AN: This is the last time I pop up! Yay! So, anyway, I updated twenty pages. I do hope you love me now. And I hope I can go on and finish the evilness that is school. Okay, the third part: Why I couldn't update: school sucks. I'm carrying two AP courses and a full course load with about a million and one hundred things to do on the weekend plus during the week. So, like I said before, after the third week in May I will have much much much more time to update until, that is, the summer when I am supposed to do an internship with my college. This is cool, I get to stay at the college, but then I will be there for four weeks straight, and unless I can get to a computer, or bring one, getting updated will be hard. So, until May, toodles, and I love all of you who read this! Even if you don't update! But, please do.
-Kary
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Illusions
Emilia awoke with a start, feeling herself scream out of her dream.
"Calm down!" someone said sharply, holding her to the bed. The light was fuzzy and it took her a few moments to focus into the face of Severus Snape.
Oh. Dear. God.
"Get off me!" she screeched, loud as she could, thrashing so that he could not touch her. "Don't touch me!"
Severus finally took the hint and let go of her, holding his hands up. Emilia stopped thrashing around, but found herself instantly wishing she were still asleep. The last person she wanted to see right this second was Severus.
Why was he here?
"Go away," Emilia said angrily. "Just leave me alone!" She sat up and pulled off her covers, to reveal herself in her undergarments—namely, her bra and underwear. She looked down at herself then up at Severus, who was flushing quite nicely. He turned his head. Her face felt awfully warm...
Quickly, she covered herself up again and put her head underneath the sheets, her cheeks glowing, curling into the fetal position. "Oh my God…" she moaned, completely embarrassed. Couldn't he be anywhere else—anywhere else?
Especially since she was hopelessly remembering that dream, or more like a memory, and what had happened before, three nights ago. Couldn't he just—for the sake of all that's Holy—leave?
"Severus," she murmured underneath the covers, "go away. I hate you. And I don't want to see you ever again."
"My sentiments exactly," he replied snidely. "However, fainting in the middle of a class clearly shows that something—other than your head—is wrong with you. Madame Pomfrey will be in here soon to give you back your results. However, since I was the consulting teacher, I am supposed to stay here—albeit, unwillingly—until Dumbledore arrives."
"Consulting teacher?" She peeked her head out from underneath the white sheet, feeling the cool fabric against her face, which was still blushed.
"Yes; someone ran out of your room claiming that you had fainted, and since I just happened to be passing by on my way to the Owlery, I had to take care of the situation."
"How long have I been out?"
"Nearly two hours. However, screaming yourself out of unconsciousness isn't the best remedy."
"Fuck off," she said miserably, tears rolling down her face, and she covered her head again. She sniffled the tears back, and turned over on her side. "Go away."
"Why were you screaming, Emilia?" Severus asked, obviously oblivious to her requests to skive off. He placed a hand on her shoulder gently. "Emilia?"
Her shoulder was shaking under his hand. "Severus, please, just…go…away. I don't want to talk about it."
Flashes of her memory were before her closed eyes. She remembered them awake, and she remembered them asleep. The hand on her should weighed down heavily, like a boulder on her shoulder. It was uncomfortable and burdening.
She lowered the covers to the top of her shoulders and wrapped them around herself. "Severus," she said, wiping her eyes, "I—"
Emilia turned to him, and saw his face. It was disquieting and concerning, and it made her want to cry even more. Apparently his actions hurt him more than it hurt her. But…
"Emilia," he said, removing his hand and sitting back into the chair, "I know what's wrong with you. Madame Pomfrey came over about an hour ago. She said that you fainted because you haven't eaten, and you've pushed yourself too hard. And I—I know that you didn't want to come down to the Great Hall, either, because Dumbledore noticed you weren't there. But I—"
"Good evening, Miss Black," Pomfrey said gravely, interrupting them, and pulled back the white curtain. She stepped inside, closing it behind her. "You are a very lucky woman, to have been taken here so quickly."
Severus looked away and placed a hand on his chin.
"What happened?" she asked, looking to Pomfrey.
"You fainted, dear," she said, bustling around, and looking contemptuously at Severus, who was only too happy to glare back. Turning to Severus, she said, "I hope that you didn't get an eyeful."
