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"IN HERE — ," A warm hand wrapped around her own in the darkness and she was led towards the light. " — Come. Please, sit down."

Seven's heart still raced, she could hear it thundering in her ears and feel it's erratic pounding at the hilt of her throat. Her lips were parted but no words found her. She kept herself, cautious, guarded, eyes scanning her surroundings and fingers poised at her wand.

After a moment longer the woman breathed a sigh, "You can relax now, dear. You're safe."

"Where am I?" Seven slowly lowered herself into the well-worn armchair, the leather long frayed and split. "What is this place?"

  "Well..." A red-haired man spoke, shifting closer to the older woman as he gestured awkwardly. "I mean it's not much, but it's home — I guess."

  The room was small, damn smelling and falling apart at the seams. Paint cracked and missing in places hung from the ugly beige ceilings, and the canary-yellow wallpaper peeled away from the walls to reveal the naked plasterboard beneath.

  Then man cleared his throat, "Sorry for grabbing you like that," He said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's just — you know, Crawlers and all that."

  "Don't worry about it." Seven frowned, unsure about her new surroundings. The older woman, who possessed the same flaming red hair and who Seven assumed was this man's mother, pottered about, directing her wand at a pot of boiling broth. Her clothes were tattered and in places torn, and she possessed that same hollowness in her cheeks that people from Sloth so often held. "Are you hungry dear?"

  "No." Seven answered quickly, then adding, " — Thank you."

  "Well," The woman said with her best attempt at a warm smile, as she handed the man a bowl of watery-looking broth. " — We haven't much, but what's ours you're more than welcome to share."

  "I appreciate it."

  The man eyed Seven suspiciously, "So what brings you to this part of Sloth?"

  She frowned, unable to help but feel exposed. "What do you mean?"

  "You're clearly not from around here." He deadpanned coldly, nodding his head at her necklace which had come loose and fallen over her shirt. The emerald stone glistened in the low light, and Seven hurriedly tucked it back beneath her clothing. Such finery was enough to keep people like these with bread and grain for months, it could make the difference between life, and a slow and painful death.

  "I'm looking for someone." Seven said carefully, as she reached into her bag and pulled out the now heavily crinkled poster. She held it to the light and watched as both their faces paled.

  The recognition clicked in Seven's head in the same moment it registered in theirs.

  The man before Seven bore a striking resemblance to the boy in the wanted poster, though not quite exact. His hair was longer, duller, his nose was thinner and his eyes a different shade of blue. A brother, or cousin, she assumed. The man before her was tall and thin and in another life Seven may have thought him handsome. But there was no room for such thoughts in this new world.

  "Bill!" The woman shrieked as the man snatched the poster from Seven's hands, pulling out his wand and pointing it at her in the same moment she aimed hers at him. " — What on earth are you doing!"

  "Who are you?!" He snarled, "What do you want? — How did you find us!"

"Relax." She hesitated for a second longer, before she lowered her wand. "I'm on your side. I just need to talk to Ron."

Bill's eyes narrowed; not moving, "Well you can't."

Her heart plummeted, falling somewhere between her gut and the ground. That horrid, aching, dreadful feeling began to wrap around her again, welcoming her back into its mournful arms as her words echoed her thoughts, "He's dead, isn't he?"

Neither of them answered.

Then the red-haired woman stepped forwards, gently placing a reassuring hand on her son's forearm. He lowered his wand.

"You can't speak to Ron, but maybe we can help?" She suggested, sitting down and beckoning the man to follow, which he did a moment later.

Something distinctly maternal emanated about the woman, urging Seven to trust her far more than she knew she should. "I'm looking for the Sins... I was told Ron knew where to find Sloth."

The woman's eyes were kind. "I'm sorry dear, — Ron used to run in Navy's inner circle so he would've known but he never mentioned anything about any of that to us. He tried his best to keep his work separate from his family after — ," Her words caught in her throat and she swallowed hard.

" — After they killed his father and hung his brothers." The man finished for her. His face was hard; pained, and yet somehow, disconnected. He'd sat alone with his trauma for a long time, and after a while, it no longer seemed to scare him. He even managed to convince himself he'd feel lonely without it. His trauma gave him a purpose when life could not.

