Unbidden Memories

by lalaluu

Alert!

Make sure you read the last chapter!

There were fewer hits than usual and no reviews so maybe you haven't read it!

Author Note: Standard Disclaimer Applies. Real-life has finally given me enough of a break that I have this chapter finished and am ready to post it up for you, my loyal readers. My beta, cecelle, helped me greatly with this chapter. I am not and do not know a depressed person, but for some reason, I wrote Emmaline as one. Cecelle has helped me keep Emmaline in character and helped make this a more believable story.

Chapter 36

The Day Of

Severus woke reluctantly. He felt so warm, so content. Sighing, he pressed back into the wonderfully soft pillow, tilting his head slightly. His overly large nose came into contact with someone else's hair. It smelled good. Clean and, after a deeper sniff, a musky warmth – the scent of the natural oils secreted by the human body. In his sleepy awareness something clicked. Emmaline. After further exploration, he determined that she was wrapped up in his arms. He thought back to last night and only remembered clutching her hand to him in a desperate attempt not to break down. In the early light of morning, he mentally rolled his eyes at his own weakness. Damn two a.m. vulnerabilities.

Moving his feet, he determined that she had draped one of her legs over his. How did they get tangled up like this? He was pretty sure he still had on all the clothes he put on before bed last night. He knew he still had on socks. Well. That was it then. He hated sex with socks on, therefore nothing had happened. Well. Thank God then, because he didn't remember anything.

But…well, damn. There it was – his morning wood. And her closeness, the pressure of her body against his, and her smell – it wasn't helping. Well, not in the way he wanted it to help. Wait, what did he want?

Emmaline stretched and reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Mornin'," she greeted him sleepily, and rather than be cross about her crude greeting, he found it to be rather endearing. Certainly his hard-on was interested. Damn.

So he returned the greeting. "I am rather glad you didn't include the "good" in the greeting, as I can't see that there's anything good about it," he groused.

Emmaline's head whipped up, and her eyes grew comically large. "Severus!"

Frowning, he asked suspiciously, "Who else did you expect to be cuddling with at Hogwarts?"

"I – I didn't realize…" she gaped. "I, um, thought you were…well," she hedged. "I totally forgot when and where I am."

He frowned more deeply when he thought of whom she could be referring to – that accountant bloke, he supposed. He thought of reminding her exactly who she was in bed with by kissing her thoroughly. Morning breath aside, he decided not to, if only because of her reaction to his kisses yesterday.

She made a show of looking around. "Sure doesn't look like my house, does it?"

Was she deliberately reminding him of the one other night that they had spent together? Quirking one eyebrow, he noted, "I do believe we only slept that night, too." Disgusted with himself for his incessant need for her and fed up with her mixed signals, he shoved off the bed covers and got up. He hobbled stiffly to the door, but paused with his hand on the knob when she spoke.
Despondently, she spoke, "I'm not doing a good job of letting you know what I want."

"Do you know what you want?" he asked, thinking he already knew the answer.

"Yes," she answered softly, and surprised, he turned his head toward her. She continued, " – but I'm afraid that I can't have it…"

For the first time since he had known her, he looked at her with pity, seeing a damaged and lonely woman. The words she spoke were eerily similar to ones he had uttered to Albus Dumbledore on that still and clear night – the night he had sought refuge. "Then you will never have it," he said, his voice heavy with sadness and experience. His shoulders sagging, he – forsaken and broken, too – shuffled out the door and into his own room.

They had fed the Re'em, and Andrew had been ready to go back to the castle, but Draco insisted on grooming the small creature before they left. Apparently, it was the least they could do if they were going to draw its blood for the rest of its life. Andrew had conceded more because he had sympathy for Draco than that he agreed with him. He knew taking care of the Re'em was therapeutic for his friend, and he also knew that he wouldn't spare Draco anything that would help him heal if he could. So they sat in the little shed behind Hagrid's hut while Draco brushed the baby Re'em's fur, turning it to a shiny gold.

