Emma felt numb. There was no other word to describe how she felt. She felt cold, she felt numb, and she couldn't understand why she couldn't feel. If she was honest with herself, she just couldn't get herself to care. No one had understood what had happened at St. Mungo's, but it left Emma feeling empty.
Lyall's home had become the headquarters for everything and Emma mostly kept to her room, the door closed to the world. There were too many people she didn't know coming through the house as they made funeral arrangements. She couldn't stand the sympathy – she didn't want it. Sheltered in the walls of her room, she was safe. She was uncomfortable because it wasn't home, but she was safe. As long as Emma could stay in bed under the covers, she would be fine. She had to be fine.
A gentle knock at the door roused her attention. She pulled her head up from her pillow, watching as the door opened and Remus peered in. He gave her a small smile, not crossing the threshold.
"You haven't gotten dressed."
"I don't want to go," Emma said quietly. She flipped over so that she didn't have to look at Remus. Her stomach was in knots at the idea of having to go to her mother's funeral. It wasn't that she didn't want to, but she couldn't feel a thing. How was she supposed to go when she felt so empty? Emma felt the bed dip as Remus sat down.
"Okay," Remus said. "You don't have to go."
Emma looked over her shoulder at Remus, a jolt running down her spine as she took in his dress robes. She turned back around, burying her face in her pillow. The dress robes weren't just for the job he had left during her Christmas holiday – they were funeral clothes. At least it explained why they looked as though they weren't worn frequently.
"It's scary, I understand," Remus said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"She'll hate me for not going," Emma whispered, turning her head slightly back towards Remus.
"Your mother would never hate you, love. She would understand."
"But it's my mother," Emma said, unable to stop her voice breaking. She pulled her blanket up to hide some of her face.
She felt the bed shift as Remus leaned over, brushing her hair out of her face. "Emma, she would understand. I promise."
"But what if she doesn't?"
"Love, I can tell you without a doubt that she loved you more than anything. She wouldn't be mad at you for not wanting to go. She knew that you loved her."
Emma frowned, unsure of how to respond. She pulled her blanket a little closer and closed her eyes as Remus pressed a kiss near her temple.
"Persephone's family got back from France last night. Do you want me to find out if she can come stay with you?"
"Yeah," Emma said with a nod. "And Neville?"
"Neville?" Remus asked, surprised.
Emma nodded again. "Please?"
"Of course," Remus said. "I'll come back and let you know if they're coming."
Emma wasn't sure how much time had passed when she heard another quiet knock at the door. She glanced over her shoulder to look over to see Persephone and, to her surprise, Caspian. She swallowed hard against the lump that formed in her throat, seeing them both dressed in black. Emma was used to seeing them in jewel-toned clothing that the black seemed entirely out of place.
"I thought Re was going to come back up?" Emma said, sitting up in her bed.
"He's talking to mum right now. He said Neville should be coming by soon," Persephone replied. "Is it all right if we come in?"
"Oh, yeah," Emma said. "Of course."
"We haven't been upstairs before," Caspian said, stepping into the room behind Persephone, looking terribly confused.
"Sorry…it just never seemed like either of you were here long enough that we could come up here," Emma said, looking around the room. "It feels weird to me that I have two rooms."
"It's nice that you've got your own room, here," Persephone said, climbing into the bed with Emma.
"I guess," Emma sighed. She turned her attention to Caspian, who sat down at the edge of the bed. "I thought you were staying at school?"
"Er, they picked me up last night," Caspian said, glancing over at Persephone for a moment. "Everyone – everyone says they're sorry, Em…They didn't know. Ernie feels terrible."
"Yes, well, Ernie probably should have thought about that before he said awful things that he did," Emma said. She let out a groan at the look on Caspian's face and covered her eyes. "I'm sorry…"
Persephone put an arm around Emma's shoulder and pulled her close. "Don't be sorry…"
"I shouldn't have snapped like that."
"Well, to be fair, Ernie has been stupid," Caspian said. "He's been driving the other boys mad. He's friends with Jack, who's in my year, so he's with us all the time, too."
"Git…" Persephone muttered under her breath, causing Emma to let out a huff.
