Everything Is Eclipsed by the Shape of Destiny

The bathroom window was slightly ajar, not enough for a person to stick their hand out, but enough to let smoke travel out the bathroom and into the outside world where it would hopefully be carried away by an obliging breeze. She depended strongly on that breeze, because if for some reason the smoke traveled downwards and crept into an open window, she would be fucked. The last thing she needed was The Weasley’s finding out that instead of showering like they thought she was doing, she was simply sitting on the toilet with a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips.

Cigarettes weren’t her usual poison of choice. She generally preferred marijuana. The sensations that accompanied that blessed plant were far more pleasant than those of cigarettes, but at that moment, there wasn’t any marijuana to ease her aching muscles and overly stimulated mind. All she had was a cigarette she’d found in the bottom of Bill’s sock drawer. It was the last one in the pack, a limp looking thing that looked like it had been there for ages, but it was there and Emerson needed a smoke. She needed to feel something warm in her lungs and if that was all there was to smoke, then that was what she was going to have.

So she took it from the sock drawer, stashed it under the clothes that Bill had let her pick out and carried it with her to the bathroom. She initially planned on smoking it after she’d showered. It made no sense for her to smoke when her body was still stained with Fenrir’s blood, but Emerson couldn’t bring herself to scrub her body clean; at least not until she’d had that smoke. Her mind was far too busy. It needed to be slowed down and since having a smoke was the only thing that could accomplish such a task, she decided to smoke first; in order to enjoy her shower, later.

Her eyes were tightly shut as she sat on the toilet with her legs crossed, her right foot shaking to a nonexistent beat. And although her body was drenched in blood and there wasn’t an article of clothing on her, there was something about Emerson – in that moment – that called to mind the elegant actresses from the Golden Age of Hollywood. She sat like one of those great ladies; shoulders back and with her head held high. She looked like a woman that was in control of her life, a woman of strength.

The bit about strength was true. Emerson had been endowed with power that others could only dream of. There were few who could surpass her in raw strength and the few who could, were supernatural creatures like herself. But the part of her being in control of her life, or even of her own emotions, was a scandalous falsehood. Emerson was a terrible mess. Most days she couldn’t figure out what emotions she was feeling and which she just thought were there. Her life was all jumbled out, as was her heart, but what mattered to the outside world was that she looked, put together; that she was one of those people that others could depend on.

Emerson sat on the toilet awhile longer, only moving from it, when she finished the cigarette. The small stub that she held between her fingers was placed in the sink and washed away. It’d be carried off somewhere, down some stream. She should’ve cared about the harmful effects that one stub could have on the wildlife, but she didn’t give a flying fuck about that, at least not then. As soon as that stub vanished from sight, she began to notice just how much of a mess she was.

“Really fucking nice,” she muttered to herself, examining her atrocious appearance.

She looked like a feral child that had been snatched from the forest and brought into civilization. Her face was stained with blood and smeared with what looked like mud, but all in honesty, the mud had a strange stench that made her question whether it was mud or actually dung from some forest animal. Whatever it was, it didn’t stay on her body much longer. Emerson climbed into the shower and began scrubbing her body. She was fierce in her pursuit of cleanliness, scrubbing her body so hard that at times it seemed like the skin would surely tear. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Her tan skin only turned pink, before turning back to its normal shade and when she finished, she dried herself off. The clothes she’d gotten from Bill were a bit small. An enlargement spell had to be uttered in order for her to fit into them.

Once she finished dressing herself, she grabbed hold of her wand and used a spell that would make the bathroom smell like flowers. That way they wouldn’t know she’d been smoking in there. The spell was her invention. It was created when she was sixteen years old. Her parents had caught Everett and her smoking, gave them a sound beating for it. But instead of stopping like they should, they became sneakier and devised strategies for smoking indoors, as well as for hiding their stashes.

Now that the bathroom was in top shape, she wandered down to the living room where she was told everyone would wait for her. She felt oddly self conscious. The way her wet hair bounced as she walked was a feeling she didn’t quite like. Hair was a hassle, she preferred it short so it would dry quickly and she wouldn’t have to fiddle with it, but her hair was long, down past her chin and she became very much aware of how desperately she needed a trim during her walk. She’d get one tomorrow. Drop by her parent’s house to have her mom cut it. She was the only one that Emerson trusted with her hair and even though her mom was prone to ranting about how short hair made her look like a lesbian, Emerson liked the haircuts enough to endure her mother’s nagging.

The first to notice Emerson was Molly. She immediately put her needlework down, leaving it on a coffee table so it could be tended to later on. She then rushed to her, a bright smile adorning her kind face. Her smile bore a striking resemblance to that of Bill. It was obvious that he’d inherited his mother’s expressions.

