Every Little Thing, James Potter.

30. The Budleighest of Babberton

                                               Gwen had never been camping before, but she assumed it was not anything like what she and Lily had been up to for the past few days. Yes, they were sleeping in the woods living off of nothing but a Transfigured tent and two military-style cots, but did the normal camping experience take into account the added worry of whether or not one's betrothed had been taken captive by a murderous, bloodthirsty society intending to kill Gwen at the next chance they got? Or was this whole ordeal unique to just Gwen?

She was convinced she had been put in some sort of hellish purgatory, one she could never leave, one tailored specifically to her worst nightmares. Unable to leave.

Lily insisted many a time that it would do no good to try and track down the rest of the Order, that they had no idea where to go in the first place, that they had nowhere to return to anyway.

All of her points were reasonable and perfectly respectable, but that didn't stop the insatiable anxiety that ate away at Gwen and itched for her to find James.

By the third day, Gwen was growing testy, and her back was sore. She took this matter up with Lily immediately, like an impatient child trying to rile up her mother.

"We have to get out of here," Gwen demanded, shivering in the final light of the dying fire. The sun had begun to set and the autumnal cold was once again creeping in, and neither Lily nor Gwen had reached their wand out to replenish the flames. "I need to sleep in a real bed tonight, Lily. And I—"

"If you say you have to find James one more time," Lily warned, shooting her a sharp glare, "I'm leaving you here by yourself. I know you're anxious, Gwen. I am too. But there is nothing we can do."

     "That's a load of nonsense and you know it," Gwen spat, and she could feel another one of their now-familiar arguments bubbling up beneath the surface—it had been countless times now that the two witches would get beneath each other's skin and small fits would break out between them. "We could easily reach out to the rest of the Order, Lily! Why can't we go and find them? James and Ted are most likely in danger and you want to stay here for another week, holed up in our little cloth tent?"

     "If James and Ted are in danger—if—then the Order is probably already on it. Which would mean it entirely useless for us to go out there and endanger ourselves more!"

     Gwen scoffed, arms crossed tightly over her chest. For a moment, she debated hexing Lily to the spot and Disapparating to go find James, wherever he may be, but the idea disappeared the moment she'd had it.

     "You want to go," Lily said, almost reading Gwen's mind, "then go. But I'm trying to tell you there is no point—"

     "I don't care if there's a point!" Gwen exploded, throwing her hands in the air, her voice reaching decibels she never thought possible. "I don't care if it's unwise or unsafe or anything, Lily! I just want to find James, and if that means I put myself in harm's way, then so be it, alright? If I find him, which I'd bet I would, then he's back and he's safe. If he's already gone, then I've got nothing to lose either way. I just.."

     She exhaled a sharp breath, a wispy puff of steam leaving her lips, trailing off as Gwen stood in silence for a moment, eyes glued to Lily. She was no longer angry—just desperate for her friend to understand. Compelling her to see where she was coming from.

     "I can't sit here for another three days, not doing anything, while the rest of them could be out there. Looking for him." Gwen's voice was low again, and her tone shook, hand-in-hand with the glossiness that had overcome her eyes. She shook her head and swallowed a lump back down her throat. "I don't want to be useless in this war. If James is in trouble, then I must be, too. If James dies, I die. It's simple, Lily—I love him too much to leave him to the dragons."