ON THE SET

Three days after Emma’s escape to London, she appeared on the set in her Hermione costume as though nothing had happened – well, almost nothing: her nose was red and running, her face was flushed, and so looked like death warmed over. Tissues were stuck into a pocket of her costume, and every time she tried to talk, her voice was scratchy.

The day went by rather fast, and some good filming was done, especially a couple of in-studio scenes at the Shrieking Shack. Throughout the day, Alan had noticed time and again just how ill Emma was feeling, and in-between takes he saw how she kept blowing her nose and everything, and even have some quick medical check-ups, which she avoided with annoyed waves of her hand. But by the time it was over, and the Sun was setting behind the distant hills, he approached her in the diner, still dressed in his black Snape robes but without facial make-up, and asked:

"How are you feeling? You’ve been totally sick today, I noticed".

"I feel like shit," she mumbled, blowing her nose for what seemed like the hundredth time. "But after the day of filming I cost everyone, I don’t think I should ask for the day off." She sneezed several times, and started shivering slightly: the air was getting quite chilly indeed, as it was 7pm.

Alan thought he could overlook the bad word, but still cast Emma a side look when she said it.

"I think another day’s pause won’t kill the production, you know?... I’m not very keen on that, but if you really can’t make it, you should rest tomorrow. And it’s getting cold here, c’mon, let’s go somewhere warmer"

Standing up and still shaking a bit, Emma agreed it was time to go back to her trailer, and for a moment she nearly asked him to carry her, as she was still small enough to be easily carted around. But just the thought of asking made her face flush even more.

"Okay. Maybe something hot to drink, too." She sniffled loudly and Rupert, who was sitting nearby having his dinner, gave her a ‘eww, gross!’ look, which she discarded poking her tongue out at him.

"Why," said Alan, looking straight at Rupert, "I don’t think your body manifests its processes in a much gentler way, Mr. Grint", he smartly addressed the boy as they passed by, and that silenced him on the spot.

He and Emma walked away from the diner, his arm circling her shoulders; he led the girl towards the large trailer where she lived when filming on location, and which was always parked in the same spot.

Emma gave a little snicker, then coughed, and grabbed Alan’s coat to steady herself: "You shouldn’t be around me, I’ll make you sick"

"Oh nonsense, I will be alright." They reached the trailer and he opened the door, ushering her inside as gently as possible. "If I were you, I’d be much more worried about taking off those soaked robes and get into something more comfortable", he said as he started taking off his Snape coat and black mantle, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as it was cosy and warm inside the trailer.

While he did that, she dug around in the closet and found a flannel night-gown that sported Strawberry Shortcake on its front and went into her bathroom to change... only, it didn’t quite work so well: when she was halfway undressed and had removed her sweater and shoes and blouse, she felt like gagging and threw up in the sink, which made her start to cry.

Upon hearing the commotion, Alan walked fast towards the bathroom, and saw Emma bending over the sink and throwing up. "Hey, you alright, kid?"

She shook her head no, trying to clean her face up, still crying. "I hate being sick and you can’t be here, I’m not dressed all the way!" she told him between tears.

Again he repeated: "Oh nonsense, you’re not seriously asking me to leave you alone like this, are you?" and as he spoke he helped her wipe her face with a washcloth.

Emma paused and shook her head no. "I’d want my mom to come, but I hate her right now. Don’t... don’t leave me, it’s scary to be sick alone. Ew, and no food either!" She began shuddering again, and her little body shook with cold and probably feverish shivers.

Alan finished cleaning her face and asked: "Just where are your parents, by the way? It’s seven in the evening, they should be here"...

"... and no Aspirin and junk, I stay away from over-the-counter crap!"

"Emma, your parents?"

She sighed: "I told them not to come back for like, a long time, because I hate them right now. And they aren’t speaking to me, so I don’t care."

"I wouldn’t count on that, you *are* taking an Aspirin if you’ve got a temperature," he felt up her forehead "... which I think you do. We’ll see. I understand about your parents, I’m just sorry things haven’t settled yet. And take that skirt off, it’s going to make you feel even worse," he said, a slightly reproving tone in his voice.

"Am not, and I don’t have a fever," she said rather stubbornly, but complied and took off her skirt and began pulling on her night-gown.