“Emery, my dear!” she exclaimed. “How are you feeling? Everything alright?” she asked, genuinely concerned. “Looked proper hurt when you came to, thought something had gone terribly wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Emerson reassured with a smile. “Was just a bunch of blood on me and it wasn’t even mine, so everything’s alright.”

“Are you positive?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Perfectly fine, a little tired since I hadn’t run that much in awhile, but I'm good. Thanks for worrying, makes me feel like you’re channeling my mom.”

Molly beamed at the comparison. “Well, someone has to look after you.” she said, in a matter of fact voice. “Might think you’re all grown up, but twenty five is still quite young and you need to be looked after.”

“Come on mum, after the day Emery’s had; I reckon she’s not in the mood to be lectured. Much rather spend time with her favor ginger, she would.” George chimed in, the familiar cheeky grin on his freckled face.

“Then why are you making your way to her?” asked Fred. “Everyone knows I'm her favorite ginger. Isn’t that right, poppet?”

“Boys!” cried Molly. “I told you to leave Emery alone.”

“You told us that once she was . . .” George began.

“. . . cleaned up, we’d be able to pester her!” concluded Fred. “And she’s cleaned up.”

“Nice and spiffy,” added George. “So I believe it’s time we pester.” His eyebrows were wiggled suggestively.

“Oh no, I didn’t.” Molly argued. “I said that once she was cleaned up and settled in, you could talk to her. At the present moment, she’s cleaned up but not settled in. So let the dear have some dinner and relax a bit. Will you?”

The boys grumbled in response.

Molly ignored their dissatisfaction. “Go fetch Bill. He’s out back with Fleur and that brother of hers.”

The boys did as they were told, leaving the living room to go fetch the others.

“Fleur’s here?” Emerson asked, trying her best to sound excited.

“Arrived a little while ago,” Molly pursed her lips together. “Was worried that Bill hadn’t gone home, she was. Thought something bad happened, so she came over to wait for him, and then she saw he was here, so she threw one of those fits she throws. Started screaming in French, saying Merlin knows what. Bill calmed her down though. Explained what happened to you and then they went out back. Apparently, she needed to get some air. Enough about that,” Molly told hold of Emerson’s right hand. “Bill told me that you absolutely love lasagna, so I made some far you, also some of that garlic bread and pecan pie. Not sure if you’ll care for it. See, I like to make dishes my own so I add an extra ingredient here and there.”

“Sure, I’ll love it. My brother and I always feasted whenever Bill brought food from home.”

“Really?” she gushed. “Oh, well, I'm so very glad you liked it! How is your brother? Haven’t seen him since the wedding, looked so handsome in a tux, he did.”

“He’s doing really well. Right now, he’s getting stuff ready for his wedding.”

“He’s getting married? But he’s so young! What is it with young people rushing into marriage? First Bill, now your brother, if my Charlie tries to get married, I’ll throw a fit! That, I promise.”

Emerson didn’t reply, opting to smile instead.

“You’re not going to get married on us, are you?” Molly asked. “Because if you run off to America with some Yank, I’ll have to ruin your wedding to bring you back here. We’ve grown quite fond of you, you know.”

“Think it’s safe to say I won’t be getting married anytime soon.”

Molly gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Good! Now let’s get you fed. Bill says you eat a lot. Oh! No! Don’t blush, my dear, nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re a shifter and I don’t know much about them, but it’d make sense for them to have to eat more than normal to keep their strengths up. Which is why I made sure to make plenty and don’t you dare just eat one serving and pretend that you’re full, because I’ll be offended. In this house, you eat until you’re actually full, alright?”

“Got it,” Emerson answered.

Molly led her into the kitchen, where she pulled out a chair for Emerson and told her to stay put so she could bring out dinner. Emerson protested, claiming that she should help, but Molly refused her help. She wasn’t going to let a guest serve themselves in her home. That wasn’t the type of host she was. So Molly went into the kitchen and Emerson sat put in the chair, her eyes darting about the dining room. It wasn’t very large, the table took up most of the space and the only other furniture in it was an old armoire that was pushed up against a wall. Its walls were plastered with family pictures; some containing the current Weasley clan and others holding freckled faces that Emerson had never met.

She sat there alone, perfectly content with taking in the room. In her mind, she pretended that this was the first time she’d ever been there, that Bill had taken her home to meet his family and that Molly was smitten with her, such a foolish thing to pretend. Made her seem mental, she knew that, but she smiled as she let her imagination run wild. Was nice to pretend that things had gone according to plan and she lost herself in her made up world, until Molly entered the room, carrying a massive plate that was piled high with food. Her eyes lit up at the sight. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, an absurdly long amount of time for Emerson, whom ate five meals a day.

