With thanks to heartmom88 and ofankoma.

Chapter Nineteen

The spell discarded her in a pleasant little sitting room with beautiful soft tapestries adorning the warm sandstone walls. Emma looked around in interest; she was certain she was in Hogwarts, but it was a suite of rooms she did not recognise. Surely Severus would be there . . . was she perhaps back in his school years? She hadn't thought she could travel back through his timeline but her encounter with his infant self had disproved that theory.

The door opposite her opened and she caught a glimpse of a very familiar, portrait lined room just beyond. Her attention however was caught by the sight of the man who now stood in the doorway, his body draped in heavy black robes, a look of burning hope on his face.

"Emma?" he whispered, closing the door firmly behind him. "You came."

He moved forwards into the light and Emma suddenly had to fight the urge to step backwards in shock.

He was. . .old.

She stood very still as he came towards her, approaching her quietly as one might an injured animal, while she studied his changed visage. He wasn't old, she amended; older certainly, all traces of boyishness having vanished from his frame, but he was still blade thin and graceful in his movements. He was ten, maybe twenty, years older than her, though it was never easy to judge with wizards. Still, it was a frightening thing indeed that so much time could have raced away while she had been gone.

Watching him now she noticed he had the tired, defeated look of one who has been ill or struggling under a burden for a long time. It was a look she recognised, but she had no idea from where.

It was difficult to meet his eyes. They were so very dark, haunted by something, but hopeful at the same time and painful to look into. As she watched the hope began to recede.

Her heart twisted in her chest and she closed the space between them, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "Oh, Severus!" she breathed. "What's happened?"

He didn't speak but wrapped his arms around her in response and buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

"Emma," he sighed. The whisper of his breath against her ear caused her to shiver.

-x-

She was uncertain how long they stood like that, caught in each other's arms, his face buried in her hair. It could have been hours or just mere moments. Either way, it seemed far too soon when he finally pulled away.

"Emma," he murmured. "I'm so sorry. When you vanished I was certain you were gone for good and I-"

She cut him off. "I don't think either of us were thinking clearly. I'm sorry if I hurt you, things just moved a bit too fast..." She trailed off when she saw the considering look on his face, the frown now etched deep into his skin. It was bizarre, he looked so different from the young man she had only recently left, but at the same time he seemed so overwhelmingly familiar.

"I think we're talking at cross purposes," he informed her lightly, leading her across to the low sofa in front of the empty fireplace. "When did you last see me? The night of the summer storm?"

Well, that was certainly one way to describe what had happened.

Emma nodded. "Well, not quite. That was the oldest I've seen you before now. I saw you once more in between though; back when you were a little boy, at Spinners Rec."

"I have no recollection of that," he admitted, carefully arranging his robes before sitting down beside her. "It would seem our timelines are diverging," he mused. "I have seen you once since then." He looked away, "I'm afraid I behaved rather badly."

Emma slipped her hand back into his. "Whatever it was, you're forgiven," she assured him.

"You don't know what I said to you yet," he countered softly. "You have to understand, after that summer I was... confused about you, for the longest time. When you reappeared I took the opportunity to vent all that frustration upon you. I was under a lot of stress at the time and I didn't give you the chance to defend yourself. I just... lashed out."

Emma reached up and caught his chin in her other hand, turning his face gently until his eyes finally met hers. "You're forgiven," she repeated.

She let her hand rest under his chin a moment longer as she searched his face for the tiny changes that marked the years lost between them. There were lines in the corners of his eyes now. She hoped they were from laughter but she had a horrible certainty that this was unlikely to be the case. There was a permanent crease between his eyebrows and tight lines around his mouth. She raised her eyes back to his to find that he too was cataloguing her features and felt a moment's unease. What if he had remembered her to be better than she really was? If he had recalled her to be prettier or shapelier? She found she couldn't bear to disappoint him, not now.

Then his eyes dropped to her lips and for a moment all thought ceased.

She wondered what it would be like to have him kiss her now. Would his kisses still be tentative how that he was so clearly a man? Would they still start that delicious tingle deep inside her belly and cause her blood to rush, flushing her cheeks and chest with warmth? She found herself licking her lips softly in silent anticipation.

