A/N: Hello all, I'm back.

Here's the thing, fellow readers: my undergrad career is coming to a close and graduation is a little more than a month away. For those of you wondering where the fuck I've been for the past ever, I've been trying to keep up with the course load. I'm sorry, I'm really and truly sorry. I've worked on this chapter for months . . . It's over 45 pages and 20,000 words long. That's my treat to you guys for waiting so goddamned long for this chapter.

I hope you guys enjoy this, it's the longest chapter I've ever written.

Also, I've got to get a few things off of my chest that I've noticed since I've been silent.

1. Glee sucks even worse than it did and I'm pissed off that there are people out there that think it's a good moral example for the younger generation.

2. I know a lot of stories have been either discontinued or taken off because of "not following the rules of the site." Look, I've been a member of this site since 06 and a reader for much longer than that, there has always been porn on this site. Nasty shit, too. The administrators don't really know that we're violating out agreement by posting NC-17/MA stories on here unless someone says something. And it's always this: "This isn't a true faberry story. Change it or I'm reporting you." Or "I don't agree with the sex in THIS story, I'm telling."So I'm going to say this: stop being a selfish bitch. A great story/author recently took down her story because some people complained about the dom/sub nature of the plot. Hey, that shit ain't my bag either, but it was a damn good story and it's a damn shame it was taken off because someone didn't agree with it, but hundreds of reviewers did. This site is a creative outlet for a lot of people and no one is forcing you to read something you don't enjoy. Get off your high horse, stop drinking the poison when it's just sitting idly on the shelf, and enjoy the fucking stories. And if you try to take down my stories: Come at me, bro.

3. I am sick of seeing stories, especially finchel stories, that don't belong in the faberry category. I know they have this new shit where you can have four characters, whatever, that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the people, and it's been a lot of them, that post legit finchel stories, poorly written ones at that, in the faberry section. So not only does it make you look like a little prick for posting in enemy territory (because let's be honest this is practically a gang war), but because it's so poorly written, it just makes you look incredibly fucking stupid. Like really fucking stupid. So I'm going to assume it's a . . . slip of the finger or something. Let's be a little more careful with that.

Okay I'm done. Read, Ponder, Enjoy.

Puck entered Lopez Wands with a nod to Brittany who was happily helping someone behind the counter. His eyes fell to the large circular pillow in the middle of the wand stacks that was usually occupied by Brittany and Santana's newest pets and he frowned when he found it empty. He leaned his arms on top of the counter, keeping an eye out for them; the lion may be friendly, but he still wouldn't want her to sneak up on him.

"Okay, it's as good as new," Brittany chirped at the frightened looking man as she handed him back his wand. "Now, I would let it rest for a little while before – "

"Motherfucking son of a fucking bitch!"

" – using any difficult spells. Let the wand get used to feeling whole again, to get its smile back. The wand isn't just a wand, you know," she told him sagely and looked him directly in the eye, "It's your other soul mate," she nodded, beamed at him and clapped her hands together. "I hope you have a magical day, Mr. Truner." The wizard's eyes snapped nervously to the closed office before waving at Brittany and hurrying away. She sighed as she watched him leave. "He reeked of insecurity. Hello, Puck."

"Hey, Britt," Puck greeted with a small smile. He looked over at the office. "Is San . . . busy?"

Brittany shook her head and reached under the counter for a small bag of smoking beef jerky. "She's just getting her snake bite cleaned and her chest checked out. They should be out soon."

As if they heard, the office door opened and a scowling Santana walked out scratching at her chest and with a new bandage on her arm. "I hate you so much."

"Yes, my occupation – it's a curse, really," the Healer that walked out behind her chuckled as he pocketed his wand in his lime green robe. He nodded at Puck. "Hey."

"Blaine," he greeted with a smirk. "Was she being a big baby?"

Blaine shook his head and walked around the counter.

"I'm sure babies aren't allowed to say some of the things that came out of her mouth."Brittany offered him a piece of beef jerky and he took it with a smile, blowing on the smoke that licked at his face. He pointed at Santana's injuries. "Your chest is good now. That Runespoor bite is coming along fine; that lovely antidote you have is working wondrously. If you stick to changing it twice a day or every four to six hours it'll be as right as right in a week or so."

"Yeah, yeah," Santana mumbled, waving him off. "Go ruin someone else's day."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm going across the street to see my husband. Take care, all and be sure to call me if anything feels off."

"Thanks, Blaine," Brittany said for Santana and the wandmaker just rolled her eyes, but they could all tell she was really grateful.

The three of them said goodbye to the Healer and watched him leave before Santana waved her wand at the front window making the sign change to 'Be Back in 20mins.' Santana hopped up to sit on top of the counter while Brittany took her baggie of jerky and went to the rolling ladder, moving it over to the end of the third shelf closest to the counter. She began humming as she climbed to the top and Puck curiously tilted his head when she took a piece of jerky and fed it to something hidden in the top shelf with a large happy smile on her face.

"What's that?" he asked when Brittany fed the creature again, still humming. "New pet?"

"No, it's just the cat," Santana mumbled, picking at her nails. "Britt's humming seems to be the only thing that soothes her."

Puck nodded and looked around again.

"Where's the lion?"

The Latina looked at him and arched an eyebrow. He still hadn't figured out that Q and Quinn were the same entity? The fucking moron. She tried to hide her smirk and rolled her eyes. "It's a fucking wonder that B even came down here today, let alone that we got her to actually eat something. I don't think you'd want to meet the large carnivorous feline whose owner you took away last night."

Puck cut his eyes to Santana and pursed his lips. No, he really wouldn't want to see the lion, especially now that he knew that Quinn was the reason they were there in the first place. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms across his chest, making sure to keep an ear open for any sort of growl so he could get the hell out of there in a flash.

"We have a problem."

Santana frowned and Brittany stopped humming immediately. She turned back to Rachel and the small brown cat was staring at her with wide worried eyes. Brittany tried to give a comforting smile and scratched Rachel gently behind the ears before descending the ladder to stand by her wife. Rachel scooted forward on the shelf to be able to watch them from above and listen in carefully because whatever Puck was going to say, it was going to be about Quinn.

"What's going on?" Santana asked, frustration already clear on her face. The shit pebble of their Quinn situation was just rolling quickly downhill that, by the time this day was over, she felt like it was just going to be one big stinking poo ball. Puck sighed and leaned against the counter.

"A Death Eater was captured in the woods just outside of the Alley last night, not too long after I had taken Quinn."

A tense silence fell over the three of them and Rachel scooted back further into the darkness of her hiding spot, burying her noise in her paws. Santana sniffed and slid off the counter to stand up straight.

"And?"

"They're looking for her," he whispered, glancing up at the top of the shelves where Quinn's cat was hiding. He wondered briefly if she could understand their conversation; a very serious thought, he couldn't even scoff at the ridiculousness of it. If she could, then he might just consider apologizing to her. "Beiste says that the Death Eater was sent to find her and take her back to Voldemort.'"

Brittany gasped quietly and brought her hand up to her mouth. "He wants to hurt her?"

Puck shrugged. "He didn't know specifics. And the rumor, to make matters worse, is that they believe she's hiding either here or at one of the neighbors."

Santana shook her head and let out a breath. The ball continues to grow. "So what does that mean?"

"Therein lies our problem," Puck sighed deeply and stared at the ceiling. "The Ministry, while they feel that you guys are in the clear, believes that it is necessary to send a couple of Aurors over to make sure you really aren't hiding anyone here."

"Oh, Merin, please tell me one of those Aurors is you," Santana said through her teeth. Puck looked down and the shake of his head dropped Santana, Brittany and Rachel's hearts.

"I tried, but Karofsky and Hart are the lucky souls who got the job. They should be by tomorrow," he told them sympathetically. He watched as Santana leaned over and placed her head in her hands. Brittany bit at her thumb, glancing continuously up at Rachel.

"What do we do?" she asked quietly, already thinking of ways to get Rachel out of here safely if she needed to. Puck looked at them seriously.

"Get rid of any evidence that Quinn was here. That's it," he said with a shrug. "There's not really much you guys can do. They aren't going to tear your house apart looking for her because they're some of the ones that think searching this place would be a waste of their time. We really wouldn't even be doing this if those Death Eaters didn't show up at your shop a month ago. When they're done and they find nothing then that's it. We probably won't search you guys again unless something else happens here."

There seemed to be a breath of relief coming from three different places. Santana sagged against the counter and Brittany began to smile again as she placed a hand on the small of her wife's back. A simple search was fine, that was easy. Just as long as it was quick and they didn't harass them, but Karofsky and Hart were never the types to do so anyway. They were all friends.

Puck glanced at the clock on the wall and noticed that his time was running short. He looked back at the two witches. "Listen, I've got a lot of information on Quinn today. I want to talk to her alone when she wakes up tonight. If you guys want to come back tomorrow or the next night then we can sit down and go over everything I've pulled up."

The Latina nodded. "You don't have any information now?"

"I haven't gotten around to reading any of the reports that I have. What I do know is just rumors. You know how I feel about rumors," Puck shrugged and knocked his knuckles on the counter top before walking backwards towards the door. "I'm on patrol right now so I gotta go. If I find out anything of importance, you guys will be the first to know."

They said their goodbyes to each other and Brittany turned to Santana with a large smile. Santana's brow furrowed at her.

"As beautiful as your smile is, Britt Britt, I fail to see why you are so happy," Santana mumbled, waving her wand at the door and changing the sign back to say 'F*cking Open.' "We're just barely floating in shit creek in one crappy boat, babe."

"Our boat is floating just fine," Brittany giggled and climbed back up the ladder. She reached into the shelf and picked Rachel up, receiving a startled meow from the small cat. She held her close to her chest, descending to the floor, and addressed Santana as she made her way towards the stairs.

"The water will be crystal clear before we even realize it. Just give it time, Sanny."

The wandmaker watched her wife walk up the stairs to their home, humming a jaunty tune, and had to restrain the smile when the distinct purring rumbled throughout the stairwell.

Quinn ran through the hallway, her heart thundering in her chest and her breath coming out in pants. Something just wasn't right and it sickened her very soul. She slid to a stop and burst into the room, hardly feeling the near brutal force with which she slammed into the wood with her shoulder. She settled her eyes on the bed, stepping forward so the mattress pressed against her knees.

There, lying under the covers in a state of half-consciousness, was Rachel.

"Quinn?" she whispered, sitting up in bed and pulling the sheet up to cover her bare chest. "Wh-what's wrong?"

The blonde stared into the worried brown orbs, wanting to just be so happy to see her, but when her eyes drifted down to the petite woman's arm she couldn't contain the growl that bubbled in her throat. She stomped around the bed so that she stood on the side next to Rachel and grabbed her arm. She stared right into her eyes as she turned it over to reveal a warm and fresh Dark Mark.

"When were you going to tell me about this?" she whispered. Rachel looked away and snatched her arm back.

"Quinn, please," she said as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her back facing Quinn, and pulled on her shorts that were on the floor. "It - It's nothing – "

"Don't lie to me," Quinn walked around so that she stood in front of Rachel. "Why-why would you do this, Rachel?"

Rachel sighed and yanked on a shirt before standing up from the bed, putting space between them. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the floor. "You have one."

Quinn growled again and strode forward until they were nose to nose.

"And I fucking hate it and you know it," she sneered in her face. "It was foolish of you to get one, to even think of getting one."

Rachel stepped away from Quinn again, a look of defiance creeping up on her features.

"I make my own decisions, Quinn," she told her, turning around to make her way towards the door with a shake of her head. She lowered her voice. "I just wanted to feel closer to you."

Quinn rushed forward to block Rachel's path, her eyes flashing with frustration. "Maybe it's not fucking safe to feel closer to me."

Rachel narrowed her eyes.

"Well, then, maybe you should've left me in Azkaban instead of dragging me to America and putting my life in danger!"

Quinn physically recoiled from the words, this time being the one to take a step back. It choked her to hear her own fear echoed back to her with so much resentment. Her eyes watered and the dark orbs that stared fiercely into hers were misting as well. There was a moment of regret that flickered across Rachel's face before she looked down to the floor and brushed by her. "I'm going to go out."

Quinn watched her walk towards the door with a frown, the tears trailing down her face. "Rachel, wait, I'm sor – "

The door burst open and Quinn was immediately thrown back into the wall by a spell aimed at her chest, groaning at the impact. Two sets of hands grabbed her around the arms, holding her there, and when she looked up at her masked captors her heart stopped completely.

"No – "

"Quinn!"

Quinn snapped her eyes to Rachel who was being held between two Death Eaters as well. She growled and struggled desperately against her captors.

"No! Leave her alone! You don't want her!" she cried desperately. "Let her go! Please – please, let her go!"