Another knock drew everyone's attention to the door as Neville peered around the door, his face red. "'Lo," he said quietly.
"Hi Neville," Emma said, giving him a small smile. "Come in."
"Remus is, er…downstairs," Neville said, shuffling into the room. "He asked me to tell you that he wants to talk to you before…"
"Oh," Emma said quietly, pulling herself away from Persephone.
"Do you want me to have him come up here?" Persephone asked.
"No. I can go. I haven't really left the room since last night, and that was just to take a shower," Emma said quietly, carefully slipping out of bed and padding out into the hall and down the stairs. She nervously peered around the corner of the first landing, finding it strange that she didn't hear anyone. Emma let out a sigh of relief when she saw Remus sitting at the bottom of the stairs.
Remus turned to look up the stairs and gave Emma a gentle smile. "Come here, come sit with me," Remus said, beckoning for Emma to join him.
Emma sat down next to Remus, painfully aware of how small she was next to him. She clearly didn't inherit the height genes of the family, and it made her feel odd. She didn't even know how tall her mother actually was, only used to seeing her sitting up in a bed. Was Margaret all legs like Remus and Lyall? Or was she tiny and petite like Emma? Photos were deceptive – especially the ones that moved.
"Are you going to be okay?" Remus asked, placing a hand on Emma's knee.
She nodded and then shrugged. "I'm going to have to be, aren't I?"
"No, you don't have to be," Remus said, gently squeezing her knee. "It's okay to not be okay. I suppose I should rephrase the question and ask if you'll be okay for right now."
"I think so," Emma murmured. "I'm glad that the others could come…"
"They were all more than happy to come and be with you. They all love you."
Emma gave Remus a half-smile. "I know…"
Remus gently cupped Emma's chin and turned her face towards him. Though Emma's face was impassive, Remus could see the hurt deep behind her eyes, and it broke his heart. "I wanted to let you know that I gave Persephone and Caspian instructions to make sure that you eat something. I don't care if it's something small – it'll help," Remus said. "I asked Neville to make sure that you get outside for a little while. Please, don't get upset with them. I'm the one that asked them to do those things."
"Oh," Emma muttered, her shoulders slumping. "Do I have to do any of that?"
"I think it would help," Remus explained. "I would like you to try, at least. If you really don't feel up for it, then we can try again later. But let them help you."
"Okay," Emma answered, "I'll try."
"I'm sorry that I haven't been able to spend more time with you lately," Remus said earnestly. "It's been a lot –"
"I know. You had a lot to do." Emma stared at Remus for a moment before pulling her face away and pulling his arm around her shoulders. She slid close and hugged him tightly, grateful for how tightly he squeezed her back.
"I promise that I'll make it up to you," Remus whispered, only letting go when Emma pulled herself away. He started to say something else but was interrupted by Lyall.
"It's time to go," Lyall said quietly.
Remus sighed, looking at Lyall and then turning back to Emma and pulling her into another hug. "We'll be back in a few hours…"
"And then I have to let people see me?" Emma asked.
"Only for a little while," Lyall answered for Remus.
Emma nodded, standing up. She let out a breath and gave Lyall a quick hug before rushing back up the stairs.
"Hey," Persephone said when Emma returned to her room. "Everyone left?"
"Yeah," Emma muttered, "It's weird…"
"I know. Why don't you try taking a shower?" Persephone suggested gently. "Just to try and warm up?"
Emma looked up, taking in the expressions on everyone's faces. Persephone was concerned, Neville looked worried, and Caspian looked unsure of what to do. She nodded and stood up. "Yeah, maybe that's a good idea," she said. "I know I took one last night, but…"
"Go," Persephone said. "I'll get you something to wear. Just worry about being comfortable right now."
"Okay," Emma said, her feet moving to the bathroom almost as if she were on autopilot.
The moment Emma made it into the bathroom, she froze. A part of her knew that she should get into the shower, but the energy to do so had all but disappeared.
