Chapter Ten
In the face of tears – and the very real threat of Emma disappearing again – Severus hadn't given much thought to the reality of waking up with a girl in his bed.
Not that Emma could really be called a girl. Despite her small stature and the fact she was horribly lost and reliant on his help, there was little doubt that she was a capable, determined young woman. And none of these points changed the fact that he was currently lying trapped in her arms. Rather strong arms, he belatedly realised, that were currently preventing him from having any real success in shifting his rather blatant morning erection away from her thigh.
He twisted his hips slightly as he attempted to remove her arm without waking her. She moaned slightly and pulled him closer. He suspected there had been words somewhere in that moan, but the sound of it, together with the increased friction to his skin, pushed all sentient thought from his mind.
Still mostly asleep, and apparently oblivious to the affect she was having on him, Emma wriggled closer still and pressed her face into his neck and sighed. Somehow her warm breath made him shiver.
He shoved her roughly away and clambered out of the bed. Snatching up his dressing gown, he headed for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
-x-
Emma half-filled the bath tub before pulling off her clothes and stepping in, washing herself as quickly as humanly possible, her wand tucked firmly behind her ear. Cleansing spells were all well and good in an emergency, but she was desperate to feel properly clean. Sharing the tiny bed last night had been sticky and uncomfortable, and she was certain she had probably looked frightful. Severus had certainly wasted no time in escaping that morning, waking her as he pushed her aside.
She couldn't blame him, really. It had been very kind of him to let her stay with him, like a frightened little child, but he had already put up with a lot from her. She had only known him for a tiny amount of time yet already she had cried on him, railed at him, and forced him to hug her when she was feeling down, despite the fact he was clearly uncomfortable with that kind of thing. Considering it objectively like that, she found her behaviour a little surprising. Perhaps she was a volatile, touchy-feely sort of person. She rather hoped not, but there was little explanation for the way she had acted otherwise.
Taking a deep breath, she placed her wand carefully on the side of the bath before lying back to wet her hair. Sitting up again, she grabbed Mrs Snape's shampoo and squeezed a tiny amount onto her palm before working it into her scalp, her eyes fixed on her wand. If she was going to disappear off to some unknown, cold place whilst naked, she was damn sure she was going to take her wand with her.
Had the Snapes possessed a shower curtain she was pretty certain she would have asked Severus to sit in the bathroom while she washed. As it was, they didn't have a shower, but she still had been tempted to ask him to stay with her. Mortifying as it would have been to be naked in the same room as a teenage boy, she was certain she would have preferred it to the immanent danger of being dragged away by some hideous, unknown magic while she washed. She lay back, rinsing her hair frantically before sitting up and grabbing her wand. Satisfied that she wasn't about to vanish, she flicked the vinewood, banishing the soapy suds from the water before reaching for the conditioner.
She finished her ablutions in record speed, drying herself hastily with her wand before pulling on her clothes. She didn't relax until her shoes were firmly on her feet and her jacket tied once more around her waist.
Glancing in the mirror, she decided to let her hair dry naturally; using her wand would only make it frizz, and she doubted Mrs Snape had any leave-in conditioner or serum lying around. Her shampoo and conditioner, though gratefully pilfered, hadn't exactly been salon quality.
Grimacing, Emma ran her fingers through her curls, working out the tangles, hoping that she might have a hair band somewhere in her pockets.
-x-
Severus kept his eyes on the grill as the bread toasted, refusing to look up as Emma entered the kitchen and sat at the little table, watching him make breakfast. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, and he was uncomfortable and on edge. Last night he had barely slept, his mind whirring over the reasons for Emma's presence in his life.
When she had just been some Muggle girl his father knew, it had been easy to hate her. The discovery that she was a witch had made her intriguing, but had also made her more of a danger to his family. The thought that she might have been caught in some sort of time spell was something else all together.
He had resolved last night to find out all he could about time-related magic. Emma's knowledge about Time-Turners had put him to shame; it was one area of magic he had honestly never paid any attention to, deeming it about as worthy of study as Divination. Yes, it was possible; yes, it occasionally had a place in the world; but it had never touched upon his own life before now.
Pulling the grill pan from under the gas, he turned the toast over, then set about making the tea, deciding that a full pot was called for. He had come to a decision last night, and he wasn't certain how Emma was going to take it. Rescuing the toast just in time, he dropped the pieces on a plate and carried them to the table along with the butter and the marmalade.
Finally permitting himself to look at Emma, he felt the heavy guilt in his belly begin to grow. Her hair was damp, and she looked as if she had climbed into her clothes before properly dry, but despite being slightly dishevelled, she was smiling happily as she poured the tea.
"I take it from your expression that you didn't disappear anywhere while in the bathroom?" he ventured, only half in jest.
"Don't even joke about it!" she cautioned him. "If I wasn't worried about the possible mental scarring it might have caused you, I would have made you come in with me," she informed him, casually buttering her toast. "As it was I'm not entirely sure it was worth it; I may just stick to cleansing spells from now on."