“There you go.” Molly set down the plate. “Eat up, Emery.”

“Thank you, Molly. Should I, uh, wait for Bill and them?” she asked to be polite, not because she actually wanted to wait for them.

Molly shook her head. “No need to wait for them. Just eat up, need your strength.”

And Emerson did exactly what she was told. She picked up her fork with one hand and a piece of toasted garlic bread in the other, and proceeded to devour the large chunk of lasagna that had been placed on her plate. The salad that accompanied it was forgotten, only remembered until the delicious main course had been devoured. She finished her entire plate of food before Bill and the others got there. And just as they were walking in, Molly was placing a large helping of pie in front of Emerson.

“Molly, I love you.” Emerson declared. Her eyes hungrily fixed on the pecan pie.

Laughter was Molly’s immediate response. “Why thank you, dear.” She placed an affectionate hand on Emerson’s shoulder. “About time you lot came in.” Molly said when the children finally entered the kitchen. “Sit down and I’ll fix you some plates. Are you hungry Fleur, Marceau?”

“No,” Fleur responded. “We ate at ‘ome.”

“Right,” Molly turned to her son. “You want something to eat, Bill?”

“Course,” he plopped down on a chair beside Emerson. “It any good?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

Emerson covered her mouth and in between bites managed to say, “Fucking delicious.”

“No cursing!” bellowed Molly from the kitchen.

“Sorry!” shouted Emerson, her hand still covering her mouth.

Emerson focused all her attention on the pie in front of her, a childish little smile on her face as she ate the pie. Food was something that she absolutely loved. She loved trying new plates, expanding her palate, and eating her absolute favorites. How people purposely starved themselves, she didn’t know. There was no way she could go without having proper meals everyday and even before she became a shifter, she had a very healthy appetite. And even though she was a bit chunky then, she didn’t really mind all that much. When she finished eating, she thanked Molly for the meal and sat back in her chair.

“Feeling better?” Bill asked.

“Loads better,” she answered, honestly. “Don’t think I’ve eaten that well since I moved over here.”

“Thought you were in charge of cooking, over at Tonks and Remus’.”

“I am, but there’s nothing like a mom cooking a meal. Don’t know what it is about the food they make, but it just tastes better.”

Bill stuffed his mouth full of lasagna and closed his eyes, letting out a satisfied moan as he did so. Next to him, Fleur covered her face in embarrassment. She didn’t like it when people made noises while they ate. It was vulgar, barbaric and she made a mental note to talk to her husband about it later that night.

“‘Ow are you feeling?” Fleur asked, with a concerned look on her beautiful face.

“Pretty well, actually, I just feel like I need to get some sleep. Didn’t really rest last night, I was a little . . . a little too messed up, and then we went after Greyback so I could do with a good twelve hour sleep.” Emerson held the coffee mug tightly, its warmth radiating into her being. “Wanted to apologize for showing up uninvited last night, really didn’t mean to intrude. I just ended up at the wrong house.”

“It’s okay,” Fleur assured.

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

“So,” Emerson spoke after a few minutes had lapsed. “I think I need to get going. It’s pretty late and I'm tired.”

“But we haven’t even wooed you!” exclaimed the twins, overdramatically.

“I’m not one to be wooed when I'm sleepy.” Emerson said. “How about I come over tomorrow and you can woo me then?”

The twins shared a look before George spoke. “Come for dinner or else we’ll kidnap you.”

“Sounds fair enough,” she stood up. “It was nice seeing everyone. Hey Bill, is the arm still out back?”

He swallowed the food. “Are you seriously taking that?”

“Course,” she said, insulted by his question. “I didn’t chase him through a forest to just leave his arm lying around to rot. That’s a gift for Tonks.”

“You can’t seriously take that to her!” he argued.

“I can and I will. Now where is it?”

Bill let out a defeated sigh. “It’s wrapped in an old shirt, by the shed.”

“Thanks.”

Emerson bid Molly and Arthur farewell, and then walked out back towards the shed. The arm was wrapped in an old grey shirt. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, but she picked it up and clutched it tightly to her chest. When she arrived at Tonks’, she took in a breath before unlocking the door.

“Emery!” exclaimed Tonks, when she walked in. “Oh thank Merlin, you’re alright. I was worried sick. W-what’s that smell?” she covered her nose with her hand. “What do you have there?”

“An arm,” Emerson replied.

