ON THE SET

The black taxi cab pulled up to the set’s parking lot driveway at 1:46am precisely, and the three kids tumbled out, laughing, smelling of popcorn and holding very large pops in their hands. They were talking excitedly and barely noticing what was going on around them.

"Wow, that was AWESOME!" Rupert said.

"Oh yeah, that ending was so sad though, but so good!" Emma replied.

Alan was standing near the cafeteria, which was finally closing down so late at night, and watching from a distance as the kids came out of the black cab. He also noticed Emma’s parents approach them, while there was no sign of Dan’s and Rupert’s.

"Where the HELL have you been???" Mr. Watson yelled at his daughter, while Mrs. Watson shook her head, looking livid, also at the boys.

Daniel and Rupert looked stunned, of course, and Emma froze. They all knew they had done something they were not supposed to be doing, in theory, but they also thought it was just some innocent fun and that there was nothing wrong with it.

"We... we... went to the movies... The Lord of the Rings big marathon thing," Emma whispered.

The flush on Mr. Watson’s face seemed to go deeper and deeper, till he was purple almost like Uncle Vernon in his worst days. "The marathon thing??" he screamt. "Are you stupid or what?? It’s almost two in the morning, you guys gotta be up in FOUR goddamn hours!"

From his strategic position near the cafeteria, from where he could see everyone but couldn’t be seen by anyone, Alan kept watching. He was angry at Emma for having been so irresponsible – ’just a little movie and we’ll be back in a flash’, she had said: no mention of a ten-hour film marathon had been made – and also very worried about her, but happy to see she was alright after all.

"I sorry" Emma whispered, taking a step back, her lower lip trembling. "Just wanted to have fun."

"Hey, we didn’t mean any harm," Daniel said, stepping in and addressing the Watsons.

Seeing Emma’s distress, Rupert intervened as well. "Yeah c’mon, Mr. Watson," he said. "It’s gonna be an easy day tomorrow after all. Just a couple of hours for us kids, and in the afternoon."

"Nobody asked you to speak," snapped Emma’s mother, throwing them a venomous look.

"Mum, they’re my friends!" Emma told her. "Please, don’t be mean to them too... and... I’m not stupid," she added in a barely audible whisper.

"You sure behave like one though!" Mr. Watson’s pupils dilated, and he seemed on the verge to explode, as though a balloon was being inflated inside his skull. "Boys, get your asses home now, I’ll be calling your parents tomorrow. And you," he addressed his daughter. "Go to bed this instant!"

Alan watched, transfixed, from a distance, as Mr. Watson literally chewed out Emma. Well, she sure deserved a good scolding, but he was being livid and definitely too harsh on her, telling her she was stupid too, and... Alan almost flipped when he saw Mr. Watson bring his hand back and slapping the young girl’s face with anger. His jaw dropped and a huge lump formed in his throat, and he felt like doing something, but froze.

Emma’s lower lip began to tremble as a dark hand print appeared on her face. She burst into tears and took off running, only it wasn’t towards her trailer. It was just the opposite direction of her parents, whatever was there.

"EMMA!" Her mother shouted. "It was an accident, come right back here!" Then, whispered, to her husband. "Couldn’t you hold it?"

Unable to watch any of this any longer without intervening, Alan walked fast, almost ran towards Emma, who was running away not far from where he stood. He caught her, still running, and restrained her, trying to hold her close. "Hey little girl, easy now, easy!"

She kicked and fought, thinking her father had caught her, as she was too upset to notice the different voice. "I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!" she kept babbling, and was crying profusely.

Again, Alan repeated: "Calm down! It’s me, Alan, you see?" He distanced a bit from her so she could see his face.

She saw him through her tears under the pale lamps in the parking lot, and stopped struggling, throwing herself into his arms. "I’m sorry I’m sorry" she repeated yet again. The hand-print was still visible on her face.

Gathering her shaking body in his arms, he saw the hand-print and traced its contours with a finger. "I’m sorry, too... there, there, it’s alright."

He could still hear her mother and father’s barking voices in the distance, but they were not visible from where they stood now. He also heard the boys’ voices fighting with them.

"You know, you’re worse then Voldemort!" Daniel yelled at Mr. Watson.

"Yeah, how could you do that to her?" Rupert scowled, shaking his head.

Mr. Watson was absolutely livid, and his wife, though angry herself, tried to grab him and drag him away. "That’s none of your fucking business, you little brats!! Wait till I call your parents tomorrow!!" he growled angrily.

"Come on, let it go, let’s look for Emma instead," Mrs. Watson said, and finally managed to take him away. They left with the boys still cussing at them before they too went in search of Emma.

Emma heard them, and started shaking uncontrollably, her face white. It was clear to everyone viewing this display, that the little girl was terrified. Her grip on Alan tightened so much that her knuckles turned white.

Alan found himself torn as to what to do. He knew he should just take Emma back to her parents and leave it at that, or maybe try to reconcile them... but he saw just how shocked and scared she was -- and for a good reason -- so he just started walking towards his own trailer, taking her along.

