With love and thanks to heartmom88 and ofankoma, for all their help and support

Chapter Twelve

The cold hit her before she had a chance to realise she was caught once more in the heavy, swirling darkness. Emma gripped her wand tightly and fought the urge to cast a silent Lumos. She had no idea who resided in the frigid chamber.

After the bright sunshine of the canal path, it took her eyes a long time to adjust to the near total darkness of the room. Peering into the gloom, she realised she was correct in her assumption that she had returned to the dormitory with its tall, curtained beds.

She stood in absolute stillness, waiting for the pounding of her heart to slow, and her breathing to even out. The room wasn't as cold as she remembered, but it still felt chilly after the warm summer sun she had just left behind. She carefully slipped Mrs Snape's cloak around her shoulders, doing her best to remain absolutely silent.

A sudden noise made her start, her wand flying upwards as she fell into a defensive stance almost automatically. The noise repeated itself, and she let out a long breath when she realised it was simply the sound of someone turning in their sleep.

As she stared in dismay into the darkness, her head filled with the familiar buzzing noise, her hearing muffled as if she had water trapped in her ears. She shook her head quickly, but the sound refused to leave. It was an annoying, high pitched noise, like tinnitus or the feeling of the temporary deafness caused by exposure to loud noise. Leaning to the right the sensation receded.

As her eyes adjusted to the peculiar gloom, she was able to make out the she stood next to the bed furthest from the door, one curtained side pushed completely against the wall. She turned to fully face the bed, noticing how the buzzing sound increased as she moved forwards.

Muffilato.

She refused to ponder over the convenient memory of the spell, or the nagging thought that it was perhaps not a good spell for someone to know, and stepped towards the bed.

She reached out with trembling fingers. They brushed the heavy folds of the velvet curtains before the darkness descended once more.

-x-

It was daylight again when she landed, sprawled inelegantly on the bumpy cobbles. Her relief, however, was short-lived.

She was not on the canal path.

And it was snowing.

She had been so certain that the horrid, spinning darkness had been about to carry her back to Severus and the warm sunshine that she had embraced it gratefully. Now it appeared it had taken her somewhere else entirely.

She climbed unsteadily to her feet, pulling the cloak tightly around her shoulders and lifting the musty smelling hood to cover her hair before looking around in interest.

There was no one else on the street, probably because of the biting wind that was eddying the light snowfall round and around as it drifted towards the ground. Many of the houses had their lights on already, but in the failing winter light, she had no real idea what the time was. With the dark clouds overhead, it could just be early afternoon.

Huddling back against the wall, desperate to get out of the cruel wind, she wondered what on earth she should do. Was she simply going to keep jumping from place to place like this or had some unknown magic just abandoned her on a wintry back street? Either eventuality called for a plan.

At least she had her memories this time. Or rather, the memories of the last few days. She still had her fake name, and she at least knew enough to ask for directions to the Snapes' dusty terrace. She should find a shop if any were open. Failing that, she should find a nice-looking house and knock on the door, explain that she was lost, and ask for direction back to Spinner's End.

She ignored the tiny voice that sounded suspiciously like Mr Ollivander. The voice that questioned if she was even in the same world as before.

Digging her cold fingers deep into her pockets, she pushed back off the wall and out into the growing blizzard, her head lowered against the wind. She had always hated the cold, hated the sting of snow and wind against her forehead. If she didn't get inside soon, she was going to have a monstrous headache to deal with. Had she not been on a Muggle street, she might have attempted a Warming Charm, but in this wind, it would have dissipated before it had a chance to be effective. Getting indoors was still her best plan.

A sudden hope bloomed in her chest when she began to recognise a couple of the buildings that came into view when she turned a corner onto a wider street. She was certain they had passed this way on their failed visit to the Evanses' house. If she could find the main road, she stood a good chance of being able to find her own way back to Severus. The high street wasn't far from here, either, with its wonderful fish and chip shop. Although she lacked Muggle money, she could stand inside and get warm while she asked for directions.

