Keeping Emma

Chapter 3: The Disappearance of Emma Gianni

Hank Lummox stood in the alley between the adult theater and the pawn shop. He lifted the paper bag wrapped bottle of whiskey to his lips and drank deeply. He was still mad as hell over those three tramps that had walked by earlier. Their laughter still rang in his ears.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching. He silently crept to the end of the alley and looked up the street, hidden by the shadows. Hank smiled. It was one of the three girls who had insulted him earlier--the short one. Not his first choice, but she'd do. He carefully set his bottle of whiskey on the pavement and pulled his knife from his pocket, opening it. He crossed to the other side of the alley and pressed his back against the building. As soon as Emma passed the opening of the alley, he reached out and grabbed her by her hair, pulling her into the alley. He released her hair and clapped his hand over her mouth to cut off her scream of surprise. He immediately brought his other hand up to her face, the knife glistening in the lamplight.

"Quiet there now girlie. One peep and I'll kill ya'."

Hank lifted the terrified girl off her feet and quickly dragged her toward the back of the alley, setting her down behind a garbage dumpster. The moment he took the knife away from her face, Emma turned and swung her backpack at him, hitting him in the head. She turned to run, screaming, but he caught her and dragged her back. She opened her mouth to scream, but he backhanded her across the face.

He threw her to the ground behind the dumpster, so they would be shielded from any prying eyes that might pass by. Emma could feel the filth of a greasy puddle begin to soak her backside. A rat skittered from under the dumpster and ran by her head. He straddled her and pressed the knife against her throat. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt like she was going to pass out. She struggled to keep alert. If she passed out, she'd be lost. She had to try to fight.

"Now, like I said, not a sound. That's the deal, see. You do that and you'll live to see tomorrow." He removed the knife from her throat and began to rifle through her purse, removing her cash and stuffing it into his pocket. Then he threw the purse aside. "You laughed at me before. We'll see how much you're laughing when I'm done with 'ya." He lowered his face to hers and tried to force his tongue into her mouth.

Emma looked up into his cruel eyes and smelled the stench of his breath and his unwashed body. She managed to free her hands and clawed her nails at his eyes. She aimed her knee where she knew it would do the most damage. He yelled out in anger and half fell off of her to one side. Screaming, she tried to take advantage of his momentary shock to get up and run, but she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her left side. She fell back to her knees and placed her hand to her side. She felt blood flowing from the wound. She realized he had stabbed her as he grabbed her and forced her back on the ground, slamming her head onto the pavement.

As the world went dark, Emma heard running footsteps and a voice yell out, "Stupefy!" A blast of red light briefly lit the alley and Hank suddenly stiffened and fell to one side, his eyes staring blankly ahead. Emma felt cold, so very cold. Just as she lost consciousness, Severus fell to his knees at her side.

Severus looked down at Emma's broken and bloodied body and felt rage at the Muggle who did this to her. He quickly lit his wand to better see how badly she was hurt. She was bleeding pretty badly from her mouth. He turned her head to the side so she would not choke on her own blood. The wound in her side was the worse. She had already lost a lot of blood. Severus hurriedly cast a bloodclotting spell and the bleeding slowed. Then, he gathered Emma into his arms and disapparated with her to St. Mungos.

*****

The next afternoon, Severus sat by Emma's bed in St. Mungo's, watching her sleep. Her face was unnaturally pale from the loss of blood. The Healers had been surprised when he had brought a Muggle in to be cared for, but had gotten right to work stopping the bleeding and applying healing balms to the knife wound. Then they had applied spells to heal her concussion and had placed her in an enchanted sleep.

Severus was grateful that more liberally minded witches and wizards were attracted to the healing profession because there were those who would have refused to have helped a Muggle. He didn't even know why he'd gone to the hostel on Wardour Street to wait for her. Actually, he did know. It had been her eyes. They had been so hurt when she'd looked at him just before storming out of the pub with those other girls. He had been reminded of the look of hurt and betrayal Lily had cast on him after he had called her a mudblood. He knew that look would haunt him forever.

Once Emma was better, Severus decided to swear off of Muggle girls. They might be easy pickings because when he got tired of one, he could just disappear into the magical world for a time. But from now on, he would just stick with the witches down in Knockturn Alley. There were more than enough establishments down there for the type of no-strings relationships he was looking for. That damned potion. Why had he tried to use it? His lack of patience always proved to be his downfall. Given a few days, he could have gotten her to agree to become his lover.