“A-an arm?” stuttered Tonks. “Is that . . . is that Greyback’s arm?”

Emerson held it out in front of her. “Promised I’d bring you back a part of him, so I brought back his arm for you, would’ve brought you his head if those Death Eaters hadn’t shown up.”

“I thought you were lying.”

“When I give my word, I keep it. That’s how I was raised.”

“I’ll have to ask your parents on pointers,” Tonks whispered. “This is really his arm?” she was astonished. “How did you?”

“See these teeth?” Emerson opened her mouth. “Well, when I'm a jaguar, these fucking teeth can cut through anything; one of the perks of being a shifter.”

“I bet.” Tonks poked the bloodied arm. “You really are something else, you know.”

Emerson shook her head. “I seem better than I actually am. Do you want me to leave this in here or should I throw it out?”

“Can you put it out back? I want to . . .” Tonks trailed off, embarrassed by what she planned to do. “I want to have a go at it. Destroy it some more.”

“Sounds perfectly reasonable, I’ll put it out back and throw a protective spell so animals can’t get near it. Now, go to bed, you have to wake up for work and I'm going to leave breakfast and lunch in the fridge for you since I'm gonna be hibernating for most of tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to cook. I'm perfectly capable of cooking for us.”

“Just because you’re capable that doesn’t mean you should cook. And I'm not that tired so it’ll be alright.”

After bickering awhile longer, Tonks finally went to sleep and Emerson took the arm out back. She then walked into the kitchen and began preparing breakfast and lunch for the following day. Once she finished, she wandered upstairs to grab a blunt and decided that she’d go out back and smoke, while the food cooled down. A few yards away from the house, she took a seat on the grass and proceeded to light up. The first hit was always her favorite, there was nothing like getting the taste in her mouth and the first burst of smoke in her lungs. She sat there in silence, pondering her existence.

At least, that’s what she did until she heard the rustling come from behind. She jumped to her feet, drawing her wand as the blunt hung loosely from her lips. Her eyes were narrowed, scanning the thick shrubbery that was behind her and when her eyes landed on Remus, she felt relieved.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” he told her.

“You’ve come back.”

“No, not really,” he said, lowering his gaze in shame.

Emerson took in his appearance, he looked shabbier than usual and his face held the look of a beaten man. In her mind, he was a scoundrel for having walked out on Tonks, but his appearance inspired pity.

“She loves you, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then why aren’t you with her?” she asked. “She’s your wife, she’s having your child and . . .”

“That’s the problem!” cried Remus. “She’s having a child; my child! Do you know what that means?”

“It means you get to have a baby with the person you love.” Emerson replied, curtly. “And if you think that’s gonna make me feel bad for you, think again.”

“But the child might be infected. They –”

“And?” she interjected. “Who gives a fuck if they’re infected or not? Your running away doesn’t make it so they won’t be infected. It makes so they’re going to grow up fatherless and if they’re infected, that means they’re not going to have someone there to talk them through things. You need to man the fuck up and take responsibility for your actions. That’s your wife in there, that’s your baby. So stop acting like her being pregnant is the worst thing on earth, because it’s not.”

“Don’t talk to me like you know what I'm going through!” bellowed Remus. “You don’t know what it’s like to struggle with this bloody curse!”

“I may not turn into a fucking werewolf every full moon, but I'm stuck being a fucking creature that I never wanted to be!” she hissed. “And for me, it’s not every full moon; it’s whenever I'm not in control of my emotions! I nearly killed my mom once, when we were having an argument and I phased in front of her. I know how much this can suck, but we can’t feel sorry for ourselves. We have to make the best out of what we have.”

“But your curse isn’t as bad . . .” he argued. “You’re in control of it most of the time and your children . . .”

“Children?” she scoffed. “I can’t have kids, Remus. The last time I had a period, I was fifteen. And you can’t have a baby without having a period.”

“Then how does it get passed on?”

“By the men,” she said. “Men can father children, but I'm the only female shape shifter in the history of our family’s village and I can’t have kids.” Emerson fought back the tears. “Probably won’t be able to have any until I figure out how to stop phasing and who know, maybe my body will be too messed up to let me. So don’t stand there and act like having a baby is such a bad thing. Because you get to have one with a person that loves you . . . you get to be happy. That’s something that most people can’t say.”

There were truth in her words, Remus recognized them, but his fears were still present.

“It’s not as easy as you think . . .” Remus blinked away his tears. “Keep her safe, will you?”

“You’d do a better job of it.”

“Just promise me, you’ll keep her safe.”

“I will,” she promised. “But you need to man up. Life’s giving you a chance at having it a family and you need to take it.”