Then the air around them chilled and they felt the despair creeping into their bodies when a Dementor glided gracefully into the room and stopped in front of Rachel. Quinn's eyes widened and she fought even harder against the Death Eaters holding her tight.

"No," Rachel whimpered as she stared up at the Dementor, trying violently to pull away. "Oh, please, no . . ."

"Don't . . ." Quinn whispered helplessly watched as the rotting hand grabbed the brunette's chin and the hooded head inched closer and closer to Rachel's shell shocked face. "Rachel, NO – !"

"NO!"

Quinn shot up in bed, grabbing at her chest and trying to catch her breath. Her eyes immediately fell to the mattress and her heart picked up and dropped when she found herself alone. For a moment, she panicked as she glanced around the dark basement she found herself in before she began to remember last night.

Rachel's not here.

Quinn's been arrested again.

She leaned heavily against the stone wall and breathed a sigh of relief that seemed inappropriate for her situation.

Because Rachel was safe and that was all that mattered.

She shifted on the bed and grimaced at the dull pain in her ribs. She reached down and lifted up her shirt, ripped off the bandage and tossed it to the floor. She ran the tips of her fingers along the fading yellow bruise and felt the tears build in her eyes. Rachel was supposed to be the one to fix her ribs. She let her shirt fall and observed the new bandage on her barely throbbing arm. Santana must've put way too much numbing cream on it; it was almost like it wasn't even there. She let it fall to the mattress like dead weight and closed her eyes.

It was definitely a step up from the blinding pain.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and she sat up straight, pushing herself into the corner when Puck began to descend towards her with a load of files in his arms. He held up a calming hand, walked over to grab the dingy chair by the desk and set it in front of her, laying the folders on his lap.

He cleared his throat. "Are you hungry?"

Quinn stared at him, keeping a wary eye on his wand and shook her head. "No."

"I didn't think so," he sighed and tossed the papers on the bed next to Quinn. "Do you know who I am?"

"Puck," she whispered, staring at her feet. The wizard nodded.

"My name is Noah Puckerman. I'm an Auror for the Ministry of Magic's American base," he crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair. "I'm going to ask you a few questions and, for your benefit, I need the absolute truth."

Quinn sighed and leaned her head against the wall. There's no use in lying and there's no use in holding anything back if she wished to convince him that she had no desire to cause trouble. She turned her emotionless hazel eyes to meet Puck's, making sure to keep the connection as she spoke.

"You'll find I don't have much to hide anymore," she informed him quietly and frankly. Puck stared at her for a moment, before nodding his head again and crossing his arms loosely over his chest.

"For the record, your name is Quinn Fabray and you were arrested in 1988 on the twenty-seventh of June for the murder of Russell Fabray, is that correct?"

Quinn glanced at the file on top of the pile he threw on her "bed" with her name on the tab and she was willing to bet all the money she had left to her name that her mug shot was just on the inside of the folder. She restrained an eye roll. "Yes."

"Can you tell me why you murdered your father?"

Quinn narrowed her eyes at the Auror. "Perhaps you should avoid wasting our time and stick to the questions you don't know the answers to."

Puck gave a dry chuckle; perhaps he may have had a preconceived assumption that Quinn would be nothing more than a dumb Death Eater. But, with just one long look in her eyes, he knew that there was enough intelligence in that blonde head for the both of them.

"Alright," he whispered and leaned forward in his chair. "Why did he attack your mother?"

Quinn let out a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. "Only one person really knew why. Unfortunately, I killed him before I could ask."

"Why do you think he attacked her, then?"

Hazel eyes drifted lazily towards Puck and shrugged. There were several possible reasons why. "Because she wasn't a Death Eater. Because she missed her daughters and resented him for turning them into little monsters created after his own image and then chasing them away. Because she respected and actually cared about people who were different than her, unlike them, and it disgusted him."

"Them?" Puck arched his eyebrow, glancing briefly down at the bandage covering her arm. "You don't consider yourself one? It's strange, all of these reports would say that Voldemort only chose to free the witches and wizards he deemed too . . . valuable. Of the dozens of his followers that were in that prison, you were one of the chosen few."

"Except, I never asked to be broken out of Azkaban in the first place," Quinn hissed at him, sitting forward with blazing eyes. "I deserved to be there. I had no plan to escape."

"But you sure did jump at the chance, didn't you?"

Quinn scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Like you wouldn't? Prison is prison, every convictwishes for freedom, whether they believe they deserve to be there or not. Anyone would take it if it were handed to them on a platter made of shit. But had the opportunity not arose, I guarantee you I would still be sitting in that cell, slowly but surely going insane and I would've welcomed it."

"Then why would he choose you?" Puck sat back, his head tilted in genuine interest. "Why is he going through all of this trouble, sending all of these people after you, chasing you thousands of miles across the world when everyone knows that he has bigger things to worry about?"

"Because I was great at my job," Quinn said frankly and leaned back against the wall. It was a sad truth, but something even the best of them would feel at least a little bit proud of. "I was marked at sixteen and at a time when the Dark Lord was the most powerful and feared being in Europe, and absolutely picky about whom he kept around him, that's a huge honor. I'm an asset and he knows it."

Puck almost smiled. "You sound like you're bragging."

"Maybe," Quinn bit back a smirk and shrugged her shoulders again. "I mean, you asked for the truth, didn't you?"

"I suppose I did," the Auror chuckled and leaned forward to grab Quinn's folder from the bed. He flipped it open and scanned the first couple of pages. "Your father was a Death Eater?"

Quinn nodded. "My grandfather was one of the first."

Puck turned the page over.

"It says Russell aided in the capturing of a number of other Death Eaters; provided some vital information about their whereabouts and their involvement. Information that no one else knew and seemed to have come out of nowhere," he looked up to see Quinn nod her head. "I would figure that you did Voldemort a favor; they'd absolutely love to have you back. You killed a traitor."

"No, I killed the man that tortured my mother," angry hazel eyes snapped to his as she practically growled at him. "Whatever he did in his past just doesn't fucking matter; what does matter is I will never have my mum back because of him. Even if he were my best friend, I would kill him twice if I could."

Puck held up a calming hand and internally chastised himself for speaking carelessly. "Okay, but do they know that? Wouldn't they still want you back on their side if they think you just killed him because he betrayed them?"

"I don't know what they think," she shrugged, the fiery anger in her eyes cooled back down to that look of boredom. "And I'm sure, at first; they wanted me back, but now? Not so much. The Dark Lord doesn't take very kindly to defectors; he'd much rather kill them than work with them."

"So, you're a defector?"'

Quinn arched an eyebrow and gestured at the basement around them. "I'm here, aren't I? Wandless and kept hidden from the outside world, just another prisoner outside of prison. Risking recapture when I could be relatively protected by the Dark Lord."

"Well, you say that," he said, "but why should I believe that you're only here to hide? Why shouldn't I suspect that you're not undercover and merely tricking the Lopezes into honestly thinking that they're helping you when, really, you're doing a favor for Voldermort?"

"Like what?" Quinn rolled her eyes. "The Dark Lord has no business here. You said it yourself: all of his time has been focused on that Potter boy and he has no interest in what's going on in America when he's too busy still trying to take over Europe. What is here is me and I've been intentionally ignoring his calls for over a month. And while that may not seem like much, that is a deadly mistake you would be wise to avoid making."

Puck furrowed his eyebrows. "He . . . calls?"

"The mark, Puckerman," Quinn lifted up her bandaged arm. "It burns when he summons you and he's been summoning the Death Eaters since May of last year. You're demanded to report immediately and, as I have painfully found out, the longer you deny it the more it hurts. Which I'm sure you've noticed."

Puck nodded because he remembered. Absolutely tortured was how he would have described her state last night. "If you don't want the mark then why don't you just get rid of it? Why get it in the first place?"

Quinn leaned her head back against the wall and almost chuckled because she's asked herself those very same questions for seventeen years.

"Had I known when I was a teenager that I could've made it on my own and I didn't need my family's acceptance or respect, I would've never allowed myself to get marked. I would neverhave associated myself with that heartless murderer. And if it were that easy to get rid of it, trust me, I would've done so by now. The only solution that I know will work for sure is to cut off the entire arm," she picked at the bandage and shrugged. "I'm not exactly jumping at the opportunity."

Puck dropped his eyes to his own forearm and decided that he agreed; if he were in Quinn's situation, he'd take the pain over losing his arm any day. However, if it meant that others had to get hurt for him. . .

Puck stared at the Death-Eater-but-not and slowly closed her folder. He reached over to pile the other files on top of hers and fixed her with a scrutinizing look. He had one more question for the night before he decided if he was going to treat her with kindness or hawk-eyed suspicion.

"How did you get here?" he watched Quinn stiffen slightly and almost wanted to smirk. He's finally on to something. "You have reasons for your mark, your crime and your defection which – and I definitely did not expect this – I actually believe, but I just don't understand how you ended up here with the Lopezes. I know you guys didn't know each other before this, in fact, I know that Santana didn't want you staying at all. There had to be a middleman. So, who was it?"

Quinn narrowed her eyes at the slight smug upturn of Puck's lips and didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter. "I grew up with Samuel Evans, one of Brittany's cousins; the relatives she probably doesn't talk about because their families have been estranged for years. They couldn't look after me because of their close personal relationship with Britain's Ministry of Magic, so they asked Brittany and she offered her home."

"And you took it? Just-just like that?" he shook his head, indignation building up in his stomach for his good friends. "Do you realize how much danger you are putting them in?"

"Completely aware, trust me," Quinn assured through her teeth with narrowed eyes. "I'm not daft, Puck."

"Then you should've left a month ago," he exclaimed as if it were obvious. "The Death Eaters followed you here, so you are the one that is putting the entirety of Vertic Alley, fuck, maybe even the whole state of New York or the whole country of the U.S. at risk if you stay here and that psychotic bastard really cares about you as much as you say he does. We don't belongin the middle of this war that's happening in Europe or whatever it is that's going on between you and Voldemort. You're an unnecessary risk for all of us."

Quinn bit her lip as she stared down at her hands and fought against the hot tears building up behind her eyes. Puck's right; they should've left when they had the chance. This past month had been the best month in Quinn's life. She lived in a home where people protected her, took care of her, fed her. And she got to fall asleep and wake up with the woman she loved every single day. She couldn't ask for anything more. Merlin, she didn't even deserve to ask. They were lucky. She wouldn't give it up for anything in the world.

But she should.

"I wanted to leave," she whispered and shook her head, her body deflated. "I had my bags packed and no food, protection, or a place to go, but I did want to leave."

"Then why didn't you?" Puck asked softly, almost exasperated.

Quinn shrugged. It was all so painfully simple. "The Lopezes didn't want me to. Vehemently didn't want me to. But to be fair and honest, I had my bags packed and ready to go, but I didn't really try that hard to leave anyway."

Puck sat there and eyed Quinn carefully. She tried to leave and the Lopezes stopped her? And by the Lopezes, he's pretty sure that meant mostly Brittany. He just didn't understand why.

"Do you regret not leaving?"

Quinn sighed; what a loaded fucking question that was.

"I have been looking at it this way," she began quietly, turning her stubbornly tearing eyes to meet Puck's, "I'm living freely only on borrowed time."

Puck seemed to recoil from the confession. He wasn't expecting that. "What do you mean?"

Quinn closed her eyes, quickly bringing her hand up to wipe away at an escaping tear and hoped that Puck hadn't caught that. She shook her head.

"It'd be foolish of me to think that I'm going to be able to hide forever. In fact, it seems like my time has already run out, hasn't it?" She opened her eyes and looked at Puck, gracing him with a small sad smile and a detached shrug. "I know I'm eventually going to get caught, I just don't know by whom yet. So, it was a choice of either surviving briefly on my own, defenseless and starving, or with a family who, for whatever reason, wants to protect and take care of me. I chose the common answer. It doesn't, however, mean I decided this with a light conscience. It would kill me if Brittany or Marcy or Santana or – " Rachel. Quinn bit her lip and swallowed against the jagged lump in her throat. Rachel. She missed her, Merlin, she missed her so much. She wiped at her eyes again. "Or anyone got hurt because of me. I've definitely had enough of that in my life."

Puck leaned forward slightly in his chair to catch the whispered end of her sentence. He knew regret when he saw it and it was clear in those dull hazel eyes that stared back at him. He toyed with the corner of one of the folders in his lap.

"The Lopezes will have their home searched sometime in the very near future," he informed her almost nonchalantly, taking notice of how she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall.

"I'm sor – "

"Save it," he cut her off, waving away her apologies he had no interest in hearing. "They have a lot of friends in the Ministry. It's a good thing they told us about the Death Eaters that were looking for you when they did because it actually makes them look innocent. So, consider yourself fucking lucky because I'll be damned if I let you fuck up their life."