The wind was stronger here, whipping her cloak around her and whistling passed her ears, but the snow seemed to be clearing. She lowered the hood and stared around her, trying to remember which way they had gone from here.

There was another sound now, barely registering above the noise of the wind – a high, thin sound, like a cry or a wail. Listening more closely, Emma heard it again and was certain that it was someone crying. Glancing around, she could see no on else on the road. The whole town had seemed deserted so far.

Yet there was the noise again. A forlorn little sound; Emma was certain whoever was making it was just as lost and frightened as she was, if not more so. Listening intently, she realised it sounded like a child, but the constant whipping of the wind confused the sound, and she had no idea from which direction it was coming.

She was near a rather unwelcoming looking social club, a squat block of dirty brick with small windows and an imposing front door. She briefly considered heading inside, despite the rather forbidding appearance of the Dagworth Miller's Association (Members Only), when she heard the sound again.

There was a tiny car park next to the club, and beyond that, a small field with a lopsided goal post at the far end and a long untidy hedge running down the side. With all the wind, the noise could have been coming from just beside her or being carried from the far end of the field.

Her feet had carried her off the footpath and onto the frozen mud of the field before she reached a conscious decision. There was no way she could not try to help. She had no idea, after all, what would have happened to her had Severus' family not taken her in when they found her half collapsed in the street. Would another family have taken her in? A Muggle family, perhaps, who would have taken her to hospital the moment her amnesia presented itself. A family who would not have understood the importance of the ornate stick of wood in her jacket pocket, or had the first idea how to help her.

Worse, Spinners End wasn't a particularly busy street. There was the chance she could have laid there for hours before someone had found her. At that had been a dry summer's evening, not a bleak winter's day.

She couldn't let that happen to anyone.

She hurried across the scrubby field, the wind tossing her hair around until at times she could barely see through the tangles. The ground underfoot was iron hard, the uneven mud frozen into peaks and troughs. She slipped on a frozen puddle, twisting her ankle as she righted herself.

Hissing quietly, she flexed her ankle carefully, relieved when the sudden pain receded just as quickly. It would have been beyond bad luck to find herself stranded in this snowy place and hobbled to boot. Picking her way with more care, she started to cross the field again, her eyes fixed on the rough ground, her ears pricked for any further sound.

When she began to fall again, she instinctively threw her arms out to steady herself. It was only when her eyesight began to cloud that she realised that this time, the sensation had nothing to do with the icy ground.

-x-

Emma closed her eyes as she felt the spell grab at her. She sent a silent prayer to whatever saint looked over the lost – Jude? Or was that the patron saint of lost causes? Perhaps Christopher would be willing to help her – that she would find herself once more in the bright sunshine by the canal. She wouldn't care if she had lost a day this time, or even a week. She just wanted to get back to Severus and little space by his side, the only place in this strange, shifting madness where she felt as if she might just belong.

She longed to feel the sunshine on her face and smell the rather overpowering scent of canal water and ducks, and know that she had returned. It was such an intense longing that it was almost painful, like the worst, most desperate homesickness.

She surrendered herself gladly to the darkness, throwing herself into the magic as it spun her round and around.

-x-

She landed in darkness.

Cold, familiar darkness.

Even before her eyes adjusted to the gloom she became aware of the background buzz of Muffalato. She turned instinctively towards the source of the spell and reached forward, flinching slightly as her fingers brushed against the heavy velvet of the bed curtains. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes.

No doubt – no doubt – there was a reason why she kept returning to this spot, to this dark, cold corner of what she could only hope was Hogwarts castle. And – no doubt – she would continue to return here until she had worked out why.

"Sod this," she murmured quietly to herself, as she gripped the curtain. The buzzing abruptly ceased as she grasped a fistful of velvet and pulled it to one side.

The Stinging Hex was followed so swiftly by a Silencing Spell that no one heard her cry of pain.