Even if it takes all night or a hundred years (Jazalea)

Slow, and excruciatingly painful, life returns to Azalea Harrington bit by bit. It returned in a fog of sensation that refused to be pinned down and solidified by memories. It returned in the sounds of Clara's voice encouraging her to eat and Dad's worried eyes as he watched her fail to fall asleep unmedicated. It returned with each movement of the baby inside her, the baby she knew without a doubt was a boy even if she could never explain how.

And it returned with Jake's weekly visits to Carmel.

For the first few weeks, Azalea had remained confined in Mimosa's room, too weak to move anywhere further than the door but as time passed and healers came and left, her strength returned. Clara's steady administration of locally sources food dishes ordered in from all over the states coupled with Dad's stiff position by her bedside should she need anything helped. And the stories helped too.

There was very little the ghost had been able to say but as she morphed into Azalea with each passing day, she had questions. And Kit and Clara were more than happy to answer. they told proudly of the girl they had raised, Mimosa named for the wish her mother had made in the darkest hour of her life. They showed her pictures, they showed her home videos. they showed her emails and letters from school. Her daughter was on the Quidditch team...

August passed with more viscosity than it should have, and slowly, Azalea learned to walk. She learned to decide to get up, form a destination in mind and then walk towards it. The witch still wasn't sure what to do once she had reached it but the process was more meaningful than the end result. So it became normal to find Azalea outside her father's studio, or Clara's craft room, just waiting there or curled up on the steps because she knew she wanted to go somewhere but had no idea where that "somewhere" was.

And once a week, she slept naturally. Whether by coincidence or design, Jake showed up at Carmel every week and sat with her. they talked sometimes, other times they remained quiet, the words hanging in the air more pronounced than anything they could say. The first three weeks, she had simply slept in his presence. A deep, natural sleep that was more conducive to her recovery than any potions or remedies. On the fourth week, she had stayed awake the first hour, getting out simple sentences that asked about Mimosa.

He worked at Hogwarts, he got to see her daughter every day... She had to get better if she wanted the same joy and privilege. All the hard work that would go into her recovery would be done for that sole reason, to be able to see Mimosa in person, to be able to hold out a hand and touch the beautiful baby girl Azalea had tried so hard to protect.

A sharp gasp escaped the witch, indicating that the baby had kicked once more, his tiny but unnaturally strong legs almost making her double in pain. Azalea had noticed the pattern, the child kicked more often when she thought of Mimosa, almost as if calming its territory and rights on her before his sister. The witch smiled through the pain. He would understand once he was out.

While her health had been improving, her pregnancy was growing longer. A tentative delivery date had been given for August and yet August came and went with the baby still firmly inside her. The doctors still made frequent visits, assuring everyone the baby was fine and that the mother was not in any danger. Some children just took their time, and this one was enjoying his stay where he was. Though the healers never gave pronouns, Azalea knew.

"Hey darling, Jake's going to be here soon, do you want a change of clothes?" Clara stood at the doorway, trying hard to pretend as if she hadn't been there for a full five minutes swathing her daughter struggle with the sweater that would not come off. Azalea may be regaining some independent motor abilities but untangling hair and long sleeves were not among then yet. The younger witch nodded and Clara moved tot he dresser, withdrawing a set of maternity clothes that Azalea would never have chosen or worn.

Having helped the young mother into a fresh set of garments, Clara returned with a comb and hairbrush set, taking her place behind Azalea and starting on the untangling process. As she combed, she chatted, talking about the neighbors, about the tourists in for the month because Carmel always had tourists, Clara even spoke of a client or two until Azalea found herself relaxed once more. It never mattered what Clara said, only that she was here now, close and warm and here.

The way she should have been for Mimosa.

The way she would be for this growing child inide her.

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Even if it takes all night or a hundred years (Jazalea) Rsz_gr10

Even if it takes all night or a hundred years (Jazalea) Rsz_az10

Even if it takes all night or a hundred years (Jazalea) Rsz_li10

Having Azalea Harrington come back in to his life was not something Jake would ever have expected after he'd found out from Clara the horrendous ordeal she had suffered before she'd lost her life. From that point, Jake had resolved to try to be the best father he could be to their daughter Mimosa, but even that had its conditions of time, and whether the young witch actually wanted him to take on that role.

