Everything Is Eclipsed by the Shape of Destiny

“You’re not going back!” roared Eleanor, eyes aflame with anger. “Not after all you’ve been through! I won’t allow it. You hear me? I won’t! And if you so much as try to run off, then I’ll get everyone in the family to stun you and then . . . then I’ll lock you up in your room. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll put you in bloody cage if I have to, but mark my words, there won’t be any returning to England for you, not after all that’s happened. Not after you nearly died on us.”

It would’ve been best to hold her tongue, to pretend to see the truth in her mother’s words, and then sneak off in the middle of the night when no one would notice, but Emerson couldn’t help herself. Her mother had been nagging at her for the greater part of an hour, stating time and time again that Emerson was to return to California where she could properly be looked after by her parents. That was the only way she could be safe. That was only action that Eleanor would sanction, but Emerson didn’t want to go along with her mother’s plans. She had to get back to England and throw herself in the thick of it.

If there were vampires involved in the war, then it was her moral obligation as a shifter to fight against them and protect the humans they would seek to drain. That was her entire purpose for existing, the reason why her ancestors had been gifted the ability to shift. But her mother refused to see the logic in that. If there were vampires in England, then the leeches were the responsibility of English shifters, not Emerson’s.

In her heart, Emerson knew her mother meant well. She was just looking out for her, wanting to keep her out of danger, like any mother would, but the problem was, Emerson couldn’t be out of danger. So long as her imprint lived in a warzone, then Emerson had to live there as well. She had to protect him, ensure that he would survive at all costs. That was her duty to him, to the sacred bond of imprinting, but her mother couldn’t understand that. She thought Emerson was just being foolish. She thought that if she screamed enough and made the right threats that her daughter would forget all about England and that damn ginger, but that wasn’t so. He was her heart, and she had to look after it, even if it meant getting into a fight with her mother.

“Come on, mom. Just calm down and hear me out,” she implored, hoping her mothers incessant yelling would come to an end. “Just give me a chance to explain why I have to –”

“You don’t have to go back!” exclaimed Eleanor, and she said it with such finality that for a split second, Emerson doubted as to whether she really had to return.

“Yes. I do!” cried Emerson. “I have an imprint.”

“An imprint who’s married, need I remind you.”

“That doesn’t matter! What matters is that he’s my imprint, and that it is my duty to protect him, no matter what.”

“So you’re fine with getting yourself killed over a man who vowed to love and honor another woman? You’re fine with laying down your life so that he can live his with her?” spat Eleanor.

“Elena!” Samuel made his way into the conversation, no longer able to sit idly by. “That’s enough.”

“Enough?” she repeated, eyes flashing in annoyance, warning her husband not to go against her.

“Yes. It is.” He boldly stated. “You can say your peace all you want, but there’s no need to be hurtful while you’re doing so.”

“I'm not being hurtful. I'm being honest!” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Or don’t you understand that our daughter wants to run off to England to protect a man who has a wife? Don’t you understand how idiotic that is?”

“It might not make sense to us, but it does to her.” Samuel defended his daughter’s stance. “She’s not like us, Elena. She’s a shifter. They have a different mindset, different priorities. So we have to respect her decisions, because she knows what’s best for her.”

“I know what’s best for her!”

“No.” He let out a heavy sigh. “We know what’s good for her. That’s what we know. What’s best for her is something that only she knows, and only she’ll know how to go about getting it.”

“She’ll get herself killed in the process. And don’t you dare say she won’t. You saw how she was! She nearly died!” reminded Eleanor, her voice cracking.

“It wasn’t that bad, mom.” Emerson regretted the words almost as soon as she said them.

“Not that bad? You were unconscious for the better part of three days! Your heartbeat was so faint that the monitor your granddad got could barely register it, and when you woke up on the fourth day, all you did was throw up! And it was this black tar substance that just seemed to fly out of your mouth! You were in RUINS for nine days. Your body was . . . it was rebelling against you. And now you have the audacity to tell me that it wasn’t that bad. I was there! I'm the one that held the bucket while you vomited. I'm the one that gave you sponge baths. I'm the one that fed you, that gave you your medicine . . . I stayed up while you slept so that I could make sure you were still breathing . . .” that was it, Eleanor lost it. She started crying, her sobs rendering her speechless.

“Don’t cry mom.” Emerson took her mother into her arms, holding her tight. “Please don’t cry.”

