AN: Another chapter! Yay! Anyway, this one includes a new topic:

Part Two: the Harry Potter game. REALLY REALLY HARD. I got it at Christmas time…and have yet to finish it. I have a huge problem with the spiders, seeing as I am deadly afraid of them. I can't sit there and play against those things without running out of the room screaming, which I actually did. The first time I saw them I jumped up from the computer, ran out of the room and sobbed hysterically into a kleenex curled in the corner of my bathroom, shaking. The second time I sat there sceaming at the computer, not being able to be consoled. I had a lot of problems being Aragog, lemme tell ya. But I faced it up—and every time Harry used the "Rictasemptra!" spell, I yelled it too, at the top of my lungs, and yelled, "haha, you motherfuckers, got ya." I think I'm crazy. But I hate spiders. Ugh, why did they have to make them so real? And I apologize for the song in this: not the entire thing, just the refrain. The original is in Japanese, but I used the English. That's how this chapter got its name. So, anyway, spiders bad, new chapter good. See ya next time!

Chapter Twenty-Six: Drowning in my Dreams

She opened the door noiselessly and glided into her room, clicking the oak door shut behind her. "Perhaps it was all for the best," she said softly aloud. After all, they were truly complete opposites. Well, maybe not completely. But their personalilties didn't mix. Each was as stubborn as the next. And neither would ever budge.

Besides, a small voice replied, Faculty relationships are against the rules. Right up there with student/professor relationships. It was forbidden. Plain and simple, black and white—nothing more, nothing less.

Emilia sighed loudly. "Fuck it," she said, walking into the bathroom and turning on the taps. The warm water rushed out, and she stuck her hand under the facet. "I need to relax…"

She slid into her bedroom and undressed, hanging her dress in the closet and putting on her bathrobe. Emilia then walked over to the bookshelf, and ran her finger over the title bindings, not reading any one of them.

Her mind was distant, far away. She was thinking about Severus…breathing in deeply, she closed her eyes and smiled subconsciously. But a knock on her door awoke her from her memory.

She uttered an agitated growl. "Coming," she said, wrapping her robe tighter. Emilia ran into the bathroom and shut off the tap. Then she walked to the door and opened it.

"Yes?" she asked, looking out.

Severus's eyes met hers. "Have I come at a bad time?"

Emilia glared at him. "What do you want?"

"To do something totally out of character."

"What, to learn to have a heart? To become a human? Stop wasting my time."

"To apologize."

"Oh, that really is out of character. But for one million dollars, can you tell me why you apologize?" Emilia said, opening the door a little wider and stepping outside the door, leaning against the frame.

Severus looked slightly angry at her open sarcasm. "I've come to apologize for letting you think that our relationship is anything but plutonic. Faculty relationships are forbidden, and I didn't wish you to think there was anything more."

Emilia stared at him. It was eerie that his words echoed her thoughts from earlier. "What?"

"Good night, Emilia," he said with a curt bow, and walked off. His shadowy figure disappeared in the flames from the wall, their fiery ends lapping up any traces of him.

Emilia's mouth gaped open, finally recognizing what he had said. She glared at the empty hallway and turned sharply, entering her rooms. Her hand swung out and slammed the door shut.

"That prick!" she shrieked angrily, leaning against the wall. She formed her hands into balls and banged them against the door. Without warning, she felt tears start to stream down her face.

She covered her face and sunk down to her knees, crying. "Oh God, what mess have I gotten myself into?" she whispered, and sobbed herself to exhaustion.

She awoke the next morning, curled into a ball against her door. She looked around, and tried to remember why, of all places to sleep, she was on the floor without any blankets and still in her bathrobe.

Then Emilia remembered last night. "Oh geez…" she muttered into her hands. Standing up, she walked into the bathroom and drained the completely frigid water. Walking over to the basin, she splashed fresh water on her face and decided that she needed to take a quick shower. Classes started at eight, and it was rightly six thirty; her internal clock woke her up, and for once she was glad for it.

