I was looking out the window again, this time watching the greens and browns of the landscape blur as the train zoomed by.
I decided I like the sunlight, though I couldn't remember seeing much of it before now.
Suddenly, there was a quick rap on the door. "Trolley!" A chipper voice announced. I admit I jumped about a foot into the air. Snape looked at me with something like resignation, then, in a few deft moments, opened the door, pulled something off the cart, and tossed some money at the confused lady standing before him.
"Why Professor Snape!" She trilled, "I wasn't expecting to see you on the train!"
"Yes," He replied slowly, "Well…" There was an uncomfortable silence where no one spoke, then the lady moved quietly away. Snape tossed me the package he had purchased. It was something called a Pumpkin Pasty. I examined it thoughtfully.
"It's lunch," Snape informed me, "eat it."
I loved the concept of three meals a day. I munched on the pasty happily.
"I suppose," He continued, flipping his book shut, "that you want to know your history."
"Mmup." I replied, my mouth full of delicious orange cake. Snape pulled a scroll out of his briefcase and began to read it in a dull, monotonous voice.
"You were born nineteen years ago on the fifteenth of January to Yates and Emma Woods. You were named Emily Anna Woods, presumably for your mother. Your childhood was, by all available information, a happy one. At the age of eleven you were accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You were sorted into Hufflepuff. You were a successful student. You were bright, though perhaps not exceptionally bright."
He paused, "That, Miss Woods, is my personal assessment."
Gee, I wanted to comment, thanks. He continued.
"You had a fairly large circle of friends. You dated a Hufflepuff boy, some Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw as well. You left school unromantically attached to pursue and internship in publishing. After a year you were offered, and took, a job at the company you interned for. Vacationing with your parents, you had the misfortune to meet one Bellatrix Lestrange. She murdered both your parents and took you in as a plaything to torture. You escaped, or perhaps you were let go, this summer, where you were recovered by the Order of the Phoenix."
I chewed slowly, trying to digest the information along with my food. He handed me the scroll and I put it in my bag. What an impersonal way to learn about myself. I had no idea who I had been, or what I had been like. I merely knew vague events in chronological order. I felt like "Emily" wasn't even me. I couldn't reach her or remember her at all. I couldn't even feel grief for the loss of my memories, because I didn't know what I was missing. I was disappointed, I suppose, to feel nothing and remember nothing.
Snape looked at me for a moment. "Do you want me to step out for a moment?" He asked, in a voice that suggested that the expected reaction would be bursting into tears.
"No." I replied simply, "I cannot cry for the loss of something I cannot remember. I wish I could."
Snape nodded curtly and flipped his book back open.
"Professor?" I asked after a short silence.
"What?" He asked with a bit more emphasis than normal. I suppose he was annoyed.
"Can I ask you something?"
"I don't suppose it would prevent you from asking if I said no." It wouldn't have.
"Can I ask you to tell me something about yourself?" I took a shaky breath, "It's just that you know so much about me…"
Snape regarded me critically. "While you were a student here, my class was the only one you loathed."
"That's more about me than you." I pointed out.
"I'm annoyed by the fact that I have to babysit you all year." His lips were tight as he looked away from me, "The headmaster should know better than anyone that I have more important things to be tending to." His fists were clenched and his palms turning white. I titled my head slightly.
"Thank you." I said, and I went back to looking out the window.