"You haven't even gotten in yet?" Persephone asked, mostly to herself. She placed Emma's clothes down on the counter next to the sink. With a frown, she stepped up to the shower, turning the knob and making sure the water temperature wasn't scalding. Persephone hated seeing Emma in the state she was in – robotic and stiff and extremely fragile as if a gentle breeze would knock her over. "Do you need help?"
Emma shook her head. "No," she said quietly, casting a half glance in Persephone's direction. "I just…I need time."
Persephone nodded and pulled Emma into a quick hug. "I'll be right outside if you need me. Neville and Caspian are hitting it off right now, so they'll be fine."
"Okay," Emma said, half-watching Persephone leave the room and close the door behind her. With a sigh, Emma disrobed and shivered at the coolness of the bathroom.
She stepped carefully into the shower and under the water, a small gasp escaping her lips at the sudden temperature change. She felt freezing cold, but the water was warm and welcoming. She tipped her head up towards the water, the warmth cascading down her face. As if she was being pulled, she slowly moved her face further into the water.
If I just keep my head under the water like this, I could drown. Maybe that would be okay.
The thought forced Emma away from the water. She stared at the bottom of the shower, watching as the water flowed down the drain and shook her head. She grabbed the washcloth that she had brought in with her and lathered it up with soap and washed her body, letting her thoughts wander.
She wasn't sure where that thought came from, but it terrified her and pulled her in at the same time. Hesitantly, she walked into the warm water and dipped her face under the spray again. Her eyes closing unconsciously as the water touched her skin.
It would be easy to die right now. And no one would know.
With a gasp, Emma wrenched herself away, shutting the water off as quickly as she could.
"Are you okay?" Persephone asked through the crack in the door.
"Y – yeah," Emma answered, shivering as the cold air touched her skin. "The water was getting cold."
"The water was getting cold? Isn't it heated up with a heating charm?"
"Uhm, no," Emma said, ripping off a towel and covering herself as Persephone opened the door so she could peer into the bathroom. "I don't know. I think it's still done the Muggle way. I've never asked."
Persephone's eyes were sharp, watching and studying Emma carefully. "Okay," she said quietly. "Is it all right if I come in? You haven't gotten dressed yet."
Emma snorted, the hint of a smile playing at her lips. "As if we haven't changed in front of each other a million times already?"
"I wasn't sure, considering…" Persephone trailed off, unsure.
"Persephone," Emma said, an eyebrow raising. "Just because things between us are different now doesn't change the fact we've changed in front of each other."
Persephone gave Emma a shy smile. "Are you sure?"
"It's nothing you haven't seen already," Emma said with a shrug. With a nod, Persephone stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.
Emma was grateful that Persephone had managed to find her softest undergarments to wear. She tossed them on quickly, not missing the way Persephone looked at her before quickly looking away.
"I stole one of Remus's jumpers for you," Persephone said, handing Emma the oversized black garment.
"He'll love that," Emma said, unable to hold back her grin. "He always complains that I steal his clothes. He tells me that he'll have nothing to wear if I keep taking his clothes. I just tell him that I need bigger clothes." She tossed it on and rolled up the sleeves that extended well past her hands.
"It's huge on you," Persephone laughed, her eyes trailing down to the bottom of the jumper that sat just over the top of Emma's knees. "It's practically a dress."
"I know, I like it," Emma said, looking down. "It's comfortable. You should steal one of your dad's jumpers and see what it's like."
"I think I prefer real dresses, thanks."
"Suit yourself," Emma said with a shrug as she pulled on the yellow and black flannel bottoms Persephone had brought. "Could you have found me a more Hufflepuff-like outfit?"
"You didn't have anything that I could piece together to make you a Slytherin," Persephone said with a smirk. "Come on, let's go join the boys. I think Caspian can only take so much talk about plants. Did you know Neville knows a lot about Herbology?"
"Oh, you have no idea," Emma said, cracking a smile.
Emma wasn't sure what had happened. The last thing she remembered was watching Caspian and Neville playing chess, but now her room was empty except for Remus, who woke her up. She tried to run through everything that had happened earlier. They had all gone downstairs, Caspian had made them all sandwiches that Emma barely ate. The trio had managed to convince Emma to sit outside in the garden for a little while. After Emma complained about having to be out, they returned indoors, and the girls were in the living room watching the two boys. She couldn't remember anything after that.
