June 18th, 1888 - Woodcroft House, Pennyworth

“Three, Mr. Caulfield.” One of the investigators said to him, passing him the paperwork. He didn’t particularly do paperwork but he did read through it on occasion.
“Pennyworth?” He asked, a slight break in his voice.
“Yes,” the investigator responded, “parents and a young girl. He broke in and reports suggest he’s being rather uncooperative. But we’ve already got someone on si-"
Charles didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he interrupted the investigator by shoving the paperwork back into the investigators hand and moving straight toward the station, grabbing his outer-robe on the way out. His wand was with him though he knew it was worthless.

His face was stone-like and bitter.

“Everything alright, Mr. Caulfield?” Another employee said as they sat next to him on the train.
“Same shit.” He said, his gaze out the window; fingers picking at his nails.

After what seemed like an eternity, Charles arrived at Hogsmeade and showed his ID Pass. Without checking out properly with the guards, Charles ran as fast as he could straight toward Emmeline’s house.

Two parents and a young girl. In Pennyworth. He didn’t care about anything else. His mind was too focused on making sure Miss Woodcroft was okay. Since they’d first met, and the second time, the two had exchanged a few letters and he’d found himself rather enjoying her company – however brief it was and in spite of the fact it was mostly through letters.

Turning the corner, he ran up to her house and narrowed his eyes to see if there was any distinguishable lights. No. He couldn’t see any. Without looking, he leapt over a fence and toward her door. He couldn’t knock; that wouldn’t do well. If this wizard was violent, Charles would have to catch him by surprise. So he’d take the door down.

Taking a step back, Charles… walked into someone? What? He stood up and turned around with a confused look. Emmeline? His brows raised, “Miss Woodcroft?” He leaned a little forward, “Aren’t you-“ He turned around. Oh. Well. At least she was okay? He turned back to her and ran his hand through his hair, panting a little, “I thought I’d stop by. How are you?”

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Emmeline had gone off on an errand for her mother. They'd been running low on some things and with work so scarce thanks to the lack of magic, they'd had to scrimp quite a bit. Not that they weren't used to it. If her father hit a bad luck streak, they had to scrimp. She was used to it by then. Luckily, she had talents of her own and had managed to secure training some younger kids in Bartonburg how to play the piano. So after a lesson at a house and picking up the items on her mother's list, she'd finally started heading home.

One of the houses not far from hers seemed to have quite a bit of ruckus going on around it so she steered clear of it before slowly meandering up the walkway that lead to her door. Only, she hit something before she managed to even get to her door. And then a familiar voice broke through the fog and she was forced to squint up to see who it was.

"Mr Caulfield," she said pleasantly enough. If he was going to insist on calling her Miss Woodcroft, she'd call him by his formal name, "You're a terrible liar."

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#LovelyLadySet

“And you’re terrible at learning how to say my name,” He pouted and exhaled. Well, he did kind of regret sprinting to save her life. She wasn’t even in danger, “But I’m not lying. I was actually on my way here, Miss Woodcroft.”

Technically, he wasn’t strictly lying. Just… omission of detail. Licking his lips a little, Charles turned to the door and turned back to her with a soft smile, “Would your family mind if I intruded one last time? It’s very dusty here and I, erm,” Ran here because I thought someone had broken into your house, was holding you hostage, and I was worried you were in danger and possibly could die, “I’m a little parched.”

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"Unless you plan to call me Emmline, I'll continue calling you Mr. Caulfield," Emmeline said with a simple shrug before stepping past him and to the door, "Or is it Mr. Charles. I've already forgotten. Silly me."

She stepped up to the door and opened it to no lights on. Who knew where her parents were. She didn't ask questions. "And you're welcome to come in for a glass of water or I can manage some tea," she called out to him before going inside and leaving the door open for him to follow if he chose to. She wasn't, however, about to shout out to him that no one was home.

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#LovelyLadySet

“Alright, firewhiskey. I’ll stop.” He raised his eyebrows toward her, as if challenging her. He hadn’t responded to her previous letter but knew he was definitely going to stick with that name, “so you can call me Charlie now. You’ve already started with your last letter.” He said plainly and nodded to her offer.

“Tea would be wonderful,” he said as he followed her inside. It was rather quiet in the house but he’d suspected they were just upstairs at this point. He didn’t even think that it was because they weren’t home. Merlin, a moment ago he’d thought they were all being held by some deranged lunatic.