Quinn opened her mouth to apologize again, but thought against it and just nodded instead.

They sat there in a tense silence for a while before the Auror sighed. Puck still had questions and he definitely still had his doubts, but with a long look at Quinn he decided that that was enough for tonight. He straightened out the folders on his lap and stood up, ignoring how Quinn tensed and curled herself further into the corner. He cleared his throat and glanced up the staircase.

"You sure you're not hungry? A sandwich, some soup?" He sighed when Quinn just brought her knees up to her chest and stared at her feet. "A shower, at least?"

Quinn bit her lip and peeked up at him through her eyelashes.

"A shower would be nice," she whispered, bringing her left arm to her chest and trying to hide the grimace as the cream slowly began to wear off. "Maybe – maybe some soup, too."

Puck held back a smile and nodded at her to follow him. Quinn slowly got off the bed, wincing slightly at the faint bruise on her ribs. Puck led her up the stairs, flicking his wand to surreptitiously lock the doors and windows of his house. Quinn glanced around his home; his kitchen was small and divided from his living room which had a few mismatched armchairs and sofas. His coffee table was chipped and oddly shaped, and the hallway seemed to only branch off into three different rooms, one of which was the bathroom. And even though most of his furniture seemed to be old, worn out, hand-me-downs, his home was surprisingly clean and pleasant smelling. On one of the couches against the wall lay a huge, fluffy black and brown Akita that sprang up and trotted happily over to them, greeting Puck, who quickly bent down to peck a kiss on top of her head, and sniffed curiously at Quinn's legs.

"I didn't know you had a dog," she said quietly, to herself. She was almost afraid to touch it.

"Yeah, that's my roommate," Puck answered her as he peeked through the curtains to make sure everything was still and silent. "She likes to stay outside usually, but it's pretty cold tonight."

Quinn tilted her head; how long had she been asleep?

"What day is it?" she asked softly, patting the dog placidly on the head so she wouldn't jump on her.

"It's only been a little bit more than twenty four hours since I picked you up," Puck said as he glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. He nodded towards the open bathroom and snapped his fingers to grab the attention of his dog. "You can go shower. I'll bring you some clothes and make your soup."

Quinn nodded and mumbled her 'thanks', still clutching her bandaged arm to her chest. Puck scratched absently behind the dog's ears, tossed the folders on his kitchen table and a name caught his eye. He turned to Quinn just before she closed the door.

"Hey," Puck held up a file and flipped it opened to show the mug shot, "did she escape with the rest of you guys?"

Quinn looked at the folder and almost fell. Rachel's picture met her eyes, making the blonde grip the door knob tightly in her hand. She managed to tear her eyes away from the picture and shook her head.

"I never saw her with us."

She closed the door before Puck could ask any more questions. The blonde leaned her forehead against the wood and clenched her eyes closed, her hand gripping at her chest. It's been a whole day; the longest she's gone since seeing Rachel in more than a month and she was sure that her body just couldn't handle the separation. She's always heard about the fabled "love pains" and she always figured it was just that, fables. Stories told to the naïve to make them believe that love was more powerful than it really was. That there could possibly be a bond that was so alive, your heart simply starved and hurt when you weren't with them. It was preposterous, things cheesy romance novels tried to sell. It wasn't supposed to be real.

And if it was then it certainly wasn't supposed to hurt this bad.

She stripped her clothes, turned the shower on with shaking hands, avoided her foggy reflection's eyes, and managed to contain her tears until she was under the near scalding hot spray of water. At first she tried to silence them, but when the harsh whispers of her last dream echoed in her head, she sunk down until she sat on the tub floor and sobbed. Her tears mixed with the water and she hoped her gut-wrenching cries were covered by the sound of the shower or, at the very least, Puck was too busy to hear her.

Rachel's mug shot flashed at her behind closed eyelids and she moaned and whined, trying to gain some control over her completely wrecked emotions.

Santana walked into the bathroom and sat down on the closed toilet lid. She closed her eyes and cursed under her breath; the bites had begun to sting right in the middle of helping her first customer of the day. Brittany took over the shop as she went to tend to her wounds. She just needed to work up the strength to pull away the one thing that's, for the most part even if the spell's dwindling down, keeping the venom from eating away at her innards. The gashes haven't closed yet, but it's slowly getting there; she hoped that she didn't have to do this for much longer. Not that it mattered, of course. This was nothing to her.

She wasn't a fucking pussy.

She took a couple of deep breaths, gripped the edge of the bandage, cursed angrily under her breath, and ripped it off. She brought her fist to her mouth and bit down on the knuckle, trying desperately to restrain her cries of pain. It was nowhere near as painful as when it was fresh, but it still felt like little fiery spikes were flowing through her veins. With her arm hanging uselessly on her lap, she clumsily tried to unscrew the magic repellent cream with one trembling hand. She nearly cried when she dropped the container on the floor and it rolled towards the doorway. The pain began to build as the last remnants of the cream on her arm began to evaporate in the fresh air around her and she hunched over, biting her lip to contain her cries.

Meow.

She glanced over at the door where Rachel sat, her paw on the container and tired, red-tinged eyes staring at her. She watched her change and almost winced for an entirely different reason: this was the first time she had seen Rachel as anything other than a feline for more than a day and the bags under her eyes made her look like she'd been beaten. Silently, the Empath walked forward with the cream jar in her hand and gently pushed Santana to sit up straight. Rachel worked quickly, scooping up a dollop on her two fingers and rubbing it over the gashes, causing the hiss of burning skin and muscle to silence. It left behind a clear film over the wounds and Rachel reached over to grab a tissue to wipe away the blue puss that had begun to creep out of the healing gashes.

Santana sighed at the cool relief and watched as the brunette bandaged her arm robotically, but with the gentle hands of a Healer. Her moves were lethargic and when she looked up into Santana's eyes, she just seemed so tired.

"Is that better?" Rachel whispered, glancing down at the bandages still in her hands, her voice raspy because of lack of use, other than the crying.

Santana just nodded, pulling her sleeve back down. "Thanks."

Rachel's eyes fleetingly met hers before she turned around to put away the medical supplies. She leaned her hands on the sink and closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. Her heart ached worse than anything she's ever felt before and she never thought that that could even be possible, not with what she's had to go through in her life. She just couldn't deal with it anymore.

"I need to see her."

Santana looked up at her and frowned. She sighed and shook her head, dropping her gaze to the floor.

"I don't know, Rachel," she said quietly. "That's incredibly risky."

"I don't – I don't care about the fucking risks," Rachel said, practically snapped, before she closed her eyes and shook her head regretfully. "I'm sorry, that's not – I do care. Of course I do, it's just . . . ," she sighed and hung her head, wiping fruitlessly at her eyes.

When her eyes met Santana's, the wandmaker felt her heart crack at the utter desperation swirling in streaming chocolate orbs.

"I-I need her, please," she whispered so quietly, Santana was depending on her lip reading skills in order to understand her. "She's the only one I have left. I just need to know that-that she's okay."

Santana closed her eyes and brought a hand to her forehead to rub away the headache that was beginning to throb. This shit . . . this shit was just too much. She looked up at the Empath that seemed to be staring directly into her brain.

"Okay," she murmured, resisting the urge to look away from the hopeful smile that was growing on Rachel's lips, "but not tonight."

Any hint of a smile was gone in an instant and Rachel looked as if she had been slapped. Her face seemed to crumple and she closed her eyes, shaking her head.

"Please . . ."

"Rachel, you can't," she said softly and firmly, willing her body to ignore the annoying pangs of sympathy. "I said I would keep you safe. You saved my life, now it's my turn to try and save yours. Letting you go to Puck's is the exact opposite of that. At least for tonight let me scope the place out and if it seems like everything's legit then maybe – "

She sentence dropped off into silence when Rachel morphed and slinked out of the bathroom without even a parting glance, her tail dragging behind her. The Latina stared after the cat and let out a tired breath at the sound of the bedroom door closing. She brought a hand to her forehead and leaned her elbow on her knee.

" – you can see her," she whispered to herself, rubbing at her temples.

Those two were going to be the cause of a slow and annoying death of her.

Puck stared hard at the faces pinned to the wall of his cubicle, more specifically the one of Quinn Fabray. After looking over her folder and talking to her last night, he was almost positive that she had been telling the truth. He could believe that she means well. He wouldn't doubt her sincerity when she claimed to worry about the Lopezs' safety. He could clearly see the regret and pain that she was in, even when she tried so hard to conceal it. He believed her, he truly did.

But she was protecting something.

Something she deemed to be far more important than herself because, otherwise, Puck was sure she wouldn't have even bothered coming here. No, she had to be protecting something and Puck would even wager that it wasn't a matter of what, but a matter of who. Her father was dead, her mother was unresponsive and her sister had been spotted numerous times working with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, it couldn't be any of them. Her only friend worked for the Ministry in Britain so his options had run almost completely thin.

So, maybe it wasn't someone she had a history with.

Puck shifted his eyes to the picture next to Quinn's.

Rachel Berry; the only other convict that was still unaccounted for, at least to common knowledge. It could be her. Both of them were currently missing. Both had disappeared the same day and, sure, the escapees who have already been recaptured said that they didn't see her with them on that night, but it doesn't mean that she wasn't there. Besides, he saw how Quinn reacted when he mentioned her. That look on her face . . . there was something there. It was small, but it was definitely there. In a weird turn of events, it really could be Rachel.

Of course, then again, it just wouldn't make sense.

Why would Quinn go through all of this trouble to protect Rachel? Their paths never seemed to have crossed before. They weren't the same age, they didn't go to the same school, and their families were most likely enemies. Rachel wasn't even a Death Eater and, for all intents and purposes, probably hated every single one of them and with great, justified reason. She was also arrested in 1984 right after completing her studies at Hogwarts, four years before the murder of Russell Fabray, so for Rachel to be the one that Quinn was protecting would be a huge stretch at best.

Maybe Rachel didn't even escape with them. Or she did, but took the first chance that she could get to break away from the rest of the pack without being noticed and was hiding somewhere on the other side of the world. And maybe Quinn was really just protecting herself or maybe even the animals – Puck made a mental note to ask Quinn about them later – that she brought with her from Britain. Maybe he's reaching a little too far for the answers.

But that look . . .

The double doors to the department opened and one of his colleagues strolled lazily through, putting on his robe as he walked. Puck quickly stood up from his seat and leaned his arms across the top of his cubicle wall.

"Hey, Joe," he called to the wizard with the long dreadlocks and twinkling blue eyes. Joe Hart turned to him and walked over with a nod and a grin.

"What's up, Puckerman?" he asked as he held out his hand in a friendly greeting and Puck grabbed it in a firm shake.

"Are you going to the Lopez's right now?"

Joe rolled his eyes; he didn't really understand the point in going to the Lopezes in the first place. Paranoia was what it boiled down to, he was sure. "Yeah, I was just going to meet Karofsky in the lobby."

"Great, you think I can tag along with you guys?" Puck asked, hiding his devious smirk by turning his head to cruise one of the female Aurors that walked by them. "It's Marcy's birthday in a few days, I want to see what she'd want."

Joe grinned because he knew how much of a softy Puck was when it came to little Marcy Lopez. He let out a small chuckle and waved him along. "Come on then."

Puck grinned like an excited child, but tried to hide it by picking up his robe because, even though he was using her as a way to manipulate his coworkers, he really did love that kid to death. He followed Joe out of the department, leaving a note on his desk to inform whoever needed him of his whereabouts.

When they got to the elevator he began to feel nervous, hoping to Merlin that the Lopezes had the foresight to prepare for their arrival.

Brittany hummed as she directed the duster with her wand. Her smile continuously grew as she watched it dance over her books and charms and joined it with a little sway of her hips. She directed the duster to the round table and let it sweep the top of Bamboo's head.

"Hel-lo to Bam-boo, so glad to see yo –" she paused her singing to stare hard into the plastic eyes of the teddy bear, a frown quickly overtaking the happy smile. Then her eyes widened and she spun on her heel to rush up the stairs, the duster falling lifelessly to the floor.

Santana and the customer that she was helping watched her wife run up to their home in confusion. The balding wizard turned to the wandmaker with an arched eyebrow. "Is everything okay?"

Santana turned to him with a smile, strained when she caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall, and nodded.

"She must've forgotten something."