Andrew stared at the Re'em's coat until he went cross-eyed. "You know how in Rumpelstiltskin, he spun straw into gold?" Draco looked up at him inquiringly. "I bet you that it looked like this little guy's fur."

"Possibly," Draco answered. He turned the creature around so he could start on the other side.

Andrew sighed and rested his chin on his hands. He was a bit bored, but he didn't want to think. There were way too many things to think about, and none of them that he wanted to think about –

"I've been thinking," Draco said. "Thoreau says that people create a government so that it can accomplish their goals. But that in doing so, they create this entity and, instead of the government serving them, they end up serving the government." His movements with the brush stilled, and he looked up earnestly at his friend. "Remind you of someone?" he asked softly.

"Voldemort," Andrew answered matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," Draco said, dropping his eyes back to his lap. He fingered the Re'em's ear, feeling its softness. "So, instead of the purebloods using," he took a deep breath, "his regime to further their cause, they're being pressed into service to serve his needs."

Andrew frowned. "You really need to learn to say his name without hyperventilating."

"I – I know, but since I can't even think it without hyperventilating, let's just drop that for now," Draco pleaded with just a touch of exasperation.

"Okay," Andrew readily agreed.

"What I wonder is how I'm going to get through tonight if this is what I feel? If this is what I'm thinking when I'm standing in front of him?" Draco asked, his voice rising anxiously. By now, he had tensed up so much that the Re'em was starting to protest. Andrew scooped it up and cradled it to his chest, pulling his cloak over the little guy to keep him warm.

"Don't say anything to him about it. Stick with "yes sir" and "no sir" – stuff like that."

"You don't understand," Draco stated flatly. "He's a very powerful Legilimens. Severus told me. He tried to teach me Occlumency, but – "

"Wait, Voldemort's a Legilimens?" Andrew asked, starting to become alarmed.

Draco nodded solemnly. "Yes."

Andrew stopped bouncing the Re'em and placed him back in his nest. The creature seemed content to burrow under the scraps of cloth, so Andrew stood up and pulled Draco to his feet. "Come on, we've got to talk to Mom."

They opened the tapestry to Professor Snape's sitting room, and Andrew walked over to his mother's room where he found her huddled in the middle of the bed. She had dressed, and it looked like she had attempted to make up the bed before breaking down and gathering all the loose linens to her chest. She was rocking back and forth slowly and as Andrew bent down to pry her hands away from the covers, he noticed that her face was wet with tears that were already drying.

"What's wrong with her?" Andrew looked up to see Draco frozen in the doorway, his face a tumult of revulsion, confusion, and hopelessness.

"Come here and help me," Andrew ordered, not caring what Draco's feelings were on the matter. Right now he needed help, and his mom had a soft spot for Draco. When the other boy hesitantly approached the other side of the bed, Andrew instructed him, "Help me get her up." Draco pushed while he pulled; then Andrew tugged at the sheets until Draco caught on and grasped at Emmaline's hands. That task accomplished, the next step was to calm her down. "Mom?" whispered Andrew, pushing her hair back from her face. Draco imitated him on the other side, taking care to remove the strands that were stuck to her cheek from the tears. "We're here. Draco and I are here." He shared a look with the other boy. "We're not going anywhere. Do you hear me?" He waited until his mother nodded slightly. "We're going to stay until you feel better." She sighed wetly and laid her head against his shoulder. "The Re'em is doing well. Draco is even grooming him. I think the little guy recognizes Draco more than me. Hagrid thinks it's a miracle they're getting along so well." Andrew nearly chuckled when Draco stuck his tongue out at him. He continued stroking his mom's back while Draco smoothed her hair. "And we're going to take the potion before we go tonight, so we'll be back in one piece – one whole piece – I promise."

When his mom finally spoke, her voice was scratchy and harsh. "That's not it."

"What's wrong then?" he asked slowly and soothingly.

She shook her head jerkily. "Same thing," she answered tersely.