Alan took the wet, messy Hogwarts uniform clothes from her and threw them all in the bathtub without a distinction, then helped her with the night-gown. "The thermometer will say if you do. Oh come on, you honestly want to say you don’t feel feverish?"

She nodded stubbornly, then turned her back to him so he could fasten the buttons of her night-gown. "No fever, just... just blahness. There’s a difference"

While he worked on the buttons, he wondered if ‘blahness’ was a term modern-day teenagers used, and in that case, he wondered whether it meant she wasn’t feeling well.

"A difference, I see, but we’re going to get your temp anyway. Where’s the first aid kit here?"

She shrugged. "I dunno, never had to use it." She began walking towards her bed, and plopped down, hugging a pillow. "See, I feel better already," she said, trying to smile despite her shivers.

He sighed and shook his head at such a stubborn deny-everything attitude, then began searching the bathroom cabinets until he found a thermometer and some Aspirin and Tylenol. He took them and walked to Emma’s bed and sat aside her and began lowering the thermometer, grabbing it in his hand and shaking it up and down.

"Good that you feel better. Let’s see how much, though....."

She quirked an eyebrow at the thermometer. "Where’s the number thingy?" she asked, inspecting the slim glass thermometer and not seeing the digital display which showed the temperature.

"There’s no ‘number thingie’, this is an old, mercury-driven thermometer, not one of the modern ones," he explained.

Emma looked confused. "Like... why? How does it work? That’s stupid."

Alan sighed. "Just because something existed before you were born it does not mean it is stupid, Emma. You put this in your mouth or under your armpit, but if you don’t stop being so sassy at me I’m going to do it like you do with babies," he stressed the last word, "and you know how that is".

"Huh?" Emma asked, feeling extremely dense. "And I don’t have a fever, I just need a nap," she said, having spotted the Tylenol. Then, about the thermometer: "Yeah, that’s like NOT happening."

He sighed again, and felt some anger mount. "Now, I’m not your nurse or anything, I’m here to help you, and you’re taking a nap *after* you’ve got your temperature taken and your medicine, is that clear enough?" He glared at her straight in the eye, hoping his authoritative look would work.

She pulled out a rather worn teddy bear from under her pillow and stuck her tongue out at him, half-playfully, but half-seriously too. "No meds, I don’t like over-the-counter stuff. It’s like, could be contaminated or something. And I can’t nap if you’re here hovering over me!" Emma gave him one big childish pout.

"I am not hovering," Alan said, trying to remain calm but not quite succeeding. "I am helping you, if anything... and take that pouty look off your face, you’re not convincing at all. Open your mouth, c’mon!" he said as he pushed the thermometer against her lips.

But she pushed his hand away and bopped his arm with the bear. "Hey, I don’t know where that’s been!"

... to which he nodded, and said, sarcastic: "Yes, you’ve got that right. It might have been in such places, perhaps it is not healthy to put it in your mouth, don’t you think?" And with that he took her wrist and pulled her, trying to guide her frame over his lap.

Emma started crying right away: "Don’t spank me! I didn’t do anything!!" she squirmed, and her teddy bear went flying.

Alan was quicker, though, and raised her night-gown to her mid-back, revealing a pair of very skimpy Barbie-trademarked underwear, which he promptly lowered.

"I’m not going to spank you unless you co-operate, okay? Lie still and you’re not going to get even one smack!"

Emma continued to cry and squirm. "I’m not bad, I promise! I was gooooood!" she wailed, putting her hands back to cover, not really paying attention to what he had said.

"Emma!" he snapped, mustering as much authority as he could in his deep voice. "Take those hands off right now," he barked, slapping at them for emphasis.

To that not-so-veiled threat, Emma whimpered and scooted her hands away as fast as she could, but still kept crying. "I’m sooooorry! Don’t spank me!!"

Alan groaned: "For the Nth time, I don’t want to spank you! But lie still so I can take your temperature properly. Now, Emma! Last warning, if you cause any more trouble, I am really going to spank you, on top of this all."

She kept squirming, very nervous and uncomfortable. "This hurts!" she wailed.

Seeing that she had apparently no intention to co-operate, Alan raised his free hand and smacked Emma’s upturned cheeks twice. The flesh bounced and two distinct light-pink handprints appeared on her milky white bottom skin.

"Owwwwwww!" Emma wailed. "Don’t, please!" She kicked her legs.