"Come on, it’s getting cold here."

She shook her head no: "Gotta <sob> hide."

Alan was shocked: never had Emma ever told anyone that her parents were that way. "I know, I know," said he, who didn’t know whether to be more worried for Emma, angry at her for coming late or angry at her parents for being like that. "We’re disappearing for a while, huh?" he said as he reached his large, customised trailer and opened the door.

As soon as Emma was in Alan’s trailer, she found a closet and ducked inside it, and closed the door behind her.

"Hey, hey," he said. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do, and stood in the middle of the room looking around. He took a deep breath, set his priorities straight and closed and locked the door. Then he walked toward the closet. "C’mon kiddo, no-one knows you’re here."

"Promise?" she whimpered.

The door creaked open just a little.

"I promise, I’ve locked the door. Come on, let me hug you a little, will you?" he said, hoping that would take her out.

The closet door opened a little wider, and little by little she crawled out, then stood up slowly. "I don’t feel good," she whispered.

"What do you feel?" Alan looked at the girl, who looked quite pale indeed.

"I think I might throw up."

"Then you don’t want to do that on my Persian carpet, come on," and he gently led her to the bathroom and over the sink.

A moment later, she did indeed throw up, the anxiety and fear sending her stomach on a terrifying roller-coaster ride. Taken aback and shocked as much as she was, Alan could do nothing but hold her head and watch her throw up in the sink, waiting for her to feel better.

"It’s alright... okay, good girl..." he kept repeating, not knowing what else to say.

It took her a long time to feel better: after almost five minutes of solid throwing up, she leaned back into his chest, breathing fast, exhausted, yet still scared and very, very upset. Alan held her tight, while grabbing a cloth and wetting it under running water. He cleaned her mouth up with it while she settled down. She started sweating as she continued to shake.

"It’s okay..." He wondered if he could hazard asking something, and he finally did. "Is it always like that?"

She nodded, wishing she had her teddy bear.

"Make them go home," she begged, trying to take deep breaths and calm down.

"They will, they will," he said, knowing it wasn’t true but he was willing to say anything to calm her down now. "Come lay on the couch a bit, okay?"

With his help, Emma made it to the couch, and grabbed a pillow, squeezing it to death. "I’m just bad, I’ll never be good."

Alan took her face in his hands and said, firmly: "You are NOT bad, you hear me? You are good, the problem is them, not you!" he exclaimed, hoping to get to her somehow.

"Yes I am! Only bad girls just hit!" Emma babbled.

Alan didn’t quite understand what that meant, but he figured she meant to say that only bad girls are slapped by their parents that way. "Emma, look at my eyes. Straight into my eyes."

She obeyed, after swiping at her eyes with a fist, so she could see properly. She was once again struck by the powerful, magnetic look in his beautiful black eyes – no wonder he had been cast to play a charismatic character such as Severus Snape.

While quite worried about her, Alan tried to look determined, though not stern: "Breathe slowly, you’re hyper-venting. One breath every two seconds, and don’t move, you hear me?"

Emma nodded and tried very hard to slow her breathing down, keeping eye-contact with him. She was not afraid of what she saw there, unlike what she saw when she looked into her parents’ eyes. One hand still squeezing the pillow, her other hand opened for him to hold.

He breathed with her, giving her a pattern to imitate, and saw she was doing better as time went by. "Good girl... that’s okay... feeling a little better? Does your head hurt? Let me check your pulse," and he took her wrist, and felt her beat was thumping wildly but slowing down, easily, slowly.

"Yes," she whispered. Her head was pounding like someone was taking a hammer to it. When he finished taking her pulse, she squeezed his hand tightly, and as seconds went by she began easing her grip a little bit on both him and the pillow.

"It’s normal... keep breathing, and slow it down even more, you’ll calm down eventually. Keep looking at me." He noticed her pupils in her teary eyes were dilating due to the low lights, and she was shaking and her teeth were slightly clattering. He smiled, trying to reassure her, and squeezed her hand back in a solid grip.

In that frame, her parents’ voices could be heard not too distant from Alan’s trailer, and Emma gave a shudder as she heard them. They were still ranting and scream, outside.

Alan noticed her shivering, and heard the Watsons’ voices too, and though he knew he would have had to call them and reassure them their daughters was there with him and safe, he didn’t move. Emma’s safety and tranquillity counted much more to him than two parents’ preoccupation.

"They’re not coming here. We’re unseen here, we don’t exist... do like Harry, pretend you’re under an invisibility cloak, huh? Just me and you."

"Okay," Emma whispered, liking that image and trusting him with all her heart. Despite the spankings, she felt like he had never ever actually hurt her, ever.

Alan was upset just as she was, but his years allowed him to remain calm for her sake, and saw that it was having an effect. "Good... very good..." he let go of her hand for a moment, only to dry a tear just out of her eye.

"Thank you," Emma said softly. Out of habit, she flinched as he dried her tear away.

