Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Emma's irritated hazel eyes shot to the clock on the wall, its ever present ticking seemingly taunting her. Her bags were packed, her affairs were in order, and she was not due for any appearances or photoshoots until the following Monday. Everything was ready for her departure.

Everything except for her.


Yet, like clockwork, she packed her bags and cleared her schedule every three months. Her agent had protested at first, but after a few sharp words and a reminder that the woman's services were replaceable, the subject had not come up again.

Emma had been raised to keep her cards close to her chest. Emotions were something to be kept private, never to be seen by the rest of the word. For the most part, she'd done an admirable job. Only those she counted as true friends would be able to see the facade cracking about the edges. Yet another reason for this little sojourn to Mykonos; escape was not always something to looked down upon.

When her father had died, her mother had withdrawn into a shell of herself. Nothing, not even her only child, could bring her out of the deep chasm of grief she'd fallen into. And that hurt. Charlotte Dobbs had fled England, selling or giving away everything that tethered her to her life as the Dobbs family matriarch. She'd left, leaving Emma nothing except a stack of papers from their barrister and the keys to the family Gringotts vault.

She didn't know if she would ever truly forgive her mother for that.

But blood was thicker than water. With a small, delicate sigh, Emma rose off the sofa and summoned her Louis Vuitton case, clasping it in one hand. Her fingers reached out and took the Portkey- a small, bejeweled keyring- off the coffee table, grasping it tightly in her hand.

As soon as the clock read five thirty, she closed her eyes as the familiar tugging sensation took hold just behind her navel.

Upon opening her eyes again, she found herself standing in the living room of the Mykonos villa. The sun was just beginning to set over the sea, casting its long rays over the sun-washed walls of the secluded little home.

Emma handed her case off to a house elf and set off through the living room and out onto the back patio. The view was beautiful, but that wasn't what her gaze was drawn to. Her eyes moved to the woman lounging by the pool, her hair and outfit immaculate even as relaxed in the early evening air.

She must have heard her guest, as her gaze lifted from her book and her lips tilted upwards in small smile. "Hello, Emmeline," she said, her voice soft but loud enough for Emma's ears to hear.

Taking a deep breath, Emma managed a smile of her own. "Hello, Mother."


Summary: Emma undertakes her tri-monthly ritual.