“Y-you’re my little girl,” stuttered Eleanor, struggling to speak clearly. “And I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Is that so wrong?” She pulled away from her daughter, and looked up into her face. “Is it so horrid of me to want to protect you?”

“Of course not,” reassured Emerson in a quiet voice. “But the thing is . . . you can’t protect me. And I know you want to. I know dad wants to. I know everyone just wants to keep me safe, but you guys can’t. Not anymore.”

“What? That’s not true! Of course I can protect you. I'm your mother!” Eleanor’s face flooded in indignation. “If anyone can keep you safe, it’s me! I'm the one that carried you for nine months.”

Emerson reached out and took her mother’s hands in hers. “You can’t.” She stared her mother directly in the eyes. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. I am what I am for a reason. This being a shifter has made it so I can . . . so I have to protect myself.”

“You’ve done a shit job at it.” Eleanor argued. “Just look at yourself! You’ve bites on your neck; your back’s covered in them. So I think it’s quite obvious you can’t protect yourself. You’re not sensible enough to.”

Emerson dropped her mother’s hands. “I get that you think I'm an idiot for going over there, I get that you don’t understand how I can still love Bill despite what’s happened, but the thing is, it doesn’t matter whether or not you get why things are the way they are. I know you’re gonna get pissed off at me for saying that, but it’s the truth. Because what matters most is what I think, no, not what I think, what I know. That’s what matters most. And what I know is that I have to go back over there. I have to fight in that war, because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t. There are vampires involved now. Those things are the reason why my ancestors were gifted the ability of shifting. I am a shifter in order to protect against them, and that’s exactly what I'm going to do. And you can be pissed off at me. That’s fine. Well, not really, I’d prefer it if you weren’t. But I guess . . . I guess I’ll deal with it if you are, because I have to go protect those people.”

“But I don’t want you to.” Eleanor wracked her mind, searching for a way to convince Emerson to stay behind. “Why don’t you stop shifting? If you can’t become a jaguar then you don’t have to protect those people, and you won’t love Bill anymore. You’ll get back your wits.”

“That’s not how it works.” Emerson took a step back, putting much needed space between her and her mother. “I was raised to stand up for what’s right, even if it’s not convenient. That’s what you and dad taught me, so don’t you dare think that I'm going to take the easy way out. I'm gonna fight. And Merlin willing, I’ll be back.”

Her eyes made it clear that she had no intention of staying any longer. The moment her mother saw the determination in them, she stepped forward, hoping that her grasp would be enough to keep her from apparating, but before her mother had even reached out to her, Emerson had apparated back to the English countryside, to the home in which Remus and Tonks let her stay.

The fact that her body was still recovering from the poison made apparating more difficult than it normally was. Her body didn’t want to move, it wished to stay firmly in the living room, but her mind forced the magic to work, it forced her body to travel to the doorstep, and once she was there, she stumbled slightly, struggling to regain her footing, but in time she did, and she was able to knock on the door to make her presence known.

“Who’s there?” asked Remus, his voice stern and commanding.

“Emma,” she shouted back, her voice sounding a bit strained. “Or Emerson, if you want to be formal about it,” she added.

Through the peephole on the door, Remus checked to see if it was indeed her. “What is the name that my wife and I wish for our child to have?”

“Ted.” Emerson replied. “You two are going to name him after her dad, and then you said something about maybe adding your first name in as a middle name, but Tonks isn’t too sold on that last bit.”

“It is you!” cried Remus, his features growing brighter as he threw open the door. “Come in! Come in! Hurry on now, we’ve been anxious to see you.” He locked the door behind them, and then stopped to look at her, taking in the scattering of scars on her face, and the ones that her neck displayed. She was as much of a mess as him, but he dared not comment on her scars. This was to be a joyous occasion. “It’s fantastic to see you recovered,” he said. “We were all terribly concerned, and what with your mum not letting anyone visit, it was truly worrisome for us all.”

“Right, I’d forgotten about my mom going crazy on everyone. Sorry about that. She’s just . . . she’s a little much sometimes, but she means well.” Emerson followed him into the living room. “And I'm fine. Not at a hundred percent yet, but I’ll be there by morning.”

“That’s great to hear.” Remus smiled. “We truly have been missing your presence out there. The missions have . . . well, you know how they are, and without you there it’s been a bit more trying. Now with the vampires it’s more difficult than ever.”

