Late Evening of June 8th, 1888 - Highstreet
Following this!

Of all the stupid idiotic things Emmeline had ever done, going to Mr. Whitledge's graduation party was perhaps at the very tip top. No, it wasn't attending the party that was the issue. It was the quick succession of four shots of firewhiskey. She still couldn't shake the burning taste in her mouth. Though, it had only been a few moments since she'd run from the pub that was clearly bad luck for her family.

The moment she'd fled from Mr. Whitledge, she'd started crying. The tears had fallen in steady streams down her face as she'd pushed her way forcibly from the pub to get outside and as far away from it all as she possibly could. The bite of the cold night air was refreshing, helping her to get her bearings about her at least somewhat but it certainly wasn't enough to sober her up instantly. No, she'd drank too much too fast for that and it did little to quell the tears falling.

Said tears had a nasty habit of blurring vision. And, already clumsy on her feet, she soon found herself tripping and stumbling to the ground. At least she was far enough away from the pub not to be noticed by any of the occupants there but when she looked up she realized she didn't actually know where she was. "Bloody hell," she sobbed from her spot on the ground, almost content enough to just stay there and expire on the streets of Hogsmeade.

---

Charles had worked hard enough for one day. With this weird fog appearing to slowly take over Irvingly, Charles had opted to give himself a little treat. He grabbed a small satchel of loose change, hoping it would be enough for a few drinks, kissed his mother on the forehead and said his goodbyes to his father. His brother was probably out copulating or god-only-knows what else and his sister was laying contently on the floor reading a book. It was rather peaceful in his household though sometimes, the peace did irritate him.

He pulled on a suit his mother had tailored for him and went to one of the ‘safe zones’ the Ministry had set up. It was an inconvenience for him but he absolutely refused to use the Floo network for several reasons. The most prudent of which, if he entered the casino – he knew he wouldn’t even make it Hogsmeade to go to one of his favourite pubs: The Three Broomsticks.

Arriving at the designated spot, he nodded to one of the ministry officials who seemed to be staring rather confusedly at the fog and patted his overcoat to make sure his satchel and wand were in his pockets. Once confirmed, his body contorted and as if being pushed through a particularly small tunnel, Charles appeared outside of a shop on the High Street.

He didn’t like apparating directly to The Three Broomsticks. The last time he had, he’d got himself covered in beer and did not want to revisit that experience.

Kicking a few stones as he gleefully walked in the direction of the pub, Charles noticed some figure slumped over on the ground. Curious, he approached to realise she was a young lady. A harlot? What on earth was she doing out of the slums?

Charles knelt down beside her and moved his hand under her chin. Tilting her head upward so as to see her face, Charles lulled his head to the side and pulled out a handkerchief with his spare hand, “Hey, woah there, Miss,” Charles said softly, “Ain’t a pretty girl like you supposed to have tears on her face,” His tone was dripping with an air of concern, “what’s happened?”

---

Emmeline flinched at the sudden touch on her chin. She hadn't expected that. She hadn't been expecting any of that night to happen the way that it down. If the man hadn't started speaking, she'd probably have slapped his hand away thinking it was Mr. Whitledge following her out into the streets and he was the last person he wanted touching her.

But the voice wasn't his and there was an evident sound of concern there. It was enough to calm her nerves so she wasn't fully sobbing but the tears continued to stream down. "Nothing," she managed to say, averting her gaze after having only looked at him for a few brief moments.

---

Charles nodded solemnly and lowered his arm, placing the handkerchief on the floor in front of her. Resting his hands on his knees, Charles let out a small sigh and frowned a little. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do but he didn’t feel right leaving this poor lady here. She would be alone and in the dark and for all the things Hogsmeade was, it wasn’t the nicest of places at night – especially for a young girl like this one was.

“Let’s get you off the ground,” He offered as he stood up and held out his arm for her to take, “And I’ll walk you home and you can tell me about this nothing that happened.” His voice didn’t raise above the level just above a whisper and it remained calm, hoping he was soothing her a little.

---

Emmeline sniffed, trying to quell the tears as best she could but it was like she was fighting a losing battle. A small smile, if it could even be called that, graced her features for a brief moment when she saw the handkerchief on the ground. At least he was being polite. It was perhaps the best thing for her in that moment.

After picking up the handkerchief and wiping her face quickly, she took his hand with her own free hand so that she could stand. "Thank you," she said once she was on her feet and offered his handkerchief back to him, "But that's not necessary. I'm sure I can make it on my own. You don't have to worry about walking a stranger home."

---

Watching her intently, Charles saw the slight wobble as she stood up. She’d been drinking. Mentally sighing, Charles shook his head at her words, “Of course it isn’t necessary,” He agreed as he held out his arm for her to link her own with, “But what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t get you home safe?”

