Gwen, despite Marlene and Sirius frequently making jokes about her ability to See, was quite comfortable in not knowing the certainty of the future.
Not knowing what was going to happen, not knowing who was wrong, not knowing why the stars sat the way they did in thrones carved out over eons. Not knowing was fine with her, she just came to believe that's why she so often did know.
Things have a way of showing up once you stop looking.
She didn't know how today would go, she wasn't sure how people would react. But she didn't mind. She just let it be.
She smiles when Frank and Alice Longbottom enter Grimmauld Place, though her eyes are occupied with the long crack in the ceiling she had been watching grow longer and longer every time she came to visit.
"Alice, Frank," She greets plainly, "How was Fête des Valentin?"
Silence greets her, and when she reluctantly lowers her chin to meet perplexed eyes, she explains, "Valentines day. Did you enjoy?"
Frank smiles warily, like he's waiting for the Veela to accuse him and his wife again, like she knows secrets he doesn't. She does, but that wasn't new.
"It was good," He says as kindly as he can manage. Alice clears her throat, asking, "And yours, Gwen?"
The Veela of Hogwarts doesn't smile anymore. Her face becomes passive, her eyes flickering to the pixie haired witch that is resting a comforting hand on the swollen bump that houses her baby.
"What side do you sleep on, Alice?"
The Auror's brow furrows in confusion, and Gwen smiles demurely in return, clasping her hands in front of her while she patiently awaits a reply. She already had a guess anyway.
"I," The witch pauses, eyeing the Veela suspiciously before saying quietly, "My left. I sleep on my left."
Gwen turns without mentioning what her answer meant, gesturing for the pair to follow her down the hall. She speaks over her shoulder, "Watch for the objects on the shelves, Alice. Sirius and I haven't gotten around to bringing some of them to a curse breaker."
She pauses at the knickknacks that hang below a surprisingly ornate mirror. Grimmauld Place leaned more gothic, even darkly romantic. But this mirror was gold, smoke stained, but still reflective enough for Gwen to see the slightly puffy nature of her eyes. She hated crying.
Continuing onward, she leads them up the stairs to the first floor, smiling at the peeling wallpaper. If she and Sirius were to stay here, perhaps she could convince him to redecorate. Some maroon paint might be nice, or maybe even a rug the color of the night—
"Miss Whitlock, perhaps we can get along with this."
Gwen smiles as she walks into the library, saying plainly, "Yes, Albus. Your timing of your impatience is rather ironic."
Sirius snorts quietly from the writing desk he's sitting behind, but Gwen knows that he isn't truly amused. The lines around his eyes have deepened with worry, worry that they had shared well into the night at the beach.
But there were likely more than a thousand ways to cook an egg. There had to be at least one more way to kill the wizard that had the drive and capabilities to slaughter them all.
Gwen peers over at where Albus Dumbledore stands quietly by the tall window, looking very much his age. Tired, weary. He wasn't looking forward to this meeting. She wasn't either. She wasn't looking forward to figuring out what it was the headmaster was hiding from her as well. She refrains from making a blunt comment, hearing Dorcas' chiding tone telling her to not be rude despite her best friend's absence.
Frank and Alice take a seat when Dumbledore murmurs, "We're just waiting on a few more to join us."
"Will Alastor be here today?" Frank questions, tone sharp. Evidently, the auror couple was not at all pleased with their mentor siding with the Veela weeks ago. Gwen feels her lips curve slightly, her eyes lingering on Dumbledore as she says boredly, "I'm afraid not."
Her hand slips into her pocket, thumb running over the rough chain attached to a pendant she didn't go far without. One that would tempt others if they knew she had it. Gwen had a rather large respect for time, logic limiting her hearts desire to erase the past to fix the future. It was pointless anyway. She could only go backwards by five hours. She hadn't tried it yet. She liked the present too much. Even now.
Gwen's eyes slide to the door when a familiar short being peers inside the library, a grimace twisting his features.
"Kreacher," Gwen greets calmly, ignoring the grunt that Sirius lets out from behind the writing desk. Her lips twitch when the house elf rasps, "More traitors have arrived."
It doesn't hold it's usual edge, perhaps because the house elf is addressing the Veela that he couldn't resist liking no matter how much his old masters despised her.
"Thank you," Gwen hums, shooting the house elf a subtle wink that causes his pale ears to tinge slightly pink. He nods once and then disappears from their sight, leaving them all to listen as footsteps sound up the stairs.
She takes a moment, closes her eyes. She savors it, this moment in time where her friends aren't scared. When she opens them, Lily is hobbling into the library with James in tow. He peers over his wife's head, grinning first at Sirius and then finding Gwen waiting patiently for him.
"Love!" He cheers, helping Lily down into a chair before striding over to the Veela. Gwen's chest feels funny when James pulls her into a hug, her smile fading when he asks suggestively, "How was your Valentine's Day?"
"Inferi," Sirius warns from behind her, but he needn't worry. Gwen leans back to look up at James, wishing she could still smile when she says quietly, "No shagging, unfortunately. Just talking."
James quirks a brow, looking slightly disappointed. He loved when she embarrassed Sirius with her crass honesty. His voice is hopeful when he asks, "And what did you talk about?"
Gwen blinks, voice unfairly unfazed when her body feels like it's growing weak from the weight of what has to be said,
"You."
James' eyes grow wide, and in that moment, Gwen sees that he knows. He knows that something is wrong. She grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze before whispering, "Go sit by Lily."
He hesitates, still staring down at her with those wide eyes. He'd always been so emotive, even before she'd known him well enough to see it up close. James Potter was probably the most expressive person she'd met. So when that slight wrinkle appears between his brows and his glasses bob in time with his throat, Gwen squeezes his hand again for her sake. She feels like she's sinking.