“I have an idea for them.” Emerson spoke as she took a seat on the couch. “While I was in recovery, I remembered how there are some friendly vampires that abstain from human blood. I met some back in America in the early days of my shifting, and they seemed like really decent people. They seemed to want to live in line with humanity, and I think there’s a chance that there might be some in England. Maybe they’ll be down to fight against Voldemort to keep the peace. And if there aren’t any of those, then maybe we can recruit some that drink blood but don’t agree with Voldemort. Either way, I think it could work for the Order to have some vampires handy, because I . . . well, I can fight, but at some point after their venom goes into me, I’ll get sick and won’t be much of a help. We need vampires if we’re going to stand a chance against the ones Voldemort has.”

Remus sat back in his chair, and rubbed his tired eyes. “I don’t think the Order would want to work with Vampires. They’re not . . . that is to say, they’re dark creatures.”

“They’re people.” Emerson declared. “Some of them choose to give themselves up to the bloodlust and their instincts, others choose to employ their minds and keep what they can of their humanity. We need them. Or else the Order’s just going to have one shifter that’ll need nine days to recover whenever she goes up against a vampire.”

“What about your brother? I thought you said he was also a –”

“My brother’s not getting involved in this.” She said in a firm voice. “I won’t put my parents through having to worry about two of their kids. It wouldn’t be fair to them.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” Remus said softly. “Do you believe there are others out there like you?”

“I like to think there are, but when I ran into those vampires, the woman whom seemed to be their leader looked genuinely shocked at my existence. Apparently, she hadn’t seen anything like me in decades. And the others that were with her had never seen a shifter at all.” She paused, shifting her weight on the couch to get comfortable. “Who knows, maybe my family really is the last bloodline around for that.”

As Emerson finished her statement, Tonks entered the living room. She’d been having a nap upstairs, unable to stay function without a quiet rest, and when Emerson knocked on the door, her eyes snapped wide open. As of late, her hearing had become incredibly sensitive, forcing Remus to take up quiet endeavors so as not to upset his very pregnant wife.

“Emma!” exclaimed Tonks, gleefully. “Bloody hell, it’s brilliant to see you again. Look at you! You’ve lost a bit of weight. I don’t like it. We’ll get you nice and fed in no time. You’ve got to be at your best with all you do.” Tonks waddled slightly as she made her way over to Emerson. “It’s good to have you back, Emma. Remus and I’ve missed you. It’s not the same without you here. You’ve become a part of our little family.”

“Thanks Tonks.” Emerson hugged her tightly. “It really is great to be back.”

Tonks took a seat beside Emerson. “I had planned on paying a visit to you, but the healers say I'm not allowed to apparate anymore. Apparently it causes too much stress on my belly, so I'm only to travel via floo powder and your granddad doesn’t have that set up in his home. And then your mum wasn’t letting anyone visit so I couldn’t see you. I thought she’d at least let Bill in, but apparently he only got to see you whenever she slept during the day.” Tonks rubbed her belly. “She’s not too keen on him. Is she? Though I can’t really blame her, you ran over here to help out your mate with a war and you got all ruffled up. That sort of thing doesn’t fly with mums.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Emerson chuckled. “She actually tried to stop me from coming back, kept saying that she was going to get everyone in the family to stun me and then lock me up in a cage.”

“Are you serious?” Tonks face lit up in amusement. “And how did you talk her into letting you come?”

“I didn’t.” Emerson declared. “I'm a grown ass woman. So I just took off. She’ll be pissed about it, but egh, she’ll live.”

“Just so you know, if she comes around here looking to smack the shit out of you for having run off, I’ll stand aside and let her do it. You can’t just leave your mum like that, it’s not right.”

“Geez, now that you’re becoming a mom, you’re getting so defensive about other mommas.” Emerson smiled. “It won’t be long till I can’t curse without getting told off by you.”

“Oh bugger off.” Tonks scrunched her nose.

“Well I'm glad we can still throw curse words around.” Emerson massaged the base of her neck, the bite along there had been the deepest and had yet to fully heal.

“You alright?” asked Tonks, eyes full of concern.

Emerson nodded. “Yeah, it’s nothing. My neck just tenses up a bit. I'm fine though. So, what’s happened since I left? Any new developments with Harry and them?” she hoped there had been, she’d prayed for that as she lay in bed at her grandparent’s home.

