Morning texts:

Nemo  - last night, huh?

Abby - last night and today! Party is still happening in my head! I only had a few drinks too! #lightweight

Nemo - <3 I woke up on the bathroom floor?? but I had a pillow. was that u?

Abby - aw! not me, I think I left with Moira or Sasha.

Abby - come over, I made a pillow fort!

Later that morning...

Amidst the holiday decorations still sparkling in her flat, Abby had made a pillow palace just for Nemo. She'd taken all the floor pillows and piled them artfully in a corner of the living room, near the long couch where Roxy the crup had claimed a cushion. On the coffee table, a few candles flickered, illuminating the platter of cookies and bagels and biscuits she'd put together.

Nemo had her choice of tea, coffee, or hot chocolate. She also had her choice of extra chunky throw blanket or slightly chunky throw blanket.

Abby sat across from her on one of the pillows. She wore her sequined rainbow shorts from last night's party, and her chunkiest, warmest sweater. Her blond hair fell loose and curly around her shoulders. It was such a simple thing, but she was getting used to the way the curls felt against her face again.

Here they sat in a new year. 2012!

She held one of her favorite coffee mugs, plain white ceramic decorated with tiny yellow emojis. Abby sipped at her coffee, tasting the hipster trendy flavor of coconut. Her head pounded, but not from a pentral. A sad and happy truth.

"What did you think of everyone last night?" Abby launched into lighthearted gossip, her gaze sleepy but curious. The faint remnants of glittery eyeliner had smudged around her eyes. One brown eye, the other brown with flecks of blue - a remnant of Iona.

"Do you remember?"

Worlds colliding! Nemo had met her friends and she had seen Nemo in the big friend group. It wouldn't be the last time. Abby had decided!

Nemo's ratty hair was covered in a big hat and her light complexion was sort of grey. A pair of anti-paparazzi-style sunglasses were on the cushion next to her. A big mug of undrinkably hot tea was in her hands. When she'd peeled her face off that bathroom floor, oh, around five in the morning, the apartment was mostly quiet and the sky still dark, so she'd sneaked back off to her place. There, she'd collapsed onto the futon, slept another two hours before the pain of dehydration shook her awake. She forced herself to drink a glass of water and took a long lukewarm shower. 

Everything about Abby was warm and inviting. Her texts and smiles and tea and candles and pillow forts. It made one forget what an absolute ass they were the night before. Almost. Nemo felt like a stinky flaky mushroom in a fragrant herb garden.

Nemo sat up straighter and slid on the large, dark sunglasses in a show. "Baby, I don't remember a goddamn thing other than tequila, mesh tops, and I absolutely saw someone's culo."

She tipped her chin down so the shades slid to the end of her nose. "Remind me."

Abby grinned at Nemo over the rims of the girl's dramatic sunglasses.

"Happily," she set down her mug of coffee, enjoying the idea of remembering an event more clearly than someone else for a change. She should go to boozy parties all the time just to counter the after-effects of the pentral possession. Obvious solution!

"Nicholas was one of the hosts, wearing a mesh top and throwing back tequila and likely walking around without pants at some point."

Culo! No idea what that was, but she'd bet money that it was Nicholas'.

"Wasn't he your partner for a hot second? During the truth-lie game."

Abby shrugged, not quite remembering what the game had been about.

"Anton is Sasha's friend, who made up the game, and Virgil was hanging on him adorably and flirtatiously throughout the night," she giggled, then pointed at Nemo.

"You met my boyfriend! Sasha. Nervous talker at parties." The drink had been partly at fault for that. "And my friend Moira, who rarely talks at parties and would rather be taking care of her horses thanks very much. We tried to chat about music and she was like, I don't listen to music, and you looked like she'd spit in your drink, Nemo."

That was before they'd played the game. The game had never really kicked off, had it? There'd been drama right at the beginning.

"Fig is the one who has a ridiculous feud with Moira and needs to learn how to be a better friend," Abby huffed loyally. "Moira and Faun yelled at him on the balcony. I don't remember why, but it was probably deserved."

Something to do with the feud that Abby wished she could recall in detail.

"Fauna is the bashful dark-haired girl who disappeared after the balcony incident. I don't know where."

Who else?

"Raine! Raine is the fiery redhead, my flatmate, who promised not to hex anyone unnecessarily in 2012. A lie! But I love her anyway."

