( 𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔦𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖞 ) — sorry is a five letter word

The Christmas holidays were usually an eventful time for Evangeline, only getting more and more eventful as the years went on.

Her first holidays back home at Rosier Manor her first year at Hogwarts were as special as always. Adonis, much to Opal's chagrin, had decided that his daughter deserved only the most lavish gift to mark the special occasion; a pearly-white Palomino. It was a pivotal moment in Evangeline's life — one that the pure-blood would never forget, even among the countless balls and galas held annually.

Despite the vivaciousness and luxuries she associated the holiday with (even after her last Christmas at home had been marred by the stain of an engagement), nothing could top the baffling happenings of December 1995:

Harry had a vision through the eye of the snake, and was now under the impression he had attacked Arthur.

That was how Evangeline ended up taking a Portkey in the gloomy darkness between dusk and dawn to the even gloomier residence of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

In the basement kitchen, the only sources of light were a feeble fire and one guttering candle, which illuminated the remains of a supper. Kreacher was disappearing through the door to the hall, looking back at Harry and the Weasley children malevolently as she hitched up his loincloth; Sirius was hurrying towards them all, looking anxious.

''What's going on?'' He asked, stretching a hand out to help Ginny. ''Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured—''

''Ask Harry,'' Fred interrupted.

''Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,'' George agreed.

The pure-blood brunette ushered the children to take their respective seats around the dining table. They had all been ripped out of slumber with the worst news possible, and it had clearly affected their nerves; Ron was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and the pale skin around Ginny's was stamped with purple crescent-moons.

''It was— I had a— a kind of— vision . . . ''

He had told them exactly the same thing he had told Dumbledore. Once he was done, the children continued to stare at him for a moment with unreadable expressions on their face. Evangeline herself was now more alert after hearing the story for the second time, resting her elbows on the back of Harry's chair.

''Is mum here?'' Fred asked, turning towards Sirius.

''She probably doesn't even know whats happened yet. The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly now know.''

''We've got to go to St. Mungo's,'' Ginny declared with a sense of urgency, peering around at everyone. They were all wearing wooly pyjamas, with the exception of Evangeline and Sirius, who were wearing a flimsy satin nightie and black velvet robe respectively. ''Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything—''

''Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!''

''Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want!'' Fred argued. ''He's our dad!''

''Fred, your dad is receiving the best care from highly-trained Healers as we speak, I would imagine. Let them do what they must and wait for your mother.''

''And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?''

''What does that matter?'' George said hotly.

''It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away! Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?''

Fred and George looked as if they couldn't care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was white-faced and silent, whilst Ginny looked like a firework on the brink of bursting.

''Somebody else could have told us . . . We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry . . . ''

''Such as who?'' Evangeline asked. ''This is much too risky to play off as one of Professor Trelawney's predictions. I appreciate it is difficult, but you will get to see your father in due time.''

''Your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's—''

''We don't care about the dumb Order!''

''It's our dad dying we're talking about!''

''You both wanted to be a part of it,'' Evangeline pointed out. ''When it comes to war, sacrifices must be made, and this is one of them. I am not saying it is right for you all to be kept from your father, but there is little we can do about it.''

Sirius seemed to think little of the Rosier girl's efforts to diffuse the tension. ''Your dad knew what he was getting into, and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order! This is how it is— this is why you're not in the Order— you don't understand— there are things worth dying for!''

''Easy for you to say, stuck here!'' Fred bellowed. ''I don't see you risking your neck!''

The little colour remaining in Sirius' face drained from it. He looked for a moment as if he'd like nothing more than to hit Fred, but was stopped by the sound of Remus trundling into the kitchen, woken up by the shouting and palpable tension wafting through the house.

Evangeline made a pointed effort to look anywhere other than the werewolf, focusing her gaze on the copper pots and pans suspended from a rail attached to the ceiling. ''Sirius has done plenty, Fred, much of what you fail to realise because it was either before your time or not to your knowledge.''

