For all of you who are joining me after my absence, please note that I replaced the author's note chapter with actual content, so if you haven't read chapter nine... "Turn back, Sarah. Turn back before it's too late."

Chapter Ten: Screams In the Night

Emily pulled away first, stepping back from Severus in absolute horror. A second step was all she managed before dashing for the lavatory and slamming the door behind her. There was no time for a silencing spell, but the sound of her violent retching was the least of her concerns.

Please, please, please someone tell me that wasn't real.

But, the truth was inescapable. For years she had wondered why Severus had never spoken to her about her alliance with the Dark Lord. She remembered, quite vividly, sitting at that desk, in fact, working on the translation for the Department of Mysteries, and wondering whether Severus was ever going to approach and congratulate her on a good decision, on her courage and intelligence and foresight.

Now she knew that he had come, not to encourage her, as she'd hoped, but to coax her away from the path that had eventually destroyed her. Sweet Mab, he had even pleaded with her, something she'd never known him to do. He had tried, and she had hated him for it, had actually struck him.

Ah, Severus, why are you even here? How can you speak to me so gently after what I did to you?

He'd kissed her, actually kissed her, and gods, what a kiss! And the words that he had spoken to her, the sweetest words she'd ever heard come from his mouth... She stopped. Replayed the vision in her head. Oh, gods! Covering her face with her hands, she sank to the floor.

He'd called her his love.

The one thing she'd always wanted to hear from him, the one thing she'd always needed and never had, and she'd treated it like so much refuse. By all the gods, what kind of monster had I become?

My sweet Severus. If I lost your love that day, then I truly have lost everything.

No. She could not let this be. If he loved her once, then he could love her again.

She stood up to peer into the mirror which chuckled darkly. "Seen better days, have we?"

"Sod off," she shot back absently, studying her reflection. There was no way to deny the mirror's observation, though. She certainly had looked better. Since she'd awakened in Sev's home, it had not occurred to her to bother with improving her appearance as she wasn't planning to live long enough to develop any kind of captivating social life, but now... Now, there was work to be done.

She was thin. That was the first thing she noticed. Far, far too thin. Pathetically frail, actually. For Merlin's sake, she had been one of the best beaters Hogwarts had ever seen. She'd once knocked Crabbe to the ground with a single punch. Granted, they'd been fourteen at the time, but the same principal applied. She had been strong, stronger than most of the wizards she knew, and much, much stronger than Severus... merely from a physical point of view.

Now, Severus towered over her (When had he grown so much?) and had filled out ever-so-nicely through the chest and shoulders. As for the rest of him, well, close as they were, she'd never seen him beneath the stuffy robes he'd always insisted on wearing, but maybe someday...

She had also completely lost her natural coloring and was now a pasty white, the color of a fish's underbelly. Her hair was reddish, but no longer the color of newly-turned maple leaves. Her eyes were shadowed, her cheeks hollow. Her nails cracked and peeling from the lack of nourishment.

There was so much work to be done, now, and she rejoiced in it. Having something to do besides plod through ancient reference books on elementals promised to be fun. And Isabelle's whispered words, "I often wondered who you were. He still calls out for you in his sleep," gave her hope.

After a thorough cleansing of her mouth, she reentered the office to see Severus waiting on the sofa. Hesitantly, waiting for a nod of invitation, she sat down and turned to face him, trying not to be distracted by the memory of his mouth on hers.

"Sev," she started, her voice a little too cracked for her approval. She cleared her throat and started again. "Sev, I'm... I don't know what to say. I'm so..."

He held two fingers to her lips, softly, just barely touching, a whisper of an intimate gesture.

"Don't," he whispered. "It was a lifetime ago, Emily, for both of us."

Oh, that last part stung. A lifetime ago he had loved her.

What would this one bring?

Headmaster,

I am pleased to report success in the first stage of our assignment. Miss Grey handled the task with the alacrity to which I am accustomed, and I was quite able to shield us both from danger as she worked. Unfortunately, the tornado which sprang from the circle did a great deal of damage, and I fear you will have to inform Professor Sprout that her garden and greenhouses have been quite thoroughly destroyed. I do not envy you that task.

We shall take a day of rest tomorrow, then start anew the day after. As always, I shall keep you informed of our progress.