So, to say it had been a shock, seeing Azalea alive and well had been an understatement.

The first time they had seen one another had not gone well. The shock he had felt was nothing compared to Azalea's, and when they'd managed to get her breathing again, Jake had retreated from the room, the house, and called his mom. The man might have been thirty two, but his mom was the first point of call when something much too difficult to deal with had arisen. How long they'd sat on the phone Jake could no longer remember, but he knew when he'd emerged back in to the Harrington's home, he had made an agreement with Clara that he would help as much as he could, though he didn't see how much use he could be.

Those had been the famous last words of the man before he'd left, telling Clara he needed a little more time before he could face Azalea once more.

And, upon returning home, Jake had wished he hadn't left at all. The letter had been left in the kitchen from Lucy, a note denoting that it had not been his fault, but that she could no longer go on. The officials had come around with the confirmation of her death, Jake had dealt with all of the paperwork necessary, confirming the body was Lucy, and then readying the witch's body for the service she had asked for. The legalities could be resolved later -- where was Victoria when you needed her? -- and Jake referred the rest to the solicitors, not needing anything more to deal with in that moment.

A week later, Jake had been back in Carmel, as he'd promised. Guilt was a huge driver, he'd found in that week as he questioned himself on why he felt so obliged to return to Azalea's side. He had his own family now, he was -- even if the courts had nullified the marriage -- a married man, waiting for his wife to return home, he had two jobs to contend with, and two beautiful children wanting to spend time with him.

And yet, he was returning to Carmel to help someone who was all but a stranger to him now.

What made it worse was how Azalea seemed to sleep whenever he arrived, curling in to him, and drifting off without a care in the world. For the first couple of weeks Jake had not understood the significance of this act, but it had been the joy on Clara's features when he told her that Azalea had not taken any potion or tablet, or other medication to fall asleep. The realisation that the younger witch, after all these years, could fall asleep peacefully in his presence was... unnerving as he looked down at the peaceful features of Azalea Harrington, wondering how on Earth that still seemed to work even now.

But the question was never raised, Jake had simply returned the next week clothed more comfortably for the inevitable activity of lying down beside the witch and allowing her to nestle in beside him. For the third week in a row, Azalea had been out like a light and Jake had sat quietly for a couple of hours, trying to process everything that was going on again, and once again, falling short. The two of them had slept through to the alarm Jake had set, the alarm that denoted he had to get back to the UK for his work at Hogwarts, even though it was the middle of the night in Carmel.

On the fourth week, Jake had been surprised by the questions that Azalea had raised, but he'd responded to them. As of yet, though, Jake had not told the witch of three things, he had not told her he was married, he had not told her he had two more children, and he had not told her he'd become an Auror. Those three things... Jake wasn't sure that they would help Azalea's current state, and really... they weren't relevant. So, instead, Jake had focused on telling Azalea of their daughter's progress in Defence Against the Dark Arts, how she was a very good flyer, and would hopefully break in to the Slytherin team the next year. He'd told her what Slytherin house was, showing it was almost akin to Nightshade. Anything, really, that kept her happy. After an hour, Azalea had shown signs of wanting to sleep, and once again, the two of them had settled together, Azalea going out like a light as Jake laid next to her, looking around the room and wondering when he was going to get someone jump out and go 'April Fools'.

This whole thing... didn't feel real, still.

The first of September came around, and where Jake would have loved to be at King's Cross with the Auror division, catching a glimpse of his daughter boarding the Hogwarts Express, he'd apparated over to the US to be with Azalea. Carmel was it's usual blistering heat, and Jake had prepared for such with a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, a pair of flip flops in place as he let himself in to the Harrington Home -- it had been Clara who insisted that he didn't need to knock anymore, and though it was a nice sentiment, Jake felt like it was much too familiar.

Slipping his flip flops off just inside the door, Jake called out "Clara?" to announce his presence, knowing she would likely be upstairs with Azalea. Though he knew this much, though, Jake would never move far from the door until someone called back to him, feeling that it would be much too rude to just head up to Azalea's room.