Brittany hurried through the hallway, giving a reassuring smile to Marcy who was watching television in the living room. She didn't stop to knock on Rachel and Quinn's door and burst into their room almost out of breath. Rachel looked up at her from beneath the sheets of the bed with a startled meow and Brittany didn't even stop to explain. She walked up to the bed and scooped the cat up securely in her arms. She stepped away from the bed and, with a wave of her wand, it took itself apart and arranged itself neatly in their walk I closet. In its place appeared an enormous cat bed with a blanket lying rumpled on the cushions, little brown and tan furs clinging to the fabric. The dresser was next as it shrunk and separated into three metal bowls: a gigantic one filled half way with water, a slightly smaller bowl dented and fit for a lion, and a tiny one for Rachel. Brittany stepped back and gave the room a once over before nodding in satisfaction and turning to walk to the stairs.

"Marcy, baby," she called to her daughter who paused her movie and sat up on her knees in attention. "Come say hi to Uncle Puck."

The little girl shot up from the floor like a rocket and took off down the stairs with Brittany and Rachel trailing behind her, the small cat tensing in the witch's arms. Puck was back again? She was tired of that man always being here. The front door to the store opened when they made it down stairs and in walked the three Aurors. Marcy let out a little squeal and rushed into the waiting arms of the mohawked wizard.

"There's my girl," he cooed softly as he picked her up and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Hi, Uncle Puck!" she returned the kiss with a big muah and smiled brightly. "Guess what Thursday is."

Puck pretended to think and hummed with a shake of his head. "My birthday?"

"Noooo," she giggled, ruffling the strip of hair on his head. "My birthday."

"Oh, that's right," he chuckled and walked them over to Brittany and Rachel. "Well, tell me what you want."

"A broom!" she told him with sparkling hopeful eyes. "Like the one Mama has!"

Puck raised his eyebrows in surprise and Santana rolled her eyes behind them.

"Marcy," she scolded as she shook hands with Joe and Karofsky, "what did we say?"

Marcy turned her head and pouted. "Not until I'm older."

"I thought you wanted a doggie," Puck said with small frown. "Like the one I got."

"You get her another pet, Puck, and I'm going to shove your wand up your ass sideways," Santana grumbled, making the other two Aurors chuckle before talking quietly with the wandmaker.

Puck smirked and set her down on the floor, pausing for a moment to whisper into her ear.

"A broom it is."

Marcy bit her lip and hugged his legs tightly, mumbling a succession of 'thank you's into his stomach. Puck placed a hand on her head and ruffled her hair like a puppy before turning to her mother. "Don't tell Santana."

Brittany smiled at him and shook her head. "I will not defend you when she finds out."

"Fair enough," he shrugged and dropped his eyes to the cat in Brittany's arms, sighing when the feline seemed to shrink away from him. They turned to watch the interaction between Santana and the Aurors. "How're the animals?"

Brittany didn't say anything for a while, peeking at Puck in her peripherals. She bit her lip to keep the truth from tumbling out of her mouth without her permission and distracted herself by waving jovially at the two other wizards when they looked over. She spoke in a quiet whisper out of the corner of her mouth.

"The lion's gone."

Rachel closed her eyes and buried her face into Brittany's arms, and Puck turned to her, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Gone? But what about, you know," he glanced over at his colleagues that were closing up the shop, "Won't she be upset that you just got rid of one of her pets?"

Brittany's lip curled in a secret sort of smile. "There was no getting rid of; the lion will be back. We simply needed to send her somewhere else for the time being. I'm sure she'llunderstand, the lion can take care of herself," she said confidently, with a firm nod of her head. She lifted Rachel up and turned her to face Puck, ignoring the protesting meow. "As long as this one remains unharmed, she'll be happy."

She let Rachel curl back into her chest as she greeted the other Aurors. Puck dropped his eyes to the cat that peeked at him from under Brittany's arm, those brown eyes fleeting away from his when they made contact. Maybe he could allow Quinn to keep her cat while he investigated her. It may put her at ease. There's no harm in that.

He could handle a simple cat.

"So, if you could just hand us your wands, we'll take a little tour around the place. This shouldn't take more than ten minutes," Dave Karofsky said as he ruffled Marcy's hair making her giggle. Santana and Brittany handed over their wands as per procedure and allowed the Aurors freedom to check the store before they took them up to their home. Once Karofsky made his way to the basement where they kept their storage and Joe went to check the office/Santana's work room, Marcy was sent back upstairs to finish her movie while the three of them huddled together to speak in hushed tones.

"How is everything?" Santana asked and stared into Puck's eyes. When he opened his mouth, she cut him off with a wave of her hand. "And don't try to pull that 'I know only rumors' shit, okay? You had all night to get your answers."

"Can we not talk about this, now?" he hissed as Joe came out of the office, whistling a nameless tune and wandering the wand stacks behind the counter.

Santana sighed and crossed her arms, turning to watch Joe, "I'm coming over tonight."

Puck hummed to show that he heard her and nodded at Karofsky who was walking leisurely up the stairs. "Find anything down there?"

"There ain't shit down there, bro, but a maze of boxes. I almost got lost and suffocated in the cloud of dust that got kicked up," he brushed off his robes and stood with the group. Dave looked over at Joe who was engrossed in a book from Brittany's side of the store and sighed. "Hart!"

Joe almost dropped the book and turned his head in a daze. "Huh?"

The other Auror rolled his eyes. "You done?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah," then he held up the book in his hands with a smile directed toward Brittany. "I'm going to buy this. I need this in my life."

Brittany beamed and placed Rachel in her wife's hands before skipping to the Auror and grabbing the book from him. "I'll write this up while Santana shows you guys our home."

Joe said his thanks and walked over to where the others were waiting for him, chuckling quietly to himself at the very uncomfortable way Santana was cradling the small cat. The wandmaker led the men up the stairs, letting Brittany's faint humming soothe her as she thought frantically about any possible giveaway to Quinn and Rachel's stay here that they might've forgotten. The last thing they needed were two moreAurors in their business.

Rachel squirmed out of Santana's arms when they reached the top landing and scampered towards her bedroom. Marcy crawled after her, leaving Santana to turn the television off. The wandmaker scratched the back of her neck and looked between the three wizards.

"So . . . is there, like, a proper way to do this or whatever?"

Karofsky shrugged. "In situations like this, we'd have you show us around and we'd perform some spells, but we'll probably just peek into the bedrooms since we've been here before. And then we'll be finished with enough time to go take a long lunch for Happy Hour in one of those Muggle places," he turned to a smirking Joe and they high fived each other.

Santana rolled her eyes and led the group of wizards to the long hallway, taking them all the way down to her and Brittany's bedroom first. Dave and Joe walked in while Puck and Santana talked quietly amongst themselves, joined a little later by Brittany who had a gift wrapped book in her hands. After they deemed the room to be clear of fugitives, Santana took them to the beginning of the hallway to Marcy's bedroom which the Aurors didn't even bother going into. Looking into the light baby blue room, filled nearly to the brim with animal posters and stuffed toys, there was no way the Lopezes would hide anything remotely dangerous where their daughter sleeps.

Which left only one room.

"Okay, hold on a second," Karofsky stopped them just before they entered Rachel and Quinn's room. He glanced hesitantly at the door. He knew the Lopezes would not be stupid and leave a large predator to roam their hallways at night, no matter how well trained it seemed (it wasn't too fond of Santana, either). They had to give it a bedroom and Karofsky wished that they could just look at the door and be done with their half assed search. "I understand that you got some new, uh, pets. Is the lion restrained or do we need protection or something?"

Brittany patted him on the shoulder with a soothing smile. "Your fear is amusing, but the lion was sent somewhere else for the time being. What lies behind this door is merely a small cat that is more scared of you than you are of her."

She didn't give them a chance to respond or turn away as she pushed open the door and they all paused in the doorway to observe Marcy lying on the circular pillow and whispering to an intently listening cat. When Rachel caught a glimpse of them, she immediately stiffened and burrowed under the blanket that was covering their bodies. Marcy seemed a little startled by Rachel's sudden movement and looked up at the four intruders. She waved at them briefly before joining the cat under the covers and continuing their muffled conversation.

Brittany tipped into Santana's side and cooed at their adorable daughter as the two Aurors cautiously crept into room despite the assurance of safety from Brittany. There wasn't much to look at, except the dismantled bed in the closet. Puck leaned against doorway as Joe and Dave tried to peek around the furniture for any sort of clues. He knew that bed, made to look unused, was Quinn's and that if these Aurors were to have done their job and casted some sort of disenchanting spell, they would know that this room was exactly the evidence they were sent to find.

He was almost annoyed with their lazy incompetence.

It didn't take long for the Aurors to become bored with their search and deem their job finished. It was with a quick, grinning goodbye that the two Aurors gave them back their wands apparated away with a couple of soft pops, leaving Puck by his lonesome as the two witches stared at him expectedly. The tense silence was gratefully cut when Marcy informed Rachel that "I think being a Chaser would be pretty cool, even though my Mama was the bestest Seeker in the whole wide world."

The focus immediately shifted to a smug and smirking Santana, who shrugged her shoulders as if to say "you're fucking right, I am." Brittany shot a toothy grin at her wife and kissed her on the cheek while Puck just rolled his eyes. He motioned his head towards the living room and the two witches nodded before turning to their daughter.

"Baby girl," Santana called, winking at the little witch when she poked her head out of the covers. "We'll be in the other room talking. Be good for B."

Santana let her eyes linger on the cat's that peeked at her from the pillow before she led the other two back to the living room. She knew Rachel and Marcy were going to eavesdrop, but she'd let them because they deserved the answers as well. Puck took a seat in his favorite armchair while Santana and Brittany cuddled on the sofa next to him, their eyes falling on him expectantly.

"I have to reopen the shop in ten minutes, so this needs to be quick," Santana said, laying her head on her wife's shoulder and waving at him to talk like he were a jester in her castle. Puck sighed and kicked his feet on top of the coffee table.

"So far, your girl checks out," he informed them quietly, restraining the reflexive smile at Brittany's squeal of excitement. Santana almost smirked.

"So, she's not evil?"

"She's a guilt ridden burden, is what she is," Puck rolled his eyes. "But, no, she doesn't seem very evil. At the moment."

"Then it won't be long before – "

"She's still a murderer, though," he interrupted Brittany, his eyes stern and unwavering. "She's still a Death Eater and she still has a history of crimes that she hasn't accounted for. I still have questions. She's not off the hook."

Brittany frowned while Santana nodded in understanding. She knew it wasn't going to be that easy to clear Quinn's name, if it were even possible. Merlin, sometimes she forgot why she's trying in the first place.

"So, then you must have a question for us," she stated. "Spill."

Puck cut his eyes to Brittany, who stared back at him unfazed and calm like she had expected him to turn to her. "Quinn said your relatives sent her here."

"Just Sammy," Brittany told him, always happy to talk about her dear cousin. "He's the awesomest."

Puck arched an eyebrow. Brittany had a big family and half of them still lived in Europe, so there were many suspects. He's even gone to a couple of their family reunions, but she had so many cousins and he was so wasted every time, he couldn't remember a Sammy if his life depended on it.

"You won't know him," Santana said, watching his face with a slight amused upturn of her lips. "The Evanses are assholes."

Brittany nudged her wife roughly with an indignant roll of her eyes. "Sammy isn't like any other Evans. He's an Auror now; they probably don't want anything to do with him. I even hear he's in a super secret club that's about phoenixes, too. He's totally trustworthy, Puck, I promise."

Puck stayed quiet for a moment as he let the information roll over in his brain. He could put the pieces together in his head easily; Quinn and Sam were set, probably against their will, to be the next generation of Death Eaters in their family's bloodlines. When Quinn was caught and jailed, Sam could've turned away from the family business. Once again, it came down to trusting Brittany's word and Puck knew that he couldn't keep doing things this way if the result could end up re-releasing a dangerous and known murderer into the world.

He'd need more information.

"I've gotta get back to work," he stood up and straightened out his robe, glancing at his watch before looking at Santana. "What time are you coming over tonight?"

"After dinner," Santana answered as she and Brittany stood up to walk Puck out. "I gotta make sure you're keeping your end of your deal." She glanced behind her shoulder before walking down the stairs at the hallway where she knew Marcy and Rachel were eavesdropping.

She knew she'd have to sneak away if she wanted to make sure Rachel wouldn't try to hitch a ride to Puck's.

Quinn was in a state of bliss.

Her mark had begun to burn while Puck was at work and by the time he returned she was a quivering, sweating mess on her cot. To Puck's credit, he acted quickly, conjuring up the necessary medical supplies to re-bandage her mark and lathered her arm in a numbing paste before practically freezing her with a more than efficient cooling charm. Then he gave her an electric blue potion that tasted sweet like juice and her body and mind were buzzing with a tingly sort of euphoria that made her forget that she had an arm, let alone a body to begin with. The Dark Lord's burning call wasn't even a memory for her as she leaned comfortably against the wall on her cot. Puck's gorgeous Akita, Mila, was lying next to her, keeping the left side of her body warm as her fingers unconsciously sifted through her soft fur. Next to them, sitting on the floor, was Puck crumbling a blue herb that stuck to his fingers on a thin cigarette paper.

