Emma Moore, professor in Healing at Hogwarts, has to suppress her feelings for her old best friend and now colleague Severus Snape, who she hasn't seen in ten years, while figuring out who killed her aunt.
...
Emma smoothed the ground below the tree, just inside the Forbidden Forest. She collected some leaves from around her and scattered them over the same spot. Then she stood up and stepped back, her heart heavy with loss.
Lily immediately threw an arm around her shoulders. "Do you want to say a few words?"
"No." Her voice cracked and she shook her head. "No, that's okay."
"I'm so sorry, Em," she said softly. "He was the cutest toad ever."
When Lily glared at Severus, he snapped, "What? What do you want me to say? He was just a toad!"
"No, he wasn't!" Emma snapped back. "He was my pet."
"I don't see the difference."
"Oh, for God's sake, if you can't be supportive, just go away, Severus!" Lily exclaimed.
He threw his arms up and marched off, grumbling to himself.
"Sorry, Em. He's so grumpy lately."
She shrugged her shoulders, staring down at the little grave she dug with her own hands.
"It must be so hard for you," she added, rubbing Emma's arm. "First that whole debacle with Reid, and now this..."
Emma sniffed. She'd desperately wanted to forget that. Why did Lily keep having to bring it up? "Let's just go back inside."
Arm in arm, the two girls walked back into the castle, to the Great Hall, sitting down wordlessly at their regular spot, where Severus was already having dinner. As she took her place next to him, he slid over a steaming mug.
"Cranberry," he muttered, without looking up. "Black."
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Emma peered along the rows of guests. It was nice, really, seeing so many people come together to say goodbye to Aunt April. They were mostly people from work. A few who she'd known for years, and who Emma remembered coming by the house when she was little. But the one person she'd hoped would show up, the one person she dreaded facing, wasn't there.
She sighed, turning back to the front. The funeral officiant was speaking, but she didn't hear a word of what he said. She'd tried to listen, but everything just sounded like white noise. Either way, it didn't matter. Everything he said was based on what she'd told him. She knew it all.
Next to him, barely three meters ahead of her, stood the casket in which her aunt lay in eternal sleep. The lid was closed, but Emma could picture it easily. Her eyes closed, hands folded over her chest, a serene smile on her face.
It's not fair.
She closed her eyes, but no tears would fall. She hadn't cried all week. Her body was on survival-mode, pushing through until all this was over. Then she could go to bed, curl up into a ball, and break down. Or perhaps she'd just sleep. The past week had been so draining, she felt like she could sleep for a month.
