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.
...
I hate this, she thought to herself as the officiant droned on and on. Aunt April would hate this too.
Suddenly, a hand slid under hers. She looked down to watch Severus' fingers entwine with hers. When he squeezed softly, she looked up. He was watching her with a concerned look on his face. He nodded once, as if to say, "I'm here for you."
Her heart swelled and she mouthed, "Thank you." She gestured to the other guests with her head and whispered, "He's not here."
His eyebrows knotted in confusion.
"She's his sister," she continued, tears of frustration clouding her vision. "And he doesn't even show up."
A look of understanding flashed in his eyes, and he squeezed her hand once more.
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"CROOOAAAAK!"
Emma sat at her desk with her head in her hands. Her head pounded and her eyes stung. "I know, Croak. Just... Not now, please."
"CROOAAK."
She rubbed her hands over her face, unable to get the view of the casket out of her head, after staring at it all day.
"CROOAAK!"
"Shut up, you stupid –"
Knock, knock.
With a groan, she stood up. On her way to the door, she stuck her finger through Croak's cage to pet him. He sat still, staring up at her with accusation in his beady eyes. "Sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean that."
A smile and two full bottles of firewhiskey greeted her as she opened the door. Emma couldn't help but chuckle. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Charity Burbage, you know that?"
"I do know that, yes," Charity grinned as she stepped past Emma into the office. "How was it?"
"Bloody awful," Emma groaned. "Do you know how hard it is not to break down when a hundred people give you their condolences one by one?"
"That many? Wow, your aunt must've been well-liked."
"It may have been fifty," she muttered, sagging in her chair. "I dunno. It felt like a hundred."
Charity chuckled and poured two full glasses of whiskey. "Was it nice, though?"
Emma nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it was nice. She can finally rest now."
Charity lifted her glass. "To April Moore."
"To Aunt April," Emma concurred, clinking her glass against Charity's.
"What was she like?"
"The best parent I could've wished for." Emma sighed, sipping from her drink. "She wasn't always there, because of work, but she never missed a chance to show me that she loved me. She never failed to be there when I needed her."