She doesn't fight when James leads her over to where Lily is sitting on the sofa, she doesn't dig it when he sits down next to his wife and pulls Gwen down next to him. She doesn't fight, because she's too busy wondering where along the way she had allowed herself to become so attached to this boy.
Dumbledore clears his throat, turning from the window with a sigh before saying quietly, "I'm afraid I have some grave news to share with the four of you."
Alice and Frank have gone stiff, and Sirius leans forward on the desk, staring at the wood grain. Gwen slowly looks around the room, inpatients causing her to say after a beat of silence, "There's been a prophecy—"
"Gwen," Sirius mutters. They'd talked with Dumbledore how best to approach the subject, and at the time she'd agreed. But now she didn't. Now she needed to get this stupid thing out in the open so that they could talk about it, so that she didn't feel deceitful or nervous anymore. If they got it out in the open, they could figure out how they were going to fix it.
"There's been a prophecy," Gwen repeats pointedly, glancing sideways at her fiancé and Dumbledore. The two wizards share a look before seemingly deciding against arguing with her. She clears her throat, turning to the two couples and saying, "A prophecy that implies that the weapon to kill You-Know-Who...."
If she says it, if she says anything more, everything will change. She's tempted to use the little pendant in her pocket, throw it around her neck and spin it so that she can go backwards instead of forwards.
She forces a tired smile, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
Alice Longbottom stares at the Veela in disbelief as Frank's face contorts into an expression of raw grief. Gwen swallows past the lump in her throat, her voice softer, "One of your sons. You are all in danger, and will be forced to hide."
A sniffle causes her to hurriedly turn and reach her free hand out to Lily. Her red headed friend looks distraught, and questions hang in the hair like a knife raised to cut them all down. So many questions. So many answerless questions.
"We have no way of knowing who," Dumbledore says gently. "But both Gwenyth and myself witnessed the Seer—"
"Who?" Lily demands, swiping away at the tears on her cheeks. Gwen blinks at the question before answering flatly, "Her name is Sybil Trelawney. I'm certain you've read enough to know of her family, Lily."
Gwen knew Lily Evans to be animated, passionate. Colorful. She didn't know the quivering, fearful, grey that sat before her. It hurts. Merlin, this hurts.
"I had a dream last night,"
Gwen's brows raise in surprise at James' soft voice, slowly shifting her eyes to where he has been sitting silently beside her. She expects him to be angry, to shout and yell. He's only still. Lily looks at him too, her green eyes glassy with tears. Gwen refuses to cry. Not now. She'd left her tears with the ocean, let the wind cup her face and wipe away her sorrow just as her mother would have.
The room is silent, everyone weary and tired now. Arguing, anger. It was pointless. There was no use in being angry now. It would only distract them from surviving.
"I had a dream and at first I couldn't figure out what it was, what was going on. Lily was yelling at someone about being late," James smiles, glancing sideways at the redhead he loved so dearly, "And then I realized that we were late for the express. But it wasn't because we were going back to school."
His jaw clenches, "Our kids. All of ours. Can you believe that? I have kids in that dream. More than one. Safe, healthy kids that aren't afraid of anything other than missing the sodding train. You have kids, Padfoot. Isn't that strange to even dream about?"
Gwen's heart aches terribly, the worst pain she can recall ever feeling. Because James Potter turns and his expression filled face already holds tales of misery. She wants to scream at them to have hope, she wants to rage and yell and demand that everyone stop silently asking her what the answer to this riddle was. She didn't know. She would never know. She just knew that there had to be over a thousand ways to cook an egg.
"Dreams," James scoffs, bitterness coating his words, "Fucking pathetic."
Gwen hums quietly, earning his weary attention once more. She blinks up at her friend, saying plainly despite the war that wages in her heart, "Oh, I happen to disagree, love."
She smiles slightly, grabbing her wand and pointing it towards the sky. She had never been as talented at Charms as Sirius or James, but she had spent weeks practicing this one with none other than Fleamont Potter.
The same charm that she had used to light up the tent at James and Lily's wedding.
The room darkens, but a soft pink glow eminates from clouds just over head. Stars swim through the deep pump purple and navy sky like fish traversing the sea, and Gwen's heart lightens when she sees familiar constellations. She'd done this at James and Lily's wedding, made the stars appear. She would never admit that it had been a gift for Sirius, a way to tell him things that words never could. But the stars didn't just belong to her and Sirius.
Neither did dreams.
"The Egyptians thought that dreams were what we would call Sight, like the gift that Sybil has," Gwen reaches up with her hand, pushes aside the airy clouds to reveal the swirling galaxy behind it. Like the Hogwarts ceiling, this one changes and flows. Her eyes blink at the stars, some burning brighter than others, "The Greeks and Romans thought that dreams were simply the dead visiting us."
James' grip on her hand is tight, so tight it would hurt if she didn't notice the slight shaking of her fingers and the dampness of his palm. Her heart aches for him, her mind tries to comfort him. She smiles encouragingly, squeezing back and lifting their joined hands to the charmed air above them, letting go only when James holds the sky in his palm,
"Don't doubt their power, James. In dreams, we enter a world that is entirely our own." Her eyes slide to Sirius and find that he's already watching her. Her lips twitch, "We swim in the deepest oceans, glide over the highest clouds."
Frank and Alice look scared, Lily looks scared. Some people were just terrified of the unknown. Dreams were the unknown. But Sirius is smiling faintly at her and James' silent tears have dried, and Albus Dumbledore looks up at the sky like he's seen it in a dream of his own.
"Don't stop dreaming, love," Gwen hums thoughtfully, her eyes returning to the stars as they shimmer and glow.
"It might be the very thing that saves us all."
{{</3 the beginning of the end}}