Severus raised his chin and his cheeks colored slightly.
"Ah, well, you're relieved until further notice," Pomfrey said, whisking him away. Severus stood and brushed off his robes. He said nothing as he left, but took one quick glance at Emilia over Pomfrey head, sorrow reflecting in his eyes, before turning away and leaving.
Or maybe it was all an illusion.
"You haven't eaten in a while," she said kindly, sitting on the bed. "You're tired and very stressed. I don't know what may have caused it, and though I ought to pry to know, I won't. I'm not stupid, though. I'm putting you on a strict eating schedule until further notice. And if you don't show at the Great Hall at every meal, I will have you relieved from duty, no exceptions. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," Emilia replied, sitting up, holding the sheets around her. "May I please have my clothes?"
"Here," she said, setting them at the edge of the bed. "See you at dinner."
"Goodbye, Pomfrey," she said, and watched her leave. Emilia jumped out of bed and got dressed quickly.
"Dear God," she said softly, catching herself in the reflection of the glass. Because it was winter, it was darker outside quicker, and the glass became like a mirror. Her figure—nothing she worked on—was slightly demented. Her ribs poked out, making her stomach look in odd angles. Her legs were thin but not muscular, and all in all, she looked rather unhealthy.
"What have I done to myself?" she said, her hands covering her face. "Is my pride really so much that I can't even bother to eat to keep myself healthy?"
Emilia bent down and picked up her clothes, slipping them on gingerly. She was tired and truly…she couldn't describe the feeling. It bordered on resentment and regret.
After dressing in the clean clothes Madame Pomfrey had fetched from her room, which included a turtleneck and a dark skirt, she sat on the bed and pulled her soft velvet Mary Janes on top of her black stockings. "I think I sometimes wonder if I'm going insane," she said softly, buckling the velcro.
Emilia stood and left the room, walking out of the Infirmary. She took a left and walked down the staircase. As she made the corner, she bumped—quite literally—into Severus.
His hands had extended instinctually and caught her before she fell down. He let her go quickly, after he made sure she wasn't going to fall.
"Sorry," Emilia mumbled, trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible.
"Emilia, why are you avoiding me?" he said softly, as she tried to walk away. "And I'd still like to know what you were screaming about."
"Well, the world's just full of questions," she said sarcastically. "Shove off, you bastard. I have no desire to talk to you ever again."
Severus grabbed her roughly on the shoulders, and set her back against the wall. "Stop being such a bitch, Emilia. I'm trying to help you. You kept screaming out 'Lucius' and 'No!'—I'm only trying to understand what you were talking about!"
Emilia's eyes grew wide. "It's none of your goddamn business." She pushed him away and walked down the hall.
Severus looked at her retreating back. "Did you finally remember what he did to you, Emilia?"
She stopped in her tracks and turned her head. "What?"
Severus didn't say anything. "How—how would you know? You can't have. You're guessing. A fool's bluff," Emilia cried.
"And yet you keep trying to remind yourself that it is," he replied softly. "Do you know what fainting will do to a weak body, Emilia? I've had it happen myself. Oblivated memories come back, crystal clear, as if you were reliving them. I head enough from you're fitful sleep to surmise what you were dreaming about."
"And what, pray-tell, would that be?" she replied, putting a hand on her hip. He can't know, he can't!
"The night Voldemort tried to induct you against your will."
Emilia's mouth dropped open. Her hands clenched into fists, she walked over and stood in front of him. "You tactless, imbecile, son of a bitch—"
Severus put a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," he said, "to have caused you so much trouble that you'd starve yourself before you'd come and see me."
Her eyes welled with tears, and she murmured against his hand. Severus put his hand down, and Emilia's face became tear streaked. "You…you were there and you never stopped him," Emilia said softly, backing away from him.
"And how do you think I could have? Knowing Lucius, it would have been a team sport," Severus replied.
"But still…you could have done anything…"
"Ah, yes, well…so could have you."
Everything seemed to click together. Why she was so uncomfortable in the Great Hall. Why it did feel oddly familiar, his kiss. Where she had known Severus from, and not just school.
Why she couldn't get close to anyone.
Emilia wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Severus, just…stay away from me. That's the best thing right now. And…and why did you have to pry? Why did you have to know that? Because…because it's all you're fault!"