"Is that – is that marijuana?" she asked. "For calming potions?"

Puck chuckled and nodded his head. "It's a drug to muggles, you know. Fucking illegal. I'm surprised they even know what this shit is."

Quinn blinked. "It's blue."

"I made a few changes to it," he licked the joint closed with a smirk. "It's not very common for us to smoke it when we can make much better shit, right, but it's really a magnificent plant. Those crafty bastards will make you an entire three course meal with it and having you feeling great."

"What did you do to it?" She's never smoked marijuana, she's never even considered it. But she's had her fair share of Calming Draughts that she could get the general lazy idea of how it must feel for a muggle. However, she's only seen green marijuana.

"I just tweaked it a little bit. It's marijuana without any of the unwanted side effects. You know, sleepiness, laziness, coughing insatiable hunger – things like that," Puck pulled out his wand and lit the tip, letting a curl of bright blue smoke escape his lips before inhaling it all into his lungs. He exhaled and it smelled like . . . like blueberry taffy. Definitely not like the plant they used in potion making. The Auror almost laughed at Quinn's captivated stare. "You, uh, you really won't be able to understand unless you try it."

Quinn eyed the joint being offered to her warily. "Really?"

"Sure," Puck shrugged. "It'll help with conversation."

The blonde glanced at Puck before picking it up between her thumb and forefinger. She inhaled and expected a sort of burn in her throat, but it went in as smooth as air. The exhale felt the same and she watched as the thick smoke flew away like ghostly dragons. She passed it back with a small smile.

"You made it taste like candy."

Puck laughed and nodded his head as he stuck the joint in his mouth and picked up Quinn's folder from the Ministry. "Yes, you have to keep people coming back for more."

"I see," Quinn closed her eyes as an immediate fuzzy, floaty but all around calm feeling fell over her. She had no idea she could get such an effect merely by smoking the marijuana. Why were they wasting their time brewing it in potions? "So . . . you sell drugs?"

"I've created drugs," Puck boasted as he took another hit. "But, no, I don't sell anymore."

"Because of your job?"

"Because it's a shitty lifestyle."

Quinn gave a short hum and glanced over at him in her peripherals. "I can understand that."

Puck chuckled and shook his head, offering the joint again. "You know, I've been reading up on you."

"I should hope so," Quinn whispered with a roll of her eyes. Why else would she be here, anyway?

"And you're quite the enigma," he said, ignoring Quinn's quip. "You seemed to have disappeared for seven years after Voldemort's fall before your capture in '88. No one was even sure that you were a real Death Eater until you killed your father."

"Everyone knew," Quinn corrected him quietly, passing back the joint.

"But no one had the proof or any real reason to accuse you; the quiet, proper citizen and first witch to ever finish at the top of her class at Durmstrang," Puck replied, idly flipping through her folder. "I guess there's no hiding anything once you kill a member of the Ministry of Magic. You outed the whole family, really; you, your father, even your sister."

"My sister," Quinn breathed out, leaned her head against the wall and stared at the ceiling. In her mind flashed a quick, faint picture of the gorgeous blonde with the cold blue eyes, their Daddy's eyes, and sinister Fabray smirk. "Right."

Puck slowly let the smoke out of his mouth. "You forget you have a sister?"

"I wish I could," Quinn shrugged and rejected the joint being offered to her. "We never got along."

"Do you know where she is?"

"I haven't spoken to her in twelve years," the Death Eater drawled. "She could be dead, really."

Puck took his time as he stubbed out the half joint on the concrete floor. He knew for a fact that Francine Fabray wasn't dead; she had been spotted working with numerous Death Eaters over the years and had quite the hefty bounty on her head which was nowhere near as high as Quinn's, but enough to keep her in hiding. The disdain that dripped off of Quinn's words was something he'd file away for another time. He cleared his throat and flipped another page in her folder.

"What were you doing during the years between the time of Voldemort's fall and your capture?" He changed the subject and watched as Quinn's lips lifted in relief. The last person Quinn wanted to talk about was Frannie.

"I lived with Sam at his parent's house."

Puck arched an eyebrow. "With – with his parents?"

"Oh, Merlin, no," Quinn chuckled and shook her head as if that were a truly ridiculous thought. If there was a white sheep in a family of black ones it was Sam Evans. "Sam's parents wanted nothing more to do with him after he refused to get marked and they were definitely not very fond of me when I told them to go fuck themselves. But they were killed in the first war, so Sam got the house. I wasn't too keen on living with my family at the time, so I moved in with him. We both had a good bit of money to our name and we were able to live comfortably without having to do much."

"I see," the Auror began to smirk and wiggled his eyebrows. "So, you and Sam Evans are - what? Boyfriend and girlfriend ? Married?"

Quinn didn't answer right away and averted her eyes, wishing there were a window so that she'd at least have something to look at. It was literally them against the world for almost a decade and it was the darkest, loneliest, most uncertain time of their lives. There were many days where Quinn was just so miserable she could hardly bring herself to get out of bed. Finally, Quinn shook her head and turned her eyes towards Puck.

"No, we're – I mean, we tried. It's what was planned for us, what our parents wanted even before we were born, so we tried for them. But there wasn't – he's like my brother. It would've never worked out between us," she whispered, fidgeting with her fingers.

"What did you guys do for seven years then? You certainly kept out of the public eye."

"We did nothing," she told him calmly, letting the faint nostalgic feelings of ultimate lethargy crawl through her as she remembered the endless days she and Sam were forced to spend alone together with nothing but a library of books as their entertainment. Entertainment they had breezed through several times each. "Literally nothing because we couldn't do anything with the Ministry keeping a close eye on us and the Death Eaters searching for us. We were just tired of everything. It was . . . a difficult time." She let her voice drop and her eyes focused in on the fingers lying still in her lap. "I'm surprised I even survived it."

Puck stared. "Why?"

Quinn's dull golden orbs turned slowly upon him. "I was a very miserable girl, Puckerman."

Puck frowned and let the implication of those words wash over them. If anything it helped Quinn's case a little; at least he knew she wasn't running around with the other Death Eaters during that time. He closed the folder and leaned back against the stone wall.

"For someone who is wanted for murder and escaping prison with some of the most dangerous witches and wizards in Britain, you really don't seem very miserable."

Quinn almost smirked. "You've drugged me."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Before that."

"You didn't know me before that," the Death Eater scoffed. "You had me arrested and medicated within the first hour of discovering me."

"So, I'm wrong? You were absolutely miserable even before I showed up?"

Quinn narrowed her eyes at him. They both knew he wasn't wrong and she wanted to hate him for that because Puck didn't know her. But in the past month and a half that she'd been free, he's right, she's never been happier.

However, that had nothing to do with being a Death Eater.

"No, you're not wrong," she almost sneered at his smug face. "But you learn very quickly that you've never been truly miserable until you've existed in a place like Azkaban."

Touché.

Puck nodded his head in agreement; he didn't know what it was like to be in Azkaban and he's grateful. He's had the misfortune of being in the company of Dementors before and the thought of having to live with them everyday chilled his bones. He lit the joint again, ready to admit his defeat in this.

"How is it at the Lopezes then?"

"It's . . . fine," Quinn answered carefully as she stroked the fur on the back of Mila's neck. "Santana was very hostile at first, still is really, but Brittany and Marcy are more than friendly enough for it not to really bother."

Puck hummed, bringing his hand forward to pat his dog's nose fondly. "How'd you convince them to let you keep your pets?"

"What?" Quinn asked confused before she could stop herself.

"The lion and the cat," Puck elaborated with an arched eyebrow. "I assume they're yours?"

"Oh," the blonde breathed out, keeping her eyes on the Akita and the smirk off of her face. "Yes. It wasn't hard to convince Brittany."

Puck chuckled because he could believe that; he remembered the unicorns quite clearly. And the foxes. And the bear cubs. And the wolves. Brittany's the reason no one even thought twice about the Lopezes new pet lion.

"Was Sam taking care of them while you were in Azkaban?"

Quinn let the question hang for a moment; this had the potential to be very harmful to her and Rachel if Puck were to ever figure out the truth, but the last thing she wanted to do was to make Puck any more suspicious than he already was. She just nodded instead. "The lion's an old thing, about ten years or so. Sam was around when she was new. She's very close to my heart."

Puck hummed. "And the cat?"

"The cat's a . . . recent acquisition," Quinn answered, closing her eyes and visualizing the brunette beauty that she's missed so fiercely. "She found me around the time of my escape and she was skin and bones at first. She's the most important thing in my life right now."

"Really? Even more important than the lion?"

"Yes," Quinn answered firmly and without hesitation. "More important than anything."

Puck stared at the Death Eater that avoided his eyes.

"You'd die for that cat?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Quinn smiled. Why not? "Because she saved me."

A succession of loud knocks interrupted them and Mila bounded off the bed and up the stairs, barking joyously for more company. Puck stubbed out the joint on the floor again and stood up, stretching out his back. He glanced curiously at the witch who looked up at ceiling of the basement; not many people would die for a stray cat.

There's more to it, there had to be.

"That's just Santana," he told her and turned to walk up the stairs. "She's here to check on you."

He exited the basement and walked leisurely over to his front door, nudging Mila gently away from where she was sniffing at the crack under the heavy wood. He opened the door and smirked at Santana's impatient face.

"Sorry," he chuckled and stepped aside for her to enter. "I was entertaining my guest."

"I doubt that," Santana scoffed and brushed past him, scratching Mila behind her ears and making her way towards the basement. "She still in her chains?"

"No chains," Puck corrected her with a wave of his hand. "I've been treating her well. She's down there."

Santana hummed and descended the stairs, slowing to a stop at the glassy hazel eyes that stared at her. She crossed her arms and took a big whiff, rolling her eyes at the distinct smell still in the air. She turned to Puck.

"So, first you give her a hallucinogen and then you get her high?" Santana scowled. "Remind me to never let Marcy sleep over here."

Puck scoffed and Quinn quirked an eyebrow. "A hallucinogen?"

"Wha – she told me to give it to you in the first place," Puck defended himself, pointing an accusatory finger at Santana. The wandmaker rolled her eyes.

"Your maturity is glaring, Puckerman," she drawled.

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "And just exactly how many drugs have you given me since I've been here?"

"Just three," Puck grumbled making the Death Eater glare at him. Santana smirked.

"You should be happy," she told her, "he's giving you a temporary home and free drugs. At a different age I would've been very jealous."

Quinn gave her a dry grin. "Well, if you want, we can switch spots."

The wandmaker chuckled and turned to Puck. "Go make us some tea or something."

Puck narrowed his eyes at her because he knew that she just wanted him to give them some privacy. But with the imminent danger of the situation on his mind, privacy could mean deception. Whatever they had to say to each other, they could say in front of him, right?

"Puck," Santana said firmly, "I'm here to see if you're treating her right and I can't do that with you breathing down our necks. Trust me and give us five fucking minutes, please."

Puck sighed and shook his head. "Growing a soft spot for the criminal, Santana?"

"She's still here so it's safe to assume that you have as well."

"Whatever," the Auror grumbled and made is way up the stairs, Mila following obediently behind him. "Five minutes."

They two witches waited until he was gone and even then he left the door cracked open. Santana crossed her arms and ran her eyes over Quinn, looking for any evidence of abuse.

"How's it going?" she asked quietly, leaning against the wall. Quinn just shrugged with her eyes droopy and calm. "A little stoned?"

Quinn chuckled. "Something like that."

There was a moment of tense silence as Quinn stared at her hands and Santana picked at her nails. It was only a matter of seconds before the Death Eater could no longer hold in the burning question.

"How is she?" Quinn whispered, all too aware that Puck was just in the kitchen. Santana pursed her lips, scrambling the words in her head so she wouldn't reveal too much information to their potentially eavesdropping host.

"She's . . . alive," she answered, looking away from Quinn's sharp stare. "These past couple of days have been hard on her."

Quinn frowned and closed her eyes. She didn't want Rachel to hurt, that's exactly what she's dedicated her life to prevent. She just wanted to hold her. Tell her that she's fine and that she'll see her again somehow.

She had to see her again.

"Look," Santana said, glancing up the stairs to make sure Puck wasn't hanging by the door, but he could hear him talking to Mila in the kitchen and the clanging of pans. Even so, she lowered her voice. "I can bring her here –"

"No."

Santana furrowed her eyebrows, taken aback by the abrupt response. "It's not like she'll be – she's still a cat – "

"She doesn't come here," Quinn said firmly, her eyes popping open in a fierce blaze of gold. "Don't let her come anywhere near here."

Santana stared at the blonde, surprised and not willing to show it. She hummed.

