Warning! Slight canon deviation ahead! We're in Severus' sixth year, not his fifth, as stated in the Deathly Hallows.

Chapter Fourteen

Severus watched mutely as Emma pulled item after item from the narrow neck of the little beaded bag, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she struggled to reach the bottom corners. Already an odd selection of belongings covered the eiderdown: spare socks, maps, tissues, a packet of biscuits, and a slightly suspicious wad of parchment that seemed completely unused, despite its battered appearance. There was a fat little purse containing a modest amount of Sickles and Galleons, a few Muggle biros, a hairbrush with several elastics wrapped round the handle, and a pink bottle of something frightfully feminine and possibly to do with hair care. Emma had certainly been pleased to see it.

"I said this was your bag," he murmured as she added an umbrella and a miniature first aid kit to the growing pile in front of them. "There was no magical signature though."

"It's an Undetectable Extension Charm," Emma informed him, immediately reverting to what he privately thought of as her textbook voice. "They're undetectable. And the charm of the zip was keyed to me. Probably by me too,"

Her tone was considering, but as Severus watched, she became distracted, delving once more into the seemingly fathomless reaches of the bag. She had distracted herself from their conversation about time travel too. Which was interesting. Emma didn't strike him as the kind of person who would stray from a topic without first finding all the answers she had sought. How was it Ollivander had described her? Relentless in the pursuit of truth. The strange wizard's words had stuck with him, but now he was forced to consider them afresh. They didn't really apply to the Emma he had come to know.

She had been so very quick to accept his friendship, so very quick to accept his help. When he had questioned her appearing so close to the only family with an adult wizard for miles around, she had been interested, but had not bothered to follow the question any further. Later, when his touch had managed to prevent her from disappearing, she had recognised immediately that something important had happened, but had been unable to concentrate long enough even to add it to one of her ridiculous lists. And then she had vanished once more, distracting him too.

Looking back, it was easy to catalogue the numerous occasions when the simplest thing had distracted her or when she had shaken off the darkest moods with a toss of her curls and a smile. Ollivander had driven her to distraction, but after a quick glass of whiskey and a couple of sandwiches, she had calmed down enough to blithely discuss the fact she might have come from the future. That evening he had only needed to walk with her down the canal path until they reached the wood for her normal, breezy disposition to reassert itself. Tonight she had even dismissed the idea that she might have unknowingly changed the future to such a degree that she might never be able to return home, with a simple shrug of her shoulders.

It was as if nothing could affect her for long. It should have made her seem slightly two-dimensional, like a less than complete person. Instead it filled him with worry.

Fair enough, her presence had temporarily distracted him from the events of the previous evening, but not completely, and certainly not to the point where he would dismiss the matter entirely. And it wasn't that he wasn't grateful for her now warm presence, pressed up against him, her elbow occasionally jostling him as she continued to unpack. Yet there had to be a reason why she was here.

She was still working a jumper from the bag when something fluttered loose. An envelope, caught in the folds of the wool. It was plain white and looked like something that you would find in any Muggle stationer's. He caught it before it could slide from the bed, turning it over in his hands as it handed it back to Emma.

The neat writing on the front read simply: Prof S.

They both stared at it in silence.

-x-

"Could it be for Professor Slughorn?" Severus suggested eventually.

"I don't know." Emma considered the name carefully: Slughorn. She felt no real reaction to it one way or the other. "I don't think so."

"You should open it."

She looked up, faintly scandalised. "I can't do that. It isn't addressed to me."

"This is obviously your bag," he gestured to the items now spread across the bed. "And that even looks like your handwriting."

"How do you know what my handwriting looks like?" she enquired, delighted when one of those uncontrollable blushes stained his cheeks. Maybe he hadn't changed that much at all.

"You left one of your lists behind. I thought it might be helpful. Now open the letter."

She prodded the letter cautiously with her wand, casting a few basic detection spells to make sure there was nothing Dark or dangerous inside. If Severus found anything unusual in this, he gave no sign, simply waiting pointedly for her to open it. She slid her finger under the seal and carefully slid it open. Inside was a single folded sheet of parchment.

They both leaned forward, Severus bringing his wand closer so that the light shone directly on the page as Emma opened it, smoothing the creases flat. Tense, expectant silence filled the curtained space as their eyes travelled down the neat lines of careful script.

"What," demanded Emma, "is that meant to mean?"

"You tell me," came the reply. "You wrote it."

Emma sighed, glancing over the words again. She was reasonably certain that this was her handwriting, but she felt no glimmer of recognition whatsoever for the words written down. It seemed like a random list of ingredients. "Could it be a potion?" she suggested, unhelpfully.

"It looks like no one potion I've ever seen," Severus considered. "There are elements of about four or five different potions in here, but without instructions it could be anything. Maybe it's a shopping list."

Emma started to giggle. Once she began, she found it hard to stop, despite the look she was receiving. Eventually she calmed down enough to gasp out, "Are you suggesting I travelled across time and space to remind some Professor to restock the Potion's cupboard?"