"All my fault?"
"Yes," Emilia replied defiantly. "If you hadn't—hadn't—" she started to choke, the lump in her throat unbearable. "I'm sorry, I can't do this. It really isn't your fault."
Severus gave her a curious look, and Emilia turned away from him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She spun on her heel and started to walk away.
He was speechless. He felt as if he ought to do something, but he couldn't. He stop there, teetering on whether or not to follow her. But he didn't.
He let Emilia walk away.
And she knew it.
As Emilia rounded the corner at the end of the hall, she leaned against the wall and slid down, resting against the wall. She buried her hands in her face and sobbed.
He knew. Severus knew what had happened to her. How could he have guessed so easily? Was what she said in her sleep that much of a give away? And how did he know she Oblivated it from her memory?
Unless he knew her so well to have brought it up, and then by not bringing it up he knew she'd forgotten. Or maybe that many women performed that spell on themselves after meeting Malfoy.
"Emilia?" a kindly voice said, and bent down next to her. She looked up over her arms and saw it was Sirius's face.
"Ah!" she cried out, clearly surprised. "What are you doing here?"
He grinned warmly. "The Ministry caught me after that little event last week. I just got through with my trial. I'm a free man. I was on my way to thank Dumbledore again, when I saw you here—are you all right?" He extended a hand to her, and helped her up.
"I'm fine, Sirius," she said, wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Congratulations on your well deserved freedom." She shook his hand. Sirius smiled and pulled her into a hug.
"I'm happy too." He squeezed her tightly to him, and Emilia laughed in spite of herself.
"What's gotten into you?" she said, pulling away from him and smiling, despite the fact she was crying just a few moments ago.
Emilia glanced up at him, and realized that he was even better groomed than last she saw him last. Gone was the mat of hair hacked at the nape of his neck; it was replaced with a nice, clean cut, with sweeping bangs into his dark eyes. He had clean robes on—very fine cloth, too, and even sporting a tie.
She suddenly blushed, realizing that she was staring at him. "Oh, Sirius, that's right, you wanted to see Dumbledore. Don't let me keep you."
"Emilia, before I go, I want to make sure you're all right. Are you?" he said, catching her gaze. She swallowed thickly.
"Yeah," she replied, assuring him. Emilia smiled widely. "Good luck."
"I'm sure to see you in a bit. I'm staying for dinner!" he said, giving her a quick hug before walking off.
Dinner. What a joke.
She walked into the Great Hall for the first time in nearly half a week. Her stomach rumbled and yet, she did not feel hungry at all. Emilia was more nervous than anything. She glanced around, and saw that people were filing in for dinner around her. Sirius wasn't there yet, and neither was Dumbledore or Severus.
She paused before walking in, not sure if she wanted to proceed after all. A hand was on her shoulder, and Emilia turned her head.
"Hey there, Em, what're waiting for?" Sirius said, smiling. "God, I can't wait for a decent meal. Do you know how long it's been for one of these? Hell, just last year I was living off rats and whatever Harry could send me."
"That's…too much information, Sirius," she replied, trying to be happy. Emilia swallowed her nervousness. "Do you know where you're sitting?"
Sirius couldn't help but grin. "You won't be able to guess what happened this afternoon, Emilia," he said, excited, and ignoring her question.
"What?" she said, as they walked to the front of the room.
"I'm going to be a teacher here. Not that I can say I'm happy for it, but they did need a Charms teacher, and since Flitwick…" he trailed off.
"Yes, I understand," she replied. "I'm very happy for you. It's very lucky you got a job so quickly. Now they are going to get us confused. We're both Professor Black."
"Ah, well," he said, pulling out her chair, "they can just say the cute one and mean me." Sirius laughed.
"Sure, or the really annoying one," Emilia replied sarcastically with a smile. She found it hard to be depressed around Sirius, who was so carefree despite his predicaments. He was just so happy that it was almost contagious. Why couldn't she be this way around Severus?
Speaking of which, how was the seating today, anyway? Emilia looked to where Sirius had taken his seat: next to her. It seems everyone got shifted. Dumbledore, as usual, sat at the head of the table, and next to him Minerva; Sirius next, and then herself, and then…like always, Severus. Clever of that Dumbledore, not to seat them next to each other.