So much for staying still, he thought. After thinking it through for a moment, Alan dropped the thermometer and spanked Emma’s bare bum again, delivering stinging slaps on both of her cheeks and thighs, mild smacks, not full-force at all, but still hard enough to drive his point through.

"I’ll stop the moment you stop squirming and lie STILL!"

Emma hiccuped and started crying harder. "Alan pleeeeeeease!" she begged.

Alan shook his head and kept spanking her, quite firmly, seeing her pale cheeks assume a light pink hue. "Your call, Emma... just be still and I’ll stop." whack whack whack

"Your knee is in my tummy!" she wailed, still squirming. "Move it and I’ll be gooooood!"

He sighed and growled some more at those ‘reciprocate blackmails’, but ended up shifting her small body so she would be more comfortable, laying across his lap perpendicular to him.

"Are you going to behave now, Emma?" whack whack

She nodded. "Promise, please! Owwwwiieeeeee!"

He directed some smacks to her sit-spot. "If I stop now, will you be still and do as I say?" spank smack whack spank

"Yes! EEEEE!!!!!" Her whole bottom and sit-spot blushed a pretty shade of pink by now.

"Good." He stopped right away, waiting for her to settle down and remain still, while he picked up the thermometer again.

She coughed and hiccuped for a few seconds, then settled down, burying her face in his leg.

"That’s a good girl, finally," he said, trying to sound at least a bit reassuring as he rubbed her back with his free hand.

Emma hiccuped some more, and dried her face on his pants; she was really feeling quite upset, and thought all of that was unfair, how could spank her when she was so sick? But a little voice in the back of her head told her it was actually her fault if she’d got any smacks at all, because she had been warned, and several times.

Before she could change her mind and start being smart again, he quickly parted her bottom cheeks with thumb and index of his left hand, while he directed the thermometer’s rounded cap at the entrance of her pink anus with his right.

"Be still..." he repeated, pressing lightly onto her rear entrance.

Young Emma squeaked and gasped, not liking it at all. "That... feels.... weird," she whimpered. It didn’t properly hurt, but it wasn’t exactly nice either.

Alan couldn’t help but smile a little at her comment, and he gently pushed the thermometer until one full inch had disappeared inside her, which was more than enough for the temperature to be taken. Then he stopped and addressed her: " Weird how? And don’t move, it might be dangerous."

"Well, I don’t think *things* are supposed to go *there* and I hope whoever thought of it dies a horrible death," she mumbled, a grimace on her pretty tear-streaked face.

He smirked. "Lots of things are supposed to ‘go there’ in medicine, my dear Emma... and the one who thought of this has died centuries ago, be sure."

"Well, please, do not get any ideas, this *sucks* like, like, totally." She pouted like the little girl she was, then grimaced again.

"I’m not getting any ideas, I’m simply getting your temperature because you are ill". While he glanced at the clock on the wall, waiting for the five minutes to pass, Alan rubbed her bottom cheeks and top of thighs with gentle gestures. "Does this help? I’m sorry I had to spank you yet again. Why can’t you just do as you’re told, for a change?"

Emma hung her head, ashamed that she had disappointed him, and been a brat yet again. She sniffled on his trousers, and said nothing.

Alan kept rubbing soothingly. "You’re a good girl, Emma... try and behave like one, come on," he said, more matter-of-factly than angry or reprovingly. "It’s simply more convenient, huh?"

"What do you mean?" she asked softly.

While still rubbing, he leaned over so his face was closer to hers. "I mean that the better you behave, the less you will be spanked, it’s that easy. And then, don’t you feel bad when you do something you know you shouldn’t?"

She shrugged. "I always feel bad," she whispered. "Especially when I make you angry."

Alan sighed and stopped rubbing, and turned her head towards him so they could look in each other’s eye: "And why is that?"

Her face flushed and she bit her lip, not wanting to say anything.

"You know you can tell me," he repeated, resuming a soft stroking of her bottom.

"Because I love you" she squeaked. "And... you care about me." Her voice trailed off, as though she was scared, or too shy, to say what she was saying, which was probably the case. "I just want to make you proud," she finished, ending up in a small, pitiful murmur.

For the first time in his life, Alan found himself doing something he never had thought of doing. He kissed the back of her head, over her still slightly damp hair, and said: "I already am."