"Where did everyone go?" Emma asked, shooting up in her bed in a panic. Was she even in her bed earlier? How did she get here?
"Downstairs," Remus said. "I know you don't want to, but…"
Emma grimaced, her attention turning to the dress that was staring at her from the closet. "I don't…"
"An hour, an hour and a half at most – that's all I ask."
"Is she – oh, you're up," Persephone said, peering into the room.
"I'll take that as my cue to leave," Remus smiled, standing up from the bed. "I'll be back up in twenty."
Emma pulled herself out of bed reluctantly and turned to Persephone. "Well, this sucks."
"I know," Persephone said quietly. "I'll let you get dressed. I'll be back in a minute."
"Right," Emma said, waiting for the click of the door closing before she walked over to the closet. She tossed Remus's jumper onto the bed and pulled the dress off the hanger. It was the same velvet dress that she wore at Christmas, and she felt guilty putting it on. That night had wound up being perfect, and now she was wearing it for her mother's wake to receive condolences from people that she had never met. It didn't seem fair.
Emma put the dress on and slipped her pajama bottoms off after a small giggle at how ridiculous she looked with pants on. She looked down at her feet and snorted at the thick socks on her feet. With a heavy sigh, she decided to put on her tights and slipped on her shoes, feeling strange about wearing them indoors. Unsure of what else to do, Emma turned to the mirror, grabbing her hairbrush. She couldn't imagine that her hair would have stayed nice after falling asleep.
A few minutes later, the door opened again. Persephone froze in Emma's doorway as she took in her outfit. "That's the dress you wore at Christmas," she said quietly. "I forgot how pretty you looked in it."
A half-smile crossed Emma's face as she turned to meet Persephone's gaze. "I don't feel like it." She turned back to the mirror and frowned, fingers brushing through her hair. She looked down at the hairbrush in her other hand and sighed. "I don't know what to do with this."
"With your hair?"
"Yeah. I feel like I should be wearing it down, but I want to wear it up. I just feel like that's silly."
"Here," Persephone said, taking the hairbrush from Emma. "If you want it up, then you wear it up." Persephone pulled her hair out of the black ribbon that was holding her hair up and held it between her teeth. She carefully brushed Emma's hair back and tied her hair up in a high ponytail. "Where's your wand?"
Emma pointed over to her bag and watched Persephone walk over, pulling her wand out and returning to the mirror. "You have too much black," Persephone said, tapping the ribbon in Emma's hair and whispering a spell. She pulled the end of the ribbon to the side so that Emma could see that the black ribbon was now a golden yellow. "To match your necklace." Persephone tugged the chain of Emma's necklace out of her collar so that the pendant sat out in the open.
"I feel useless," Emma mumbled, looking back at Persephone in the reflection. "I shouldn't be like this. I should be able to just…be."
"Don't," Persephone said, hugging Emma from behind after tossing Emma's wand on the bed. "Let people take care of you right now, Emma." A thoughtful look crossed Persephone's face. "Have you ever thought of piercing your ears? You've got good ears for it."
Emma was unable to hold back the laugh that burst forth at the ridiculousness of Persephone's statement. She began to laugh so hard that tears started streaming down her face, and her stomach began to hurt. It was something that Persephone never meant to be funny. Still, in the seriousness of the moment, Emma couldn't help but find it amusing.
"What did I say?" Persephone asked with a pout. She pulled away from Emma and put a hand on her hip, lost as to what was so funny.
"You told me…that I have…good ears!" Emma choked out between laughs, clutching her sides. "No one says that!" She took in deep breaths to try and calm her laughter and wiped away her tears. She couldn't remember the last time that she had honestly laughed that hard. The thought was nearly sobering enough to get her to stop, but then Persephone had to continue.
More laughter escaped Emma's lips as Persephone started to point out all the reasons why Emma had good ears. Emma held tightly to her aching ribs, doubled over from laughing. It hurt, but it was a good hurt, and it was one that she would welcome over and over again if she could. When she finally straightened up, she looked in the mirror, and her laugh died in her throat. Seeing Remus in the reflection had sobered her quickly.