S. Snape

Severus,

I've gone out to the Quidditch pitch. I'll be back in time for breakfast.

-Emily-

Severus read the note at a glance, then checked the clock. It was awfully early for Emily to be up and about, but a good indication that her spirits were improving. Her elation at having finally acquired a wand seemed to balance her horror at the memory he'd been forced to take from her. Whether that horror stemmed from the fact that he had done so or the memory itself was something he'd have to discuss with her after she'd become more comfortable with what had happened. Of all of Emily's fears, having her mind violated was the worst, and the anguished look she'd given him before racing to empty her stomach had been... unsettling, at best.

For now, though, he allowed himself the luxury of a small smile. The Quidditch equipment was locked away for the summer, but Emily would have the storage room open without a second's hesitation. Occasionally, it failed to occur to her that doors were locked for a reason. It mattered not a whit to Severus. Breaking into the storage room simply meant that she was a step closer to being the woman he remembered. Pocketing the letter, he strode out to the pitch, hoping to catch of glimpse of how she was faring on a broom after all these years.

Astounding did not go quite far enough to describe it. For all the grace she'd lost on the ground, she had lost none of her poise in the air. Wildly she dove, twisting, dancing on her broom as two highly irate bludgers attempted to unseat her. It was no use. The bludgers were no match for Emily, arguably Slytherin's finest beater ever. She slid through the air effortlessly, laughing merrily as she pounded one gibbering ball through a hoop at the far end of the pitch. Unfortunately, bludgers never learned, and this one returned quickly, racing for her head as she chased the wind to the other side.

Severus was a bit disappointed when she spotted him and dove for the ground, scooping up both balls as she came. After wrestling the infuriated bludgers back into their case, she approached him warily, no doubt worried that she'd be scolded, and he stood unmoving - merely allowing her to advance. Chuckling inwardly, he donned his most severe expression, folding long arms across his chest, a position that made his students cringe.

Meanwhile, he allowed himself to be captivated by her advance, watching in carefully disguised fascination as the wind blew the untamed mane of hair across her face and plastered her pilfered Quidditch robes tight against her body, a body which seemed to become less frail every hour - not quite the woman she was, but most certainly a woman.

"Morning, Severus," she began tentatively.

He forced his features into an icy mask. "Indeed it is, Miss Grey," he answered coldly, eyeing the case, the broom, and the robes in turn.

"I only borrowed them," she said pleadingly. "I didn't think you'd be..." She hesitated, uncertainty shadowing her features as the flicker of a smirk appeared at the edge of his mouth.

"Severus Snape!" she scolded hotly. "That's just nasty! Did you come down here to terrorize me?"

"I was merely curious to see whether the traditional adage was true, that once one learns to ride a broom..."

"One never forgets?" she finished for him. He nodded once. "Well, what do you think?" she asked lightly.

"I think that you need to put away those requisitioned supplies and come to breakfast."

"No praise for my flying?" she pouted. "I'm offended. You used to love to watch me play."

I used to love to watch you do anything, and unfortunately that has not changed.

"You refrained from falling," he replied dryly. "I suppose that's something."

Emily rolled her eyes. "You are a lost cause, Sev," she chuckled. "Just let me drop these off and I'll be down."

He watched her walk away, an inexplicable sadness suddenly tugging at his heart. Pangs of regret, memories of things which could never be recovered washed over him, and the fleeting spark of happiness he'd felt as he'd watched her fly sputtered and died leaving him, at least briefly, colder than before she'd come.

Emily lay quietly, straining to hear. There it was again, that strange moaning sound coming from somewhere outside the door. Probably just Peeves, she thought, staring up into the blackness of the overhead canopy. The resident poltergeist had been up to all manner of mischief, lately. With the students gone, he was restless, even more so than usual, and had become such an unbearable nuisance that Severus had threatened to banish him to oblivion. He'd been remarkably well-mannered ever since.

Another sound cut through the blackness then, utterly unmistakable. Someone was shouting. In a moment, she was out of bed, wand in hand. She'd passed out of her rooms and into the office when another cry gave her a sense of direction. The sounds were coming from Sev's room, and from his mouth at that.