"Oh..." The soft sound left Seven's lips, and with it, her hope of finding what she'd been searching so desperately for. "I'm so sorry, really — I am. The Sins have taken too much from too many people..."

"Sorries don't mean shit any more." Despite his words, Bill's voice was softer than it had been before. Now he just sounded as empty as he looked. "If you really mean it then do something."

"What do you think I'm doing here?" Seven rebutted, raising an eyebrow.

"Waisting time on dead ends." He replied blankly. "Ron's not here. So move on."

"Bill..." His mother warned. "We all want the same thing. There's no point in hostilities." Then she turned back to Seven with a reassuring smile. "Is there anything else we can help you with? — Anything at all?"

Seven bit her lip, taking a moment to think. Once the words were out in the open air, they could never be taken back, and that thought terrified her. Before her could stand the answers to everything she'd wanted to know, all the thousands of questions that had eaten away at her for years. Or, before her could stand a trap, one that would no doubt lead to her inevitable downfall.

She found herself wishing for Draco by her side, he'd always seemed to know these things. Who to trust, who to not.

"Well, I mean — there is one thing..." Seven plunged her hand into her bag, feeling around for a second before reluctantly pulling out the fistful of folded parchments, tied together with a section of string. They felt odd on her hands, it had been so long since she'd last held them.

She pulled the bow loose, taking a singular letter from the top and unfolding it. The words curled about the page, cursive and beautiful beyond believe. She took a breath, steadying herself, before she handed it over. "You don't by chance recognise this?"

The woman took the parchment without question, turning it over and studying the text in silence for a few minutes.

  None of the letters were dated, none where signed or addressed, in some way, they were hardly even letters at all. More like a series of short notes, passed between lovers in the dead of night and guarded from prying eyes, notes to remind, notes to meet in hidden, forbidden places.

  Seven didn't need the letter before her to be able to recite it word for word. She'd spent two years staring at the damned things, trying to find any semblance of sense in the madness.

I'll never stop looking for you, know that. One day we'll find one another again, be it in this life or the next.

  For a few months Seven had wondered if maybe she had written the letters herself and held onto them, waiting for them to be delivered before the war kicked off and the world to shit. But that theory had fallen flat when eventually, growing tired of the not knowing, she had traded her finest winter boots for a quill, ink and parchment. Needless to say the handwriting was not a match, she could never hope to replicate such a fine hand.

  "It's somewhat familiar..." The woman trailed off, a fine line appearing between her brows as if frustrated, "But I can't quite place it. Bill — what about you?"

  She cringed as the man roughly grabbed the parchment from his mother and then a second later chucked it back at Seven. "Never seen it before."

  "It doesn't matter, I just thought — ,"

  A low groaning sound came from somewhere to Seven's right. Her eyes snapped to the sound, but found only a rickety old cabinet, barely still standing and missing both handles. She didn't, however, miss the way the red-heads both froze.

  "What's in there?" She asked.

  "Nothing." Bill snapped a little too quickly. "The buildings just old is all — you know how it is, the pipes make noises when it's cold."
  His mother looked nervous, her nails bitten down to the bloody beds as she fiddled with the frayed hem of her knit jumper.

  "I'm not stupid." Seven said, lips drawn into a stern line. "I know that's a Vanishing Cabinet. So come on, I suggest you either tell me or show me before I blow it open myself."

  "Don't you dare." Bill whispered as he shot a glare to his mother who looked close to cracking.

  "Just do as she says." The woman breathed, looking ashamed.

  "What the fuck — no!"

  "For Merlin's sake Bill just open the damned thing already!" She finally became stern; fierce even. For as kind as she was, this was not a woman to be crossed or messed with, — that much Seven could tell.

  With an unholy string of curses, most of which directed towards Seven herself, Bill reluctantly dragged himself over to the cabinet, aiming his wand at the place where the handles should be. "Aberto."

***
QOTD- What do you think's inside? -TFOA