Then, on top of his private sense of guilt, Severus knew he was in trouble. He had performed magic in front of Muggles and brought one into the magical world. He was sitting there, just waiting for the excrement to hit the fan. To help head it off, he had sent an owl off to Dumbledore after arriving at the hospital the night before.

The door to Emma's room opened and Albus Dumbledore stepped in quietly. He walked to the bed and looked down at the sleeping girl. "I came as soon as possible, Severus," he said.

Severus got up and began to pace in the room, running his fingers through his hair nervously. "I'm going to be in trouble. I did magic in front of her. I stupified her assailant. Her name is Emma. We had a date last night and she got mad at me and left. I went to where she was staying to wait for her so I could talk to her. But then, I heard a scream and ran into the alley to see someone being attacked. I hadn't even known it was Emma until after I'd stupified the man. I couldn't let her die."

"You should not get in too much trouble. You did act under duress to save her life. The Healers told me that she most certainly would have died if you had not gotten her here so quickly."

Severus sighed in relief. "Well, that's good news. After all, I'm already under suspicion for being a Death-Eater. If you had not testified--"

The Headmaster raised his hand to silence him. "The problem now," he said, "is what are we going to do with her? The story is all over the Muggle news. When her roommates returned to the hostel and saw she had not returned, they alerted the authorities. The Muggle police retraced her steps and found her stupified assailant just coming to in the alley, covered in blood. They also found her belongings with her identification papers. They are assuming she is dead, and they're searching for her body in the river. The person who did it has been arrested and charged with murder. He was so confused about what happened, he confessed. In America, the press is camped out in front of her mother's apartment. It's quite a sensational story, young teenager, valedictorian, scholarship winner, bright future ahead of her, raped and murdered by career criminal. The political posturing has begun. Her president has already released a statement demanding that her body be found and returned. The Muggle Prime Minister's opponents are using her as the poster child for their own campaigns for getting tough on crime. It's become an international incident."

At that moment, the door opened again. Cornelius Fudge entered, followed by Preston Portage, Head Auror of the Office of Magical Law Enforcement. Fudge looked even more discombobulated than usual. Portage was slight of build and held himself stiffly, looking as if he had a pole stuck up his rear end. He wore a black suit that would not be out of place in a meeting of high-ranking Muggles. Working under Barty Crouch, Portage had become infamous for his methods of getting Death-Eaters to confess to their crimes during the war. The problem is that torture often brought confessions, regardless of the guilt or innocence of the person under suspicion. Word had it that he quite enjoyed that aspect of his job. When Barty was reassigned after his son's arrest, Portage had stepped into the position as Head Auror.

After they exchanged greetings with Professor Dumbledore, Fudge turned to Severus. "Mr. Snape, can you explain to me exactly what you were thinking?"

"Cornelius," said Professor Dumbledore, "he was obviously thinking he could save this young woman's life."

"But this is a mess, Albus. In the ordinary course of events, we could just obliviate her memory and release her in the area from which she went missing. But her assailant has confessed to killing her, the crime scene was bloody. She would be found perfectly healthy, without injury. How can that possibly be explained? In the Muggle world, such a miracle would be questioned, would raise suspicion."

An amused expression came over Professor Dumbledore's face. "We could kill her and dump her body in the river, Cornelius, if that would solve your dilemma."

Cornelius looked at the Headmaster hopefully. "That would wor--oh, you're only joking."

"Minister," said Preston Portage, "the Muggle, in fact, meets the criteria of Statute forty-two of the 1704 Muggle Protection Act."

Fudge looked at his Head Auror in confusion. "Statute Forty-two?" he asked.

"Yes, Minister. She represents a threat to the security of our world. As such, we can legally place her in Azkaban for the remainder of her life." Portage looked quite gleeful at the idea of it.

Albus Dumbledore looked at Portage with consternation. "Look at her! She's little more than a child! She has done nothing to deserve such a fate."

Severus felt sick. Emma would not last a single day in that place. The Dementors would be invisible to her, and she would not have any comprehension of what was happening.

"It does not matter, Minister," continued Portage. "Statute Forty-two says that any Muggle who represents a threat to the 1692 International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy can be forcibly imprisoned by the Minister of Magic without benefit of trial."

"Cornelius, no," said Dumbledore. "Do not even consider it."

"What else can I do, Albus? My hands are tied," said Fudge.

"The threat she represents to our world is so slight, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. "Let's just obliviate her mind and release her. Let the Muggles sort it out for themselves."