“No ones heard from them,” answered Remus, a grave look taking over his features. “I’ve sent a few letters out, but they’ve all come back.”

“I think it’s because they’re so well hidden that not even the Owls can get to them.” Tonks wanted to be positive; she needed to believe that Harry would end the war, and that her child would be able to know peace as they grew. “Hermione’s very bright; she’s undoubtedly made sure that no one can find them.”

“True, but I do wish I could speak to him. Just have a quick chat to know where they stand and if there’s anything I can to help.”

“The only thing we can do to help is keep fighting the Death Eaters.” Emerson spoke. “We need to buy Harry time to do whatever it is he has to, and if we engage in fights with Death Eaters, and take them out, then that’s less people that Harry has to worry about.”

“We’re not meant to kill them.” Remus reminded. “We’re meant to disengage them. That’s all.”

“That’s what we all say, but when we got out there, that line just gets cast away.” Emerson ran a hand through her short hair. “But that’s not a topic we should touch on a day like this. It’s Christmas! Well, the afternoon after Christmas. And I have to make a quick run to my run. I’ll be right back.”

She ran up to her bedroom and grabbed the presents she’d gotten for Remus and Tonks. There were a few things for them, as well as some clothes and toys for the unborn Ted. The couple was touched by Emerson’s thoughtfulness, and gave her a few gifts of their own. After they finished exchanging presents, they had some lunch, leftovers that Tonks’ mother had packed up for them the night before. There was an entire fridge packed with leftovers. Andromeda had gone a bit overboard with the cooking, but Tonks didn’t complain about it. She ate a hearty meal, had several mini ones, and was thankful that she wouldn’t have to cook for a few days. She’d gotten used to Emerson being in charge of the cooking, and despite Tonks’ best attempts, she wasn’t all that keen on how her dishes turned out.

They spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing in the living room, talking about previous Christmases and making light conversation. They wanted to keep their moods up, to think only of the good that existed in their world. They went on in such fashion until the evening, when Emerson traveled over to the Burrow to let everyone know that she had survived, and that she was ready for another mission. Tonks had offered to go along, claiming that she wouldn’t mind getting out of the house for a bit, but Emerson told her that it’d be best if she stayed behind. Tonks needed to get her rest, and put her feet up. As of late they’d been swelling like mad.

So after convincing Tonks to stay behind, Emerson put on a jacket, and apparated to the Burrow. It took a few minutes to be let in, basic questions had to be asked in order to prove that she was indeed herself, but as soon as she was inside, the twins launched themselves at her, taking her into a great big hug.

“She’s alive!” they cried overdramatically.

“Thank Merlin! Now we don’t have to be widowers.” Fred commented as he pulled away.

“Widowers?” she asked them, arching her brow slightly.

“Don’t you know we’ve married?” asked George. “Honestly Emma, what kind of wife are you? You can’t even remember having married us! I told you Fred, she doesn’t really love us. She’s only toying with our hearts.”

“Nonsense, George! Just look at her, she adores us. Don’t you, love?” asked Fred, wiggling his brow suggestively. “Can’t get enough of us!” he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and pulled her in closer. “You missed quite the Christmas you know. And you have to promise to make it up to us.”

“We want a massive bowl of those cookies you make,” spoke George. “That’s the only way we’ll forgive your not being here with us.”

Emerson tilted her head back and let out a chuckle. “You two are insane. Don’t you know that if we’re married, you two have to be the ones that do the cooking and the cleaning? I get to be the provider.”

Fred and George shot each other a quick look.

“Does this mean we get to do what we like and so long as we feed and tidy up, you have to support our pranking habits?” they asked.

“That’s exactly what it means.” Emerson replied, eagerly waiting to hear their response.

“See George, I told you marrying her, was a good idea. Now we get to be –”

“Boys!” cried Molly. “Stop bothering Emma! Can’t you see she’s just got in? Now off you with. Go on; tell your sister and your brothers that Emma’s arrived.” Molly shooed them away. “Emma, my dear, it’s such a relief to see you again. We were all so worried sick!” She took Emerson into a strong embrace. “I was hoping to have you here so I could look after you, but Bill says your mum wouldn’t budge, which was only right of her, I suppose, it’s only natural for a mother to want to look after their child, but by Merlin, we would have much preferred that you be here where we could all make sure you were alright. You are all better now, aren’t you? You certainly look it.” She placed a hand on her cheek. “It’s good to have you back, dear.”

