There had been no omen, no bad feeling, no intuition. In fact, she hadn't even registered that the floo call had been for her until Emily had brought it to her attention.
She had registered the important words in each sentence, but she had struggled to make sense of them. Julian couldn't be dead. They had spoken the previous night. In fact, they had fought as vivaciously as they always did. She had argued tooth and nail and the man had not relented.
She had flood to St Mungo's and had been surprised to realize that Emily had followed her. The healers had spoken words at her, but Emerson's eyes had been on the blonde. She had looked blankly as Emily had nodded and then had turned towards her expectantly.
Emerson had finally looked at the young healer. "The body," she had parroted, hauntingly remembering why she had been summoned to St Mungo's. She had let go of Emily's hand and she had followed the healer to a cold and blank room.
"It's Julian," Emerson had confirmed as a knife had gently planted itself between her ribs. The healer had ushered her back to Emily.
Eyes dry, rubbing her sternum, she had looked up at the blonde and she had nodded. Her children's father was dead.