The litany of saints, the forgiveness of sins, hangovers everlasting! Abigail Reid trotted out the revelers like ghosts in procession and they came to life in color in Nemo's memory. A baroque painting, all the characters intertwined animated even in their stillness.  They'd all known each other fluently, history flowed between them. And the new one Anton the Lackwand had been the shining star in the middle of it. Nemo had watched, her best friend being the record player. Unsupervised access to the drinks table had been a mistake. Things could have turned out far worse. Next time she would stick with coffee, black.

"Abbers, you do me good," she said and gave her friend a pat. She felt sheepish, but logically she couldn't have been the only one to ring in the new year with terrible choices. She put the glasses up on her head and blew on her tea in a symbolic effort to cool it off.

"Forgot to ask - or maybe I did - how was your Christmas?" 

Nemo was actually interested. An Abby Reid Christmas had to have been a spectacle spectacular.

Abby smiled, accepting the pat-pat with a sleepy tilt of her head. Whoever had looked after drunken Nemo had done better! Abby didn't care though, she and Nemo looked like they both needed lots of compliments and pick-me-ups.

Abby paused. Had she told Nemo about her holiday or anything, at the party? Had they caught up before the party? Maybe not. She reached for her phone, and then let it be. Last she remembered she'd texted Nemo about the pentral exorcism being... successful. For Abby, of course.

"It was good?" She murmured rather vaguely. "I stayed at my parent's for the hols. My sister insisted on visiting for most of the week," she sighed, her smile lingering to show just how much of a hardship that was.

"Everyone else came by around Christmas eve. My sister in law, Asami, had an excuse for why she had to leave early," Abby continued frankly. "Not that I mind, but I wish she'd let my favorite nieces stay. Coira, who's more energetic than even I was at her age, and Sulwen, who's a serious little Slytherin. I want to keep Sulwen in my pocket like a pocket protector. When Raine isn't around, she can Petrificus Totalus anyone in our path."

Abby grinned. Sulwen had planned it out so she could run to the door and meet Sasha first. No reason for him to get petrified, just questioned.

"Forgot to tell you! Sasha met the parents!" She waved a hand at Nemo. "I literally stole him away every chance I got."

She sipped at her coffee, ignoring the absence in her head, the quiet, the Nothing floating over them. Nemo had checked in with her throughout December, but did she really want to know? Abby was happy to keep it light, in their hungover and sleepy states.

Nemo listened and sipped the tea. Abby's family sounded complicated in an honest, comforting way, and she gathered that Abby was the youngest in a family of adults. She wondered if they were like her, all bright and twinkling. Probably not her sister at least, owing the face Abby made when she mentioned her. She was likely the same sister who'd they'd discussed last time, the one good with Runes. The same sister who'd gone all-in helping Kurby Bagnold with research into Grimshaw's history before Christmas. Nemo felt a pang in her gut. It wasn't jealousy. She hoped it wasn't rejection. She hoped it was the hangover.

But Abby's face lit up at the mention of her boyfriend. Nemo's eyes went wide in a kind of cringey way. Sasha had been nice enough at the party, she remembered, but strange.  It must be serious, boyfriend over at Christmas.

"That's good...? Meeting the parental units, big step." She'd always been annoyed when her friends back at school coupled off. She'd tried the boyfriend thing, someone from her magic class a town over, and it had felt like an exercise. She'd worn his ring, they'd made some crop circles, kissed backstage at the school play. But there was nothing to it and it ended.

Realizing she was being a nit about it, Nemo pivoted and resumed her hungover wine-divorcee celebrity character. "No no, forgive me, dear. I'm just a bitter old divorcee...."

Whenever Nemo rolled out the dears and dahlings, Abby knew she may have said a little too much without saying much at all. She was painting a pretty picture again. She wasn't really sure how to stop.

What she didn't say was that her brothers had both been absent, as usual. Trevor in Azkaban and Simon disowned. She'd written a confused but heartfelt Christmas letter to Simon-no-known-address, and partly wished she could take it back.

It had been a confusing holiday. Her face fell for an instant. She'd spent a lot of time trying to remember what had happened in the past few months, while old quarrels and inside jokes had flitted around her. At times she'd simply spaced out, a habit leftover from a voice she couldn't hear anymore.

"Mmhmm! It was all good," she lied brightly, sipping at her coffee.

"How was your holiday?" Abby asked, vaguer than usual, not yet sprinkling in little jokes and references, not yet realizing that Nemo's holiday would have been quite different. Nemo came into her life and sat in her flat like she belonged there, a musical Tinkerbell on her pillow, and it was difficult to imagine right then where she went when she wasn't... around. Around or at parties or just a text away.