By seven, she was completely ready to go. She would have liked a little more time; she estimated ten minutes to get to the Great Hall and down some breakfast before she went to her first class.

It was refreshing that school was starting, and a sense of normalcy was coming about, now that everyone had had time to grieve their losses. Classes today will surely be depressing, no doubt, but life finds a way.

She walked into the Great Hall to find Severus already seated. Her stomach did a flip flop. For some reason, a terrible fear overcame her and she couldn't move past the Great Hall's door frame.

Emilia knew that, according to Severus, that nothing officially happened last night. It made her feel vulnerable, to be perfectly frank, and it pissed her off that Severus would just write off that passionate kiss they shared as 'plutonic' or worse—like it didn't even happen at all.

Emilia took a deep breath to calm herself and walked away from the Great Hall. A wave of regret and other feelings like that overtook her, and suddenly she had never felt so alone in her life. She couldn't tell anyone about how she felt; though it was not her nature, even a chat with Minerva was unadvisable. However, her mind was already at work:

Fuck it.

As she walked, a song popped into her head that she had heard a very long time ago. Humming it softly, she walked into her room, and sat down, singing softly.

(AN: COULDN'T RESIST. It's from the X Original Soundtrack. For those of you sad people who have not experienced this anime, go and see it. For those of who have seen it, ahhh that Fuma…)

She sighed, closing her eyes for a second. Burning for your life…This life will burn out someday, even if you try to cling to it…(for the perfect dream)…drowning in my dream…even if it's remembered, a dream is only a dream…"

Wasn't last night like a dream?

Fuck it.

Oh what the hell.

She covered her face in her hands and willed her eyes to stop forming tears. She felt as if she had been used, like some doll, and now that she was 'no longer needed' she was tossed to the side.

Ironic how that song she remembered fit so well with how she was feeling.

Students were filling into her classes now. She had eventually gotten up and wrote her lecture notes on the subject for today. The students looked tired but oddly relieved to have a normal schedule again.

Emilia went through the classes that morning with half of her attention span. She found that she couldn't focus on what she was teaching. In fact, she couldn't even tell if she was talking in circles. No one payed attention to what she was saying anyway. Emilia gave each class an assignment and let them off to do their work in partners. She was too tired to care.

When the bell rang after her second class that morning she slumped into her desk and groaned into her hands. "Why am I so fucking tired?" she said to herself, mumbling into her sleeves.

Emilia then decided to focus her attention on her afternoon classes and set up for those. She really didn't want to go to the Great Hall—the last thing she needed was another stomachache like before.

Just thinking about it made her have mixed feelings. Emilia felt so sick to her stomach, it was like reliving a nightmare over and over in her head and she couldn't escape from it. What was she going to do? The rational part of her mind said that she needed to eat.

The other part said that she would see her food again if she did.

Emilia was torn in a battle between her feelings and her mind. But at that point, she didn't care. Emilia had managed to push away just about anyone she cared for. Her mother—who died shortly after a quarrel with her and she never got to apologize; her father— newly deceased and though she hadn't had any loose ends with him, Voldemort made it quite clear that it was indeed, her fault; now Severus, with their constant bickering. So what did it matter?

Because truly, it didn't.

The next three days were uneventful. Emilia managed to avoid Severus, but clearly not eating was taking a toll on her. She was snappy to her students and tired constantly. But every time she thought of going down to eat in the Great Hall her fear won out. She didn't know what she felt but it was surely embarrassment or something.

It was midday on Thursday when she finally spoke anything to anyone. For three days she had managed to avoid just about everyone she could, save the students she had to teach. She was down in the library, surrounded by books, taking notes for her next week's classes. Emilia was amazed how much work she could get down within the lunchbreak, dinnerbreak and breakfast break they were allowed each day.

