was attempting a complex potion for the first time and ended up setting the entire Potions lab ablaze. You wouldn't believe how many trips to the Hospital Wing that created," Arlo chuckled, and a forced laugh fractured the tension momentarily.
"And you managed to keep your cool?" Daphne took the opportunity to lean in with a smile, trying to break the heaviness hanging over them. "That's impressive!"
A flicker of amusement passed across his features, and she could feel him relax just a little.
David sipped his wine, watching with a look of guarded suspicion.
"It's funny how some people don't know the difference between a finesse potion and a fire starter," he muttered, eyes still locked on Arlo. "So, let's talk about your plans post-exams, Arlo. I can't imagine there's much time left to rest once you're fully qualified. Any thoughts on where you see yourself going from here?"
"I've had a few places in mind," Arlo said, shifting slightly under David's scrutinizing gaze. "It's more about figuring out how I want to approach the... next steps in my career."
"Of course!" David replied with an edge, the underlying challenge evident. "If it's anything like this, you'll need to start prioritizing your time efficiently. Can't afford distractions."
He glanced pointedly at Emily, and Daphne felt her heart sink at the indirect implications.
"Speaking of distractions," Emily interjected, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground. "Daphne, have you thought about what you want to do now that you've left school?" There was an underlying warmth in her tone, but Daphne felt her insecurities bubble up anew under the scrutiny of their eyes.
"I'm just taking my time," she replied, an instinctive defensiveness creeping into her voice. "Trying to figure things out. There's no rush."
"Right," David replied tersely, the irony ripping through his words. "Because being in Hogsmeade is a steady plan for your future. Very ambitious. Shouldn't you be in Hogwarts with that twin of yours?"
Daphne felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and she bit her lip, feeling like they were unknowingly putting themselves into a box. Apparently Emily hadn't revealed she had left Hogwarts to David. Then she shifted her gaze to Arlo, desperate for some form of connection. Beneath the surface, she sensed the swirling uncertainty in him, his internal struggle mirroring her own.
"We'll see together, you know?" she continued, reaching for his hand across the table. "Whatever happens between us, I'll support you."
She squeezed his hand, hoping to convey strength and reassurance. His fingers wrapped around hers momentarily, but then the moment was broken as he withdrew slightly.
"Of course," Arlo finally replied, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "That's all I ever wanted. But there's so much at play right now."
Tension rippled between David and Arlo, each feeling a weight of obligation to maintain their respective positions in their lives, while Emily and Daphne were left sitting in the shadows of their decisions.
As the conversation continued to swirl, decisions loomed over them, their future lying precariously on the line. They had dinner together, the food dwindling and conversations falling into uneasy silences, but as the night wore on, Daphne couldn't shake the feeling that this dinner was more than just a meal with friends — it was a reckoning, an inflection point that would reshape all their futures. It was only a matter of time before secrets spilled out like the bubbling broth over the edge of the pot. The clock ticked towards a moment of truth, and Daphne felt it approach, the air thick with potential. The whispered conversations awaited them beyond dinner, and whatever happened next, she promised herself, they would face it together—whatever shape that future might take.
Just as the silence began to deepen, a loud bang erupted from the corner of the room, causing everyone to jump in their seats. Aurora let out a loud cry as Arlo's old grandfather clock had finally given in to the pressure of the cold and now lay in pieces on the floor.
"Merlin's beard!" Arlo exclaimed, rising abruptly, his chair scraping against the wood with a jarring screech. "I've been meaning to fix that for ages."
Arlo rushed to gather the broken pieces, an urgency in his movements that seemed out of place. The tension that had already occupied the air now felt amplified, swirling with the remnants of shattered wood and ticking hands. Kneeling down to help, Daphne felt his hands swipe at her to not touch the pieces. David stood, arms crossed, and watched the spectacle unfold, a mix of annoyance and curiosity etched on his face.
"Is it just me, or does this feel like a sign of chaos?" he quipped, though his tone lacked any real humor.
"Probably just your pessimism," Emily shot back, though her smile didn't meet her eyes. She was visibly trying to push through the awkwardness, but Daphne sensed the tightly coiled tension in her shoulders, as if she were preparing for the fallout. Arlo met her gaze, a flicker of desperation in his expression before he turned away, leaning down to retrieve another piece of the clock.
"Can we talk?" he blurted, urgency threading through his voice, but then his attention diverted as he saw David pacing toward him, creating an unwelcome shield against any hopeful conversation they had planned.
"I think we should address whatever you want to say some other time," David interrupted, tension tightening his jaw. "Hell, we already have dinner with family to think about in just two days. Now just isn't the time. My parents will visit tomorrow. Are you going to be there Emily?"
Daphne could sense the walls closing in around them, the frustrations of the night building. As they all stood there amidst the remnants of what was supposed to be a cozy gathering, she realized that whatever had been shared was slipping away, like grains of sand through her fingers.
"No, I'll be here with Arlo … and Daphne…" she said quietly holding Aurora.
Without another word, David marched right out and apparated away.