"Same thing?" Andrew asked back. His brow furrowed as he thought. "You mean…you're sad over the same thing you're usually sad about?"

A nod. A sigh. "Yes," she sniffled.

"Dad," Andrew breathed.

"What?" asked Draco.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Andrew looked at Draco. "Stay with her for a bit, alright?" When Draco looked panicked, he added, "Just keep talking to her." Andrew's face as he stalked out of the door was grim.

Emmaline sniffed wetly and lifted her sleeve to her nose.

"Hey!" Draco exclaimed. At her startled look, he said more softly, "Hey… Here, use this." Pulling out his handkerchief he offered it to her. When she gingerly took it from him, he rubbed her shoulder. When she kept sniffling and did not react to his touch, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into his arms as she had done for him so many times since they had met. And that hadn't been that long ago. Feeling lost, Draco clung to the one hope that Andrew had left him – talking.

"I really do like the Re'em. He's cute," Draco admitted, smiling to himself. "Thank you so much for getting him." When she didn't acknowledge that statement, he plunged on, "Anyway, I wanted to tell you what I learned from the book you gave me. I've been reading Civil Disobedience. It's…revolutionary. I mean, it seems like the other side of the coin to – the Dark Lord – but I'm not sure shaking things up so drastically is necessarily the best thing." He paused when she sniffed, but no other sounds were forthcoming. "I like the bit about people being inherently good, but becoming twisted because of, or in the name of, the government. It gives me hope, not just for myself, but also for my father." A soft whimper. "Yeah, I know – he's a womanizer, one of the worst kind. But he is my father…"

Emmaline clasped his hand and raised her head to look at him. "What else did you learn?"

Draco smiled lopsidedly at her. He realized that distraction was good for her, and that was what Andrew was trying for earlier. Continuing, he explained, "That if I'm not against them, then I'm with them. You have to do something with your life – stand for something… Emmaline," he began seriously, "I need to know how to Occlude these thoughts from the Dark Lord. Severus has tried to teach me, but it hasn't gone really well," he admitted.

Blearily, Emmaline looked up at the young man holding her fast in his arms. He wasn't her Andrew, but she remembered that she felt as strongly about him as if he were her son. He looked so worried. He needed help. Whatever failings she had as a person, she was determined to be the best mother she could, even with this sometimes crippling sadness. He needed her to be strong. She closed her eyes gently and took a long, deep breath. Having worked through the pain before – to feed Andrew when he cried, to work a shift at the diner so she could make rent, to bake muffins for a Cub Scouts bake sale – she could do it again, as many times as necessary to help her son. This young, blond boy was nearly her son; she could be strong for him, too. She hiccoughed and then sighed loudly. Finally, she asked, "Tell me what you've learned so far so I know which gaps to fill in."

Severus looked up from his cauldron when the door to the lab was thrown open. He had been out of sorts this morning after talking with Emmaline – well, sniping at her if he was to be honest – and resorted to brewing as a method to restore his sanity. He was always very focused when creating a potion and nearly always found himself completely relaxed afterwards. So he was brewing when Andrew stormed into the lab.

"We need to talk," he stated. While Andrew waved the door closed and sent an Imperturbable Charm at it, Severus deftly stirred the contents of his cauldron while adding crushed laurel leaves.

"Indeed," he intoned. Ignoring as Andrew crossed his arms stubbornly, his wand still clutched tightly in his right hand, Severus peered into the cauldron to judge the hue of the concoction. He jumped up startled when Andrew nearly yelled, "Dad!" Severus swung around and glared at his progeny. "While I appreciate that you took the precaution of deterring any eavesdroppers, I do not think it appropriate that you should call me 'dad,'" he sneered. "Not only am I your professor, it was only established that you are my…" He cleared his throat. "A relative…yesterday!"