Severus snorted and flicked the page from her grasp, studying it more closely. "These number's down the side. If they aren't quantities they might be Arithmantic properties."

"Let me see."

Now this was interesting. If the numbers balanced, there was good chance that this was some sort of theoretical potions proposition. Uncapping one of the pens, Emma reached for the folded parchment to jot down the numbers.

To her infinite frustration, the pen didn't work. And nor did the next. It was only after Severus leant her a quill and ink that she realised that the parchment was actually absorbing the ink the moment it hit the page. She prodded it carefully with her wand. There was obviously some sort of enchantment on it, but none of the less invasive diagnostic charms she cast revealed anything helpful. She was loathe to cast anything more aggressive for fear of sparking any protective jinxes. It was just one more thing that didn't make sense.

A wand that hadn't been sold yet, parchment that couldn't be written on, a letter addressed to a person she didn't know.

"Do you still have my list?" Perhaps itemising everything would help. It hadn't so far, but Emma was determined to remain optimistic.

Severus blushed again as he handed her the little piece of parchment she had left on his desk. Why became clear as she unfolded it, taking care not to tear the creases. It felt thinner than she remembered and the folds were worn thin as if it had been opened and refolded many, many times.

Severus hadn't just saved it, hadn't just read it; he'd read it almost to pieces.

If she had needed proof that he had missed her, then here it was. She scanned the list briefly, wondering just what he had found in it to warrant saving it.

In my favour, Severus Snape.

Oh, Severus.

She blinked quickly, refusing to burst into tears again, focussing instead on jotting the numbers down. Trying to see if they would balance as part of an Arithmantic equation without knowing which chart to consult was tricky, but not impossible; determining what they might mean was another thing entirely. She scribbled furiously for a few minutes, occasionally scrubbing out her working as she adjusted the lines. It felt wonderful to be doing something academic, something that actually made sense, even if she didn't understand the equation itself. If she knew what the potion was intended for then the answer would be quite simple. Trying to work backwards meant she had no idea what properties were being calculated. Still, numbers were numbers. They made sense even if the answer didn't.

She was so focussed on her working that she didn't even notice the rising darkness until Severus grabbed her wrist, knocking ink all over the bed sheets.

He swore quietly before attempting to clean the mess with a rather sloppy Tergeo. Emma locked her fingers with those of his free hand and sighed. Much as she had known that she couldn't spend eternity hiding in Severus' bed, she had hoped that the spell might leave her alone for one whole night. Even overlooking the fact that she had no wish to be dumped in some unknown place or time with no way of getting back, there was still the fact Severus needed someone to talk to. Or the fact that she wanted to be that person.

Mostly she wanted to find out who was responsible for sending him to meet a werewolf and do all sorts of terrible things to them. Or at least write a very strongly worded letter to Headmaster Dumbledore. Honestly, who asked a school child to cover up such a thing? He had a duty of care to all his students, not just to the poor unfortunate infected with lycanthropy. It was disgraceful.

Then there was the fact she simply didn't want to leave him.

She sighed again and began carefully repacking the little bag. She read through the ingredients list one last time before placing it back in the envelope. It wouldn't do to lose it again before she had even worked out what it might mean.

"You're leaving." It wasn't a question.

"I don't want to," she protested. "You know I'll only keep flickering until the spell takes me. I want to at least make sure I have everything this time."

He glared at her but didn't resist when she entwined her fingers back with his. "I'd take you with me if I could."

His glare became a look of such fierce, undisguised longing that Emma shivered. Tomorrow he was going to have to head to the Great Hall and attempt to eat breakfast under the benevolent gaze of a headmaster who had betrayed him. Somewhere else in that hall would be the pupil who had nearly sent him to his death. He was going to have to walk down the same corridors – maybe even share classes – with someone who had tried to kill him. He would have to see the werewolf, back in human form, and act as if nothing had happened.

She handed him back her original list.

"Will you look after this for me? I'd hate to lose it."

He glanced down at the scribbled workings. "The numbers balance," he noted glumly. "I'd suggest that it was a theoretical solution to a combination potion meant to have several effects at once."

Well, that was certainly useful. "Do you understand it?"

He shook his head. "We're going to brush on blended potions as part of out N.E.W.T.s. We've already looked at blended poisons and antidotes, but I don't think this kind of work would be approached 'til apprentice level."

"Maybe I should find a Potions Master. I don't suppose you're planning on further education are you?"

His face clouded again. "No. I'm not."

"But—" she began. Her mind flicked back to the potions books that had lined his narrow bookcase, all of them shabby and oft-read; the notes scribbled in the margins of his textbook; the theory-filled pages he had removed from his notebook before handing it over. "But you should," she finished lamely.

He was refusing to look at her again. "Surely you don't think I can stay after what's happened, do you? I'll be seventeen in a couple of months. Old enough to find a place of my own and to get a job."

Emma was aghast. "You can't."