Severus chewed resolutely on his toast and decided not to comment.
When they had finished eating, he placed the plates in the sink and returned the kettle to the stove to refresh the teapot. Emma sat quietly, apparently aware that the time had come to be serious.
He sat back down, his eyes focussed on her wand where it rested on the table. That wand was quite possibly the best clue they had to her identity, or at least how she had come to be there. If the magic she was caught in was her own, there was a good chance that some residue of the spell clung to it. There had to be a way to check the previous spells cast by a wand. Headmaster Dumbledore had implied that he could always check to see who had cast first whenever he had been caught in a duel – if the word "duel" could be used when more than two combatants were present; the word "ambush" would probably be more appropriate – but had never actually carried through with the threat, probably worried what he might find out about his beloved, brave Gryffindors.
The Ministry Aurors would have the power to check for previous spells, too, a fact that he raised now, his eyes still on her wand.
-x-
Emma listened to each carefully worded argument for turning to the Ministry, Hogwarts, or St Mungo's for aid, mutely. He certainly had thought things through very thoroughly indeed. He was shifting guiltily, as he spoke and Emma realised that the time she had dreaded most had arrived. He was going to wash his hands of her.
Oh, he phrased it differently. It was still "We can try this; we can speak to so-and-so," but the meaning was unchanged. And she couldn't blame him, not really. There was no reason in the world for him to still be helping her after all he had done already. Her attachment to him was unlikely to be reciprocated. He had a life outside of her. He had a family and school and friends, and she was guilty of taking him away from all that.
But he was all she had.
Her throat suddenly felt too tight. She sipped at her tea, hoping to shift the sudden, aching lump that filled it, but with little success.
"I honestly don't know enough about the Ministry to predict how they would react," he was saying. "I get the idea from the Daily Prophet that they're a little jumpy. It might be an idea to try elsewhere first.
"I've thought about this very hard, Emma, and this still seems like the best solution is to go to Dumbledore. I'm sorry, but that's all I've got."
And there it was. Apparently he had noted her previous reaction to Dumbledore and had been as struck by it as she had. Doubtless, whatever her original memories of the venerable wizard were, they must be strong indeed to have forced their way through the general fug of her recollections.
She considered his idea carefully. She still had no understanding of her automatic reaction to a wizard she had never met. Now that she had reason to, she found herself examining her feelings more closely. The idea of meeting Dumbledore did not scare her, as such. She just found the whole idea oddly distasteful.
It was certainly past time to seek professional aid. Staying with Severus, attempting to fix everything herself, had just seemed natural to her. Seeking help from outside seemed oddly akin to giving in. Her current situation seemed like some horribly complex puzzle, but she couldn't help but feel she had all the pieces in front of her. Asking someone else to solve it seemed wrong.
She had nothing to go on except the strange feeling in her gut. As this had always previously prompted her to trust her sullen companion, she decided that his advice, in this instant, was probably as sound as ever. After all, he, not she, was a native in this world.
They would go to Hogwarts.
-x-
Part of her was incredibly excited about heading to the hallowed grounds of British wizarding education. She had been so familiar with its written history that she was certain an actual visit would bring a whole slew of memories to the surface. Diagon Alley had been both familiar and completely foreign; would the school be the same? And the teachers, would she recognise any of them? Or, most importantly, would any of them know her?
She had pondered the question of Hogwarts since she had first opened Severus' battered copy of Hogwarts: A History. If she had been to the school previously, it must have been as a student; very few people were granted access without having enrolled. Given her age she must have been Sorted and taken both her O.W.L.s and her N.E.W.T.s. It was bizarre to think that somewhere Emma Jones – for want of a better name – had watched Quidditch matches and possibly joined the Gobstones Team.
She had doubtless been a Hufflepuff, all unwavering loyalty and relentless effort, she mused. She was too frightened and cowardly to have been a Gryffindor, and no Ravenclaw would have got themselves caught up in some unknown memory displacement spell without very thorough research. It only took one swift glance at her slightly crumpled jeans and Muggle top to know that Slytherin would never have taken her. She had previously compared the way she trailed after Severus to be very like an adoring puppy. Could one make badger eyes at a boy? She might just try.
She shook her head, a smile still playing on her lips. It was time; they had prevaricated too long already.
She would confront Albus Dumbledore.
-x-
They retrieved the cloaks. They were only slightly worse for wear for their night underneath the patchy shrub, and Emma quickly smoothed away the creases with her wand. Severus ducked beneath the bridge to make sure no one was approaching from the other side who could be startled by the sound of their Disapparition. There were a gang of boys with bikes, probably about ten years old, where the canal began its gentle bend some way away. They were playing loudly, and he doubted they would even notice the noise.
He ducked back under the bridge to fasten his cloak around his shoulders and gestured the Emma that it was safe for her to do likewise.
It was only then he realised she had begun to flicker.
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