"I'll leave," Persephone said, dipping out of the room and leaving Emma alone with Remus.
"How are you feeling?" Remus asked. "It was nice to hear you laugh."
"Nervous," Emma admitted. "Effie said I nice ears, and I thought it was funny."
"She said you had nice ears?"
"Effie asked me if I ever thought of piercing my ears. And then proceeded to tell me every reason why I have the perfect ears for it." Emma sighed, looking at herself in the mirror, trying to imagine having pierced ears. Taking another cursory look at herself, she adjusted her fringe with a frown. "Are there a lot of people?"
"More than I expected," Remus said. "Most decided to join us here, so…"
Emma nodded and finally turned to face Remus. "Guess I should do my part…"
There was hardly a moment that Remus didn't have a protective hand on her shoulder, gently steering Emma through the crowded house. Remus wasn't kidding when he said there were a lot of people, none of the faces familiar except for McGonagall and Flitwick, which surprised her.
"You look so much like your mother."
It was a phrase that was said so much that it made Emma sick to her stomach. A part of her wanted to believe, but she couldn't see it in herself. She was relieved when Remus decided to take her out to the garden where there were fewer people and sit her down on a bench just so that she could breathe. She leaned against Remus, grateful for the nonsense he spoke as he rubbed gentle circles on her back. It was enough to keep her distracted so that she didn't have to think. Unfortunately, the moment of solitude didn't last long as a rather large and rather short bald old man approached.
"Ah, there you are, Remus. I've been trying to catch you all day but haven't had a chance. Terrible thing to hear about Margaret."
Remus gave Emma an apologetic smile and stood up from the bench, shaking the man's hand. "Well, as you know, it's been a lot to deal with, Professor Slughorn."
"Ah, call me Horace, Remus. It's been years since I've been a Professor and years since I taught you. It was nice to retire," the man said, suddenly turning to Emma. "And you – Merlin, you look just like your mother. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."
"T – thank you," Emma said quietly, standing up so that she could tuck herself into Remus's side.
"Yes, your mother was brilliant. One of the best students I ever had. Gave Lily Evans a run for her money," Slughorn said thoughtfully. "Of course, Remus was pretty good himself, but Severus and Lily were top in their year."
Remus seemed to freeze for a moment, but he gave the man a polite nod. "Professor Slughorn – Horace – was our potions professor," Remus explained.
Slughorn chuckled. "I miss teaching, but it was nice to retire," Slughorn said to Remus, a smile on his face. He turned back to Emma, "Now you, Miss Lupin, I have heard about already."
Emma looked up at Remus in confusion before turning to Slughorn. "You have?"
"Oh, yes. I might not teach anymore, but I do like to find out who some of the stand-out students are," Slughorn said. "Severus has mentioned that you have potential. Have you thought of becoming a Potions Master?"
"I, uh – I've never thought about it," Emma answered quietly. "I'm only in my second year…"
"Ah," Slughorn said in understanding. "Plenty of time to decide, but it'll go faster than you think. Your mother would have made a wonderful -"
But Emma would never find out what her mother would have been wonderful as Slughorn was interrupted. A man, who Emma could only assume was one of her mother's dozens of friends, had come over to speak to Slughorn. Emma let out a deep breath of relief as Slughorn went off with the man.
"Sorry about that," Remus said. "He's uh…known for poaching the people who might do him favors later on in life. Hence, the Slug Club."
"I didn't know mum was a part of it…"
"Neither did I, to be honest," Remus said with a small frown. "No one mentioned it to me, but it's not really surprising. Now, finding out that Severus thinks you have potential – that I find interesting." Seeing Emma's pout, Remus corrected himself. "I don't have any doubt in your abilities, love. It's complicated, and I'll leave it at that."
Someone else approached them, and Remus gave her another apologetic look before turning to them. Emma returned to the bench to try and have another breather, but she found herself suddenly overwhelmed. Her stomach twisted painfully, and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her.
There was too many people, too much noise, and even the spacious garden was starting to feel stifling. Remus, who had been attentive until that point, had his back turned to her as he spoke to the woman that had approached. She took the opportunity of his inattentiveness to make her escape.