The moment stretched onwards until finally, deliberately, Severus looked away.

Emma caught her lower lip between her teeth and blinked rapidly, wondering what had just happened and confused by her own reaction. She gripped his hand tightly, willing him to stay with her, not to disappear inside his cold shields as she searched for less dangerous ground.

"You said you called me, before. Did you mean it?"

He met her gaze levelly. "I'm not certain you want to know just yet. What little I have worked out about this spell indicates that its parameters are met by fulfilling certain criteria. You're not knowing seems to be a part of it. There is a chance that too much information could cause you to release yourself from the spell."

Emma felt a moment's thrill at his words; that he had worked out so much, that she might be finally able to understand what had trapped her in these strange, shifting loops of time. The enticement of knowledge fell away though the moment she understood his warning.

"Then don't tell me," she announced. It hadn't even been a conscious decision.

"Are you sure?" he pressed. "It could well be all you need to get back home."

She twisted her fingers until they were entwined safely with his. "I am home," she smiled.

His eyes burned so brightly that this time she was the one who had to look away.

-x-

"You won't be caught up in the spell much longer," he told her gently. "Things are coming to a close." They were more comfortably arranged on the sofa, his arm around her, his fingers in her hair. Her arms were round his waist, the fingers of her right hand toying with the myriad buttons of his frock coat. Her fingers stilled.

"You know what this spell is, don't you?" she asked quietly.

"I have heard references to something similar," he admitted. "But this is different somehow. None of those sources mentioned time loops and they never - they never mentioned amnesia."

"Something must have gone wrong," she sighed. "I just wish I knew why I chose to throw myself through time like this with nothing but my wand and a bottomless evening bag full of riddles."

"I had thought you did it to save a man's life," Severus murmured. "But that man was saved a couple of years ago. It doesn't make sense that you would still be here, but I am so very glad that you are." He pressed a brief kiss to the top of her head and Emma looked up at his tired, defeated face, a sudden chill creeping along her spine. "I want you to know that I have treasured our somewhat unconventional friendship over the years. I just wanted to let you know that before you go again. I - I'll be forever grateful that I had this chance to tell you."

Tears filled her eyes so suddenly that she didn't have a chance to blink them back before they spilled out over her cheeks. "Don't talk like that," she whispered. "Don't ever suggest that I might not come back. I'm staying here, with you."

He gestured to the lamps that had lit themselves only minutes before. "It's getting late. Soon it will be time for you to go."

"But I don't have to go anywhere," she insisted. "As long as you hold onto me then the spell can't take me,"

"Don't be silly, Emma," he rebuked, softly. "I can't hold you all night long."

Emma felt herself flush before she had even spoken, "I don't see why not."

In the silence that followed she risked a glance up at his face. It was impossible to put into words what she saw there but it gave her the courage to twist until she was facing him fully, her face just inches from his. There was such awful hope written there that it made her shiver.

Cautiously she raised her hand, like before, this time softly tracing his familiar features; the sharp edges of his cheekbones, his high forehead, even the severe slash of his nose. He sat utterly motionless beneath her ministrations but she was relieved that he did not try to pull away either; certain that all her courage would have deserted her if he had.

Her fingertips brushed against his lips and she recalled just how soft they had felt against her own when she felt the tiniest answering tremor run through him. Any remaining doubts vanished in that moment and she raised her lips to his.

For a few long moments he returned her kiss before gently pulling away with a sigh.

"Emma," he breathed. "You can't want this. I'm an old man now."

"You're not!" she protested. "And I do! I always have, I think. I was wrong to push you away before, I know that now. . ." She kissed him again, more forcibly this time, and felt a brief triumph as his reticence melted away and he pulled her closer, almost onto his lap. Hey were both breathing heavily when he pulled away for a second time.

"Please, Emma, don't push me," he murmured. "I'm not thinking straight. Please don't ask me for something I may not be able to refuse you."

A small, frustrated noise escaped from her throat. "Then stop thinking," she whispered, moving to kiss him again. He evaded her, burying his face against her neck instead, his arms still tight around her.

"This isn't what you want, not really. When you get back home you'll regret this."