Remus ran a hand over his face; in contrast, he made a pointed effort to not look anywhere other than the brunette girl in front of him. ''Dumbledore sent me a Patronus. I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?''

Fred and George still looked mutinous, but Ginny slumped back in her seat. Ron made a funny movement between a nod and a shrug and stayed put beside Harry. Evangeline shifted from her restless position, moving to stand at the head of the table as far away from Remus as possible, biting the inside of her cheek and surveying her manicure.

Sirius had turned his focus to the silence of a thousand unspoken words between his best friend and the pure-blood witch, heaving a sigh; this Christmas was going to be a long one, especially once he broke the news to them.

''Come on, let's all . . . let's all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio butterbeer!''

He raised his wand as he spoke and half a dozen bottles came flying towards them out of the pantry, skidded along the table, and stopped neatly in front of each person. They all drunk in silence, all unsure of what to say next.

At long last a burst of fire in midair triggered a flurry of shock-filled cries and a scroll of parchment fell on the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix feather.

''Fawkes!'' Sirius screeched, snatching the parchment at once. ''That's not Dumbledore's writing— it must be a message from your mother. Here.''

He thrust the letter into George's hand, who ripped it open and read aloud at once.

''Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum,'' he looked around the table slowly. ''Still alive . . . but that makes it sound . . .''

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Sirius suggested that they all go to bed, but without any real conviction, and the children's faces were answers enough. They mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into the molten wax.

Fred fell into a doze, his head sagging sideways onto his shoulder. Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, her eyes half-open. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands; whether awake or asleep, it was impossible to tell.

Then, at ten past five in the morning, the kitchen door swung open and Molly entered the room. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, she gave a wan smile.

''He's going to be all right,'' she informed, her voice weak with tiredness. ''He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now, and he's going to take the morning off work.''

Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, both walking swiftly over to their mother and enveloping her in an embrace that practically radiated warmth. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his butterbeer in one.

Slowly, Evangeline, Sirius, Remus, and Harry all backed out of the room, shutting the door as quietly as possible in fear of disturbing the temporary rejoice. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off her chest, yet the relief subsided once she noticed the expression etched into Sirius' face.

''Why the long face?'' She asked him. ''Arthur will be good as gold in no time.''

''It's not about Arthur,'' he heaved a sigh. ''Remus, show Harry to his room, will you?''

The Lupin man nodded at once without another word; his obedience was a tell-tale sign that he was fully aware of whatever was troubling Sirius. Harry, too anxious and tired to object, trailed behind his uncle up the stairs.

''Whatever is the matter?'' Evangeline probed, starting to feel unsettled again. ''Out with it, Sirius, we have all had enough worry tonight to last us a lifetime.''

''There's a . . . situation. A situation that, given the circumstances, I don't think you'll be to pleased about . . . you—well, you and a, uh— a certain someone, shall I say, will need to share a room in order to fit everyone in for the holidays.''

''I know you all still see me as somewhat of a pure-blood princess, Sirius, but I do not mind sharing with the girls — Hermione and Ginny and I will get along just fine, I imagine.''

Once again, his face distorted and twisted into a frown. ''Yeah, except that's the problem, Evie. You won't be sharing with Hermione and Ginny, or any girls, for that matter. You'll be sharing with . . . with Remus.''

Evangeline bristled, determined not to let Remus dampen her spirits any more than he had already done since meeting him. ''I may be nineteen, Sirius, but I like to think I am mature enough to be able to sleep in the same room and separate beds as someone like . . . him.''

''No!'' He exclaimed, frustrated; the pure-blood witch was very bright, and he couldn't tell if she was playing dumb on purpose, or she just didn't want to face the unfortunate reality. ''You're not listening to me, Evie. You and Remus need to stay in the same room and sleep in the same bed for the next two weeks.''

The Rosier girl shrugged; to anyone else, it would appear that she couldn't care less. But her insides felt as if they had been lit ablaze, and Sirius could see the small but mighty flame of fear through the tiny shine in her doe eyes.