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~ In a Relationship ~ 36 ~ Father ~ 6' ~ American Accent ~

"We're up here, Jake," Clara's loud voice rang through the house just as her daughter's shoulder's tensed at the newly arrived guest. It wasn't a conscious action, and it would have gone without notice if Clara hadn't been sitting so close, combing out the last of Azalea's fine brown strands before letting them hang loose just as the witch would have preferred once upon a time. Clara had no idea where her daughter had been all these years but her superficial appearances had been immaculately maintained. The shine in Azzie's hair was even better than when she'd left them.

A moment later, footsteps were heard on the glass and steel stairs and the psychic looked reassuringly at the younger witch. "It's only Jake, you like Jake, remember?"

Azalea nodded. She did like the visits though if asked to explain why, she would be at a loss. Perhaps it was just because he was another source to provide information on Mimosa. But then... perhaps it was because she was finally able to sleep with him around. Her slowly returning faculties provided a hazy premise.

"Does he like me?" Big brown eyes searched Clara's face but before her Godmother could reply, a throat was cleared at the door.

"Well, why don't you ask him?" Clara suggested with a forced laugh, moving away from Azalea to greet their visitor. "Hiya kiddo, everything okay at home." Azalea listened to the two exchange pleasantries before the older witch finally excused herself, reminding them she would be down in the kitchen if needed. Soon enough, a plate of something would float up for Jake, and as always, it would go ignored.

Of curse, the question hadn't nearly been as simple as Azalea had phrased it. With the slow return of awareness, the witch was starting to realize she was... not easy to look after. At first there hadn't been much beyond having Dad and Clara with her at all times, and Jake sometimes. But now, as her mind woke up more and more to the reality of how sick she was (a sign of recovery, ironically), Azalea Harrington wondered if how many people would rather be here. If the person who had looked after her for so many years had wanted to do it in the first place.

Her foggy memories had yet to reveal the identity of her savior, but Azalea wasn't sure if she should be grateful or fear him or her. And where Jake fit into the picture in all of this.

But the witch had no way of verbalizing all that, so she simply looked at Jake the way she always looked at him, with blank chocolate eyes focused in concentration. As if they would remember more if they tried hard enough. Her body remembered his, it remembered what it was like to curl up next to him and go to sleep. Her mind... it needed more persuasion.

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The call from Clara came from exactly where he'd expected it to, and his feet took him the familiar route to the room that was his daughter's, currently occupied by the mother of his eldest daughter. Each time he thought of Azalea, he never knew how to denote their relationship now, every time he looked at her lost features he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt flooding through him, but when they sat talking of the daughter neither of them truly knew, he couldn't help but feel that there was something of a bond there, friendship... he wasn't sure that it was that.

A mutual interest, he supposed.

As the man reached the top of the stairs, and to the door, he faltered hearing the two women talking.

"It's only Jake, you like Jake, remember?"

This was the worst part of the whole experience. The fact Azalea didn't know who he was, not really. The memories had faded through the ordeal she'd endured, he was somebody she vaguely recognised from time to time, but didn't truly understand yet. Part of him wished she remembered it all, vividly, so that she would grow angry with him, attack him with the vines the Azalea he knew would have, and leave nothing left in her wake for the mess he'd made of everything over a decade a go. But that Azalea was long gone, and she didn't know how much harm he'd left her in when he'd simply accepted her note of leaving.

"Does he like me?"

Upon hearing those words, Jake cleared his throat, announcing his arrival as he stepped in to the room just as awkwardly as he always did. After all, how could meeting up with the ex you believed to have been dead, through your own neglect, ever not be weird?

"Hey Clara, Azalea," Jake replied, smiling to each witch in turn before addressing Clara's question. "Everything's great at home, and here? Mr Harrington?" He asked politely, making the right response to each given by Clara before she excused herself to head to the kitchen. As always, Jake hesitated in his space by the door, before moving to the chair by the bed and sitting upon it.

"How're you feeling this week?" Jake asked the witch left in the room, waiting to hear the last of Clara's footsteps at the base of the stairs before he considered the question she'd posed to Clara when he'd accidentally eavesdropped before.

"You know how I know somebody likes me?" The Auror asked, waiting for Azalea's concentrated features to focus upon him before he continued. "I look at the things that can't lie. Do they make contact with you regularly and without prompting? Do they ask if you're okay, and when you say something less than 'yes, I'm doing well', they probe for more answers. People who like you don't mind being around you, helping you, or just talking with you. So... under that premise, I think we can deduce that my repeat visits show that I like you -- as something of a friend."