Rather than the shocked and hurt reaction he expected, Andrew instead returned the sarcasm with equal fervor. "Just so you know – I think it's great that you and Mom are spending time together. However, perhaps you ought to limit it to the daytime hours." Andrew smirked as Severus paled at the implication that he knew they had spent the night together. It was one thing to think of the boy as nearly an adult and quite another to think of him as Emmaline's only son. They were close in a way he couldn't begin to fathom. The one thing he did understand was that Andrew would do anything for his mother – and vice versa. The boy's face hardened again. "I am starting to reconsider leaving her alone with you for any amount of time when I come back to find her in a slump – " Andrew sighed in frustration at the incomprehension on his father's face. "That's what I call it when she goes on a crying jag brought on by her depression." More heatedly, he stated accusingly, "It's usually set off by something. Do you know what it could have been?" Andrew waited, tense and on edge, for Severus' response.

Realization dawned on Severus, and it took him a moment to figure out that he couldn't be his normal caustic self around Emmaline – not now that she had told him her biggest secrets. She had made herself vulnerable, if only to his verbal assaults. Resting his head in his hand for a moment, he sighed wearily. When he looked up, Andrew's expression had changed to include a hint of concern. "I am in the midst of brewing the Summa Curatio potion. Can you finish it for me?"

Andrew nodded warily.

"Good. I will go check on your mother." With a frown, Severus lifted the charm on the door and strode out the door. Once he was alone in the hallway, he found himself moving faster and faster until he was nearly running. How could I have been so stupid! he chastised himself. She doesn't need me belittling her! Damn it, Severus! You'll screw everything up again – and this time, there'll be no little family reunion twenty years down the road! He stopped only at the door to his quarters and paused to catch his breath. He hadn't run so fast since trying to find Potter and his friends in the Forbidden Forest two years ago. Cautiously, he opened the door and stepped into his sitting room. He heard voices coming from Emmaline's room, so he stole to the doorway and stopped to listen.

"It's okay to use your emotion to control what the invading party sees," Emmaline was patiently explaining, though she sounded tired. "But you have to control it. I don't think you could really rid yourself of emotion – not totally. You're a Slytherin, Draco. I know you know how to manipulate what people think. This type of Occlumency requires you to manipulate what people see. You'll show what you want the invading party to see at the same time making it what they want to see." She sighed softly. "I know, it sounds confusing that way. Hmm…let me try explaining it a different way. If Voldemort invades your mind, you don't want him to see – "

"My thoughts about Thoreau," Draco interrupted.

"Right. No revolutionary thoughts then. What is it you want him to see?"

Draco paused for a bit before asking unsurely, "That I'm a loyal follower and totally believe in his cause?"

"Okay. But is that what he wants to see?" A pause. "How would you make him believe it's what he wants to see?"

"I don't know." Draco sounded frustrated and a bit whiny.

"I'll tell you. The emotion you put behind the thought is what will convince him. It's just acting, sweetheart. We all put on masks for each other – some are more elaborate than others – and this is just putting on a mask inside your own thoughts."

Draco sighed loudly.

"Don't worry. Severus and I don't expect you to be an expert by tonight. I just want you to think about how it's done and maybe what kind of construct you want to use."

"About that…I'm not sure what to use."

Emmaline sounded thoughtful as she said, "Andrew uses the Muggle library, of course – they have moving bookshelves, did you know?"

"Uh uh."

"So, Andrew's thoughts are in books. And I use my office – there's lots of cabinets, drawers, and cubbyholes – and I use photographs for my thoughts. They're like a mix between wizarding photographs, because they move, and a Pensieve, because you can play back memories."

"Are Andrew's thoughts pictures, too? Or are they text?" Draco asked after a moment of thought.

"Both, because books are both," Emmaline responded fondly.

"I'll give it a try, I guess. I want to be able to Occlude," Draco spoke earnestly, "but I'm afraid I'm just no good at it."

"You don't know that – not until you try anyway. So give it a real try, okay?"

"Okay," Draco sighed. "I'll go think in my room, though."

"You'd better be thinking and not reading that book!" she called after him.

