Everything Is Eclipsed by the Shape of Destiny

“Remus knows.”

His nose scrunched in confusion. “What do you mean he knows?”

“He knows how I take my coffee,” she replied, sarcastically. “I mean, he knows! He fucking knows!” she snapped.

It was then that the realization set in. His brilliant blue eyes widened in shock, his head instinctively began to shake. It couldn’t be true. There was no way Remus could know that they were sneaking around. No one could know. They’d always been so careful, so discreet, but there stood Emerson, telling him that they’d been found out, and all he could think about was what their next move would be.

“He hasn’t told anyone.” Emerson stated, quietly. “I believe him. Remus isn’t one to lie.”

“He’s not,” agreed Bill, his brow creased. “But what does this mean? What are we gonna do?”

“There’s only one thing to do . . . we have to stop spending so much time together.”

“But –”

“I know it sounds a little extreme since no one else knows, but then again, maybe they do know and they’re just not saying anything because they don’t want to start shit in the middle of a war.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I'm not. I'm trying to keep this from blowing up in our faces. One person already knows, that’s one person to many and we need to just – we need to make sure that we don’t make people think that there’s anything going on between us. We’re best friends. That’s it.”

“We don’t act like we’re anything other than that. Not when we’re around people. Not even when we’re by ourselves,” hissed Bill. “Ya have all these bloody rules. We can’t kiss. We can’t shag. All we can do is just sit next to each other and brood! And now, now we can’t even have that? Well bullocks to that. I'm not about to deny myself of the one bloody thing that makes this miserable life of mine worth living. Just because it won’t be a problem for you, doesn’t mean it’s the same for me.”

“You think it won’t be a problem for me? You think it’s easy for me to not kiss you? To keep myself under control when you’re kissing Fleur? Do you fucking think that’s easy for me?”

“Well from the way you talk about it, yeah, I do.”

“It’s not, you stupid man!” she stood from the boulder on which they’d sat. “Whenever I'm in the same room as her, all I want to do is just – AHH! My thoughts are so violent and fucked up that my lips refuse to say what I want to do to her, because it’s not right for me to hate someone as much as I hate her, it’s not right for me to want her to fuck off, when she’s been nothing but kind to me. But I do. I fucking hate her. I want her gone. I want her to run off to France with that fucking brother of hers so I can live my life in PEACE! Because I deserve peace, I deserve to be happy, but I also know that I have to think things through, because this isn’t just about me and you. It’s about your family. It’s about the people in the Order, and whenever I feel myself losing control, I think of them. I think of your parent’s dying because we were fucking reckless, and then I calm myself down. Then I can sit in your parent’s living room, while Fleur dotes on you.”

“Marie, I didn’t know . . .” he reached out to hold her.

“Of course you didn’t know,” she flinched away. “I think about the big picture.”

“And what is the big picture?” he asked, softly. “Because I haven’t a clue as to what it is, really, I haven’t.”

“It’s to keep you safe.”

“That can’t be the big picture. There’s more to it. There’s got to be more.”

Emerson shook her head. “Keeping you safe is the big picture for me. It’s been my top concern since you first walked into my apart in Egypt, all those years ago.”

He shot her a confused look.

“There’s something I haven’t told you, Bill. Something about me,” she took in a deep breath, her nerves running wild. “There’s more to being a shifter than just turning into a jaguar and being endowed with a few magical abilities.”

“What more could there be?”

“There’s this thing, an old magic, a powerful magic called imprinting. There’s nothing like it in the world. Nothing more beautiful, more powerful, more painful,” she muttered.

“I'm not following.” He stood and placed a hand on her back. “What’s imprinting?”

“Imprinting is the means by which a shifter finds their soul mate.” Emerson whispered. “It’s out of our control. We don’t have a say in it. Everett didn’t have a say when he imprinted on a married woman. And I sure as fuck didn’t have one when I imprinted on you,” she turned to face him, her eyes staring intently into his, watching for a reaction. “The moment I saw you, everything changed. Hah. I know that sounds cliché as fuck. It’s one of those lines that people are always overusing, but it’s the truth. The moment my eyes met yours, the world changed, I changed. Didn’t you feel it? Didn’t you feel something stir deep within you? A foreign sensation that you couldn’t quite figure out?” she asked. “And you felt crazy for feeling that way about me, but you couldn’t help it. Could you? You wanted to see me again, because you just had to get to know me.”

“It was love at first sight, not imprinting.”