Right.
Sirius was up at arms about his new job, and the fact that being free made his face shine a little more, and it seemed to strip away years of responsibility and fear. He was almost pleasant to be around.
Until Severus sat down, that is. Clearly intimidated by Sirius's new job, Severus was nasty as ever, making side comments the second he sat down. In fact, Emilia didn't even notice he was there until he spoke.
Her face fell at the sight of him, and she knew it did. Emilia couldn't help it. She tried to regain herself by just giving Severus a look, a look that proved he was an asshole after all, and that he lost; she then turned back to Sirius and his conversation.
Served him right, she thought darkly.
When Dumbledore arrived, Sirius quieted down for a little bit. Emilia didn't really say anything between the two, and finally it came time for dinner to be served. Students were talking loudly, and wondering who this new man was. Potter, Granger and Weasley were itching to come to the front table. They kept shifting in their seats.
"A little anxious, aren't they?" Sirius remarked, taking about Potter and his best friends.
"Well, can you blame them?" she replied. "I mean, they are obviously fond of you."
Sirius sat up straight in his seat. "Damn straight." He pulled on his robes, making himself seem more important. Dumbledore looked over at the two of them and smiled warmly.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, Sirius," he said kindly. "And it is nice to see you here, Emilia."
Emilia nodded, looking at her lap. She didn't forget how badly she treated him earlier, when all he was doing was looking out for her. "Thank you, Dumbledore."
With a wave of his hand, food appeared on the plates. "Please, eat," Dumbledore said, and Sirius was only too happy to oblige.
He piled his plate full of food and began to eat. Though he spent twelve years in Azkaban, and two more of them as a runaway convict, Sirius was still a perfect gentlemen, eating with proper etiquette.
It amused her. "I'd never have thought that Sirius Black had manners at the table," she said, noting on his hold of his spoon.
"Well, I may be a dog, but I'm also very much a gentleman," he replied. "Though I can't imagine why this would amuse you."
Emilia laughed. "I don't know. It's just…"
She was interrupted by three people, who rushed up to the table. "Sirius!" Potter said breathlessly, "You're free!"
"Congratulations," Granger said, smiling. Weasley was grinning like mad.
"Knew you could do it."
Sirius turned to Emilia. "Look, my own fan club." She laughed.
Severus, clearly disgusted with the amount of happy memories being created, left the table at once and was very huffy about it.
Sirius, Potter, Granger and Weasley took no notice, however. They were gaily exchanging information and catching up on their old times. Sirius was enjoying himself a bit too much.
Emilia felt that she almost didn't belong there. She tapped Sirius on the shoulder and excused herself. Sirius looked at her apprehensively, wondering where she was going.
"I've already eaten, so I'm going to go…" she paused. Where would she go? Ah, the library. There was always work to be done.
"Emilia," he said, taking her wrist and leading her back to her chair, "Sit down. Harry, Hermione, Ron—I'll come up to Gryffindor Tower and talk to you later. I still think I know the way." He grinned.
Harry gave Sirius a small smile. "Besides, I haven't eaten all of my dinner yet," Sirius said, pointing to his plate, which was only half empty. "I need to finish my food."
"We're happy you're free, Sirius," Harry said before moving away. "See you later. Good day, Professor Black."
Emilia nodded at him, sitting down. "You didn't need to send them away."
"I was eating," he said, pointing his fork at the plate. "Besides, they can't be doing that. I'm a teacher, and I'm respectable. They can't be coming up to this table whenever they want."
"That sounds very mature," she said, agreeing. "From what I've heard though, that doesn't sound like a Sirius Black comment to me."
He grinned. "I can only imagine what you've heard from old Slimeball over there," Sirius replied, talking about Severus.
"Actually, nothing," Emilia admitted. "I know he's not your best friend, and all…"
Sirius laughed. "I can't imagine why you'd think that…?"
Emilia smiled. "I saw the look he gave you when you entered the Hufflepuff Dormitories. He was rather angry. Mostly at me, but some at you too."
Sirius looked away from her, swirling his fork around on his plate. "That guy is such an…" he paused, looking for the right word. "There is no word to suit the bastardness of Snape."