"She's not going to like that."

Quinn shook her head and looked away. "She's not safe here."

Santana scoffed. "She's not safe anywhere."

The blonde growled and glared at Santana. "She's safe with me."

"No, she's not," the wandmaker said, standing up straight. "She's a witch wanted for murder that ran off with a Death Eater. She'll never be safe."

"But she's free," Quinn whispered desperately, leaning her head sideways against the wall. "You have no idea what a true nightmare Azkaban was. We were dying there. And if we're caught . . . Merlin, we'll be worse than dead. I got her into this. I can't - I won't allow Rachel to get recaptured. I promised I wouldn't let her get hurt, so if that means keeping her away from-from me while I'm here, then-then so be it."

Santana watched as the tears leaked down Quinn's cheeks and winced at her cracking voice. She looked down at her feet. "You're still free, too, you know."

The blonde gave a dry laugh and shook her head, the tears flying off her face to stain the thin mattress. "I'm guilty, Santana. We both know it, Puck knows it, the whole of Britain knows it as well. My many bad decisions won't be wiped away by my one good one. You said it yourself, I'm tattooed with a sign of evil. It will always be there. Even if the war ends and the Ministry gets a change of heart, I'd probably still be taken back to Azkaban to finish serving my life sentence. Rachel . . . ," she closed her eyes as the name tumbled off of her tongue, "She could stay free. Sh-she didn't belong there in the first place and people know that. She's so-so innocent."

Santana frowned.

"But she's not innocent."

Quinn wiped weakly at her eyes and sighed. In her mind, Rachel will always be innocent. No one would ever be able to tell her any different. She knew what evil was and Rachel couldn't be evil.

"Please, don't bring her," she whispered. "I'll-I'll find my way back to her somehow, but she doesn't need to be here."

Santana pursed her lips. She was so sick and tired of Rachel walking around with her sad little cat eyes and her tail dragging along the floor. The only thing that would make her remotely happy would be if she could just see this stubborn ass blonde. She huffed out an annoyed breath and rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she went back to picking her nails. "Break her heart, what do I care?"

"Fuck off," Quinn mumbled with a sniff, but almost wanted to smile. Santana was really starting to care for Rachel and doing a very poor job at hiding it. She wiped at her eyes and glanced at the wandmaker leaning heavily against the concrete wall. "You'll take care of her if I don't get out of this, won't you?"

Santana glared at Quinn and shrugged. "She saved my arm so, whatever, I guess."

This time, Quinn let the small smile emerge.

"Thanks," she whispered and Santana gave the tiniest of nods. She cleared her throat and sat up a little more on her cot. "Puck said a couple of Aurors went to your house?"

"Yeah, thanks for that," Santana spat.

Quinn winced. "Sorry – "

"No, it's – ," the wandmaker shook her head and sighed. "It's fine; it wasn't all your fault anyway. A couple of Death Eaters were caught in the woods outside of the Alley shortly after Puck took you in."

Quinn stiffened. "What happened?"

"Well, they're searching for you, obviously. They know you're in the area."

Quinn fell back against the wall with a small groan and shook her head. "So, what does that mean?"

Santana shrugged. "The Aurors checked the house and found nothing that proves that you guys live here, so we're fine for now. Vertic Alley will probably just turn into an Auror cesspool until the Death Eater's give up, I guess."

"They'll never give up," Quinn whispered sorrowfully. She didn't want to think about what that ultimately meant.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Well, when Voldemort fucking dies then you'll live your life peacefully in hiding with your little dwarf like the fugitives you are. Until then, just be grateful you have people willing to watch over your stupid asses."

"Yeah, I guess." Quinn scoffed softly and gave Santana a small, amused grin. "Thanks."

"You're lucky Brittany likes you," the wandmaker said, pushing off the wall and walking towards the stairs.

"Yeah, Brittany, I'm sure," the blonde teased, her eyes shining with a small amount of mirth.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Santana mumbled. "I fucking hate you guys."

Quinn just laughed and slid down to lie comfortably on her cot. "I hate you too, bitch."

Santana chuckled and took a couple of steps up the staircase. She paused and turned back around to look at the witch who had her eyes closed.

"You gonna come up?"

"You've exhausted me," Quinn answered with a smirk.

"I've exhausted a lot of girls," she quipped as Quinn snorted and shook her head. The wandmaker ascended the stairs with another chuckle. "I'll be back. Behave yourself."

A noncommittal hum was her only response as she left the door cracked open. She turned into the kitchen to find Puck pouring out some dog food for Mila and a couple of glasses of whiskey waited for them on the table. The aroma of gumbo wafted from the pot on the stove.

"That's smells good."

Puck looked up at her as he ran his fingers through the Akita's fur. "None for you."

"Brittany's a better cook anyway," Santana said as she sat down at the table and took a sip from the glass in front of her. She reached over to slide Quinn's folder in front of her and idly flipped it open, eyeing the names on the rest of the folders in her peripherals. "So, what do you think of her?"

"Uh, Brittany's pretty hot, I guess."

Santana kicked the chair across from her so that it skidded on the floor and hit Puck in his calves. "She's very hot. Stop looking at my wife."

Puck laughed and took a seat, taking a generous sip from his own cup. He cleared his throat and nodded at the folder in front of the wandmaker. "What do you think of her? You live with her."

Santana bid her time, gulping back the bitter whiskey. There are a lot of things she thought about Quinn. She winced as the liquid burned her throat.

"I think she couldn't care less about her own wellbeing," she answered casually as she swirled the ice in her glass.

"I don't believe that."

"No?"

"If she didn't care about her wellbeing then she wouldn't be here in the first place."

"True," Santana arched her eyebrow, "but she's not just traveling by herself, is she?"

Puck looked incredulous. "All this for a lion and a kitty cat?"

"Why not? What else does she have?" The wandmaker watched as Puck frowned. "It would be different for us. I have a wife and a daughter and, shit, you have friends and a mom. Quinn doesn't really have a family. She hardly even has friends and the only one she has had to send her here. If you were in her place and all you had was Mila, and you hated yourself as much as she probably hates herself, who the fuck would matter more to you? You or your dog?"

"That's not – " Puck huffed and shook his head. "There's ways around that. She could leave them with you guys and – "

"Please," Santana barked out a laugh. "Unless she gets taken back to prison or dies, the only person she ultimately trusts to take care of them is herself."

Puck sighed in frustration, but before he could respond, there was a small brush against his leg. Lying down by his feet was Mila, her mouth opened wide in a yawn. He felt himself deflate as he realized that, if it were between him and Mila, he'd choose her every time. He snatched his glass up and took a generous gulp, shaking his head again.

"I don't know what to do with this witch, San," he admitted in a whisper, dropping his hand to rake through the Akita's fur. "In regards to her crimes and her past associations with Voldemort, she's guilty and that's ultimately what it all boils down to. It's my job –"

"Oh, stop with that Auror superiority complex, Puckerman," Santana snapped with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You lost your right to use your duties as an Auror as an excuse when you decided to take her in. So now, unfortunately, you'll have you revert back to your old, pussy chasing, drug dealing ways."

Puck glared at her. "Bitch. You gonna let me talk?"

"Sorry. Go on." Santana held her hands up and sat back in her seat. Puck rolled his eyes.

"I'm just doing this to protect you guys, you know," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "I don't think she's dangerous – or, really, I don't think she wants to harm any of us. The pussy chasing, drug dealing me believes that this is a matter that shouldn't be solved using the black and white laws of the Ministry of Magic. But I can't just . . . Merlin, she's being followed by a group of murderers, Santana. Sure, they haven't hurt anybody, yet, but they will if they want to. I can't just send her back to you guys so that the Death Eaters go to your house instead to get her."

Santana shrugged. "I can take them."

"That doesn't matter," he told her. "Unfortunately, Santana, you can't go back to your pussy chasing, drug dealing ways. You lost that right when you married Brittany and had Marcy. Quinn is an unnecessary risk and none of you need to be involved with this."

"But we are involved in this," the wandmaker retorted. "Your valiant efforts are a little too late."

"Except no one knows that you guys are involved in this, right? Quinn's a very smart and powerful witch. As far anyone, including those fucking Death Eaters, knows she could be in New York City living as a muggle, squatting in some abandoned building," Puck held up a hand when Santana opened her mouth. "I know there are rumors, but that's all they are. No one's found any proof that you guys are hiding anything; they only have a Death Eater's guess, at best. But if something happens and they find Quinn at your house, it's all over for you guys."

"Well, what about you? What makes you so fucking special that you can keep Quinn and we can't?"

"What makes me special is that I have less to lose," he actually smiled when Santana scoffed. "I don't have a wife, I don't have a girlfriend, and I don't have a daughter. If I get caught with her the only person that will get in trouble is me and I'm an Auror, so there's a chance that I might not get into that much trouble anyway."

"Or you might get into more," Santana said and she rolled her eyes when Puck just shrugged. "What about your mom?"

"My sister will still be there."

She shook her head. "That's so – I just don't believe you."

Puck frowned. "Why not?"

"You have no reason to protect Quinn," she told him with hard, suspicious eyes. "For all I know, you want us to let you have her so that you can take her in without us stopping you."

Puck scoffed and crossed his arms, hiding the small pang of hurt her felt in his heart. "Because you have such a legit reason for protecting her, right?"

"I told you," Santana smirked, "the witch that actually promised to protect Quinn is my wife. That's all that matters to me."

"Yeah, well, I'm doing it because I'm an uncle to the little girl you call your daughter," he told her and Santana's gaze softened. "If you get caught with Quinn, the person that will be affected the most will be little Marcy and the last thing I want is for her to get hurt. It's safer for everybody if I keep her here."

Santana sat back in her chair, her jaw slightly unhinged as she gaped at the now uncomfortable Auror. "Oh."

Puck scratched at the back of his neck and avoided the wandmaker's eyes.

"Listen, I don't say this a lot because it's not very badass, but I love you guys," he said quietly, looking up to see a small smile on Santana's lips. "You're my best friends and I probably wouldn't be here today if not for the two of you. And Marcy is the closest thing I have to a daughter. I would do anything for you guys. All of you are set on keeping Quinn safe, so I'll help you even if means my ass because you guys are three of the most important people in my life."

There was a brief silence as they stared at each other, their faces void of the badass, emotionless masks they prefer to don in public. The wandmaker let out a slightly watery chuckle.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't even hear that," Santana's smile quivered and she turned her eyes stoically to the ceiling. "My eyes seem to be sweating."

"Right," Puck chuckled and stood up from the table to check on the gumbo. "This conversation never happened."

"Absolutely not."

"You're still the biggest bitch I know."

"And you're still an insufferable douche bag," Santana laughed and brushed away the rogue tear from her cheek. "I don't know why I put up with you."

Puck shrugged with a grin and waved his wand to turn off the stove and fill two bowls of the steaming soup. He placed one on the table and took the other with him as he walked towards his basement. Santana turned to watch him and when he disappeared down the steps, she pulled Rachel's folder over from the pile so that it sat next to Quinn's and waved her wand over them, duplicating them to the very last page. With another delicate twirl, the folders shrank to the size of her palm. Just as Puck's footsteps sounded on the stairs again, she gathered the files and slid them in her pocket. She placed Rachel's folder back in the middle of the pile and turned in her seat just in time to see Puck re-enter the living room empty handed. She smirked.

"You made her your special gumbo?" she called to him as she stood from the table and Puck just rolled his eyes. "Aw. That's sweet."

"What am I supposed to do, starve her even more?" he mumbled and plopped down in front of his own bowl of food. "She's skinny enough already after eight years in Azkaban."

"I suppose not," Santana just smiled at him, feeling infinitely better about leaving Quinn here with him. She pointed behind her. "I gotta head back to my girls. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Puck nodded with a spoonful of gumbo in his mouth, making some of the of the broth dribble down his chin. He wiped it with the back of his hand as Santana turned away from him with a grimace of disgust.

"You sicken me."

He merely chuckled and waved her off. Santana walked back down the steps of the basement, keeping the door cracked open again. Quinn looked up at her from her cot where she pushed her soup around with the spoon. The wandmaker nodded at her and stopped next to her bed.

"I'm leaving," she told her. "Brittany will probably be back tomorrow. Do you want her to bring you a bag of clothes?"

"Yes, please," Quinn whispered distantly. Santana sighed as the blonde continued to play with her food.

"You know," she whispered, making dull eyes look up at her, "I've been busting my ass to make sure your girl is eating while you've been gone. The least you could do is eat as well."

Quinn narrowed her eyes and brought a spoonful to her mouth, staring defiantly back at Santana. She looked back down at the soup and swallowed, pleasantly surprised by the wonderful taste of something she's never heard of before. Santana chuckled beside her.

