It was a year that had already begun badly.
In his own analytical way, he'd been able to intellectualize all that had happened; look at it from the standpoint of one watching history happen. It was much easier than to let himself deal with the emotions that had roiled through him almost unchecked when he'd first found out what had happened. It had taken him a stunned few hours to gather his wits, put everything into its spot and determine that it was over and there was no point in thinking about it.
Emmeline and her horror hadn't, honestly, entered into the picture until he'd realized that he'd not seen her since he'd gotten back and now, two weeks into school, he'd come down the stairs from his dorm and, there she was. On the couch.
Crossing the room, he stopped just behind the couch, his eyes looking briefly at her before he studied the fire. "I gave up on the potion," he said. "Ended up not being as interesting as I was hoping. Thanks for the help, though."