Severus slunk back into the shadows as Draco emerged from Emmaline's room. He watched the boy walk in an easy, lighthearted manner across the sitting room. It was a far cry from his preening strut or his stoop-shouldered trudge – two of the many masks Draco wore depending on company. Severus smiled slightly as he realized he had just witnessed the real Draco…

…now to deal with Emmaline. Severus stood in the doorframe and looked in at her. She was slumped on the bed, whose covers were in twisted clumps. He cleared his throat, and she looked up – her eyes wide like a caught deer.

"Andrew is concerned about you," he informed her. He searched her face for clues, but found none as she turned away.

"I need my pills," she said. As she fumbled in her luggage, he entered the room and approached her, though he left a good arms length between them. Clutching a translucent brown cylinder, she turned with hooded eyes to ask, "Would you conjure a glass of water, please?"

He nodded cautiously and then produced a cut crystal glass full of spring water.

"Thank you," she said demurely, taking it from his hands with more care than necessary.

While she swallowed the pills, Severus picked up the cylinder from the bed and read the label affixed to it. "Paroxetine. This is a Muggle drug?"

"Mmm hmm," she murmured, still sipping at the water. Hesitantly, she reached up and took the cylinder away from him and quickly stuffed it back into her luggage.

As she began straightening the bed covers, he asked, "It is supposed to help with your depression?"

This time she only nodded.
"How long until it takes effect?"

Emmaline sighed softly, as if trying to be patient with a child that asked too many silly questions. "About 30 minutes," she finally replied.

"Does it work?" he asked bluntly.

She looked at him then, if only for a brief moment. "Mostly," she hedged. "I try not to take it too often – the body can become used to it." She moved to pass him in order to get to the other side of the bed, but he stopped her with one hand on her arm.

"I don't want to be the one that hurts you so that you have to take that medicine." He watched as a single tear slid out of her eye.

She wiped it away angrily before admitting, "It's going to happen. Even I don't know what sets me off sometimes. I just…" She took a deep breath, shuddering with repressed emotion. "I just end up crying – uncontrollably – sometimes." In a high, small voice, she gasped, "I wish I didn't!"

Something in him snapped or maybe it just came together, but Severus pulled her to him, enveloping her in a firm, comforting hug – no longer afraid to show affection to this woman who had bared all her secrets to him. He had treated her callously this morning, and now he had to deal with the results of his insensitivity. Andrew was right to call him out; he was responsible for her feelings now, too. The small part of him that balked at that responsibility was overwhelmed by the very large part of him that desperately wanted to be with her. No one could make him feel better – and no one could make him feel worse. With dawning understanding, he led her over to the now-made bed and made her sit on his lap. Her willingness to continue to allow him to comfort her was the one thing that reassured him that all was not lost. He could make it up to her.

He didn't know how long he had been holding her while rocking back and forth - she had long since stopped sniffling, and he suspected she was lightly dozing – when Andrew spoke from the doorway.

"Better?" He looked at his mom expectantly.

"I believe so," he responded. He met his son's eyes and the younger man nodded understandingly.

"Okay. I'm going to check on Draco then."

"Try not to disturb him too much. He needs the time to work on his Occlumency."

Andrew's eyebrow rose in a perfect imitation of his father. This time, Severus observed it for what it was – something that had been inherited.

"Your mother instructed him," Severus clarified. Andrew nodded shortly and left the doorway. After Severus heard the tapestry shut firmly, Emmaline stirred.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't want him to see me until I'd washed my face." She pulled back and it was apparent why she had concerns. Her skin was blotchy and creased from the seams on his robe. He nodded understandingly, unable to tear his eyes from her face. His hands clutched at her waist as he impulsively leaned forward to brush his lips against hers. Sighing, he leaned back saying, "Go wash, then." She actually smiled briefly – and somewhat alluringly – before getting up and leaving the room. Severus sat where he was, swearing a vow that he would make her smile like that more often.