Chapter Five
She had dragged him down three streets before he stopped staring at Emma long enough to realise they were heading in the wrong direction. At the Malton Hill T-junction, she slowed to a halt, her breathing ragged, and bright pink spots burned on each of her cheeks.
Part of him was incensed that a girl had once again felt the need to fly to his rescue. The rest of him, however, was simply in awe of the Fury that was Emma Jones. He couldn't help but wonder what punishment she had meted out to the 'arrogant pure-blood' Potter had so forcibly reminded her of. He meant to snarl at her, but when he finally caught his breath, the first thing out of his mouth was "Did you just imply . . . ?"
"That darling James has got a tiny prick?" she spat. "That was what I was going for, although I like to think I left it open enough for him to read any level of insult from it. The twat." She sighed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, all traces of her sudden anger fading as abruptly as it had arrived. "Apparently, I'm not very nice, though. That's something to add to the list."
"The list?" he asked faintly, shocked at hearing her swear. She seemed a bit too well-spoken for that kind of thing. Perhaps she wasn't as nice as he'd first believed either, but all things considered, he wasn't so sure that was such a bad thing.
She pushed her hands inside her pockets, looking a little sheepish. "I'm making a list of everything I know to be true, in the hope it'll make a bit more sense," she explained. "It's very short so far."
She positively beamed at him when he replied, "That makes sense."
-x-
Severus led the way onto Malton Road, and they walked on in silence, looping back on themselves, away from the newer houses and back towards town. Soon they had left the pretty houses with the gardens behind, and were back to the more familiar rows of sooty workers' houses with their networks of alleyways and yards.
"Lily was pretty much the only plan I had," he finally admitted, unhappily. "I thought she might be willing to help you, but I should have known that Potter would be sniffing around."
Emma stopped short. "Potter," she repeated quietly, then shook her head. "Urgh! This is all just so frustrating!" She scuffed the toe of her shoe against the pavement and bit her lip, a gesture Severus had already come to recognise.
"What?" he demanded impatiently.
She looked away. "I thought I recognised him. James Potter. For a moment, I was certain he was someone I knew, and it made me feel like I was suddenly free of this horrible uncertainty. Then I realised I didn't know him, and he didn't know me, that I was seeing someone else in his face, but I still had no idea who." She grimaced. "That's partly the reason why I reacted like that. I hope I'm not usually that aggressive. It didn't feel particularly nice."
"You recognised my father, too," he reminded her gently.
"So you said. I don't actually remember it, or what he looks like. I just remember that he wasn't who I thought he was either. It's as if both he and James had something intrinsically wrong with their faces but I can't remember what it could be." Her voice quavered slightly as she continued. "I'm afraid someone may have placed a Memory Charm on me."
For one awful moment, Severus had been convinced she was about to cry. She sniffed softly, and then again more loudly. Their circuitous walk had brought them close to the high street, and the chip shop had their fryers going for the lunch time trade. Emma pursed her lips, her face suddenly brighter.
"If I were just to Apparate away from here do you think we could use the bus money for a cone of chips? I'm starving!"
-x-
They sat on the kerb, sharing the chips in silence. Although he had known Emma for less than a day Severus found he was already oddly comfortable sharing silence with her. She didn't seem to feel the need to make continual small talk and didn't require him to do so either. He still resented her for his having to spend the night on the sofa, but it was hard to be completely out of sorts with someone when they let you have all the soggy bits at the bottom of the cone.
He had just come to the conclusion that maybe she was perhaps not that bad when she turned her thoughtful gaze to him.
She had a very direct way of looking at him. It was a little disconcerting.
"How are you doing?" The question caught him by surprise, a fact which must have been written loud on his face, as she grinned wryly before continuing. "You and Lily seem like you've got a history."
He had rather enjoyed knowing one person who didn't know of the spectacular end to their friendship.
"We were friends. Now we're not," he answered eventually. No one needed to hear the details of that day, and he certainly had no intention of repeating them.
