Chapter 1
Love is simply the name for the desire and pursuit of the whole
— Plato, The Symposium
“The Ancient Greeks believed humans once had four arms, four legs, and a single head made of two faces. We were happy. Complete. So complete that the gods — fearing our wholeness would quell our need for worship — cleaved us in two, leaving our split-selves to wander the earth in misery, forever longing and longing and longing for the other half of our soul.
It is said that when one half finds its other there is an unspoken understanding, a unity— and each would know no greater joy than this,” she paused, her eyes wandering through the classroom, hoping to find some sort of feigned interest in her classmates eyes, “but the Ancient Greeks never went to Hogwarts or they’d realise we don’t need the gods to mess things up for us.”
A few of her classmates chuckled absentmindedly.
“Thank you, Miss Vance, that was a wonderful presentation,” said Professor Baines, their Muggle Studies teacher.
She nodded and quickly slipped back into her seat at the back of the class, not wanting to draw more attention to herself than necessary.
As soon as she sat down someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and looked straight into the brown eyes of David Gudgeon. He stretched out his hand, watching her expectantly.
She sighed, rummaged through her bag and handed him a rolled up piece of parchment. He glanced at it, his eyes fleetingly scanning the page, before nodding and handing her five sickles.
“All right, that’s it for today’s lesson,” Baines said, addressing the class. “Next week Dirk Cresswell and Hestia Jones will be giving their presentations on their chosen topics, this means no homework for the rest of you.”
The whole class whooped, packed their things and rushed out of the classroom, eager to have the rest of their Friday afternoon off.
Emmeline swung her bag over her shoulder, adjusting the strap when Baines called her over. “Miss Vance, could I speak to you for a moment?”
Emmeline shot her friends Amelia and Hestia, who were waiting for her by the door, a glance. Hestia mouthed “Good luck,” to her before walking out of the room with Amelia, arms laced together.
As soon as the classroom had emptied Baines gestured for her to come to his desk. “So, Miss Vance, I really liked your six different takes on Muggle technology.”
Her eyes widened and her throat closed up. “Wha—What?” she stammered, a million possible cover-up stories running through her mind, the latter more ridiculous than the one before. “I didn’t— What do you mean?”
Professor Baines smiled, tapping his fingers playfully on his desk. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to report you to Professor Sprout or the Headmaster.”
She gave him a questioning look, eyebrows creeping up her forehead like a caterpillar. She had never been this confused before in her life. “Wait… You— you know ?” she asked, feet nailed to the floor as the truth started to dawn on her.
Baines smiled more deeply, the crow’s feet by his eyes deepening. “Yes. Did you really think I wouldn’t realise that six of my students had the same handwriting? I may teach Muggle Studies but I’m not stupid, Miss Vance,” he said with a lively twinkle in his eyes.
Bollocks. She’d been trying so hard to disguise her handwriting; using different inks and quills… she’d even written some of them with her wrong hand, which had turned out incredibly sloppy. “No, er— I guess you’re not.”
Baines gave her a sly look.
“I— I mean of course you’re not, that— that’s not what I meant,” she stumbled, speaking so fast she slurred over the words. “I guess I’m just surprised you didn’t turn me in.”
“And have to read the actual essay’s they’d write? No thank you.”
“So, I’m not in any trouble?” she asked, still a little baffled by the turn of events.
“Not at all, just wanted to have a chat,” Baines said to her. “You’re free to go, Miss Vance.”
And so she did. She gave him a small, bewildered wave before stepping out into the corridor and making her way out to the grounds, to enjoy the rest of her afternoon in the weak October sun with her friends.
As soon as she stepped into the fresh air her lungs expanded as if on automatic refill, and with the rise and fall of her chest and the crisp air came a sense of calmth. The gentle rays of sunlight swept across her hair, making the black strands illuminate in rays of blue.
She could see her friends down by the shore, talking and skipping rocks into the dark water of the black lake. Every once in a while a tentacle came floating up to the surface to catch one of the rocks and throw it back at them, making the girls squeal as the water splashed up onto their clothes.
“Hey!”
Emmeline turned to see someone waving from the castle doors. She narrowed her eyes in an attempt to make out who it was, but she couldn’t see them clearly enough against the low hanging sun. She shrugged, assumed they were yelling at someone else, and walked further down along the path towards the lake.
“HEY!” they yelled again.