Emma rushed into the house, past Persephone and her family, around Neville and his grandmother. She even managed to get past Lyall, who was talking to a short woman she might have seen earlier, but she couldn't remember.
She weaved through people carefully, avoiding the sympathetic smiles and the gentle touches. It was too much. Making sure that no one else was paying attention, Emma slipped up the stairs and back to her room, closing the door behind her. She leaned against the door and took a deep breath, pressing her hand to heart, alarmed at how hard it was beating.
With slow steps, Emma made her way to the mirror to look at herself. The voices of all the people who had talked to her echoing in her mind – "You look just like your mother."
She looked nothing like Margaret. It was all lies, lies, lies. Her eyes were the wrong shade of green, her hair was too short, too straight, too much like Jude's for her to find the resemblance. Her face was wrong – everything about her was wrong. She was nothing like her mother except maybe in height, but she would never be able to know. She could never anything like the woman she barely got to know, could barely remember even when she tried to force herself to.
And then it hit her all at once – she would never get to learn who her mother was. She had her mother's diary, of course, but Margaret, as a person, was gone. She was gone. Merlin, she was gone. Her heart began to race harder, slamming in her chest so hard that she couldn't breathe. Everything felt tight – her clothes were suffocating, her thoughts were suffocating, she was suffocating.
She dropped to the floor, clutching at the front of her dress, her hair, her neck – whatever she could grab in the hopes that she could stop choking on air, her unspoken words. She grasped for anything tangible that could anchor her to reality, to the feeling of being alive. But there was nothing.
The room was spinning, her vision was twisting, and she was spiraling even further into a desperation that she didn't understand. She couldn't hear – there was too much noise, like rushing water flooding over her. She was drowning. She was suffocating, and she was drowning. She was sinking further and further, down, down, down into numbness, into darkness, into nothingness.
And then she wasn't. The world stopped spinning, she stopped spinning, and for a moment, she was back on solid ground. She wasn't drowning, she could breathe, just barely. It was just enough to be overwhelmed by chocolate, of juniper trees, of cinnamon, and of spices she couldn't quite name. It wasn't enough to take away the pain, and she wished that it would, because oh, Merlin, everything hurt.
It wasn't a dull ache – it could never be a dull ache. It was being impaled on a spike, right through the heart, but never quite being able to bleed out and being forced to feel everything. Then there were the tears. When had she started crying? Why had she started crying? She had nothing to remember; until she did. And then, fear suddenly coursed through her, raw and freezing, and she was fighting – trying to escape. She couldn't. She could never escape. She gave up, she couldn't fight. She had no fight left.
She wasn't sure when the chocolate and the juniper and the cinnamon went away and was replaced by earl grey tea, burning wood, and the sea breeze. She couldn't figure out why everything felt scratchy beneath her skin, against her hair, against her face. The feeling beneath her fingers felt wrong – tightly woven fabrics of who knows what. Why did things feel like this? Of confusion, of uncertainty, and hopelessness?
Nothing made sense, and then suddenly, everything made sense. Soft fabric beneath her fingers that were tightly gripping onto the one thing that somehow seemed to make sense. There were shaking hands running through her hair, frantic hands holding her tightly, wiping away the tears that never seemed to stop, hands keeping her head pressed against a heartbeat. She took solace in the sound of a stuttering and erratic heartbeat that was as unsteady as her own.
It took her a moment to realize that she was back where she started. Chocolate, juniper, cinnamon, a refuge from her broken thoughts, her broken sobs, her broken heart, her broken spirit. Then she was exhausted, clinging desperately to the desire to just sleep.
Fuck was she tired. She was so fucking tired all the fucking time. She was tired of being tired. Was that possible? It had to be, she decided. And then there was rocking, gentle and soothing as if she was on a boat, docked safely and kept away from danger. For a moment, just a moment, she could breathe; could try to focus. But before she could, the darkness she had been fighting swept over her, and she couldn't resist it any longer. She allowed it to take her down, down, down, and then she drifted into the nothingness until all thought disappeared.