''I don't like it when you two are fighting, and regardless of what you say, I can't imagine you do either. Maybe this will be a good thing — y'know, a chance for you to hash out your differences . . . . ?''

''A good thing? I think not, Sirius. An inconvenient thing, yes, but hardly a good thing,'' she deadpanned.

''Oh, come on! Where's the Christmas spirit? Don't be a Scrooge, Evie.''

Evangeline wrinkled her nose, beginning to make her way up the stairs. ''I do not know what this ❛Scrooge❜ that you speak of is, Sirius, but frankly you and your Muggle references are currently the least of my worries.''

''You mean to tell me you've never heard of ❛A Christmas Carol❜?'' He called after her, grinning; he knew damn well she hadn't. ''Guess that sorts the bedtime story old Moony will be reading you!''

Thankfully, by the time she had heard Sirius' clownish commentary, the brunette was too far up the stairs to turn around and hex him. She was no longer fuming inside, the fire having done nothing but char her splintered heart. Once she saw him, however, a few embers sparked back up to life.

It was easy enough to find his room. The sweet scent of chocolate lingered in the air, leather-bound books were strewn across each available surface, and there was a trunk at the foot of an admittedly comfortable-looking bed from which knitted sweaters were spilling out.

She had only been in close proximity for all of five seconds, yet it was unimaginably difficult to ignore him when it was just the two of them. Every ounce of her being yearned for his touch, his smell, and his comfort before she was brought back to the sad reality; he was no longer hers. In fact, he never had been.

But then chestnut met amber. She remembered the taste of the stars that his kiss had bought. He remembered how her lips on his felt like medicine to his veins. And that was why:

''I'm sorry.''

The words flowed out of her like honey from a hive. ''For which part? For the hurtful words, the hurtful actions, or rather both?''

''Both. Everything and anything I've done to hurt you, Evangeline, I'm sorry for.''

''Oh, so it is back to Evangeline, is it? I thought you could be trusted, Remus. I made the mistake of opening up to somebody who had little regret in leaving me out in the cold when I needed them the most. What you said to me that night was like salt in the wound, and after months of no contact you decide to apologise?''

''I know. I don't care how long it takes you to forgive me. As long as you promise . . . promise me that one day it won't be like this. That one day things will go back to how they were — you'll be able to smile at me again.''

''I cannot promise something I have no control over. Can you even imagine what life has been like for me these past few months? I was stuck between wanting to wait for you and wanting to forget you. In the end, I did not know which was better, and so somehow I was doing both at the same time. I refuse to feel like that again, Remus.''

She stood in the threshold as he advanced a step towards her. Knowing Sirius, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for a mistletoe to bloom out of nowhere the second Remus got too close.

''I know, and I'm sorry. It's only a five letter word, but I'll repeat it however many times you wish.''

Evangeline shook her head. She hated how much of an impact his presence had on her; the closer he got, the brighter the patches of pink dusting her cheeks got. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place no longer felt like an old townhouse in the middle of winter — instead, the room felt like a hundred degrees, as if the snow sparkling on the window pane had been replaced with the shining sky.

''Did you mean it?'' She asked in a small voice. It was a useless attempt to ignore everything she missed about him: the golden glints in his irises, the broad shoulders that stretched out every sweater just perfectly, and the grey flecks in his soft as silk hair. ''All those things that you said to me. Did you mean them?''

''Of course not,'' he assured her. It was a completely honest answer; the words he had spewed were mere reflections of his own insecurities. He took the opportunity of their proximity to soak in everything he missed about her: the beautiful disaster behind her eyes, the rosebud lips that spoke so softly, and the long locks of coffee coils. ''What about what you said? Did you mean it?''

''No. No, I did not.''

An apology wasn't enough, but it was the start of something. Potentially, the start of something beautiful. In fact, something so beautiful that not even all of Neptune's greatest oceans could wash away when two names had been written next to each other for all eternity.