Closing the door behind him, Charles smiled and followed her further into the house, “No one’s home, are they?” He sighed and put on a playful tone, “Careful, firewhiskey, people might start talking. Also,” He said, fiddling with his wand a little, “if I were to borrow something from you, it’d be your wand again. That way I would have a nice paperweight and memento of you.”

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"I never called you, Charlie," Emmeline said with a pointed glare when he insisted on calling her Firewhiskey anyways, "And if you aren't careful, you'll be making your own damn tea."

She made her way into the kitchen, lighting lamps along the way. She shrugged as she lit the small stove they had to start the kettle of water for tea. "People will talk no matter what," she said as she busied herself some more by pulling two teacups out of a cupboard and placed them on the small kitchen tablethey'd are around not long ago.

"My father is a bit of a hot topic even though it's been eleven years since he gambled away the family business," she added just in time for the kettle to whistle, "There should be some cream over there if you want it." Pouring the steaming water into the cups, she carefully added some tea to steep so they could start adding what they wanted sooner rather than later.

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#LovelyLadySet

Charles shrugged at her remark though there was a very slight smirk drawn on his lips, “Fine, I won’t call you firewhiskey.” He almost huffed. She was fun to tease; to make fun of. She bit back and Charles found it almost captivating. He followed her into the kitchen, watching her prepare the tea with crossed arms.

“True. People like to gossip – though I still wouldn’t want you hurt if they did,” He said dismissively before moving to grab the tea. Picking up a small spoon, Charles stirred it lightly and smiled, “Thank you, Ems. I appreciate it. I don’t need cream; I prefer my tea black. And family business? What did he used to own? I don’t really keep up to date on those kinds of affairs.” Charles asked as he took a seat and watched her intently, cupping the cup in his hands.

She was quite beautiful, really – save for her rather… feisty attitude. Not that that was a bad thing. It was just mostly unexpected.

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Emmeline flashed a brilliant smile when he conceded to calling her Firewhiskey. Another battle in her favor. Why she thought of their encounters as battles, she didn't really know. It was fun regardless.

She sat down at the table across from him and pressed the tea leaves before adding some sugar and stirring it up. "My grandfather founded Hogsmeade. The Three Broomstick was our family's namesake," she said a bit bluntly, "We lived here before the big migration but when it happened, well, apparently my father isn't so great at cards."

She shrugged as she took a sip of her tea, watching him idly in the process. She was a bit surprised that she hadn't noticed just how good looking of a man He was. Or maybe she had and had just been trying to ignore it So that is She didn't see him again it wouldn't hurt as bad.

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#LovelyLadySet

Her smile, though drawn from some strange sense of victory, was one he believed he could remember for years to come. The way her cheeks rose and teeth shone. The sparkle in her eyes as she won their little back-and-forth. It was something that brought a soft smile to Charles's own lips. Maybe he'd allow her some more victories in the future. If this was the outcome, he considered it a victory unto itself.

His eyes didn't move from her. Instead, they took in every miniscule detail of her features and listened to every word she wanted to say. He took a small sip of the tea and nodded along to her words, waiting until she had finished.

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry your father has - had - a bit of a gambling problem. I, erm, -" No, he couldn't say he understood because at it's basis, he didn't. He understood addiction; he'd been subjected to it with the culprit of alcohol though that wasn't something he was inclined to speak about, "That must have been tough for you and your family, Ems. But it looks like you've risen above it and that's important. It's good that you've moved on and grown. I'm glad for it."

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Emmeline felt herself blush as he called get Ems again. It wasn't a nickname she'd heard for herself before. Not that she was about to complain. It was surely far better than Firewhiskey. She thought she could get used to it. Just like she could get used to calling him Charlie.

"It is what it is," she said with a shrug, "It's caused it's own issues among the family but what can a seventeen year old girl do about it?" She paused just long enough to take a sip of tea, eyes fluttered slightly at the warmth of it before she focused her atention on him again to continue on.

"Don't answer that. I'm already doing what I can and working toward a better life for myself," she continued on, "I'll have a career and if some poor sap doesn't want to marry me I'll likely find my own place in London at some point and have a menagerie of animals on the process. They at least seem to want to stay with me."

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#LovelyLadySet

"If some poor sap doesn't marry you, I will," Charles joked as he took another sip of his tea. Of course, he was joking. He'd known her all of two weeks and she was - for all intents and purposes - much too young. If marriage was a legitimate consideration, he'd have to wait until she had left school. There were many reasons for that but the most prominent in his mind rested in the fact that she needed her education. He could see it as clear as day that her education was paramount to her being. He wouldn't take that from her.