Preston Portage stepped to the side of Emma's bed and looked down at her. She was rather pretty, and so tiny. He so loved to hear the prisoners scream as the Dementors converged upon them. After a short time at Azkaban, he was sure that she would be most willing to accept whatever protection he could afford her from the Dementors, regardless of whatever price he would demand for it. The female prisoners were always willing to show their gratitude for his protection inside Azkaban. Fudge was so easily led. It had been easy to convince him that the girl was a threat. He was so involved in his fantasy that he lost track of the conversation.

"The Muggle world has given her up as dead. Her imprisonment eliminates all threat, all suspicion," argued Fudge stubbornly. "I agree it is a terrible choice. But I am the Minister of Magic, and I have to do what I think best for our own kind."

It was clear that the Headmaster was angry. "What if Severus marries her?" he asked.

Severus was stunned. Marriage? No, he definitely was not interested in a wife, he thought. What was Dumbledore thinking? He opened his mouth to dissent, but Portage had suddenly become aware of what was being said and saved him the trouble.

"What if she refuses to cooperate? Or she pretends to cooperate and then runs at the first opportunity? The security of our world will not be assured by that solution," said Portage.

"Auror Portage is absolutely right," said Severus, a bit too quickly, earning himself a rather nasty look from the Headmaster for it.

"I'm sorry, Albus," said Cornelius. "As soon as the Healers say she is fit, Auror Portage will come transport her to Azkaban."

Professor Dumbledore walked wearily to the window and placed his hands on the sill. He closed his eyes on the alley outside and rested his forehead against the glass. "What if I accept complete responsibility for her? I will bring her to live at Hogwarts and place spells so she cannot leave the grounds. I shall treat her as if she were my own daughter."

"You'd be willing to do that?" asked Fudge. "That would--"

"That would only serve as a temporary solution," said Portage, interrupting. "We have to think about the long term. No offense, Professor, but you are not a young man. If you should pass on, we would be in the same position."

"That is true, but it is still a viable alternative," said Cornelius. "However, let us place the responsibility for this fiasco where it belongs." He turned to Severus. "You, Mr. Snape, now have complete custody of this young Muggle. Let me warn you that if you are derelict in your duty, if she manages to escape, if she causes any problems, she and you will end up sharing a cell in Azkaban."

"Excuse me?" said Severus. "I'm really not interested. Headmaster, you must realize..."

"That's too bad, Severus," said Dumbledore. "You will become interested. And be aware, Severus. I will be watching. I will not countenance any abuse of this young woman. In fact, I expect you to use this time to court her and to convice her to want to spend her life with you."

"But why?" asked Severus. "She can live quite happily at Hogwarts, and be contained. It really has nothing to do with me."

"As pleasant as Hogwarts is, it will still be a prison for her. That's why! This arrangement will buy us time for the two of you to develop affection for each other. You must have some feelings for her, Severus. After all, you did go after her to talk. You did save her life."

Severus didn't want to admit that his plans for Emma had not been the most honorable, so he remained silent. This was not good. She despised and distrusted him now. How would he ever be able to fix this? Hell, he didn't even really want to fix it. He idly reached out and took one of Emma's dark curls in his hand, letting it wrap around his finger.

Dumbledore noticed that Severus seemed to be unable to keep himself from touching the girl. The glimmer of an idea began to form in Dumbledore's mind. He was worried about Severus. He had loved Lily so. Consumed with anger after she had chosen James, Severus had given up even trying to be good and embraced his dark side, joining the Death-Eaters. He lost touch with the Potters and had not known about Harry's birth. He had been devastated when he had learned that Tom Riddle had fixated upon Lily's child. Severus brooded too much over his failings. He almost seemed to enjoy his depression and guilt. He nurtured it, wallowed in it. That was not good. It kept him walking on the edge of darkness. Perhaps this young Muggle might be his saving grace. Yes, it was unfair that this girl would be imprisoned at Hogwarts, but perhaps it could be used for the greater good. Dumbledore needed to keep Severus on the straight and narrow. He needed his help protecting little Harry Potter.

"Well, this is a most excellent solution, Albus," said Fudge. "I do hope it all works out as you plan. Be sure to invite me to the wedding when it comes about. Come Preston, let us go. We will order the Healers to keep her restrained. We can't have her escaping, after all."