He ignored her protest and continued, his voice harsh. "I have my O.W.L.s. They'll be good enough for most employers. Maybe an apothecary will take me on. I know Slughorn will write me a reference. If I'm good enough I'll be allowed to brew after a couple of years, maybe get my Ministry Certification." He shrugged, still looking away. "It'll be enough."

"But it won't! You know it won't. We both know you'd never be satisfied working for someone else. I know I've never seen you work, but I've seen your books and your bedroom. You're hopelessly academic, Severus. You'll be miserable if you finish your education early!"

He looked at her then, his eyes suddenly very cold. "I'm miserable now."

Emma sat back, deflated. "It's your choice. I suppose I haven't know you long enough to try and give you advice, but please, Severus, think about it a little longer before you decide. Think of everything you'd be giving up." She reached up and smoothed his hair back from his face; he twitched back out of her reach, looking angry. "You can't let them win. They deserve to leave Hogwarts, not you. Don't let them be the reason you give up on anything."

"I've thought about it long enough already."

"Just give it a little more time. Speak to your Professor Slughorn, ask him what kind of prospects you honestly have. He might be able to put you forward for scholarships and who knows what else. Please," she begged. "You have such a bright future ahead of you. Don't let it go to waste."

He stared at her for the longest time, then finally gave one jerky nod of his head. She squeezed his fingers tightly. He didn't return the pressure.

-x-

It all seemed horribly final. She made sure her shoes were firmly on her feet and that everything had been carefully repacked back inside the odd little bag. She had decided to wear the jumper under her jacket and was clutching the old green cloak firmly as she waited for the dark spell to descend once more. It felt wrong leaving Severus while he was still so far from all right, but she could almost feel the darkness hovering at the edges of her vision.

"I have your address memorised and written on a scrap of paper in my pocket, along with the command "Ask for Severus" in block capitals just in case I forget anything." She informed him, hoping to lighten the mood, if only slightly. It wasn't a joke though, just a sensible precaution. "Of course it means you can never move house."

"I won't," he promised. "Are you sure you won't stay? If we crept out before first light there's a fair chance I could get you through the common room before someone throws a hex at you and Dumbledore would probably be willing to see you. I have something to blackmail him with after all."

It was tempting. Perhaps then they could find a way to keep her fixed in one time. She could stay with Severus then and find a way to keep him happy.

"No. What he did to you leaves me disinclined to trust him," she frowned. "What you said about the grandfather effect has stuck with me too. I think the less people who know about me flitting around like this, the safer it should be. Have Lily or James mentioned me?"

"No. I think Lily might be a bit embarrassed about how she treated you, but she doesn't speak to me unless it's to do with lessons. Potter seems to have conveniently forgotten that entire episode. I think making a prat of himself and being humiliated by a girl may have adversely affected his memory."

"So you're the only person who really knows about me?"

"It would seem so."

There it was. The only person who knew her in this entire shifting world. and she was saying goodbye again.

"If I have done anything to your timeline, then I am truly sorry," she fretted. "If I ever get home then I'll make sure to pop round to Spinner's End and make sure you're alright."

"So I'll see you soon?" Again, that wistful longing, though he had disguised it better this time. If only she could take him with her, away from this horrid school. Or if only there was a way she could stay.

"You will if I have anything to do with it," she tried to sound positive, but failed woefully. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling his close for one final hug. He accepted it awkwardly, patting her on the shoulder. "You'll find your place soon enough, Severus. Someone will recognise how wonderful you are any day now."

The last thing she heard was his snorted reply.

-x-

It was a rushing, whirling sensation. Caught up in a spell that buffeted her about like a leaf in a storm, snatching her up and throwing her around. Feebly she attempted to cling to herself, to keep what she could intact. It felt worse than the last few times, more powerful by far. Panic threatened to drown her.

Unable to catch hold of anything in order to save herself her, mind clung to the one fact it knew to be unassailably true: she had to find Severus.

-x-

She landed heavily, falling back onto the cold stone, the impact jarring the air from her lungs.

She had been expecting snow and biting wind, but instead she found herself in a pleasant, if sparse, office. There was a fire in the grate and the torches had been lit, filling the room with a warm cosy glow.

She stood up carefully, brushing herself down and checking her pockets to make sure her wand and bag were secure. Satisfied that she had everything, she looked around in interest, wondering where the unusually strong burst of magic had carried her to. The room had faded sandstone walls hung with time-softened tapestries that suggested she was still in Hogwarts. The room was practically empty apart from a large oak desk covered in papers and an overturned whisky bottle, and a towering bookcase that almost filled the far wall.

Pulling her wand from her pocket, she stepped closer to investigate – purely to determine whose office she had arrived at, she reassured herself. Rounding the desk, she froze, her wand whipping up in an instant. A defensive curse had almost left her lips before she realised that the body, propped up against the wall, had made no move to attack her.

Heart racing, she knelt by his side, fingers racing to find a pulse, calling his name. She thought she could feel a faint, fast pulse jumping at his throat, but there was no sign that he had heard her. He didn't move a muscle, just lay there, half propped up against the stone wall, his black eyes glassy and unseeing.