A witch with more sense would've been more cautious, but concern for Severus overrode her better judgment and she crept through the darkness, allowing tiny slivers of moonlight to illuminate her path. She slipped through the door, fully expecting to find any manner of foul creatures, but the room was empty save for a violently twitching potions master, his cries apparently motivated by a rather severe nightmare. He cried out again as a shudder racked his body, and Emily padded softly to his bed, sheathing her wand as she went.

A closer inspection revealed that he was bathed in sweat and panting heavily. It was enough to convince her to wake him. Tentatively, she reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, whispering his name tenderly into the night.

A moment of blinding movement and unbelievable strength and she was on her back beneath him, his wand pressed to the base of her throat.

"Avada..." he seethed through tightly-clenched teeth.

"No!" she screamed, making a desperate lunge for his wand with the hand that wasn't pinned under his knee. The attempt was aborted with a lightning grab and the hand slammed down beside her head with a savagery she hadn't known he possessed.

"Sev, it's me!" she shouted into his face, her terrified voice cracking at the end. "It's Emily, damn you! Wake up!" His grip tightened on her wrist and he growled, actually snarled in her face like a rabid animal. "Fucking Merlin, Sev, please!" she shrieked as he began the fatal incantation anew.

Abruptly, though, he faltered, brow furrowed deeply in indecision as he glanced to the side, trying to ascertain his location. His eyes found hers again a moment later and she nearly cried at the spark of recognition within them. Slowly, the last of the fury released his features and they began to relax, the deep lines smoothing over.

"Emily?" he whispered, rich baritone laced with uncertainty.

"It's me, Sev," she panted, worn out from the few moments of violent struggle. Not that it availed me much, she thought wryly, extremely unnerved at the ease with which he'd subdued and almost killed her. "You were dreaming."

She almost kicked herself for stating the obvious. That was one of Snape's pet peeves, and it was a mark of how troubled he was that he didn't immediately lash out at her. He should hold his tongue, damn it! I deserve some reward for not soiling his sheets, she thought, once again feeling a swell of terror at the thought of his power.

Slowly, still very wary, he drew his wand from her throat and relaxed his grip on her wrist, but did not release her. Emily was suddenly all too aware of his body... and even more so of her body's reaction to being pinned down beneath him. How many times had she entertained this fantasy? And no matter how much she wanted to deny that the danger made it damn near irresistible, she simply couldn't. Before she could even consider making some sort of first move, he spoke.

"What are you doing in my chambers?"

She grinned sheepishly. "Rescuing you?"

A single eyebrow raised in question.

"You were shouting," she explained simply.

There was a sudden flash of understanding as Severus instantly put together the rest of the details in his mind, smirking down at her as though she were... well, as if she were a helpless woman trapped beneath him.

"It would seem that your mission failed, Lady Grey," he intoned, with a quiet, barely restrained glee. "I would have had a more difficult time subduing a wrinkled cuff."

She laughed gamely because he expected it, having made a very rare joke, but her mind was utterly consumed with the endeavor of watching his mouth as it wrapped itself around his words, the memory of their first and only kiss playing itself over and over in her mind as he spoke.

He read it in her eyes, he must have, and for a few brief, beautiful moments she saw him actually consider it. Her gaze moved then, from eyes to mouth and back again - questioning, requesting, nearly pleading. Please, Sev. Just give me another chance.

It was disturbing, humiliating, really, how close she came to vocalizing her protest when he pulled away from her, kneeling in the middle of the great bed, considering her carefully.

"This is wholly inappropriate, Emily," he said quietly. "You should go."

Feeling compromised, she sat up as well, folding her legs in front of her. "I'm not leaving until I'm sure you're alright."

"It should not require a licensed mediwizard to see that I am quite sound."

"What were you dreaming about?" she asked, stubbornly refusing to accept defeat.

A flash of pain creased his brow, but he recovered almost instantly, sighing in irritation at her persistence. "I could simply throw you out and ward the door," he warned with an imperious glare.

"You could," she agreed simply, rising to her knees to match his height. A gentle brush of her fingers smoothed the hair from his face as he continued to glare, but he offered no protest. "Or, you could talk to me."

Her hand moved, of its own volition, it seemed, to trace his forehead, his cheek, then - trembling slightly - feathered across his lips. She swallowed thickly at the look of stern warning his eyes now held. "Or not," she managed to whisper before moving to claim those lips with her own.