She kept walking.
“HEY! WAIT UP!”
She stopped and looked over her shoulder. The screaming stranger had been reeling in on her, slowly closing the gap between them. As the student approached her she could finally see who it was; Caradoc Dearborn, another Hufflepuff from her year whom she was vaguely acquainted with because of Quidditch. She didn’t like him very much though. He was loud and dramatic; a little too flamboyant to her liking.
She started walking again. After a few steps someone (she suspected Caradoc) aggresively pulled at the strap of her bag, making her lose her balance and tumble backwards. “Oi! What’s wrong with you?!” she exclaimed, scrambling back onto her feet.
“Sorry, I—” he coughed, holding his head in between his knees and resting his hands on his legs, trying to catch his breath. “I just— I wanted to ask you…”
She sighed, just when she thought she had the afternoon off. “It’s five sickles for two feet essay’s, ten sickles for three or more. I don’t do anything longer than five—”
“It’s not— I’m not trying to cheat,” he said in between breaths.
She chuckled. “Yeah, nobody is. Which class is it for? Because I don’t do Arithmancy.”
“It’s not— er,” he stopped and pulled a small, folded piece of parchment out of his robe and handed it to her.
She took it, eyeing the paper warily. “What’s this?”
“A letter,” he said.
“A letter?”
He nodded eagerly.
She unfolded the parchment and read the first three words: ‘Dear Mary Macdonald.’ “No,” she said as soon as she’d read those words, shoving the letter back to him. “I can’t help you.”
“What? Why not? I just need a few words. Good ones. I’ll pay, just like everyone else.”
She shook her head. “I’m not writing to Mary Mac— some girl. It’d be wrong. Letters are supposed to be personal. They’re supposed to be authentic.”
“That would be perfect!” he said, beaming at her.
“No,” she said again, trying not to let the annoyance that was brewing inside stain her voice. “I can’t be you being authentic. That would never—” she didn’t finish her sentence, there was no use. She started walking again. “Good luck, Romeo. Let me know if it works out for you,” she said over her shoulder.
“I can pay more for authentic!” Caradoc exclaimed desperately, clutching the letter to his chest.
She faltered, reconsidering, but eventually decided against it, picking up the pace and joining her two friends by the lake, quickly brushing past any questions about Professor Baines or Caradoc Dearborn.
Though she felt sure about declining his offer, she couldn’t help but spend the rest of the afternoon wondering; coming up with “what if’s” and daydreaming about what could be. And that evening, during dinner in the Great Hall, her eyes kept wandering over to the Gryffindor table, searching for the familiar dark brown curls she’d been staring at since she was eleven years old.
She spent her Saturday studying in the library with Benjy Fenwick. They had their Ordinary Wizarding Levels that year which — as their professors so kindly reminded them every lesson — were extremely important. So, naturally, Emmeline had been stressed about them since the first day of term.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath as she and her Ravenclaw friend made their way down the moving staircases to the Great Hall, hoping to catch a quick few bites of dinner before it was cleaned up. “I forgot my notebook in the library.”
He looked at her, his dark eyes smiling. “It’s always the same with you,” he sighed.
She gave him a light shove. “Shut up.”
He sighed again, a real smile now tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “You keep a seat for me!”
“Sure, but you’ll have to fight my list of admirers,” Benjy said, rolling his eyes at her before waving her off.
“I’d fight anyone for you, Fenwick!” she exclaimed before making a sharp right, back up to the library.
Emmeline rushed into the library and was immediately met with Madame Pince’s angry shushing and deadly glare, her piercing eyes following the girl’s every move.
“Sorry,” Emmeline whispered, giving her a thin smile. As soon as she was out of eyesight she started walking faster again. Her eyes trailed along the sparsely filled desks until they fell on the leather-bound notebook. She grabbed it off the mahogany desk and made her way back to the exit when suddenly a blur of a person rounded the corner and ran straight into her.
She was knocked over by the sudden presence, but managed to catch herself before falling right onto her bum, though this resulted in her notebook slipping out of her hands and its loose contents sprawling out onto the floor.
“Oh my— I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you.”
Emmeline looked up, startled, and stared straight into the cinnamon brown eyes of Mary Macdonald. She promptly forgot how to breathe.
Mary smiled and crouched down next to her to help her gather her things.