A definition was easier for Azalea, even if Jake couldn't classify this in his head. It was like when Ivan or Adrienne asked a question he couldn't answer himself, he gave them something to placate them for as long as possible. Hoping that in the meantime something else would come up.

Jake waited, hoping this would be enough, or to see whether Azalea would ask something else, either way, he was happy to be of any help he could.

Because with each small piece of help he gave, it would work towards the debt of what he owed the witch sat before him.

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~ In a Relationship ~ 36 ~ Father ~ 6' ~ American Accent ~

The man that come each week to sit with her, Azalea knew him in the way she knew a childhood toy - except she knew Cacti a lot better as he know lived on her bed beside Bear. Azalea knew the concept of Jake, she knew they had been close once, but try as she might, she couldn't recall the exactness of their relationship. She remembered they had once painted a house but why had they painted it? Why was there music and dancing involved with that memory to an old radio playing Stand By Me?

And the worst of it all was that the witch wasn't even certain she would be closer to the answer if she knew all the above. Because there may be explanations for why they had done the actions, but how would it associate to the same feelings they once had? Or she had? This Azalea couldn't claim to know anything of the feelings this particular Jake had.

So when he sat down and gently explained that people who spent time with you generally tended to like you, the witch gave a wistful smile. She was unwell, and perhaps a little addled, but she knew when someone was trying to dodge the question. His reply was in the same tones that Clara or Dad employed when she asked if she could see Mimosa. Not that she ever called them out on it, Azalea knew she needed to get much better before that could happen.

"I just wondered if you'd rather be doing anything else," she explained herself, her chocolate eyes searching his once more, her gaze locked to his as she tried to find... something. She remembered looking at him mesmerized once upon a time, what had it been that had captivated her so?

"It's... hard to understand sometimes... The healers say it will get better, but what if it doesn't...?" It was the first time the witch had expressed self doubt. Not the first time she had felt it but the first time she had admitted to feeling it. As consciousness returned, so did the niggling doubt that this was all there would be to life now, trying to piece together bits of memories that have long faded. Who was she now that she couldn't remember much of what made her her.

Slowly, her expression changed from slight frustration to blankness as an image of a perfectly dressed Lady came to mind. The beautiful lavender gown, the glittering opals on her throat and a feeling of calm, blankness enveloped her. That lady had no worries, no confusion, she was not ill.

The baby inside her, hidden beneath the fresh blouse and oversized cardigan, kicked sharply, making her gasp once again. Azalea lurched forwards with the motion, automatically reaching out for Jake to steady herself, her long slender fingers wrapping around his arm as she tried to gather her momentum back. The boy was growing stronger by the day, too strong to be contained in her frail body.

And despite the discomfort, despite the shortness of breath that the child's actions cost her, despite the feeling of walking through a never ending fog, her fingers relaxed. Because they remembered what it was like to hold on to that arm.

"Did... Did we ever ride on a motorbike?"

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The question of whether he'd rather be someone else brought a soft laugh from Jake's lips, and the man shook his head. He never voiced the fact that such a thing was not possible, that being somewhere else would be detrimental to his conscience, but Azalea Harrington didn't need to know anything more than the fact he simply didn't want to be anywhere else, for his own purposes.

That conversation, though, was not one the man wished to embark upon, so Jake didn't offer any more words of reassurance or explanation, leaving it with the simple shake of his head in answer.

"What are you trying to understand, Azalea?" Jake prompted, patient as he always was when the witch before him was trying to work through something. Not always aimed in his direction, often when she was just talking to Clara or Kit and he could take the back foot. Patience, Clara had explained, was all any of them could really give, as well as aiding with the questions that Azalea posed in the best manner they could.

But even as he asked the question, Azalea lurched forwards, obviously in discomfort with the baby. She was more than overdue now, Clara had given Jake the due date, and Jake had kept an eye on his phone on the date, and every day after, waiting for news. To say that he was slightly concerned that the baby was still holding on to in the womb was an understatement, but Jake was used to being on the opposite side of the spectrum, Ivan and Adrienne had both come early, Ivan almost dangerously so.