"Yeah, he's an asshole sometimes, but Puck can make a fantastic gumbo," she told her as she whipped out her wand. "I'll see you later."

"Wait," Quinn stopped her just as she raised her wand. "Can – can you tell Rachel that I lo – ," she bit her lip and shook her head. If Rachel was going to hear the declaration, it had to come from her and no one else. She deserved that much. "That-that I miss her?"

Santana stared hard at the blonde who avoided her eyes and shook her head. Love sick coward. "Sure."

"Thanks," Quinn whispered with a small glance before filling her mouth again with soup. Santana just rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," she said before apparating away to the comfort of her own kitchen. She had only just taken off her jacket when she heard footsteps creeping down the hallway. She turned around and was surprised, not because it was Rachel, but because she was actually human. The hesitant brunette looked as if she hadn't slept a wink and was gripping at the sleeves of the sweater that was slightly too big for her, Santana was sure it was Quinn's. Rachel walked forward, stopping just a few paces away from the table and Santana arched an eyebrow when she remained silent.

"Use your words," she teased.

"How is she?" Rachel whispered, her eyes wide and desperately worried. "Is she – she's okay, right?"

"She's completely fine,'' Santana answered with a sigh and a shake of her head. She glanced at those child-like eyes. "She made sure we were taking care of you."

Rachel gasped at the words and closed her eyes against the tears. She's so tired of crying, but she felt so relieved that Quinn was alive and – and thinking of her because she thought of Quinn every second of the day. She stepped forward even more and looked at Santana, a hopeful tear hanging on the corner of her eye.

"She's fine?" Rachel gave a tiny smile at the nod. "So I can – I can see her, right? I mean, s-strictly as a cat, of course, but I can stay with her n – "

"You can't."

There was a thick silence after that. Rachel seemed to have frozen, mouth open mid-question, and eyes staring blankly into Santana's as she processed the quiet rejection. Her feet moved forward, tripping over themselves and dropping her into a chair so carelessly the legs slid slightly on the floor.

She looked betrayed.

"But you said . . ."

Then Santana looked away.

And Rachel just knew.

"Oh," her voice quivered as she tightly gripped the backrest of her chair. She furrowed her eyebrows, staring off into space in front of her and her mouth opened and closed as she tried to find the words. Santana closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reigning in her frustration with all of this shit. She stepped forward to place her wand on the table.

"Rachel," she said quietly. "Quinn misses you – "

"She doesn't want to see me," Rachel whispered.

"That's bullshit," Santana said with a scoff. "You're her fucking reason for living; she'd do anything to see you."

"Then she should just let me see her."

The wandmaker crossed her arms across her chest as she stared down into those fierce eyes. She couldn't fucking win with these two. Every time she tried to help them out it was always, 'No, I have to protect my beloved,' or 'Please, I desperately need to see my fair Quinn.' It was tiring and confusing.

And Santana had just about enough of it.

"This isn't just about you guys anymore," she snapped in the softest voice she could muster. "The very last thing that any of us need to happen is for you to get caught, too. Maybe Quinn only cares about you, but I care about my family and we can't risk anyone finding out about the other fugitive living with us if you were to be exposed. All of our freedom is on the line now, not just yours. So, you're going to stop being selfish, you're going to stay here, and you're going to let us figure everything out."

Rachel felt her heart slowly descend even lower as she realized the undoubted reason in Santana's words. She let her head drop and her shoulders sag in defeat, shaking her head weakly.

"Okay."

Santana almost groaned at the brunette's broken whisper because there was that telltale pang in her heart that told her that, yes, she was really starting to care for these criminals. She watched Rachel wipe at her eyes with the sleeve of Quinn's sweater and knew that she had to do something; this sympathy thing was making her sick.

"Listen, I know the only thing Quinn wants is to be with you," she whispered and Rachel looked up at her. "Maybe there's a reason she's keeping you at a distance, something that goes beyond just wanting to keep you safe. And maybe I wish I knew her a little better so I could understand."

Rachel let out a teary sigh and ran her fingers through her hair, leaning her elbows on the table. She still had to restrain herself from blurting out that maybe 'maybe' just didn't fucking cut it right now. They promised to be together; it was the two of them until the end.

What happened to that?

"I wish I knew her better, too," she said quietly.

Santana hummed, reached into her pocket, and dropped the two folders on the table where they immediately grew to size, startling Rachel into sitting up straight. She read the two names printed on the tabs and her eyes widened. An exaggerated yawn drew her away from watching her fingers as they traced over the cover of Quinn's history and she looked up at Santana.

"Well, I'm absolutely beat," she said, stretching her arms high above her head as she walked towards the hallway. "I'm just going to leave those there for tonight. Goodnight, dwarf."

Rachel listened to the fading footsteps, whispering a quiet 'good night' that she knew Santana didn't hear, far too busy staring at the files on the table. Even though they revealed so much to each other already, she still had many questions for Quinn. Her folder was packed, much thicker than her own. Oh, how she wanted to read every single page in there. Her curiosity coupled with the fact that it was simply Quinn she was reading aboutwas almost too much for her to handle. She flipped open the folder and was met with a mug shot, tired grey eyes staring directly into hers. She was immediately hit with a wave of guilt.

Quinn trusted her.

What would she be saying if she were to read all of her dirty secrets without her permission? She traced her fingers over Quinn's image, letting her eyes blur from the tears, and the picture frowned up at her. She felt like she was betraying her.

But she needed to understand.

With a deep sigh, she began to read Quinn's criminal report, promising herself that she wouldn't pass an ounce of judgment on Quinn until she spoke to her in person because no one would be able to tell her that Quinn wasn't a good person.

Even if it was Quinn herself.

Puck arrived at the Ministry an hour earlier than he needed to be. He leaned back against the elevator as it took him down to the lowest floor where they kept their prisoners that were still waiting for their trial. He checked his watch; he wouldn't be off duty until after six, so he hoped the numbing paste he left by Quinn's cot would be enough to hold her over.

That thought caused him to roll his eyes.

"You're going soft, Puckerman," he whispered to himself. He had even asked Brittany to bring her a bag of clothes.

He really needed to remember that Quinn was guilty until proven innocent.

The lift opened to a long dark, candle lit hallway of steel doors and the Auror made his way down to the very end, ignoring the criminals that shouted their insults at him. He gave the door one solid knock before walking in, glaring at the greasy brown haired wizard that sat up in his bed. With a quick wave of his wand, the bed sheet coiled and wrapped around his body, slamming him back down on his back and tying him tight to the mattress. Puck sneered down at him, a Dark Mark clear as day on the inside of his forearm.

"Hey! What – what is this!?" the Death Eater sputtered, twisting his body in an attempt to free himself as the door slowly began to shut. "You – you can't do this to – "

"You are a member of the most wanted group of criminals spanning over the past three generations. And you've just been caught invading our turf and put one of our men in the hospital wing," he put his hands in his robe pockets. "I can do whatever the fuck I want to do to you."

The Death Eater stopped struggling and seemed to shrink back into the cot.

"What do you want?" he croaked, his eyes wide and anxious.

Puck smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "I just have a few questions."

"I've answered all of your Ministry's questions – "

"I haven't asked you a damn thing yet, so shut the fuck up," he growled and the Death Eater flinched. "Now, why are you after Quinn Fabray?"

The wizard furrowed his eyebrows; he's answered that a hundred times already. "The Dark Lord demands that she be punished."

"For what? She's a valuable Death Eater from what I've read."

The wizard scoffed at the compliment. "He gave her freedom and the honor to stand by his side again, and she turned around and abandoned him. The only thing that's valuable about her is the price on her head and, trust me, the Ministry's reward is nowhere near as desirable as the Dark Lord's."

Puck arched an eyebrow and leaned back against the wall. "Well, then I'd like to help you find her."

"What?" The Death Eater's eyes widened in surprise and suspicion. "W-why?"

"Quinn Fabray is not our problem," he drawled. "So far, she's only caused Vertic Alley trouble in the form of more Death Eaters and we don't need that shit. And I think you know where she is. You know exactly where she is and you're going to tell me."

The Death Eater just stared at him for a moment. "It's not as easy as you'd think."

"Oh, but it must be," Puck retorted, his eyes steeling over. "You have all been hiding in the woods surrounding Vertic Alley for more than a month and if you guys had the balls to threaten a renowned, notoriously short-tempered wandmaker then you must know where she is."

The wizard was already shaking his head before Puck even finished his sentence.

"We-we can only guess," he groaned out as he continued to struggle against the bed sheets. "Our best guess was Lopez Wands."

"Well, your best guess just turned up shit. Try again."

The man growled. "It's not that simple! Do you know who Quinn Fabray is? She's more powerful than most people without her wand; and if there's one thing she should be an expert at, it's keeping people off of her trail. All we can go by are guesses."

Puck narrowed his eyes. "And how do you come up with these 'guesses'? Because, Merlin, they're amazingly specific for you to narrow it down to one house that's not even in your fucking country."

"I don't – I don't know."

There was a small, tense silence as the Death Eater shifted under Puck's blank stare. Then, with a quick, violent slash of his wand, the bed sheets began to tighten around the wizard's body, his eyes and veins bulging out of his face. Puck bent down until they were almost nose to nose.

"I am in no mood and you are in no position to bullshit me."

"I-I'm not!" he wheezed, his face coloring rapidly. "I swear – I swear I don't know!"

"Then how did you know to come here to look for her?"

"They just tell me!" he would've shouted if he could, if he wasn't so frightened by his restricted breathing. "Please – please, I was just following his orders!"

"Who?" Puck barked.

Tears began steadily leaking down his cheeks. "T-the Dark Lord!"

Puck stared impassively into the Death Eater's panicked eyes and completely loosened the ties with shrug, leaning back against the stone wall.

"Well," he said, brushing the imaginary dust off of his robes as the Death Eater wheezed and panted desperately on his cot, "I didn't realize I was talking to a lackey. I'm sorry for wasting my time."

He turned and had exited the cell before the wizard had even caught his breath. He strolled back down the hall just in time to get a quick breakfast before he really needed to be at work, smirking directly in the faces of all the other prisoners that continued to yell at him.

Brittany skipped down the stairs with a satchel over her shoulder and knocked a quirky jingle on her wife's office door a few minutes before they were supposed to open. She poked her head in the door and beamed at Santana who was sitting at her desk with Quinn's folder on her lap.

"Hey, baby," Santana mumbled around her cup of coffee. They shared a kissed and Brittany hummed pleasantly at the lingering taste on her lips.

"You taste good," Brittany said, bringing a smile to the wandmaker's lips. "I'm going to Puck's to drop off a bag of clothes for Quinn."

"Where's Marcy?"

"Upstairs watching The Lion King again."

Santana nodded and looked up at the ceiling. "And Rachel?"

Brittany shrugged as she took a look at the newly whittled wands on the desk. "Resting. I'm sure she had a long, stressful night."

Santana nodded. She had found Rachel still sitting at the kitchen table when she woke up this morning, tired, red-from-too-much-reading eyes staring blankly at the folder the wandmaker was sure she read from cover to cover.

"Alright," she said. "How long will you be?"

"Five minutes?" Brittany grinned and leaned down to peck Santana's lips. "That's not too long for you, is it?"

Santana responded with a light slap to Brittany's ass as she walked back towards the door. She looked over her shoulder, giggling at her wife's playful smirk, and gave a small wave before popping out of sight.

She found herself outside of Puck's door, surrounded by tall trees and the songs of birds. She looked over to the window when the blinds shifted to the side and waved happily at the dog that peeked out at her. She giggled at the muffled barks and let herself in with a wave of her wand.

"Hi, baby girl!" Brittany cooed as she leaned down to hug an excited Mila. The dog squirmed out of her hold and began sniffing diligently at the sack on her back. Brittany stood up and pushed her nose away. "None of that, now."

She skipped over to the basement door and knocked before practically dancing down the stairs with Mila at her heels, still trying to get a good sniff at the satchel. Quinn's lips quirked up at the sight of Brittany and she sat up, turning to swing her legs off of her cot.

"Good morning," she whispered. Brittany smiled at her.

"Good morning," she chirped and placed the pack gently on the cot. "I brought you clothes."

"Thank you," she said as she watched Mila lift up on her hind legs to press her nose against her bag. "You put food in there or something?"

"No, Mila's just a curious thing," Brittany giggled and grabbed a hold of the dog's collar to pull her away. She bit her lip as her eyes travelled over Quinn's body. "How've you been? Puck treating you well?"

Quinn nodded. "Surprisingly."

"Puck's a big softie," she said quietly. "He's very good at seeing the grey, you know?"

"Yeah," Quinn whispered, leaning back against the wall. "I guess."