Something blank happened in Abby and this time Nemo noticed. It left as soon as it came and it reminded Nemo of that night at Alohomocha when she'd first met Abby's Pentral and that there'd be this pause as her eyes switched over. But the Pentral was supposed to be gone? Nemo thought of asking her more about it, but Abby's fast bright smile seemed to close the book.

This Christmas had been better than her last but not by much. Holidays were the hardest part, the heart missed what the head didn't want to. The letter from her mom in November had sat and sat begging for a response and on Christmas Eve Nemo relented. Maybe it was thinking about those girls who'd died at Grimshaw's or her own close calls, but Nemo had this flash of what loss could really be. She couldn't face Never.

"I played in the pit for Virgil's play. It was Christmas Carol. I think that the best Christmas stories are ghost stories, you know? The kids were so cute. This girl who played the Ghost of Christmas Present who's supposed to be this happy giant and she's parading around at five foot nothing," Nemo said. "Virgil was good with them. Pulled off a perfectly sour Scrooge, too."

"Saw Kurby Bagnold as well," she snuck in. Speaking of humbugs.

"I remember now. I bet you played perfectly and that Virgil kept it all running smoothly," Abby smiled, glad that Nemo had found a haven of sorts at Stardust for the holidays. Sulwen had played the Ghost of Christmas yet to come, complete with a creepy, dark costume and dramatic pointing.

Abby wished she could have seen it, but she'd only felt ok enough to floo from her parent's house to her own flat and back again around Christmastime. The New Year's Eve party had been the biggest deal for her yet, but even then she'd left early.

"So you met up with good old Baggynold? What did he gift you?" Abby teased. There must be a (ghost) story there.

"Seven Grims a grinning? Six crows a croaking?" Her mug of coffee went back on the table, abandoned to spontaneous song.

"Fiiiiive!" She croaked, her voice failing her from the festivities last night. "Fiiiiiive silver rings!" She fell back on her pillow and laughed.

Nemo was prepared to be sour and dismissive about Kurby, but Abby flipped it to its good side and make a massive laugh from it. Nemo giggled - each line of Abby's improvised adaptation was better than the last. Nemo had to hold up her cup so Abby wouldn't unsettle it and spill tea all over the fort. Must be nice, Nemo thought, being able to find good spirits in a mention of the surly misanthrope; she wanted to, and the laugh brought a bit of color to her face.

"More like four stinking turds," Nemo said shaking her head and raked her fingers through her hair. She had an elastic on her wrist amongst her bracelets and used it to make a messy bun atop her head.

Loose talk was unlucky because pointed words always found their way back to you. "No, he bought me dinner, or whatever, but only because he felt like he had to. I'm just some asshole kid to him."

Nemo was bitter about that and annoyed she cared. He was just some cop.

"He said he collabed with your sister about the Grimshaw's thing. Aileen, right? You talked to her?"

Abby had mentioned she'd show her sister the rune on the bone flute, back when it happened. She'd forgotten until Kurby brought it up and she'd felt a knot in her stomach that someone else was involved. Nemo looked at Abby questioningly, unsure of how to feel about it.

Abby popped up from the pillow, blond curls mussed.

"You are not an asshole!" She protested at once. "He's the arsehole," she drawled in an exaggerated Scottish accent.

She didn't feel an ounce of guilt, as he wore the title well and wasn't here to be offended, anyway. Some people's ears burned. Bagnold probably got stuck in a lift wherever he was.

Abby tried to listen though, sobering at the mention of spooky Grimshaw's. She looked at Nemo, vaguely reminded of their argument on Level Two back in December, when Nemo had stormed off and Abby had cried. What had they even fought about? She remembered the awful feeling more than the event itself. Nemo had wanted a file. For a missing person. Wasn't that it?

Her sister had offered to look into the rune found on the... flute. Aileen had later run into Bagnold at the Ministry. No, the library. The library not at the Ministry.

"Yes," Abby nodded, confusion flickering over her face. "Yes she did. Do that. At some point."

Abby reached for her coffee, sipped it hastily, and rambled through her embarrassment, "Aileen met Bagnold at the museum library. She found out a bunch stuff. About missing girls. Killed girls," Abby made a scoffing sound of commiseration. "And something, something, don't go to Grimshaw's, she said. What else? Oh, and she'd tell me more later. Basically, girls were getting killed over a long period of time and I wasn't to go there - like, why would I? - and she'd tell me more after the holidays," she finally summed up.