A late baby... Jake could only presume would cause more damage to the mother than itself, an idea that was truly troubling.

As Azalea's hand wrapped around his arm, Jake's left hand moved to cover hers, his thumb instinctively rubbing across the back of hers in what he hoped would be a reassuring manner. "Are you... okay?" The man asked carefully, not knowing how to discuss the matter with a woman who was not carrying his child. It had been unusual with Veronika the first time, but you soon lost your squeamishness around the subject when your fiance needed reassurance. From there, talks of pains from places never before discussed had become common place for the two of them.

But, Azalea was not Veronika, and Jake was not comfortable with discussing the child inside of her. He would, however, persevere for her sake.

Azalea recovered from the bout of pain, though, and Jake relaxed slightly, loosening his hold on her hand so that she could pull back away from him if she wanted, though he would never, ever, push her away if she felt comfortable in that position.

"Did... Did we ever ride on a motorbike?"

A smile grew on Jake's lips at the question, and he nodded confirmation. "We did... it was red, white and black, do you remember? A super bike. We travelled across a number of states together..." Jake aided, though he didn't give any specific memories, because he knew that Azalea had to get there herself, otherwise he could tamper with the results of her recovery. "I, unfortunately, don't own it any more, though." He added, though he didn't express the reason he'd left his favoured bike, along with everything else, back in Canada when he'd decided to leave.

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~ In a Relationship ~ 36 ~ Father ~ 6' ~ American Accent ~

"Are you... okay?"

"He's just..." The witch managed, sitting back but not letting go of Jake's hand. She didn't think about the action, just did what felt instinctive, and his thumb rubbing gently over her skin felt like... home somehow. "Really strong." The young woman tried to smile through the pain but her discomfort was obvious. Her body was never meant to hold something as bulky as the child growing inside her and he was taking it as a challenge, trying to see how much room he could make for himself in there before he had to leave.

When Jake recounted the super bike they'd had, Azalea did her best to remember. She recalled the feeling of being on a bike, Jake making sure she was helmeted and secured. But as to the actual appearance of the bike, Azalea couldn't recall the details. "I remember a pretty neat car though," she tried to assure him. "It was red and it went really fast. i remember you were worried about it in all the snow we had." Why had he gotten a car that worried him so? She didn't know, perhaps he would tell her.

This was her life now, piecing together bits of memories in a way that made sense. And as sweet as Jake was being in helping her, as much as he reassured her he had nowhere else to be, Azalea knew better. People always had somewhere better to be, even dad who looked so pale and concerned all the time. He was probably missing some kind of major event to be around her, and her consciousness was starting to return enough to understand guilt.

"So... what have you been up to these last... " How long had it been? Years? Decades? It felt like a dream, mostly because she couldn't recall it all. "This past while," she managed with a reluctant smile, trying to steer the conversation away from her. For someone who spent so much of his free time with her, Azalea knew very little about this Jake. And maybe she should attempt to learn more.

"You had a sister... how is she?"

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The comment on the baby inside her being strong was an understatement in Jake's mind. The way Azalea had reacted upon what Jake assumed to be a kick showed the small life inside of the witch was quite powerful already. Though, Jake reminded himself in that moment, Azalea was not at full health, that had to contribute to the fact she was caused so much pain when the child moved. It was guess work, though, Jake had never been in the situation where a baby had been overdue, had been very strong, Ivan and Adrienne had been at the opposite end of the spectrum...

And Mimosa had, Jake had half worked out, been very weak when she'd come in to the world.

"Won't be long now," Jake offered in response to her comments, hoping that would help because he truly didn't know what to say on the subject in that moment. The man who's child this was would probably be better placed in this moment, though... none of them knew who he was, or whether his presence would help. There were too many unknowns about the child Azalea was carrying, which made it hard for Jake to know what to say most of the time.

But, Azalea moved the conversation along, she hadn't quite remembered the bike, but at the mention of the car, Jake let out a soft laugh at the memory. "The Spider," Jake offered for the witch, shaking his head at the thought of that car. "Your dad bought it for you, for your birthday. I didn't like it because he'd bought you one of the fastest cars in the world to drive around Canada in. Your dad always insisted that it was safe, that he'd had it specially modified for Canada and the weather it could throw at us. But I always worried about you in that car." Jake admitted with a soft smile upon his lips. "You did your driving course in a week, or something crazy, do you remember?" Jake asked, hoping this might stir up some more memories, even if they weren't important ones, it was a huge achievement for Azalea.