"Good friends?" she pressed, apparently unable to take a hint. Severus ground his teeth together.
"I thought so."
"Hmm," came the considered reply. He pulled his knees up as a lone car drove slowly past and glared at the cracked leather of his shoes, relieved that the conversation was over. Two minutes later Emma spoke again.
"She's very pretty."
"It's none of your business!" he snarled. He immediately regretted his response when he caught the look of understanding that flickered across her face. He glared at her but she merely shrugged before standing up and brushing down her jeans.
"Come on, then. If I'm to be abandoned on a street corner, we had better start looking for a good one. Preferably one with a corner shop; all that vinegar's made me thirsty." She held out a hand to help him up. He ignored it and scrambled to his feet.
She smiled.
-x-
They shared a can of pop as they slowly made their way back across town. The late afternoon saw them down beside the canal near his house, idly watching the ducks that drifted down the murky looking water. Emma pulled a scrap of paper and a pencil Severus recognised as his own from the pocket of her jacket and begun to add a few notes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Severus hadn't realised she was actually writing her list down.
"You can stay," he offered suddenly.
She looked up, confused. "Huh?"
He felt himself flush and returned his gaze to the canal. "You can have my room again if you want. I'll think of an excuse. Mum won't say anything."
She stared at him and, even without meeting her eyes, he could tell he was being treated to that direct, considering gaze. He let his hair fall to cover his face, annoyed.
"Thank you, Severus." She answered eventually. "She's an idiot, you know."
"That's no way to talk about my mother," he drawled, leaning back against the high bank.
She pushed him playfully. "You know what I mean. Whatever it was you did that upset her, she should have forgiven you. Maybe she still will. Real friends do, eventually."
"Just leave it be," he warned her.
-x-
Sneaking her back into his room was as easy as he had predicted. Neither of his parents were home, and they had snuck up the little alleyway at the back of the house to avoid the prying eyes of any neighbours, through the brick yard with its dingy line of washing and lopsided brick outhouse, and on through the back door.
Nothing showed on Emma's face as she passed through the tiny kitchen, but Severus was easily able to see the shabbiness of it from her perspective. Although she had accused Potter of being spoilt, it was easy to see she came from a well-off family. She even swore poshly. He hurried her through the door and up the stairs before she had too much time to look around.
Once in his room he sat stiffly in his desk chair, completely at a loss. Talking to Emma outside had been one thing, but this was another entirely. He had never entertained a girl in his room before. He wasn't entirely certain that he liked it.
Emma perched on the end of the bed and looked round in interest, before getting up again and wandering uninvited to his bookcase. His room was sparsely furnished and his school books were amongst the most personal things he owned. Watching her trail a finger along their spines made him feel oddly exposed.
She pulled his mum's old copy of Libatius Borage from the shelf and began to leaf idly through the tatty pages. Suddenly she gasped.
He was at her side in an instant. "What is it?" Glancing down he saw she had opened the book to the already heavily annotated directions for the Draught of Living Death.
"Your handwriting," she breathed, turning another leaf to examine the next page and the one after that. "It's – it's terrible!"
He pulled the book from her hands and tossed in irritably onto the bed.
"You should go to Gringotts," he announced suddenly, hoping to draw her away from his possessions. "If you have an account there then there will be a record on you. Your wand would be enough identification."
"That's a very good idea. Even if they don't have all my details, just my name would be a start." She smiled suddenly. "And with Goblins being so wonderfully discreet, there's little chance of them informing St Mungo's that I'm wandering round with half my memories gone." Her eyes travelled back to his books.
"Failing that," he added, warming once more to the idea of getting rid of her, "we could try Ollivander's. Or Hogwarts; see of any of the staff recognise you. Dumbledore even," he shrugged.
"No!" The quiet vehemence in her voice surprised him. "No, not him," she added more calmly.
And with that, she flickered like a failing light bulb and vanished from his sight.