A pretty terrible one, he thought. He wasn’t the kind to truly be a gentleman but he was not going to leave a drunk, crying woman alone in Hogsmeade in the middle of the night. If anything had happened to her, Charles would not forgive himself and the thought of that possibly brought up – if only for a brief moment – the temptation to down a bottle of rum.

“Where do you live? I’m not going to apparate you – I’d rather not splinch anyone. I’ll walk you.

---

Emmeline snorted a bit of laughter at his mention of being a gentleman. "You'd be the first I encountered this evening then," she said with a shake of her head. She wasn't going to take his arm or, at least, she hadn't planned to. But then she'd stumbled again as she walked and found herself reaching for him just to get herself steady and righted. Stupid firewhiskey.

With a sigh, she left her arm looped through his. If he was going to insist on walking her home, she'd allow it. If anything, just so she could actually make it home. The idea of sleeping on the street wasn't all that appealing and certainly very cold. "Pennyworth," she answered once they'd gotten a little more stable and started walking. "And I appreciate that," she started, her attention shifting up to him to actually get a look of the man who was acting as her savior, "The not apparating part. I'd rather not be splinched on top of everything else."

---

Charles smiled at her slurred remark, “Then I suppose I’ll have to try extra hard,” He said as he reacted to her stumble, catching her and putting his arm around her body to support her. He’d had to do this on more than one occasion so he knew what he was doing. Granted, though, it was more his friends helping him but the intent was there. It was like riding a bike. Well, it was like riding a bike when you’d watched someone ride a bike a hundred times. Easy.

“Always wanted to live there, my mother can’t enter Hogsmeade though.” He nodded as he noticed her shivers. Knowing full well he couldn’t grab his own wand, Charles used the arm that was wrapped around her body to feel around for any pockets and no sooner had he done so, had he found her wand. Grabbing it, he pulled it out of her pocket and flicked it, muttering a spell under his breath.

He then stopped in his tracks and loosened his grip; his jacket pulled itself off of his body and attached to hers, pulling itself over her arms. He then took another hold of her and continued their walk, placing her wand back into a pocket, “Of course. I wouldn’t want you to be splinched too. Would be quite something to explain to my bosses. And definitely not good for my promotion,” he mused with a slight chuckle to himself.

After they’d walked in silence for a few moments, Charles spoke up once again though his eyes remained in front of himself; his grip of her remaining firm, tightening each time she stumbled so as to ensure she did not fall once again, “So, what exactly made you decide to go to the Broomsticks?

---

Emmeline was not at all impressed with herself. The night wasn't meant to go in such a way. Honestly, she hadn't been sure how it would go but she'd never have thought it would end with her losing a friendship, stumbling in the streets, and being helped out by a rather polite gentleman. At least he was polite.

"She's a muggle then?" she asked simply enough, though there was no scorn or anything to her voice. She was a halfblood herself so clearly there were muggles somewhere along her bloodlines. Her brow furrowed slightly, however, as he dug around on her person somewhat. That was strange. He definitely wasn't doing anything untoward but then her wand was out. She almost thought he was trying to steal it or something until she felt some added warmth around her and realized he'd gotten his jacket off and around her without actually letting go of her.

Polite. He was definitely polite. "Promotion?" she asked again, looking up to him once more with a quizzical sort of expression, "I suppose helping some poor sap of a girl whose drank to much for the first time in her life would look much better than splinching once." She laughed lightly at that. Apparently she was funny, too. Or maybe she was just imagining that.

"Went for a graduation party of a friend," she said before looking away with a grimace on her face, "Well. He used to be a friend. Now he could rot in hell for all I care." Oops. That was perhaps a bit too much and she blushed furiously at that. At least she wasn't crying anymore.

---

Charles nodded at her asking about his mother being a muggle. He didn’t need to say much more than that and instead, had decided to ensure this girl didn’t die of hypothermia.

Asking about the promotion, Charles waited until her ‘joke’ about splinching to finish. He feigned a soft laugh (though it was less fake and more ‘it’s not funny, it’s cute; so I’ll laugh’). Continuing their walk, Charles coughed a little, “Yeah, going for Squad Chief at the Ministry.” He said.

He was going to wait a few months and finish building up his repertoire with his bosses within the Ministry. He’d been a Hit Wizard for long enough, he’d thought, and it was nigh on time he got promoted but he didn’t want to seem eager. He hadn’t wanted to seem eager for the last few years. So maybe then, it was time to be eager. Soon. He’d go for it soon.

“Well, maybe he wasn’t a friend then.” Charles shrugged. He wasn’t going to pry. He didn’t know this girl – not even her name – so delving into her personal life wasn’t the best thing to do. Plus she was drunk.
Stopping at the start of the Pennyworth district, Charles let go of Emmeline and turned to her, “Where to next, Miss….?” He trailed off, hoping to catch a name.