“It’s good to be back, Mrs. Weasley.” Emerson smiled, hoping to truly demonstrate just how happy she was to be back in the Burrow, to be under the same roof as the Weasleys. “And merry belated Christmas,” she added in the most cheerful tone she could muster.

“Merry Christmas to you to, Emma,” replied Molly as she grabbed hold of Emerson’s hand. “Come on, lets go to the living room, everyone will be there soon enough and I’ve something for you. It’s not much, but I do hope you’ll like it.”

When they entered the living room, Molly broke off in direction of the Christmas tree they’d put up, and took out a parcel. Inside, there was a maroon jumper with a golden letter E across the front of it. Emerson, touched by the thoughtful gift, practically pounced on Molly, holding her as tightly as she would her mother.

“It’s brilliant!” exclaimed Emerson, pulling it on over her head. “How do I look?”

“Like a proper Weasley,” spoke Bill from the doorway. He’d been upstairs in conference with Charlie and their father, discussing what could be done in the future to secure the family’s safety. “And the color suits you. I'm sure you would’ve been a Gryffindor had you been to Hogwarts.”

“I think so to,” she said, smiling so brightly that her deeply etched laugh lines were on full display. “That reminds me, I have a few gifts of my own. I meant to bring them by yesterday since it was Christmas and all, but you know, I was needed elsewhere.”

From her coat pocket, she pulled out a small coin purse that had been enchanted to fit all the presents she’d gotten for the Weasley family. She was a huge fan of Christmas, the songs, the décor, the food; the good times just filled her with joy. And she loved seeing the smile on a persons face whenever they opened up a gift. So she handed hers out. They were things she’d thought would suit each member of the Weasley, and everyone was indeed thrilled with their gifts. They couldn’t believe that despite Emerson having been through hell, she’d still been thinking about them.

In time, the excitement of Christmas wore down, and only the eldest Weasley boys and their parents remained in the living room. They listened as how Emerson described her recovery process. She wasn’t extremely detailed, not wanting to make Bill feel guiltier than he already did, and when she finished, she brought up the fact that they needed to get vampires on their side. They had to fight fire with fire.

“But who would reach out to them?” inquired Arthur, doubting that anyone in the Order would willingly seek out a vampire. “Those that are known to us are quite reclusive. They do not like to be bothered.”

“I’ll reach out to them.” Emerson stated.

“You?” choked out Bill. “No. There’s no way you’re going to reach out to them. You’ve said it yourself, you lot can’t stand the smell of each other. One whiff of however you smell like to them and it’ll be war. It can’t happen.”

“It can happen. It will happen.” Emerson said firmly. “All I need is someone that smells really good. I mean someone that smells otherworldly. Their scent will be enough to mask my own.”

“If they smell so heavenly then wouldn’t the vampires want to have a go at them?” Charlie joined the conversation, hunching over in his chair. “Wouldn’t that be the case?”

“There’s a risk that that could happen, but I think that my smell will make their smell, smell normal. Does that make sense? What I'm trying to say is that because they smell so good and I smell so bad to the vampires that the vampire’s noses will end up smelling something normal, like it’ll even out.”

“Although that does make sense, I can’t help but think that we don’t know anyone that smells that good.” Molly sat back in her chair. “Then again, our sense of smell is a bit lacking. But, Emma, who do you think could be that scent?”

There were only two people whose scent could neutralize her own; Fleur and Marceau.

“I . . .” she cleared her throat, unsure as to how to proceed. “. . . I know exactly who would be of use. But I don’t know if they’d be up for it. It’s a lot to ask of them, and they’re not even in the Order, but if my scent were to be neutralized then I would need a Veela to venture with me. I’d need . . .” she didn’t want to say that she’d need him, he annoyed her, he was nothing but a thorn in her side, but at that moment, she truly did need his help. “ . . . Marceau.”

Bill was the first to speak. “No!” he exclaimed, refusing to let his brother-in-law spend time with Emerson. “Marc can’t do it.”

“That’s for him to decide.” Emerson shot back. “Or would you prefer if I took your wife along with me? Risked her life with those vampires?”

“Of course not!” he yelled. “But I just don’t think its right to use Marceau. Fleur wouldn’t like that.”