Emmeline felt rooted to the spot. No amount of will could force her to move, her lips to talk, and part of her didn’t want to anyway. It was almost surreal, having Mary so close to her, their noses only inches from one another.
If the entire world could stand still Emmeline would spend every waking moment of it looking at her.
“I— I’m Emmeline Vance,” she said after a little while, when she realised she hadn’t said a single word the entire time they’d been crouched on their knees.
“Yes,” Mary chuckled, sounding amused. “I know. We’ve been in the Hogwarts band together for two years.”
“Oh,” Emmeline said, just now realising how stupid she must’ve sounded. “Right. Of course. I’m sorry, I’m a little out of it.” She shook her head and collected the last of her stuff from the floor. As she reached for a letter that had fallen out of her notebook she accidentally brushed Mary’s hand, their skin touching momentarily. Emmeline felt a charge rushing through her, like she was a lit fuse ready to crackle. She tried to tame the bubbling in her chest as she pulled her hand back. “Sorry,” she said again, a soft crimson spreading over her cheeks.
“It’s fine,” the other girl said to her, pushing herself up, back onto her feet. She clutched her books under her left arm and stretched out her right, gesturing for Emmeline to take it.
She took it, letting herself be pulled up by her until she was firmly on her feet once more. They were toe to toe, face to face, level and close, so close that she could see the detail of Mary’s bottom lashes sweeping over her cheek and the small pieces of glitter on her glossy lips.
She didn’t realise she’d been staring, hadn’t meant to. She quickly looked away.
“Again, I’m so sorry for knocking you over.”
Emmeline nodded, blinking a lot faster than necessary. “It’s fine,” she said, repeating Mary’s words back at her.
“All right. I’ll see you around, Vance.”
“Yes, yes, sure. See you around,” she said, watching Mary walk away from her, dark curls swaying as she went, making heads turn without an effort.
As soon as Mary was out of earshot she groaned, running both of her hands through her dark hair “ I’m Emmeline Vance? ” She shook her head. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
She sulked all the way down to the Hufflepuff common room, the encounter with Mary playing through her mind on a suffocating loop. She kept pouting, dragging herself through the deserted hallway, past the kitchens, towards the barrel that led to the warm common room. Just as she was about to enter her stomach made a noise that reminded her that she’d missed dinner. She brought her hand to her belly and sniffed the air, a mixture of freshly baked potatoes, poached salmon and grilled carrots came swirling from the kitchens. She was quite friendly with the house-elves, she bet she could nick some food off of them if she asked nicely.
At least thirty little elves were standing in the kitchens when she entered, cleaning dirty dishes, stirring big pots filled with different kinds of soups or baking tomorrow morning’s loaves of bread.
“Sorry to bother you while you’re cleaning up,” she said, the warmth of the burning fires flushing her cheeks. “Do you have any food leftover from dinner? I’m afraid I missed it.”
A small house-elf with big, emerald eyes came shuffling towards her. “Of course, Miss Vance. Ninney will fetch you—”
“Emmeline,” she interrupted the little elf, “Please just call me Emmeline.”
Ninney’s eyes widened and her ears perked slightly. “We’re not supposed to, Master Vance. We ought only to address Hogwarts students and staff with ‘Master’, ‘Miss’ or ‘Mr’,” she squeaked.
“It’s okay, Ninney, I won’t tell anyone. Besides, I’m an equal. ”
“All right, Master— Miss— Emmeline,” Ninney sputtered, her round eyes twitching nervously around the room. “Ninney will fetch you a plate. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”
“No, anything is fine— lovely, even. Thank you.” Two other house-elves tugged at her robes, pulling her along to sit at one of the long empty tables that sat in the middle of the room. A variety of dishes were laid before her; from mashed potatoes with peas and carrots, gravy and sausages to poached salmon, aubergine-soup and freshly baked potatoes. When the wooden tabletop was filled to the brim with food the elves stepped back, watching her expectantly.
“This is too much,” she said, embarrassed that they went through so much trouble for her. She’d expected them to give her some leftovers from dinner, or maybe a sandwich. Certainly not a five-course meal. “I could never eat all of this.” She gestured around the table when she got an idea, an outrageous one, but an idea nonetheless.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asked the elves. Thirty-something pairs of eyes shot up at her, their long sharp noses pointing in her direction like arrows. None of them answered.