It was catty, but Emilia laughed anyway. "I agree at times," she replied, standing up. "I'm going to go to the library and finish my preparations. You should too, if you're expected to be teaching tomorrow."
"I never much liked Charms," he said, sighing. "I was more a Transfiguration expert. You don't think McGonagall would switch?" Sirius shook his head, answering his own question. "Nope, it was too much. You're right though. Need to brush up on the flimsy wandwork. The spells…cheap, I tell you, cheap."
"Good night, Sirius," Emilia said, stifling a laugh. She smiled and pushed in her chair, walking out of the Great Hall.
The next morning Emilia awoke with a splitting headache. "Ugh," she said, placing a hand on her head. "I feel like I split my head in two."
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and blinked a few times to clear the onset of passing out. Emilia had sat up too fast, and her eyesight dimmed. "Ack, ack, ack," she repeated to herself, placing her feet on the cold floor and moving slowly into the bathroom.
Nightmares had ridden her dreams, and were of her past repressed memories. She had awoken many times that night, images shifting from Voldemort to Lucius, and all of them equally unpleasant. Most of all, they were very vivid when Emilia awakened, and she could do nothing about it. She could see Lucius every time she closed her eyes, and just remembering his strokes on her flesh made her skin crawl. She had to fight down the urge to scratch at herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, to rid the disgusting feeling of his touch.
Washing her face quickly and preparing herself for the day, Emilia went about her normalities as efficiently as she could. It helped her to forget what she had remember just the day before.
She walked out the door and went down to her classroom. Emilia wasn't hungry yet, and besides, she wanted to straighten up her work for the day before Emilia was pressed for time later. She called it a "professional courtesy." Besides, what else was she to do? Sitting around bothered her; ever since her days in school a work ethic wound its way into her in such a way that any idleness made her upset. She always needed to be doing something, because there was always something to do.
Emilia entered her room with a slightly deflated feeling. Whenever she was alone, Emilia had the tendency to think depressing thoughts, as often people do. Mostly was that one of her faults. She was tired of getting the short end of the stick, getting screwed all the time. Just when she thought something was going her way, for once, and that something seemed rather pleasant and that she finally deserved some time to herself to enjoy this, of course something equally terrible would pop up and ruin her mood. Emilia got tired of waiting for the other shoe to fall sometimes. Because that shoe always did fall, no matter what.
She sat down at her desk and picked up her papers from yesterday. She had no idea who filled in her classes or that they were even filled in, but whoever took over after she fainted was a freak of nature. They had left complementary piles of papers unstacked, unsorted and unorganized. Emilia itched with anticipation to make her desk neat and orderly. It was almost an obsessive compulsive disorder. After fifteen diligent minutes, however, Emilia's desk was tidy again. She sat back and sighed.
She glanced at the clock that was ticking so annoyingly in the corner, boring into her mind as she cleaned. However, Emilia noticed that it was about to ring eight o'clock, and that was the time that breakfast was usually placed on the table. Frowning slightly, she stood and walked out of her classroom. Under Madame Pomfrey's instructions, she knew she was supposed to be down there, eating. And to piss off Pomfrey was like pissing off some sort of God.
Emilia walked slowly down the three flights of stairs to the Great Hall and slipped inside, walking around the freakishly awake students. Though the ordeal was less than a month old, it seemed that everyone just wanted to move on, and not mull over the missing seats in classes. Emilia couldn't blame them. It always amazed her that children never fully understood a situation, even after being placed in it. Babysitting when she was younger, she found that remarkably, if a child fell, and if the attendant did not make a fuss, the child would stand, blink, and return to its activity. Then it was the parents' or attendant's job to casually walk over and check the child for bleeding or scratches, and to assess the wound. But then you'd always get that stupid person who will rush over and exclaim, "Are you all right?" The child then has nothing better to do than wail and cry. God, Emilia hated stupid people.
But she admired these children who managed to get on with their lives. She knew that there will be times when they will think on their friends and brood their deaths silently, or say something or do something that will remind them of their friend. But that is how life is. These children needed to understand the situation. In the nearby future, death will not be something new. They will know of many deaths, of many close friends, before the impending conflict would end. And she could only hope the one death they will never experience would be their own. Until that happened, death would only be an illusion.