“Well, we’ll see what they have to say about this if I get clearance to run this mission.” That was to be the end of the conversation, the look in her eyes made it perfectly clear to him that they would discuss it later. “And if they won’t agree to it, then I’ll find some other Veela that will.”

“Do you really think the vampires would help though?” questioned Charlie. “The one’s I’ve met in Romania haven’t been fond of interacting with people, at least not unless it’s for supper.”

“I hope they will.” Emerson wished she could give him a more concrete response, but that was all she had. “There are vampires out there that live like normal people. If we can find those, then I think we’ll have a chance to talk with them, and maybe they’ll be interested in forming an alliance.”

They spoke on a little longer. At the end of an hour, Arthur promised that he would pass along their discussion to Kingsley and the others to see what they thought of it. Since it was approaching the hour for sleep, Molly excused herself and followed Arthur up the stairs to their bedroom.

“I reckon it’s time I head out. I’ve an early date with a new beauty we’ve just got in. She’s one of those most temperamental dragons I’ve ever met, so naturally, I'm quite taken to her.” Charlie flashed them a playful grin as he stood up. “Well, I’ll see you later on, Bill. And Emma?” he turned to her. “Take care of yourself. We missed you round these parts.”

Bill waited a few minutes after Charlie left, to break the silence. “Want a smoke?” he asked.

“Are we actually smoking or is this just you trying to get me in the backyard?”

“It’s a bit of both to be honest.” He smiled nervously. “I reckon having a cigarette in my hand should be enough to keep me from throwing myself at you like I’ve been imagining myself doing.”

“Bill . . .” she said in a low, disapproving voice.

“What? Ya can’t blame me. I’ve seen you beaten all bloody week, and now you’re fine. Thank Merlin, you’re fine.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she said, hoping to lighten the mood. “I was never in any real danger. Their venom just makes me sick. It’s not enough to kill.”

“Now I don’t reckon that’s true. You looked like death.”

“Maybe I looked like it, but I wasn’t close to is,” she said, softly. “And you can be damn sure that it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a few fucking vampires to keep you from me.” Nervously, she shot a look to the archways, and when she ascertained that no one was there, she placed her hand above his, slipping her fingers into his freckle covered ones. “I don’t even think Voldemort could take me out without help from his minions. So don’t worry. I’ll always make my way back to you. I might come back a little scarred, but I’ll be back just the same.”

It was then that his eyes drifted to the base of her neck, to the spot where the vampire had clasped his fangs in hope of ripping out her throat. He had acted out in desperation, hoping that he would be able to destroy the beast before she had a chance to kill him, but in the end, he’d been destroyed. And all that was left of him were the scars of the bites that he’d inflicted on her body.

Bill hated the scars. Not because he thought them unattractive, but because they were an ever present reminder of his inability to keep her safe, of the fact that he’d been the reason why she was constantly putting herself in harms way. If it hadn’t been for his brother, if it hadn’t been for the war, she wouldn’t have endured the hellish agony of a nine day recovery. Bill wished he were a different man, a better man more deserving of her, but that was a wish that would never be granted. He was who he was, and he had to believe that never again would she be put through that hell.

Emerson, noticing his distress, began to rub his thumb with hers, hoping the simple act would soothe him.

“It won’t be long before the wars over.” Her eyes held his, hoping to convince him of her bold statement. “It won’t be long at all.”

“Do you really think we need vampires?”

She lifted her hand off his, knowing very well that he wasn’t interested in her opinion on vampires, but more so on whether she was serious about asking Marceau for help.

“There’s no reason for you to be jealous,” she said simply.

“What? Where’d you get that from? I was asking about –”

“Bill, we both know you don’t give a fuck about the vampires. Alright, maybe you do a little, but not as much as you do about Marceau. You want to know if I'm serious about using him. And you know what? I am. I need a Veela to neutralize my scent. I'm disgusting to vampires, and if he’s strong enough to neutralize me, then maybe he can do the same for them.”

“But you hate him,” he reminded.

“But he’s the only person other than Fleur that’s a Veela.” She hunched over slightly, her gaze dropping to the carpet. “I might hate him, but if helping end this war means having to put up with him for a few hours, then so be it.” She lifted her head slightly, just enough to look up at Bill. “The sooner this thing’s over, the sooner we get to make a life for ourselves.”

He placed a hand on her back, tenderly rubbing it. “I’ll talk to him then. Explain to him what you’re planning.”