"Good afternoon, Emilia," a solemn voice said softly. Emilia looked up and saw that it was Dumbledore.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster," she replied, and then went back to her work, shuffling papers, looking for the notes she took on the Red Caps for her third year classes. "Is there something I can help you with?" Emilia was irritated that someone interrupted her work. Even if it was Dumbledore.

"Actually, yes you can," Dumbledore said, placing a hand on the chair opposite her. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"No," she said shortly. "But I'm in the middle of something right now. Can this wait until later?" Emilia looked up, slightly annoyed, and very tired.

"That is what I wish to talk about," he said gently, pulling out the oak chair and sitting. He placed his hand on the work she had turned back to, distracting her. "I don't know what is going on, and I doubt you'll tell me; I'm not asking you to. That is your own business. But I am concerned."

"You concern is noted," she said, glancing up at him with a withering look. "I, however, have a lot of things to do and need to get back to them."

Emilia realized what she had said, and opened her mouth to apologize. Dumbledore smiled at her. "Don't bother. I understand that you are mad or upset about something. I just hope that you will be strong enough to realize that it shouldn't take a physical side effect. You haven't shown up to any of the meals in three days, and the House Elves haven't seen you either. Have you eaten anything in three days?"

No, she thought. However, she said, "I have been eating. Thank you for coming down here. And I'm fine, really. It's just…well, I think that the holidays have caught up with me and I don't feel so well right now."

Dumbledore looked at her through the top of his half moon spectacles. "If you are certain, then. But you are invited—and it's not a request, Emilia—to dinner. I shall see you then."

Emilia frowned slightly. "Good day, Headmaster," she replied, terminating the conversation, and looked down at her books, continuing to take notes.

Dumbledore gave one final look at her and stood quietly, leaving. Emilia knew that he had grounds to be concerned, but she was an adult after all. If she chose not to eat, that was her business. Emilia was still teaching. She was doing her job, and that was all she was paid for.

Plus, going down to the Great Hall ought to be an adventure tonight. She didn't really want to. She didn't feel like sitting next to Severus. Emilia wanted to avoid this entire thing.

And she really hated to admit it, but she was downright scared of him: scared of Severus's reaction, scared of how she'll react. Emilia had been, to put it bluntly, rejected by the fucking Potions Master; the man she hated since the beginning of time, the man whom of which everyone hated, and he—he—had the balls to "let her down"—though not gently.

Her hands clenched. Anger boiled in her veins. "Oh, that bastard!" she seethed silently. That…that…she couldn't even think of a word to describe what the hell he did.

Tears rolled down her cheeks subconsciously. She gathered up her notes and left, walking back to her classroom quickly. She went inside and closed the door, leaning against it and taking a deep sigh. "I don't want to go to dinner," she said aloud. "And I'm not."

Emilia walked down the stairs to her desk and put all her notes on it in a heap, then took to separating them. She had just finished filing the notes when students began to come in for class.

Emilia stood up and, though she was sure she did it too quickly, her visioned blackened and her head pounded loudly. She blinked rapidly, waiting for the darkness to disappear, and put a hand on her head, wobbling back and forth. Luckily no one took notice.

She stood in the front of the room, and the blackness returned. Without warning, she felt herself falling down, further and further…then she hit something cold.

Her eyes opened slowly, to reveal a black landscape placed in a graveyard. Emilia felt like she had been here before, though she could not place quite where she remembered this dark and desolate place from. It was like a distant memory.

Or one she chose never to devulge.

She walked along the path, covered in dead leaves and gravel. She heard noises in the background, each as indistinguishable as the next. When she walked up the hill, she saw a clearing in the distance, and saw that it was covered with many people wearing black suits.

Emilia had a sinking feeling. Without knowing why, she ran down the hill and toward the clearing. She knew she was awfully loud, yet no one managed to look up at her approach.

She came around to an opening in the crowd, and saw that a man, with two small slits for eyes, glaring at a young woman, held still by two masked men. Her dark, curly hair was pulled back by one of the men, who forced this woman to look at their lord.