“Imprinting makes love at first sight look like a little bitch.” Emerson declared. “I don’t know how it was for you, but the moment I saw you, I experienced every emotion possible at the same time. I felt myself grow faint. I was overwhelmed by what I felt for you, a stranger. And yet I knew not to fear what I was experiencing, because I’d heard legends that spoke of shifters finding their perfect match. I’d heard talk of days gone by, in which a shifter gladly put his life on the line for the woman he loved. And when I saw you, even though I didn’t know you, I knew I would do the same. I knew then, that the most important thing in my life was keeping you safe. And that’s what I’ve done. That’s why I'm here.”

Bill remained silent, processing everything she’d just told him.

“I . . . will. . . Ah, what – will this end when you stop, you know, shifting? If it’s all magic is this just an illusion then?”

A soft smile tugged at her lips. “Love is magic, what we feel is just stronger than the usual sort of love, and no, it won’t end. This is for life. And if it freaks you out. If you feel that you don’t want to be with me, because you didn’t have a choice, then –”

“No one has a choice when they fall in love.” Bill stated. “It just happens, and . . . bloody hell. Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner? Things would’ve been so much easier had I known that you loved me as much as I loved you.”

“I didn’t want to freak out with this.”

“Nothing about you freaks me out.” He told her. “A few things about you annoy me, but nothing freaks me out.”

“You mean that?”

“Yeah, I do,” he took her hands in his. “So we’re soul mates?”

“Sounds weird hearing you say it,” she said, a little smile playing across her lips.

“I like how it sounds. It’ll make explaining things easier when we have to. No, mum couldn’t help it, she’s my soul mate. Sounds brilliant, doesn’t it?”

“Your mom’s gonna think we’re fucking crazy.”

“Mum’s the matriarch of all us Weasleys; I reckon some of the crazy came from her.”

“Not your dad?”

“A bit from dad, most from mum,” he chuckled. “You know, everything makes sense now. Why you were so keen on fighting in this war, but I’ve got to say I feel a bit bad about this. You’re running around protecting and I'm just a damsel in distress, a married damsel in distress so I can’t even reward ya with a kiss.”

“Once we sort this fucking mess out, I’ll be getting more than just kisses from you.”

“Like how that sounds,” he told her, stepping closer as he did so.

She dropped his hands and took a step back. “But for now, just friends, remember.”

“But it’s hell.”

“At least you’re not watching the person you love be married to someone else.”

His heart constricted when she said those words. “I really am sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

“What?”

“I could’ve stopped you. I could’ve told you how I felt.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me,” she confessed. “Its part of being a shifter, the whole unselfish love bit, its shit, but you just pull through. That’s what I did.”

“Would you have kept it up? If I hadn’t told ya anything, that is?”

“That was the plan.”

“You’re one hell of a woman, you are.”

“And you’re the lucky sod that got stuck with me.”

Bill smirked. “Just you wait until we sort this all out. We’re gonna disappear for a month, just you and me, somewhere far.”

“Somewhere nice, because I don’t want to end up in a shit cabin like we did during that vacation to Albania.”

“Oi, it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was horrible.” Emerson ran a hand through her hair. “That reminds me. Tell Ron I want to talk to him.”

“What for?” he asked.

“I want him to tell me what area he thinks Harry and Hermione might be in. I want to scope it out and –”

“With a proper search group, right?” he inquired.

“Yes,” she lied.

“Good, we’ll tell the Order.”

“We can’t very well tell them. Everyone will find out what Ron did and think that he’s a coward. He’ll never redeem himself.”

“Then what kind of group?” he pressed. “Because you and me, well, we’re not fit enough to run such a thing.”

“You won’t be a part of it.”

“Marie –”

“I’ll ask Everett. It’ll be two shifters, tracking them down.” Emerson lied. She wasn’t going to contact her twin; this was something that she’d do alone.

“But –”

“Bill,” she said his name softly, pleadingly. “You’re a wizard, a talented duelist, but when it comes to tracking, well, I think it’s better to leave that to natural born trackers.”

“I won’t let you go out there on your own.”

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“I ask you that all the time and you’ve never given a proper answer. So don’t expect one from me.”

“We’ll talk about this some other time.”

“No.”

“Don’t be such a pain.”

“I'm not gonna just stand here while you start rambling about how you and your brother are gonna go into forests that are crawling with snatchers and dark wizards. It’s bloody dangerous! And I get that I'm not as strong as you lot, or skilled at tracking, but I can help.”