Emma sat back a little, and struggled to find the words to reassure him. "I don't know why I'm here," she admitted. "Maybe I never will for sure. But I think perhaps I bound myself to you. Because I want to be here with you. And if I decided to do that then I can also decide to do this. Maybe this is what needs to happen for me to stay. Because I can't bear to leave you again."

"But you must. You and I both know that time won't let you stay here like that."

"Then I will find a way to make it," she insisted, dashing the sudden tears from her eyes. "I love you."

Severus closed his eyes. "Emma," he sighed.

"You can't make me unsay it," she whispered. "You can't make it not be true."

"I wouldn't have the strength to make you, even if I could," he confessed.

-x-

His room was beautifully appointed, the furniture old but lovingly maintained, every line graceful and considered. There was a large bed, comfortable chairs, side tables and an ornate fireplace, Emma noticed, but no personal touches. There was no desk stacked haphazardly with papers, no shelves overflowing with books. The room was beautiful but oddly impersonal, like a hotel room, or as if Severus was only staying there temporarily until the real owner returned.

She toed off her shoes and socks and laid her jacket carefully over the foot of the bed. After a moments hesitation she undid her jeans, sliding them self consciously down her legs and folding them neatly to join her jacket before sliding under the blankets. She wondered briefly if Severus still wore night shirts, but if he did it seemed she was not destined to find out. He removed his outer clothes before joining her under the covers, still dressed in his shirt and trousers. Emma was oddly moved when she noted the symmetry between this night and the other night, back in Spinners End. This time, however, it was her asking if she might stay.

At first he made no move to touch her, just watched her silently with those fathomless black eyes, and for one dreadful moment she was certain that this time it was she who had misread the situation, that she had exaggerated his attraction to her. But then he stretched out his hand to her and she slid towards him, sinking eagerly into his embrace.

It was Emma that kissed him this time. Emma who wound her arms around him and pulled him close. He seemed content to simply hold her, his hands resting lightly on her waist, occasionally stroking softly down across her hip and back again, while his tongue began a similarly gentle, restrained exploration of her mouth.

It was a delicious sensation and her stomach seemed to contract with longing each time his fingers moved across her skin. At first she was content to simply lie there, caught in his arms, their bodies pressed close as they kissed. He held her as if she was something delicate and infinitely precious, every touch carefully measured and precise, yet soon the more his kisses enflamed her, the more his continued reticence frustrated her. She began to explore what little of him she could reach, limited as she was by his embrace. She ran her hands long his arms and across his chest, still lean and lightly muscled beneath the skin, pressing herself against him all the while, eager for more contact.

"Emma." She wasn't sure if he meant it as a question or a caution but she continued to twist against him, her fingers seeking new purchase against his skin. "Emma," he repeated softly. "This is enough."

"It isn't," she insisted before blushing at husky sound of her own voice. Unable to meet his gaze she buried her face against his, her lips brushing his ear as she sought the courage to explain her desires. "I want all of you."

He became very still. She lay there, revelling in the feel of his warmth and his weight against her. Eventually he pushed himself up to look down at her, one hand coming up to cup her face, his long fingers brushing against her skin with infinite care, his eyes almost liquid.

"You're sure?" She could only nod. He stroked her cheek, her brow, then up into the ridiculous tangle of her hair. Remembering her windswept appearance she felt a moment's shyness; her eyes red from crying, her messy tumble of curls.

All thought was swept aside as he lowered his head to brush his lips against hers. This time he took control of the kiss, making it deeper and more urgent then before. His reticence gone, replaced instead by a driving need. She tangled her fingers in his hair pulling him even closer and shifted her legs until he was trapped in the cradle of her hips.

When his hands began their cautious exploration of her still clothed body she could only moan her encouragement, not wanting to break this drugging kiss even for a heartbeat. Still deferential, his long fingers ghosting over her waist, her face, her hips. When his hand finally moved to claim the soft swell of her breast she arched against him, wanting him to know just how much she needed his touch.

Some how she knew that this – dear God, this – was why she had chosen to fall through time. This man, with his sullen silences and his dark, searching eyes, was the home she had been searching for.