---

Emmeline smiled some. He had goals. That was something she wasn't used to seeing. Her father had all but ruined any goals for the family. She wasn't going to bring that up though. That was just a bitter memory, really. One that had caused plenty of issues within the family.

She squinted up at the sign when they strolled up to Pennyworth then nodded to the right. "That way," she answered, "And it's Woodcroft. Emmeline Woodcroft." He probably would forget her as soon as she was in her home though. Not that she blamed him at least. She'd want to forget her, too.

"I'm sure I can make it the rest of the way though," she said, feeling much more sober already as she tried to shrug out of his jacket. Only it was quite a bit bigger than she'd anticipated and found herself stumbling right into him. Her hands had come up to try and catch herself only to have them press right into his chest.

---

Glancing to his left, Charles nodded and held out his arm once again for her, “That’s a nice name, Miss Woodcroft,” his voice was still soft.

Though she seemed to have over ideas about their stroll home and he wasn’t sure how to think. Sure, they were in Pennyworth but it was still dark and she was drunk even if the air had sobered her up a little.

He shook his head, about to protest, when she tried to shrug herself out of his jacket to pass it back to him. Tried being the operative. Rather, she fell into him with the jacket half off, her hands pressed against his chest.

Charles swallowed and instinctively wrapped his arms around her, tugging the jacket up and pulling it back over her shoulders, “Keep it. I’ll send my owl to pick it up,” He said as he took an awkward step back and looked toward where she said her house was, his hand running through his hair, “Your house is this way, yeah? I’d rather walk you to your house. It’s still dark, and you’ve been drinking. I’d rather not have that on my mind if anything happened.”

---

Emmeline looked down, fully embarrassed by her stumble. She didn't even trust herself to speak again and instead nodded mutely instead. Awkward and embarrassed, she turned away from him so that she could lead the way. Sort of anyways. It wasn't the easiest thing to do when one was blushing so badly that they couldn't look anywhere but at the ground to watch their own feet move one in front of the other.

"You can take it once we're there," she said quietly, "You'll get cold without it. Besides, I'm going to have plenty of questions to answer when I walk through the door. The last thing I need is to explain why I have man's jacket around my shoulders." She was fairly certain her already bad night would be getting worse once she did get home.

---

“Sounds good to me,” Charles responded as he walked slowly behind her, watching her every step intently. She was wobbling a little though not enough at this stage to worry him. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets and just walked a pace or two behind her with a sort of soft-yet-‘I really want a drink’ sort of smile, “I’ve been cold before. Part of the job but I understand. I ain’t one t-” He paused and started his sentence again, “I’m not one to feel the cold, really.” He said.

He’d been taught better than to speak improperly in front of women, even if he was working class. He could thank his mother for that.

“And if they do ask questions, just say you got into a spot of trouble and a Hit Wizard saved you.” He joked, though quickly stopped to clarify, “No, actually. Don’t say that. That’ll cause more questions. I’m sure they won’t mind. It’s not as if you had been unchaperoned home getting up to no good.”

---

Emmeline faltered in her steps at his joke, turning slightly to look at him with wide eyes. She certainly couldn't say that. And, honestly, she'd been doing just that. She'd gone to the pub unchaperoned, not that many expected a working class girl to always have a chaperone, gotten drunk and let a boy lead her off into a back room. The very thought made her eyes well with tears and she quickly looked away from him as a result. What a disaster she was.

---

Her sudden change in demeanour didn’t go unnoticed and Charles immediately lowered his eyes briefly toward the floor though not long enough to not see her eyes glaze over as she turned away. Taking a step toward her, Charles lulled his head to the left and went to grab his handkerchief before realising she still had it. He didn’t say anything though; she could keep it. He didn’t need it, not really. It was just something he’d bought a short while ago just incase he needed to cover his face.

Looking up the road and back down to ensure nobody was there, Charles sighed a little. She’d clearly had a rough day and he wasn’t going to make it worse for her. He wouldn’t pry and, instead, opted for something a little less conspicuous. Rumours weren’t something he was after; especially at the expense of this poor girl who really did not need her night to get worse.

“This is going to feel like a bit weird,” He warned as he pulled out his wand and tapped it on her head. Within seconds, her body seemed to dissolve into the surroundings, rendering her invisible to most – and the darkness only seemed to amplify the effect.

He then twirled the wand around his head and the charm draped over himself.

“Dissillusionment charm,” He said softly and held her shoulder with a firm, yet soft, grip to make sure she knew he was still there, “We’ll get you home and then I’ll dispel the charm. Don’t want any unnecessary talk; I know people like to gossip, even at this hour, so best to be safe.”

His spare hand kept a firm grip of his wand, however.

---