Emily was lovely as always. A natural beauty, unlike a majority of the women that Samantha encountered recently. Even though they both share Scottish heritage through their relatives, Emily's appearance was heavily influenced by her French lineage. The coloring of her hair and absence of freckles along her skin made it quite obvious that she didn't strongly inherit the Scottish features. On the other hand, Samantha is basically the perfect representation of a pure Scotswoman. Not that she's ashamed, though. Samantha loves her hair and freckles. Everything was proceeding pleasantly. Samantha listened to what her cousin had to say, but suddenly remembered Emily's earlier comment... 

[i] "Some one piss you off, Sammy? I didn't think you would ever send someone a howler."[/i]

[b]The Howler! It sent automatically![/b]

Instant dread and dismay fell upon Samantha's shoulders. The frightened Witch succumb to anxiety and frantically began pacing around her living room in a wide spread circle. It was rather amusing to witness. The poor woman seemed overwhelmed. Hands tangled up within her auburn hair, knotting it together. Eyes widened to the brink of tears, cheeks taking on a bright shade of red as she began to hyperventilate.

"How cuid (could) ah (I) be sae (so) glaikit (stupid)? Ah (I) ne'er (never) meant tae(to) send that!" 

* * * 

"Poor Fred isn't the popular one anymore?" Charlie taunted, waving his unopened letter teasingly in front of the other's face. Honestly, he didn't want to open the letter in the company of his family. Even though the curiosity was eating him alive inside, Charlie set it aside in his pocket. Returning to the living room after wards, Molly called everyone to the kitchen table for supper. The topic of conversation shifted from George's mysterious pen pal to the adventures Charlie had back in Romania. 

Speaking tales of dragons, life threatening experiences and a near fatal collision with an Australian Breckenridge...Molly pleaded for a change of conversation. Charlie saw the distress on his mother's face and chuckled loudly, "I promise it's not nearly as dangerous as you're thinking. Mum, I'm careful." 

For the first time of the evening, Arthur spoke up above the children. "What happened to your arm, then?"

Charlie had almost forgotten about the recent injury. The bandages needed to be changed. Spots of dried blood were visible through the wrappings. In all honesty, Charlie is lucky to even still have his arm attached. To his answer his father, Charlie just shrugged. "I don't think mum needs to know the details, dad." 

"I'm glad you're back, Charlie." Ginny pipped, reaching over to hug Charlie's uninjured arm. 

The elder sibling grinned, pressing a gentle kiss to his sister's forehead. Once dinner concluded, everyone was excused to their own accord. The golden trio went upstairs to their bedrooms. William and Fleur had yet to arrive. Ginny was cleaning the kitchen with her mother. Arthur went out to the shed and Charlie watched his twin brothers heading up to their rooms. He sighed, leaning back on the couch. Happening to glance at the ancient clock for a moment, seeing the spoons mostly gathered on the 'Home' tab, he smiled happily.