Emilia recognized the man as Voldemort; his face, though barely seen in the dark twilight of the night, was one of the most distinguishable faces she had ever burned in her memory.

Off to the corner, she knew that these men were Death Eaters, the legion of Voldemort's fighters. Two of them had their masks down. She soon recognized them as well. Left to right stood the aloof face of Lucius Malfoy, young and unburdened by the troubles of his unborn son; to his right stood the tall and handsome face of a newly inducted Severus Snape.

Why had she not remembered seeing him before? What had happened here that made her forget this?

Because she knew where she was. Emilia realized that she was reliving a memory: the memory of what happened when she was barely sixteen. Right about this time, her mother died, and her father was currently in Azkaban until the next month, if she remembered properly. And the woman before Voldemort—

—was none other than herself. Emilia moved in a little closer, so that she could hear properly.

"Do you really think that someone of your talent would be overlooked and an invitation not extended?" Voldemort was saying, smirking snidely.

"I will never join the Death Eaters so long as I live!" she could hear herself scream. "I have better things to do with my time. My father never pressed this on me—so why must you? I have always been loyal to all of you, so long as you were friend and not foe of my family. I have never done anything to hurt or reveal who you are. So why can't you just leave me alone, and let me finish my schooling?"

"You school is not even in session, Emilia," Voldemort replied. "And you would be a great asset to my cause."

"I don't want to be an asset. I want to be left alone!" Emilia's sixteen year old self answered. "Please…please…"

"No," Voldemort said shortly. "Extend her forearm for the burning of the Mark."

"NO!" she screamed, at the same time as Emilia's former self did. Tears fell down her face, looking at the memory she was reliving. The memory she had tried so hard to forget.

It wasn't hard; she, after all, being talented in Charms, managed to safely Obliviate her memories of this. So why, after all these years of being buried in her subconscious, was she remembering these memories now?

Emilia watched as she struggled away from Voldemort's wand. "Please don't," she heard herself cry, "I promise to do anything, anything but this!"

Voldemort stopped in his tracks. "Anything?"

Emilia couldn't see what was going on, so she ran though the opening of the crowd and ran to the front of what she was seeing. She saw herself: her hair pulled back roughly by the man on her right and her face dirty, tear streaked.

"Lucius," Voldemort hissed softly, and instantly the silver haired blonde was at his side.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"You did express your resignation of using her not for a Death Eater but as something else. I give you full permission to use her as you see fit."

Emilia gasped, as Lucius strove forward and her former self was dropped to the ground, the two men walking away. She could hear herself cough and then Lucius was bent over her, lifting her up.

The next moment showed her being led away, to another clearing, a little bit further away. Emilia followed, and watched how Lucius carried her gently.

She didn't remember that of Lucius, ever. Emilia watched as she cried into Lucius's robes, gripping them tightly with her fists. She heard herself whisper thank yous to Lucius.

"What is going on?" she said. Emilia didn't remember any of this. Why? How could this have been such a terrible memory that she forgot it—not only that, but would risk an Obliviate Charm on herself?

Her question was answered. She saw Lucius set her down, and mash his mouth onto hers. Immediately Emilia remembered what had happened.

And why she forgot it.

It was because Lucius had raped her. Right then and there, Lucius had taken her unwillingly in that clearing, but fifty feet from the Death Eater circle.

And Severus knew what had happened. Severus knew that Lucius had taken her away. Surely—surely—he could have done something to prevent that!

Emilia watched in horror as Lucius took her former self, her first time—she watched as she beat on his chest, and he laughed with manipulation and anger, as he was amused by her pitiful fight backs. As his fingers brushed her skin, he touched her, violated her—

How could she have been so naïve? How could she have not seen what was coming? Emilia put her hands on her mouth and screamed.

Emilia wished she could have forgotten this again.