Emexyinia Snape and the Deathly Hallows (Harry Potter Fan-fiction)

Chapter 18: Trust

Chapter 23: Trust

Emma’s mind had been wandering somewhere in the darkness. There were no thoughts, no dreams, no realization of what happened around her. But then suddenly, as if a car’s headlights were coming towards her, there were lights; pale white orbs that floated in her mind like little self-contained flames. She felt the numbness dissipate from her body, which left her to sort out physical pain as well as confusion. There was some amount of pain left in her chest, but it was mostly faded. She vaguely remembered the events that had taken place at Malfoy Manor, but her memories stopped after being stabbed.

“Am I dead?” she murmured, mostly to herself.

 Her eyes flickered open, but even before she could focus her eyes she heard quiet laughing. As she adjusted her vision, she found herself looking up at Draco.

“Good morning,” he said softly, smiling warmly at her.

“Hi,” she replied, squinting.

Draco kissed her softly on the forehead and she tilted her head back and he kissed her on the lips.

She opened her eyes again, still squinting. The light was too much for her eyes. She was momentarily confused as to where she was, but soon realized that she was in the hidden room in the tower at Hogwarts.

“When did we get here?” she asked.

“Your father and I Apparated with you. We somehow avoided Splinching you.”

“Where’s my father now?” she asked.

“Teaching your Potions classes.”

“Why aren’t you in class?” she asked.

“I’ve got a free class. Your father asked me to come check on you.”

“How badly am I hurt?” she asked, trying to shift positions but being careful not to move too quickly.

“Everything is healed. You’ve been asleep for a week now. Your father said you should be alright to go back to teaching as soon as you feel able.”

Emma noticed Draco seemed to be unusually upbeat. He kept smiling, something that Emma noted was strange. She was used to him being utterly depressed and moping about.

Emma stretched her legs out under the blankets and felt her knees and ankles crack from lack of use.

“Do you suppose I could get out of bed?” she asked. “My legs are a bit stiff.”

She slid her legs around and stood up, putting pressure on her leg for the first time in a week. Her knees gave out a bit.

“Whoa there,” Draco said, reaching out and steadying her.

She regained her balance, braced herself, and took a few steps.

“Okay, I’ve got this,” she said, taking a few steps.

“There you go,” Draco said letting go. ‘You're fine.”

She made her way over to her desk and sat down, thankful for the chance to take the weight off her feet again. As she went to take a pen from the dish on her desk, she saw the scar on her arm. The wound was healed and mostly faded, but the word Traitor could still obviously be seen etched into her flesh over her Dark Mark.

“Bellatrix,” Emma said quietly.

 “Your father wasn’t fully able to fix that one,” Draco said. “But nothing else will scar hopefully.”

She continued staring down at her arm, and finally sighed.

“It could be worse,” she said. “I could be dead. I should be dead. I don’t know how I escaped that one.”