"And my owl certainly likes you. Not me, though, it hates me," Charles paused for a moment and then looked around with a confused expression.

Turning his gaze back to Emmeline, Charles spoke; "Which is actually a fair point. Where is your owl? In our exchanges, it's always my owl sending me a letter. Never yours."

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It was a good thing Emmeline had swallowed her tea already otherwise she'd have likely spit it out or choked on it from his response. He was joking. He had to be. If he wasn't, He was crazy. Apparently she really knew how to pick them.

"I can't say I blame him," she did with a smirk, not bothering to touch on his mention of marrying her, "You are a bit crazy, Charlie." it was the first time she'd said it out loud and she found she did quite like it despite holding off on it for so long.

"We don't actually have an owl," she admitted a bit sheepishly with her cheeks coloring again, "I can use them at school if i need to do i didn't see the point in getting one when we got to pick pets. Despite my father's failures one tradition has been held true, a pet for our first year."

She was smiling at the thought and as if on cue, a pretty mostly black but with spots of orange and white tortiseshell cat came into the kitchen and sat at Charlie's feet. "That's Emma, my cat," she said as she smiled fondly down at the cat, "You're sitting where my dad sits and he tends to spoil her with treats."

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#LovelyLadySet

There was a way she held in her laughter that prompted Charles to smile with a raised eyebrow. It was as if she was trying to concentrate really hard though she didn't know what she was concentrating on.

He shrugged playfully at her comment of him being crazy, "I suppose I have to be with my job, Emmeline."

She did have an exceptionally wonderful name, he thought.

When she mentioned having no owl, Charles looked down at his feet and tried to shoo away the feline. Why a cat? Out of everything, she'd picked a fucking cat. He hated cats.

"Hi, Emma." He said almost bitterly, "I don't have any treats for you."

Then, turning his gaze back to Emmeline, Charles continued, "But seriously no owl? I'm going to have to buy you one. If we are to exchange letters more frequently, I'd much prefer to not be missing my owl for days on end. Even if I wished it would die."

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The cat certainly wasn't appreciative at Charlie's shooing but was smart enough to wonder away. She didn't go far though and feline promptly jumped into Emmeline's lap who started petting her rather gently. There was a peaceful calm that came over her in that moment as she glanced down to her cat. The one true friend she'd had since she was eleven. Emma was nearly eight years old though and as time went on the cat's age started to show. It was a bit heartbreaking, really, but Emmeline tried to ignore it.

Her gaze shot to him when he mentioned buying her and owl and conversing with her more. She stared at him in obvious shock and even disbelief.

"You can't be serious," she answered. Damn this man was definitely crazy.

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#LovelyLadySet

Charles shrugged at her remark in an attempt to brush it off as nothing. He thought it was quite a good idea personally so he wasn’t entirely sure why she seemed so shocked at his suggestion. It simply made sense to him. He did need his owl for things other than sending Emmeline letters – even if her letters were most important to him at this point.

“As serious as heart attack on a Sunday,” he said as he finished his tea, “it makes sense to me. Then you wouldn’t have to wait on an owl from me and I can get a nice surprise every now and then,” he smirked a little and stood up

Checking her cup was empty, Charles walked over to the wash basin and placed the two mugs into it carefully. Then, turning around to walk back to the table, Charles caught a glimpse of a letter. Stopping briefly, he read all he could as inconspicuously as he could;

... what I said. I have — or perhaps had is the better word now — feelings for you and have for half of the previous school year.

You may have had the most to lose to begin with, but I'm the one who lost the most in the end.

Goodbye Emmy,

Handsome Whitledge

With a sigh, Charles moved and sat back on the table, his head tilted slightly.

“Have you spoken to your friend since the night we met?” He asked plainly.

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Dramatic. He was also dramatic, Emmeline decided. Just the way he phrased his initial remark. She offered him a smile as he took her empty cup though. Despite his crazy dramatics, she quite liked his presence. He certainly kept her on her toes but there was no strange awkwardness with him the way there usually was with her and other men. Perhaps it was because she was certain their little affair of sorts wouldn't last. Especially not when she went back to school. Why would a man settled in his career looking for a promotion have any inclination toward a school girl? It didn't make sense but she'd enjoy it while she could.

Her brow furrowed somewhat in confusion when he sat down and asked his question. Where on Earth had that come from?

"Briefly," she answered honestly as she continued to watch him with the confusion still evident, "I thought I should apologize for the things I said. It hasn't gone well."

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#LovelyLadySet