Preston Portage was disappointed and angry that he would not get to take Emma to Azkaban. "Even if such a marriage takes place," he said, "the Ministry would have to be convinced that the marriage was an authentic one."

"Right," said Severus. "And how, exactly, would I manage to prove that?"

"Well, that's easily done," said Fudge, putting on his hat. "Once the two of you have a child on the way, I'm quite sure that she would never do anything to jeopardize her child's future. I will ask the Healers to let us know when she is being released. Good day, Albus, Mr. Snape." Portage following him, Fudge turned and walked out of the room.

"I don't even like children," hissed Severus. "They are noisy and...and they smell."

Dumbledore immediately turned on him. "I don't care. You will be on your best behavior. Actually, scratch that. I'd forgotten to whom I am speaking. Your best behavior often leaves a lot to be desired. You will do exactly as I tell you. Understand?"

"I...um...yes, Headmaster. I understand perfectly," Severus answered, defeated.

*****

Viola Gianni sat at her kitchen table, her eyes red from crying. Eleanor, from the apartment next door, was yelling into the telephone.

"Miss Gianni has no statement. Stop calling here. We need to keep the line clear in case they find her daughter." Then she slammed the receiver back down onto the cradle. She walked over to the stove and poured hot coffee into a mug as the telephone immediately began to ring again. They both ignored it. Viola looked up as Eleanor placed the mug into her hand. "They have not found her body, Viola. There is still room to hope. Just hold onto that for now."

"Why did I let her go? I never should have let her go. But she'd been dreaming of this trip for so long. She'd worked so hard. I wanted her to have her dream. It's terrible, to never have a dream come true. I know what it's like. She can't be dead, Eleanor. She can't be. I don't believe it. I'm her mother. I'd know if she were dead." She looked out the window at the news vans parked out on the street in front of her building.

Eleanor was as upset as Viola. Having never married, she had never had children herself. When Viola and little Emma had moved in next door, she'd been charmed by the tiny child and had become a sort of surrogate grandmother to her. She sat across from Viola and just held her hand. The Buffalo Evening News sat on the table--Local Girl Presumed Dead in UK--the headline blared. "It's not your fault, Viola," she said.

Viola had been woken up before six in the morning by a reporter calling with the news that Emma had been attacked and killed. The reporter had wanted to know how she felt about it. The dumb bastard, how did he think she felt?

Looking around the bright kitchen, Viola remembered when she and Emma had moved into this apartment. Emma had been eight and thrilled to finally move out of the projects where they had lived in a rat and roach infested slum. Viola had been been hired as an assistant manager at a nice restaurant, in the new hotel that had been built on the waterfront. The new job had meant that they could finally live like normal people, with a decent apartment and a few nice new things that didn't come from thrift stores. Emma had been thrilled to leave behind the filthy, stained couch she used to sleep on and have her own room, even though it had meant sleeping on the floor a few weeks until they could afford to buy new beds.

All their old furniture had been scavenged off tree lawns on garbage day, so they had just left everything behind and started over. Viola got up and walked into Emma's room. The walls were white, covered with travel posters of England. Her bedspread and curtains were also white with bright yellow daffodils on them. Emma loved daffodils. When she was little, Viola had often found Emma kneeling on the ground outside flower shops, whispering into them. Emma had truly believed that they were little microphones and that if she whispered her worries into them, God would hear and make everything all right.

She sat on Emma's bed and grabbed hold of her pillow. She buried her face into it, taking comfort from the lingering traces of Emma's scent. She thought, for a moment, of Emma's father and wondered if she should try to contact him. But, he had gone on with his own life. She knew that he had a wife. She had spent a lot of time in the library those first months after being kicked out of her parents' house. It was warm there, and she could use the bathrooms to clean up. She had poured over the newspapers from the other states, especially the ones from Massachusetts. She'd read his wedding announcement and seen the picture of his pretty blond bride.

He didn't even know that Emma existed. She'd told Emma that he had abandoned them, and that she had not even known his real name. She had not wanted to admit to the guilt she felt. It had been her fault that he'd abandoned her. She had lied to him, and her lie could have destroyed him. When he had learned the truth about her, he had dropped her off in front of her parents' house and driven away, never looking back.

Then, she'd found out she was pregnant. Knowing her parent's narrow, religiously-based sense of morality, she had tried to hide it. But, two months later, in February, her mother had figured it out, and Viola had been tossed out with only the clothes on her back. She'd been only seventeen years old, homeless, alone, and pregnant during a Buffalo, New York winter.