"Oh." Nemo nodded slowly a few times, taking it in. So Abby knew everything. Aileen knew everything. The circle was now a round five, enough to raise the dead. Abby didn't seem entirely sure, though, which was odd because Grimshaw's was like something that got into your ear like a worm and took root and never stopped humming to you.

"I mean, like, that sounds about right." Blah blah blah, don't go to Grimshaw's. She and Kurby took turns telling each other that.

Nemo wrinkled her nose. "But if you'd been there, you'd want to go. That's the problem innit." Nemo didn't want Bagnold to go because he didn't want him to go without her, not because she was worried for him.

"You haven't told anyone else, have you, though?" she asked with some hesitation. "You or your sister?"

Because back when she'd asked Abby for the file, Abby seemed all to happy to get police involved. Nothing would ruin all of this faster than Aurors. Nothing would get her swiped up faster than the MLE.

Abby paused. Merlin's sake this felt like twenty questions, but it was really only a few. Nemo was just catching up about something important to her. Grimshaw's was important. People had died there. Wixes her age. Soon, Abby would feel less numb about it. Wouldn't she?

She let out a sigh. "No?"

What had her text to Nemo said? Her text had said she hadn't told anyone. She didn't think she had.

"Aileen doesn't trust Level Two in general," Abby's mouth twitched as she glanced at Nemo. Sounded familiar!

"She doesn't talk to anyone about important things. Unless she's warning me about whatever."

It was an odd way to say it, but felt true.

"The only ones who know that something might be off about it are the Aurors who were there anyway, looking into open cases and dodgy dealings. A bunch of spooky stuff happened to them. I think I told you."[1]

Abby ran a hand through her curls, stopping when her fingers got stuck in her hair. She glanced at her hand, then curled her knees in close to her chest and put her arms around her legs. The only other person who knew about Grimshaw's was Iona McBoid, who didn't know anything about Grimshaw's anymore.

"What are you going to do?" She murmured over her knees. "Like, are you going back there with Bagnold, or...?"

She shouldn't be saying that, Abby remembered a moment later.

1.	Abby mentioned this earlier in December, right before their argument

Nemo noticed the flicker of impatience from Abby and it reminded her quickly of how they'd fought when she came to the Ministry. Conflict between friends (and friends are what she and Abby had become) was normal and it wouldn't normally bother Nemo, but this whole business was different. There were a thousand whispering shadows undermining her usually rational detachment.

Abby's answers were, though, satisfying. It seemed as if the Aurors Abby worked with hadn't found anything new, and that her sister wasn't the trusting or chatty type. She smirked a little. Perfect match for Bagnold. She hoped they'd be very happy together.

Nemo thought about apologizing to Abby and retracting her questions and smooth things over and just have a nice visit. But she wouldn't. Nemo was fair to ask and she couldn't control what others felt about it.

Abby fidgeted, like she was trying to hide. Or was it just to get comfortable in their warm fort?

When she asked Nemo about Kurby, Nemo's stomach rolled into a knot. She groaned and winced.

"Shit, I don't know," she said. "Dude's impossible. We promised we wouldn't go without each other and like, he's keeping me updated, but after - "

Nemo looked at her fingernails. "After I couldn't get that file, he sort of stopped letting me help. So whatever, I don't know. We weren't exactly besties when I saw him at Christmas."

She was getting shoved out, she knew it. But the insecurity of that felt like a badly fitting pink dress, something she wanted to tear off because it didn't suit her. Too young, too girlish, her mother's idea.

Abby bent her head towards her knees and glanced down guiltily at the mention of the file. The missing persons/dead girl file. Fauna had mentioned something about a girl dying there in the 80s, completely drained of blood, as well as a Hufflepuff she remembered from school who'd been found there a few years ago. Rosemary Hufflepuff?

Abby was glad that Nemo didn't ask her for it again, as she wasn't sure what she would say here, in the comfort of her own flat, far away from the watchful eyes of the Ministry, after hearing Nemo talk about getting shut out. Was it really because of one file? Bagnold seemed the sort to shut people out as his New Year's resolution. He had a whole stack of files now, thanks to her sister's research.

"He has a whole stack of dead-girl files," Abby muttered into her knees, then fell quiet for a long moment.

It just didn't seem important. Why was this important? What were they trying to do?

She picked at her fuzzy sock. It worried her, in the back of her mind, that it didn't feel important. Dead-person files belonged on Level Two to be pored over and obsessed over. But it had all happened so long ago, and there were just so many, and none of it made sense. They were having a hard enough time finding all the dead people buried in the woods near the lakehouse, and that was recent, and that was with the flowers marking the graves.