"Really?" Emma asked, her voice already sounding much happier and louder. "Honest? And... and... am I in trouble?" That thought made her squirm just slightly for a second.

He wasn’t properly comfortable with all that cheesy talk, but he still forced a smile: "Honest. And you are in trouble only when you don’t do as told, or do some crazy things. They don’t make me less proud of you, but they will cause me to punish you. Don’t think I enjoy it, Emma. I just see that you need it."

Emma sighed, but happily, this time: "I didn’t mean to make you spank me, I just get upset and worried sometimes, and it makes me crazy."

"I understand that, believe me. But when you feel sad, or lonely, talk about it with someone, me, preferably, and don’t run away or hide or say nasty things to anyone who crosses your path. Would that not be better?" He glanced at the clock, meanwhile, and noticed there was only one minute left.

She nodded. "Sometimes... sometimes it feels kinda good to be mad, you know?"

"Because you can release some tension?"

Emma nodded.

"I see. But why unloading that on others?"

Alan saw the time was up, but he left the thermometer inside and kept talking with her.

"I don’t know. Just... just cuz they are there I guess." She gulped. "And that’s probably really bad." She wondered if she had just talked herself into another spanking.

He sighed and shook his head. "It’s okay to have a tantrum now and then, but *not* everyday, Emma. You leave me no choice but spanking you sometimes."

Without a warning, he grabbed the thermometer and pulled it out of her bottom, to which she gulped and let out a small yelp of surprise – even though after a second it actually felt better.

"Thirty-eight degrees," Alan announced. "You’ve got a temp, little one. Some influence."

She gulped again. "Yes sir... and the temp sucks" she pouted again. "Seems like I’m always getting spanked though."

Alan put the thermometer down on the bedside table and grabbed one blister of cherry-flavoured Kid-Aspirin from the box, then took one pill and handed it to Emma. "Chew on that. Well you’ve been spanked, what, thrice in a week? That’s not *always*... though it’s frequent, I must admit."

While chewing on the nice-tasting pill, Emma reached back and pulled up her panties, still nested around her knees, and said: "What can I say, I’m just... like... stupid or something, I guess."

"For the third time today: n-o-n-s-e-n-s-e," said Alain. "You already forgot about that little speech on self-esteem we did in the changing room? You ain’t stupid, but you must mind more."

Emma hung her head, then helped herself off his lap, after finding her teddy bear and clinging to him just like a child would. After helping her up to her feet, Alan could not help but feel strangely ‘warm’ inside at the sight of her with that teddy bear she brought everywhere.

"Now, I want you to be in bed all night, okay? As for tomorrow, we’ll see."

"Yes sir," Emma sighed, and snuggled under the covers of her bed, tucking her teddy bear under the pillow once more. "Will you come check on me later?" she asked with a yawn.

He nodded as he tucked her in -- not very properly, but he was no housewife after all. "Yes I will, right after dinner and before I go to sleep myself. I’ll be calling your parents now to tell them you’re not feeling good, anyway."

"No! Don’t call them!" Emma snapped. He turned and cast her an icy look, but she was already correcting herself, and, sighing, said: "Please, don’t call them..."

"And why shouldn’t I? They have the right to know," said Alan, who was by now almost exiting the trailer.

"Because they’ll just come and fight and blame me for something and I’ll want to run again," she answered honestly. "Can’t... can’t you just take care of me?" Her eyes pleaded with him as best they could while trying to close for sleep.

He knew he had to call her parents, and that he had no business with her whatsoever... but he also knew it wasn’t entirely true. He had taken some responsibilities with her, and now he had to get to the bottom of his choices; it was obvious Emma was starting to see him as an important figure, not really just a friend anymore, let alone an enemy, and if right now all she wanted was some peace, well, she could certainly not be blamed for that.

"Alright then.... we’ll call them together tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Hmm-mm" she mumbled, already half asleep.

Again, Alan found himself smiling. He turned off the lights as Emma drifted in dreamland, and went out of the trailer into the chill evening air. He was rarely so emotional with someone who was not his family, and she was definitely not a part of his family... but he wondered if that was true, too. He did not want to be involved with her, but he could also not deny he was starting to have some influence on young, troubled, troublesome and occasionally troublemaker Emma Watson.

click here for pictures of Emma and Alan