"You'll be fine, Quinn," Brittany giggled and began walking back towards the stairs, pulling Mila with her. "I have to get back to the shop. I'm sure we'll see you soon."

Quinn just smiled at her and Brittany waved before turning and walking out of the basement, Mila whining as she reluctantly followed her. Quinn listened for the pop of Brittany disappearing before she dragged the satchel over to her, grateful to not have to wear Puck's clothes anymore.

When she opened the bag, a pair of dark brown eyes looked up at her.

Her jaw dropped open as she watched the dark brown cat hop out of the pack and onto the floor, shaking out her fur. Quinn scooted forward on her knees, tears rolling down her cheeks and her hand shot to her mouth when the cat turned into the woman of her constant dreams.

"Rachel," she whispered, letting her eyes run over the haggard, but still absolutely beautiful form before her. She scrambled off of the bed and rushed forward to hold Rachel's face in her hands, making sure this wasn't just another hallucination. She cried out softly at the feeling of warm skin under her fingers and she wiped away the tears from the other girl's cheek with a watery chuckle. "Oh, Rachel, what are you doing here?"

Rachel sniffed and shook her head before bringing their lips together in a desperate, passionate kiss. Quinn's hands sifted through the brown hair, gripping the strands as she savored the feeling of soft lips against hers. She's been waiting for this kiss, to have Rachel in her arms again, for the past three days and she's never felt batter. Rachel pulled away when she ran out of breath, knowing that she could've died kissing Quinn, but she still had so much to say to her.

"I've missed you so much, Quinn," she whispered, leaning her forehead against hers. "So, so ,so much."

Quinn smiled and lifted Rachel up so her legs wrapped around her waist. She brought their lips together again as she walked backwards towards her cot, twisting to lay the brunette on her back. They kissed again until they ran out of breath and even then they pulled away long enough to gasp for air before their lips were fused together once more. They shifted against one another, moaning deep in their throats when the friction caused them immense pleasure. Hands snuck under shirts and thighs were placed in the perfect spot, making fireworks explode behind their eyelids. Quinn pulled away, desperately bring the air into her lungs, leaning her forehead into the crook of Rachel's neck. She pressed a kiss to the hot skin, smiling at the moan the rumbled under her lips. Two hands tangled themselves in her hair and she closed her eyes.

"You shouldn't be here Rachel," she whispered and the body under her's froze.

"Quinn . . ."

Quinn lifted up on her elbows and stared into glistening, confused brown eyes. She shook her head at the rejection swirling in those orbs; she needed to erase that immediately.

"I'm so happy that you're here, baby," she assured, brushing a strand of hair. "Please, believe me when I say that this ranks up there as one of the happiest moments of my life. I haven't stopped thinking of you since I was taken away."

"Then why – "

"You know why, Rachel," she said quietly and lifted herself up to sit against the wall. She sighed. "I told Santana not to let you come here."

Rachel sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. "She doesn't know that I'm here."

Quinn chuckled and shook her head. "Brittany. Of course."

There was a small silence and Rachel reached over to lace their fingers together. She scooted over until they sat shoulder to shoulder, their clasped hands resting in her lap. "Santana let me read your folder last night."

Quinn tensed next to her and squeezed her eyes shut.

"You read everything?"

Rachel nodded her head, her eyes focused in front of them. "Everything."

Quinn frowned and turned her face way. She's tried to be as open with Rachel as she could. She wanted to tell her everything before something like this were to happen; she didn't want Rachel to hear about her past from somebody else's mouth or writings. If you're supposed to be the 'bad guy,' the news crew or the Ministry will do everything in their power to make you seem like the most evil person in the country, but they would never give out reasons. Quinn always had a reason for doing everything that she did, and she didn't want Rachel to read these criminal reports and soil her view of her.

"Quinn – "

"Listen, what I did in my past – it in no way dictates how good I can be for you. I was a foolish kid and-and if I could take it all back I would in a – "

"I love you."

Quinn's eyes snapped open and she twisted her head around to meet honest brown eyes. She could feel the tears run down her cheeks; she's waited so long to hear those words she feared that she really was dreaming.

"Rach – "

"You saved my life," Rachel whispered to her. "I would've died in Azkaban if I didn't meet you. I would've died after Azkaban if you weren't there to carry and care for me. I owe you everything and I don't want you to think that I see you any differently just because of some pieces of paper that only focuses on your mistakes. I've made mistakes, too. Do you think I'm the girl, the mass murderer, that Britain thinks I am?"

"Merlin, no."

Rachel quirked a smile, running her finger across Quinn's knuckles.

"See? We're both just so misunderstood," she whispered teasingly and relished in the small, quiet giggle from next to her. She turned to press a kiss to the blonde's shoulder. "Your mistakes have made you who you are today; they will always be a part of you. And I do love you."

Quinn let out a breath she felt like she'd been holding in since they escaped and turned her head to lean it against Rachel's, their noses brushing pleasantly against each other. She smiled and closed her eyes.

"Rachel."

Rachel couldn't resist and leaned forward to barely peck her lips. "Yes?"

Quinn growled quietly in her throat and captured the brunette's lips in a full kiss, pushing her back down onto the mattress. Long, strong legs wrapped around her waist when she dropped her attention to her neck, leaving a mark that sated a primal possessiveness. It was only after a few more thorough kisses that Quinn was able to pull away, lifting up on her elbows so that she hovered over a flushed and panting Rachel.

She smiled softly.

"I love you, too."

Rachel gasped and there was a long, slow second of staring, and crying, and heart-bursting euphoria. Then she reached up and gripped Quinn's hair, crashing their lips together in a battle she was absolutely fine with losing. She wrapped an arm around Quinn's waist and spun them around so that she straddled her waist. She made quick work of the buttons on Quinn's shirt and moaned when cool hands slipped under her own, travelling upwards towards her breasts. Their lips parted long enough to whisper their words of love and Quinn couldn't remember why they had decided to wait so long to tell each other.

Not when she's sure she's never been happier.

Rachel pulled away with a moan when shy fingers ran their pads over her nipple, pinching lightly. She pressed her face into the crook of the blonde's neck, slipping so that she straddled Quinn's leg, her thigh pressing into a delicious heat. Quinn rocketed up beneath her and they both moaned, starting a sensual dance of undulating hips. Rachel leaned their foreheads back together, her half lidded eyes running over Quinn's exposed torso. It was nothing new; really, she's seen Quinn naked hundreds of times. But never like this. This made her throat run dry and entire body tremble.

This . . . this was intimate.

"I – I've never done this before."

Everything stopped.

Quinn's eyes opened and she searched Rachel's face as the words cycled through her brain. Her hand slid down to rest on the brunette's hip.

"Never?" she breathed out.

Rachel shook her head and sat back on her calves, averting her eyes from the half naked form.

"There wasn't – I mean, no one's ever . . ." she cleared her throat, a blush coloring her cheeks and down her neck. "I've-Merlin, I've been in Azkaban since I was eighteen, Quinn."

Quinn sat up, her jaw slightly unhinged as she tried to catch Rachel's eyes. How could this have never crossed her mind?

"There's been no one else?" she whispered. That just couldn't be possible.

Rachel stared at her with such innocent eyes, it stole her breath away.

"There's only been you."

Quinn seemed to deflate and a tear trailed down her cheek. With trembling hands, she grabbed her shirt closed and Rachel felt her heart begin to break. She's covering herself. She . . . she's hiding herself from her.

"Quinn – "

The blonde shot forward and captured Rachel's lips in a firm kiss, cutting off the raw, uncertain voice. She cupped Rachel's cheek and pulled away, wiping the tears with the pad of her thumb.

"Rachel, you are . . . perfect," Quinn whispered with a sad smile. She shook her head. "I love you so, so much. And I want to – Merlin, I've never wanted to more . . . but I can't allow your first time to be some hurried romp on a cot in Puckerman's basement."

Rachel's eyes sparkled. "Oh."

"Yeah," Quinn whispered with a blush, reaching over to blindly grab a shirt and shorts out of the sack Brittany brought her. She fiddled with the soft fabric. "It will be romantic and – and beautiful. And in our bed."

Rachel gave a watery chuckle and reached out to grab one of Quinn's hands. "At Santana and Brittany's house?"

"Oh, hush," Quinn said with a laugh, knocking their heads together gently and pecking Rachel's lips. They stared at one another, the arousal nowhere near extinguished, but both knowing they wouldn't be able to control themselves if they continued. Quinn sighed. "It will be perfect. Just like you."

Rachel smiled and blushed again. "Like you, too."

Quinn rolled her eyes, but held her tongue. Now was not the time for self-degradation. Besides, it felt nice that Rachel thought that of her. She pecked Rachel's lips again before holding up the shirt with a small smirk. "Do I need to leave to change or can you control yourself?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest indignantly, still from her position straddling Quinn's lap. "I do have self-control, Quinn."

Quinn narrowed her eyes playfully and then shrugged the shirt off her shoulders, tossed it on the bag and shimmied under Rachel to remove the sweats Puck had lent. She tossed them over Rachel's shoulder and smirked at the weak whimper from Rachel as she faced the wall with closed eyes. She slipped on her own clothes, clothes that smelled delightfully like Rachel, and reached over to guide Rachel into a short, soft kiss. She pulled away to see dreamy brown orbs staring back at her.

Rachel let her gaze fall to Quinn's covered body and felt herself pout.

"So, if I had already had sex before this," she bit her lip and reached out to play with the hem of Quinn's shirt, "would you have kept going?"

Quinn chuckled.

"Maybe," she teased and Rachel pouted even more, groaning in desire and disappointment. Quinn lay back on the cot with a grin, pulling the brunette with her. "Come here, love."

Rachel fell into a familiar, comfortable, missed position on top of Quinn, their legs a tangled mess. In that one moment when her head landed on Quinn's shoulder, all of the exhaustion from the past few days hit her like a Firebolt. She buried her nose into the crook of Quinn's neck and found herself fighting to keep her eyes open. Quinn tightened her hold around her waist.

"Have you – have you never dated anyone before?" Quinn whispered. Rachel smiled against her neck at Quinn's bursting curiosity.

"One boyfriend and we hardly kissed. We only lasted a month," Rachel revealed in a small voice. Quinn bit her lip.

"You know me and Sam – "

"I figured," the brunette whispered softly. "Did it . . . was it special?"

Quinn closed her eyes and was silent until Rachel poked her in the hip. She shook her head.

"No. It was . . . sad and desperate and confusing," she answered and looked down the meet Rachel's tired eyes. "And it was only the one time."

Rachel smiled at that. She thought she'd feel jealous of Sam, that he got to touch and kiss Quinn before her, but she didn't. They were in a situation not unlike the situation she and Quinn found themselves in and she understood. They had only each other for years; she knew it was bound to get lonely and scary. Human connection, of any kind, was very important during these times.

If she didn't have Quinn . . . Merlin, she'd be dead.

She was sure of it.

Rachel leaned up and placed a kiss on the underside of Quinn's chin, watching those full lips lift up into a smile. "Then, when the time is right, I want it to be romantic and perfect and special for you, too."

Quinn chuckled and swooned at the conviction in Rachel's voice. She placed another kiss on Rachel's forehead, hugging her body flush to hers.

"I love you," she whispered into her hair. She didn't think she'd ever stop saying that. Rachel smiled, snuggling even closer.

"I love you, too," she mumbled tiredly, groaning when Quinn's giggle caused her to shake.

"Have you been sleeping?"

Rachel shook her head and sighed, letting her eyes fall closed. "I couldn't."

"Me neither," Quinn smiled sadly at the ceiling; closing her own eyes and letting her body relax under the weight of Rachel. "Rest with me?"

Rachel wanted to protest; she's hadn't seen Quinn in days, she didn't want to waste time with something as silly as sleep, but she had already drifted off before the words even made it out of her throat.

A/N: Okay, so side note, I originally wanted to write more for this chapter, probably pushing the total pages to over 50. But I thought this was a good point to stop and leave some stuff for the next chapter that I will eventually get around to writing (college is fucking busy, man.) But for those of you who were wondering, I WILL FINISH THIS STORY.

This is my baby. It might take a while, but it will be finished. I just ask for your patience. I'll also be working on a couple of stories: for those of you wondering about the prequel to my little vampire universe, i will start working on that soon. I also have another story in mind of a traveling circus where Quinn is a lion-tamer and Rachel is a knife-thrower. That should be fun. They probably won't be out until after graduation...but something to look forward to, I suppose.

I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. It's been so long...I just don't want anyone to say "That's it? I waited eight months for that bullshit?" So if you feel that way, I have shamed you and I am sorry.

I love you guys. Your reviews make me smile and I look forward to them everyday. I don't really reply much, but please don't think that I'm being ungrateful. I'm just shy. Thank you.

Peace be your journey.