"I still never got my driving licence," Jake added, smiling at the witch almost as if conspiring with her. He'd had his bike licence, but he'd never learned to drive.

"So... what have you been up to these last... This past while."

Jake's heart pounded harder in his chest upon hearing that question. He'd avoided it like the plague because he didn't know how to tell her everything he'd been up to. Not to mention this was not about him, this was about getting Azalea better. But if she specifically asked him, how was he supposed to ignore that? How was he supposed to tell her everything that had happened whilst she'd been away? As much as he loved his life, how did he tell Azalea about it without making it sound like she wasn't a nuisance to him.

Before he could think of an answer, though, a prompt came of an easy subject.

Victoria.

As always, the mention of his younger sister brought a fond smile to Jake's lips, he was proud of the witch even if he hadn't seen her for a number of weeks now... which reminded him, he needed to check in with her, make sure she was doing okay.

"Victoria is doing really well." Jake summarised before elaborating. "You remember the surgery she had?" He asked, waiting to see if that prompted anything -- and he would fill in the gaps if necessary -- before he continued. "She's not had any problems since the operation, she's back to dancing like she did when she was a kid. Victoria went to university and completed her law degree in record time -- not that we expected anything less, of course. She's been working at a top UK law firm for the last year or so. She's decided to move on to other things now, though. Last I heard she was here in America, helping a friend with some political nonsense I don't understand."

A small laugh left Jake at the end of that, he'd never really been one for politics, and that much had not changed in the years since he'd been with Azalea.

But then... then he was back to the question of himself, and the hesitation was clear in Jake's features as he tried to decide where to start.

"Shortly after... I moved away from Canada when you left. I moved to the UK. Victoria had moved to Hogwarts for personal reasons, and I wanted to be there with her, I guess. I needed a new start, of sorts. I went to university, kind of, I don't think you can call Auror school a university degree, though they do try... and, well, I've been in the UK Auror division for... eight years, or so now. It's a great job, so fulfilling when you catch the bad guys." Jake explained, smiling to himself at the notion. "So I have been juggling Hogwarts and the Ministry for that long too. It's kind of crazy..."

And he trailed off, because he didn't know how to talk about his children, he didn't know if Azalea would want to know, and it was best that he didn't upset her, wasn't it? He would have to talk to Clara, see what she thought, because Jake did not want to make that decision himself.

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~ In a Relationship ~ 36 ~ Father ~ 6' ~ American Accent ~

Just the way he tried to alleviate her fears, she wanted to do the same. One day, she would tell him about Mimosa's birth., when she remembered it without physically shrinking from the memories. The only time she had really tried to remember, her mind had began to go blank, a sign that she was nowhere near ready to understand the circumstances of her daughter's birth. The brunette would eventually unlock all the rooms in the house of horror that was her mind, but not right now.

Right now she had to focus on the light, and Jake was giving her the opportunity to do just that.

"I remember you always wanted to be an Auror," she smiled, trying to be glad that he had gotten what he'd wanted. The move to the UK didn't register for now, getting lost among all of Victoria's accomplishments. A slightly bigger smile blossomed across her face, the genuine pride in Victoria showing in her warm brown eyes.

"She must be so big now," The witch guessed, only remembering the small child addicted to the color pink. "Does she still insist on everything being pink?" This was good, conversation was good, and it was the first one they were having in all the time they'd been seeing each other.

Perhaps they could steer the conversation back to Mimosa after this. Jake was her weekly source of knowing what the little girl was up to. Of everyone at Harrington home, he was the one who physically saw ehr almost every day and Azalea desperately wanted to be able to get better so she could do the same.

"Does Mimosa know..." she began but before she could finish, her whole body convulsed in pain. This was no mere kick but soemthing else entirely that shook ehr to her very core. Her voice came out ina strangled cry as her body curled in on itself defensively, not knowing that he thread was from within.

Tears pooled at the corner of ehr tired eyes as her frame remained locked in it's position, cramping the baby in place who sensed the lack of room - and kicked out once more.