“Bill,” she sighed softly, raising her hand to cup his cheek. “I know you can help.”

“Then why won’t you let me?”

“Because if you’re there, I won’t be focusing on Harry or keeping Everett and myself safe, I’ll be worrying about you. That’s the thing about imprinting, when your imprints with you and they’re in trouble, the only thing that matters is getting them to safety, even if that means putting yourself in harms way.”

“I don’t want that to happen.”

“Then let me do things my way.”

Bill stared into her eyes, for a moment, remaining silent. “I want you to think about it. You don’t have to promise that I can go, just promise that you’ll think about me maybe tagging along. I’ll work out harder. Put more effort into learning new spells.”

“On one condition,” she dropped her hand from his cheek.

“What is it?”

“You don’t come around the house anymore. I know you said we wouldn’t spend time together anymore, but I don’t want you sneaking over. Merlin forbid, one day Fleur or Marceau follows you and we’ll be worse off. So just promise that you won’t come over anymore and I’ll promise that I’ll think about it.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s the only way.”

“Fine,” he said, regretting his decision almost immediately. “So when do you want to speak to Ron?”

“As soon as you can arrange it,” she replied.

The meeting with Ron happened a few days later. It would’ve happened sooner, but they’d both been busy with missions. Emerson had been running reconnaissance with Kingsley and a few others, while Bill had been scouring the countryside for any witches and wizards that had gone into hiding as a result of their blood status. Their grueling days left Bill with numerous bruises and scars, the left side of his face was swollen and his arms were all scratched up. Emerson was exhausted. She hadn’t been sleeping or eating as well as she should’ve. Had she simply done the reconnaissance work, she would’ve been tired, but not as exhausted as she was. The problem was that after she finished up her work, she’d go over to Shell Cottage and protect the perimeter. She felt like a hypocrite for watching after Bill when she’d made him swear that he wouldn’t seek her out, but she couldn’t help it. Hearing stories about how beat up he was, put her in a foul mood and the only thing that made her feel better was being able to make sure that his home was safe.

When Ron first found out that Emerson wanted to talk to him, he was taken aback. He’d only met her once before, hadn’t really spent much time with her, so he was afraid of what she’d be like and what she wanted from him. Bill told him not to be nervous, that Emerson just wanted to ask a few questions since she was a shifter and wanted to help him get back to his friends. Ron wasn’t as trusting of Emerson as Bill seemed to be. The war had made him distrust of those who he did not know, he was hesitant, nervous, and when Emerson walked into his room, she picked up on his feelings almost immediately.

“You know, there’s no need to be nervous. I'm not here to judge you or do anything along those lies. I'm here because I want to help you find your friends. That’s all.”

“But how you gonna do that? I spent weeks trying to find them and I couldn’t. Hermione put up loads of charms to keep us from being found, and she did such a bloody good job that I went on food for weeks, and couldn’t find a trace of them.”

“Hermione sounds like a brilliant witch.”

“She is,” he agreed.

“But even the cleverest of people can overlook things. Tell me, did you ever hear her mention a flaw with the defenses? Nothing massive that was really worrisome, but something small, that she thought was weird?”

Ron immersed himself in his memories, looking for such an instance. He replayed his previous conversations with Hermione, the ones he could remember, and then, just as he was beginning to despair that he didn’t know anything, he remembered Hermione saying that the snatchers had been able to smell her perfume.

“Her perfume,” he whispered.

“What was that?”

“Her perfume,” he repeated. “She said that the snatchers could smell it. Does that help?”

“It does,” replied Emerson, excitedly. “But what does it smell like?”

“I . . . I don’t fancy myself able to describe it.”

“Fuck.”

“But I’ve, well, I snagged a bottle of it, I know it makes me seem mental, but I just – it reminded me of her, and I wanted to be reminded so I took it.”

“That’s not weird,” she reassured.

He smiled, gratefully. “I can give ya the bottle, if it’ll help, but can you promise that you’ll fetch me as soon as you find them . . . and tell them I'm sorry.”

“I will.”

“Okay then, okay.” Ron stood. “It’s over here.”

Ron walked over to his knapsack, where he pulled out a simple glass vial. There was no label on it, no obnoxious writing, just a few words engraved on it. He hesitantly handed it over to Emerson. That was the last thing he had that reminded him of Hermione. It was hard to let it go, but the look in Emerson’s eyes promised him that he’d not only get it back, but that he would be reunited with his friends.