“Didn’t think so,” she said. “So why don’t you join me? I could never eat all of this by myself, and it would be such a waste to throw it away.” She looked directly at Ninney then, patting the empty space on the wooden bench beside her.
Ninney stared at her, eyes growing to the size of saucers and her small mouth slightly agape, before giving her a cautious smile.
Emmeline nodded, following the tiny elf with her eyes as she nervously sat down next to her.
High-pitched murmuring spread through the group of remaining house-elves, some seemed eager to join Emmeline and Ninney, while others kept shaking their heads and fumbling with their rags while they looked at their feet.
“It’s okay. C’mon,” she encouraged them, giving them a warm smile.
When as good as all the house-elves had taken a place at the table, Emmeline took her wand out of her robe and gave it a coordinated swish; within seconds clean plates and cups came flying out of the cupboards, setting themselves neatly onto the table.
She filled her plate with foods from the various dishes before passing them over to Ninney and the other house-elves.
By the end of the meal Emmeline was on a first name basis with every single one of the elves. They smiled and thanked her continuously for the meal, which she kept waving off, reassuring them it was nothing.
“Thank you, Miss Va— Emmeline,” Ninney corrected herself. “No one has ever eaten with us before. You are too kind.”
Emmeline shook her head. “Stop thanking me. I should be the one to thank you .”
She wished them a nice evening before waving goodbye and walking back towards the common room with a full belly. She entered through the round, wooden door that led her into a sloping low-ceiling tunnel. When she emerged on the other side, she was welcomed by the familiar smell of honey, strongly scented flowers and oak.
The Hufflepuff common room was located outside of the main castle, multiple feet underground, somewhat like a badger’s hole. Other Hogwarts students frequently believed it to be dark and cramped, but the opposite was the case; it was bright and light and lively. Almost the entire ceiling of the main room was made from stained, hexagon shaped glass formed into a dome. During the day, when sunlight shone through, the entire common room lit up in vivid colours, setting the big leather sofas and armchairs in a warm glow. Directly under the dome was a large oak tree planted, its branches stretching from either side of the room to the other, laden with tiny fireflies trapped in glass jars.
She looked up through the dome, the highs of her cheekbones illuminated by the twinkling stars and crescent moon before crossing the room towards the girls dormitories, slipping past a group of fourth years that were playing exploding snap in front of one of the fireplaces.
She rapped on the door to her dorm and said, “Hide your boyfriends, I’m coming in.” She twisted the doorknob and stepped into the room, expecting to be welcomed by her roommates, but instead was faced with Amelia Bones and Emma Vanity tangled in what Emmeline could only call a passionate embrace.
“Or, er— hide your… girlfriends?”
Amelia and Emma spinned around looking extremely guilty. “Em, It— It’s not what—” Amelia stuttered, breaking away from Emma in one fluid motion and shuffling to the other side of the bed, away from the Slytherin girl, who gave her a pained look.
Emmeline’s eyes flickered between the two girls. For a while no one spoke, awkward silence drifting around the three of them, growing thicker with every breath.
Emma Vanity was the one who eventually broke the silence, “I think I’m just going to leave,” the older girl said stiffly, giving Amelia another quick, disappointed glance before walking out of the room.
Amelia deflated, rubbing her arm with her eyes somewhere around Emmeline’s ankles.
“Amelia,” Emmeline started after a while, trying to inject as much sincerity into her voice as possible, “You can talk to—”
“I know,” the other girl interrupted, still averting Emmeline’s gaze.
“Well..,” Emmeline sighed, searching for the right words to use in a situation like this, “ do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head.
“Do you want me to leave? To just give you some space?”
She nodded.
“All right. Just— be kind to yourself, OK?” Emmeline touched her friend’s shoulder, giving her a squeeze before walking out of their dorm.
“Em?”
“Yeah?” She stopped, hand resting on the doorknob.
“Zeus delivered this when—” she cut herself off, “well, it doesn’t really matter when, he just— here.” She pushed the parchment into Emmeline’s hands, looking at her for the first time since she walked in on the two girls. Her hazel eyes were glassy and filling rapidly with tears.
Emmeline couldn’t stand it any longer and leaped forward, swinging her arms around her friend and hugging her tightly. “I know, Ames. I know,” she whispered with an aching heart full of understanding.
She let go, gave her auburn-haired friend a sad smile and stepped out of their dorm, leaving Amelia to herself.