A small snap echoed through the room, barely discernible over Azalea's scream as something in her body cracked. The child did not like closed spaces, and his mother's womb only had so much room.

In a daze, Azalea fell backwards, her head crashing into the bed's headboard, her eyes still rolling through the pain as the tears flowed down her face. She could feel the numbness start where the bone fracture had originated from and knew in the back of her mind that she would loose feeling in her lower half altogether very soon.

The witch tried to warn Jake, to ask him to get Clara, but her mouth refused to cooperate, still contorted in agony and fear. her diaphragm working overtime to keep her conscious as her vision swam with tears and pain.

This was it, her baby boy had finally outgrown her. And now he had to find his way out even when her body wasn't quite ready.

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"I did, and I got there eventually. The first application just wasn't the right time for me." Jake replied, a small smile on his lips at the memory of a time in his life where it had just been too much to be able to join the force. "But, the Quidditch career... it was great whilst it lasted." He added, because that was the truth, he'd been very successful in that career, he'd made good friends, and as far as Jake was concerned, that money had left him very nicely set up for the rest of his life.

Azalea's comment of Victoria being so big brought the softest of laughs from Jake's lips in that moment, and he shook his head at the idea of Victoria being big. It wasn't a mean laugh, though, and a moment later Jake explained. "Victoria is still five foot nothing, bless her, she hasn't grown an inch in the years since you last saw her. It's cute, really, I can only imagine what it looks like in court when she gets up as the defence lawyer..." The man explained in the way only a brother could, because everyone knew that if they said the same thing, Jake would come down on them like a tonne of bricks, defending his sister's capabilities fiercely, but when he said it... well, it was okay.

"Not so much with the pink though, now. I mean, she still loves pink, of course, but she's grown up, and pink doesn't feature quite so much in everything she does, but still more than the normal woman probably uses." Jake explained fondly. Victoria's vibrant pink stages were a memory now, but they were a fond memory of his little sister, that much was for sure.

No further press came from Azalea about his life, for which Jake was glad, it meant he could consult with Clara, with his mom, about whether it was a good idea to tell the witch of what had happened in his life. It kept them away from unfamiliar territory, it kept Azalea happy and safe. What the information of his life would do to the witch, Jake could not know.

Instead Azalea moved on, or... she tried to. Mimosa's name came from her lips, and almost instantly the witch curled in pain. Jake moved forwards, trying to steady the witch, but Azalea had curled up. "Azalea..." Jake spoke carefully, concern written in his features and his tone as he tried to work out what to do. He might be a father three times, but Jake didn't know how to deal with pregnant women, not really, and as the crack sounded through the room, Jake's eyes widened in that moment, freezing him in place in that moment as everything seemed to go in slow motion. Azalea falling backwards before he could stop her.

"Azalea... shit..." Jake quickly pulled his wand from his belt, sending off his Patronus without a second thought to get Clara as he moved forwards, moving Azalea carefully in to a laying down position so that she was not awkwardly poised against the bed.

"Azalea, concentrate on me," Jake prompted, lowering himself to the edge of the bed so that her eyes didn't have to strain to look up at him. His hand found hers, allowing her to hold on to him, squeeze as tightly as she liked. "I need you to breathe as normally as you can, okay, Azalea? Look at me, in through your nose gently..." The man explained, waiting for her to do the same. "Clara is coming, it's okay." He added, his eyes shifting down to her stomach despite her curled up frame. "Out through your mouth, Azalea..."

Just keep her breathing, Jake thought, having seen her lose consciousness before, he knew that this was the most important.

"Where is it hurting?" Jake asked between the breathing, trying to work out what was going on even if this was beyond his capabilities of helpfulness. All he had to do was keep her as calm as he could until Clara arrived, though, Clara would know what to do, of that much the wizard was sure as he kept talking to the witch, holding her hand throughout the pain, and trying to keep her from slipping out of consciousness.

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~ Auror ~ Profile ~ DADA Professor ~
~ In a Relationship ~ 36 ~ Father ~ 6' ~ American Accent ~

» Why Does It Always Rain on Me? (Jazalea)
» When you try your best but you don't succeed (Jazalea)
» Why have a ballroom with no balls? (Jazalea)
» And the day bleeds, into nightfall (Jazalea)
» Now my bed sheets smell like you (Jazalea)