She turned the letter Amelia had given her over and immediately recognised her mother’s neat, curvy handwriting on the back. Cold dread dropped into her stomach. Her mum never wrote to her, and if she did, they usually weren’t very pleasant letters.
She took a large breath and ripped open the envelope as she pushed the air back out through gritted teeth.
Con gái,
Your father informed me you got an ‘Acceptable’ on your Transfiguration homework and a ‘Poor’ for your Potions essay. How did that happen? We were so proud of you when you were made a Prefect over the summer. We have always supported you, and this is how you repay us? You used to get such good, high marks. Did you not work hard enough? Did you even try?
How do you expect to set a good example for your brothers and sisters if you don’t get good marks? How do you expect to get a good, suitable job after Hogwarts if you can’t even get your Ordinary Wizarding Levels? You are smart, and you could come so far if you only worked hard enough. Don’t you want a better life for yourself than what your Ba and I had?
We trust that this was a one time slip and you will be on your best behaviour from now on.
On another note, I am afraid we will not be able to send you or your siblings any more pocket money. They’re making cuts at the Ministry. Money is too scarce at the moment. We will therefore also refrain from buying you a birthday present.
Yêu, má
As soon as she was done reading she folded the piece of parchment back up, stuffed it into the envelope, walked towards the nearest fireplace and threw it into the dancing flames. She watched as the crackling fire slowly consumed her mother’s harsh words, the edges of the parchment curling and blackening from the heat until it was completely gone.
She slumped into one of the armchairs, letting her head fall backwards against the soft leather and stared, for the second time that evening, up through the glass dome at the night sky. She closed her eyes and wished it would swallow her whole.
“Hi, there,” someone said from her left.
She reluctantly opened her eyes. “Ugh.” Next to her, bouncing up and down in the leather armchair, wearing a glorious smile on his face, was Caradoc Dearborn.
“So, about that letter—” he started, but Emmeline cut him off, raising her hand at him.
“No,” she said. “I’m really not in the mood right now, Romeo.”
He deflated a little. “Please? I really like her. I’m just very bad at writing down my emotions and stuff.”
“So don’t. Just go talk to her like a normal person,” she said bitterly.
Caradoc didn’t respond, and when she turned to look at him his demeanour surprised her. His mouth was set in a thin line, his eyes locked on a spot somewhere behind Emmeline. It was as if he’d shut himself off.
She didn’t immediately grasp why he’d suddenly fallen silent, but after a few moments of pained silence the dots connected themselves. “Oh,” she started, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Caradoc stood up in one fluid motion, eyes still not meeting Emmeline’s.
She pushed herself upright, embarrassed about her unnecessary tone and unkind words. “I’m sorry. I just— I shouldn’t have said that.”
He finally looked down at her, a multitude of emotions flickering across his face before settling on blank nothingness once again. Emmeline had never seen him like this; it was as if he’d turned into a statue, masking any emotions with an empty gaze. “It’s all right,” he sighed eventually. “I’m used to it.”
Vague memories of their first couple years at Hogwarts bounced around in her head; the way he used to get teased for his stutter and unconventional mannerisms. How he’d never really seemed to fit in with his peers, no matter how hard he tried. It was a kind of loneliness she was far too familiar with.
“Well, you shouldn’t have to be,” she said softly, feeling like the biggest arse in the history of the universe.
They stood there for a moment, the warm orange light of the fire making the shadows on their faces dance. It was easy looking at Caradoc now and seeing nothing but the handsome young man he’d grown into; forgetting that even those who hold their head high and wear smiles have insecurities and doubts. Something Emmeline was guilty of.
“I’ll do it,” she said after a while, tucking a lost strand of hair behind her ear. “Merlin’s tits. Yes, fine. I’ll help you.”
“Really?!” Caradoc exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with excitement once again.
“Yes,” she repeated. “One letter. I’ll help you with one letter. After that you’re on your own.”
He bounced up and down, hopping from foot to foot, making his black curls sway with the motion.
“One letter, twenty sickles,” Emmeline added, glaring at the fireplace where she’d burned her mother’s letter. If her parents weren’t going to buy her any presents for her birthday she better get herself one.
“Deal,” Caradoc said before spitting into his hand, grabbing Emmeline’s and shaking it vigorously.
“Ew,” she said, wiping her hand onto her skirt. “Deal.”