"Shh, shh, it’s alright. Easy," Alan said, and smiled. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes... my tummy doesn’t hurt anymore," she admitted. Her shivers were slowing, and her breathing was slowly returning to normal, and the sharp squeezing was reduced to a firm hold.

"See, that’s a good sign already," he said. "When you feel like, you can lie down for a bit, okay?" Again he felt her forehead, and noticed she was sweating, though her face was pale white.

It was a very welcomed suggestion, and Emma slowly laid down, still hugging the pillow and holding his hand. "I wish I had my bear," she admitted, "but I’m glad I have you most of all."

He was touched by her words, because he knew they came straight from the heart. "I am just as glad, believe me." Well knowing the immense perils of such a thing, he shifted her body a little on the couch and laid aside her, still holding her tight, her back to his chest.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Alan kept keeping her close and minute after minute he felt her body relax against his, and that she was letting go.

Meanwhile, Alfonso had seen the whole thing happen, and had seen Alan take Emma away. He was very relieved, he was not going to have child abuse of any kind on his set, no sir!

"Now look here!" he yelled at the Watsons as they continued ranting and shouting Emma’s name.

Mr. Watson turned around and faced him, still looking completely livid. "What... you’ve seen Emma? Where is that little girl??" he barked.

"No, I haven’t seen her. I think you should go home and we’ll call you if we find her."

"Go home? GO HOME?? You go home, it’s MY daughter we’re talking about here!" he said. Mrs. Watson again tried to take him away, but was unsuccessful. Meanwhile, the yells and screams must have awakened someone else, for Maggie Smith came trotting down the stairs of her nearby trailer, in her night-gown, and asked what the commotion was about.

"Excuse me for a moment," Alfonso said through gritted teeth. He went over to where Maggie was and gave her a ’god, help me!’ look.

"What is the issue?" Maggie said. "I’ve heard that Emma is missing?" she asked in a preoccupied voice, sounding much like professor McGonagoll -- in her best moods, that is.

"Emma is with Alan, he hid her off somewhere" Alfonso whispered so that the Watsons could not hear. "She and the boys came back late from the City and her dad hit her."

"Oh my dear Lord," said Maggie, then she sternly addressed Mr. Watson: "You mister, where is your heart? That poor child must have been scared to death already!"

"That is absolutely none of your business!", said Mr. Watson, pointing at them all.

Again, his wife faced him and said: "Come ON! Calm down, we’re going to find her."

"Listen," Alfonso said. "How about one of you stays in your trailer and waits for her there? She might feel like going back home, no?"

Mrs. Watson nodded. "Sounds good, doesn’t it? Why don’t we both go and have a cup of coffee, huh?" she said to her husband. "Then we’ll take turns in searching her."

Reluctantly, and still fuming, Mr. Watson followed her, leaving Alfonso and Maggie looking at each other and shaking their heads.

"Should we alert someone?" said Cuàron.

"Not yet. Alan is dear friend, if she is with him, she is safe."

* * *

"I have to go back out there," Emma whispered to Alan

Alan nodded and kissed her head. "Yes you have to... you can’t hide here forever. But only when you feel like it."

"I gotta go now, waiting is harder, I think." She sat up slowly. "Does my face look bad?"

Alan sighed and sat up with her. "Yes it does," he said, without looking for a softer terms. "But that’s understandable, don’t worry."

She nodded. "Yeah... don’t follow me right away, okay? Or it’ll be really worse," she told him. "I’ll sneak around and appear from somewhere."

"Okay, but I’ll be right there anyway. I suppose they’re taking you back to your trailer, so I will wait outside just in case, is that fine?" He realised he was talking as if he was plotting a conspiracy, and shook his head, wondering what he was getting himself into.

"Please," she whispered. She hugged him very tight, and pecked his cheek, like a little girl would do for her papa, then ducked out of the trailer, and sneaked around in the dark. She bumped into Dan, who gave a small surprised yelp and hugged her.

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

Rupert followed close by, and he hugged her too, then shouted: "WE FOUND HER!"

* * *

Alan waited several minutes until the yells from everyone had faded off in the distance, and he saw from the rear window of his trailer that Emma was walking away with Daniel and Rupert. Then he grabbed his coat – it was getting very chilly indeed, outside – and went out in the cold night, walking towards the Watsons’ trailer, but making the long way ’round so he wouldn’t meet anyone.

Taking a deep breath, Emma slowly entered her trailer, knowing the sooner she let them have their say, the sooner they’d leave. It was the only thought that made her even think about going inside. Her mother was sitting on the couch, the cell phone in her hand, probably about to call her own parents or something like she always did, while Mr. Watson was grabbing his coat, ready to go out again. They both jumped at the sight of their daughter walking in.

"Oh thank Goodness, where were you child?" said her mother, giving a cry of satisfaction. She jumped from the couch and walked to her. Her father, though, didn’t say a word, and instead cast Emma a very bad side look.

"Walking around," the girl answered softly. She decided to stay a little closer to her mother, looking at her feet while she could feel her father’s eyes boring into her.

"Walking around so late at night, oh my, Emma, what’s wrong with you?" and she grabbed a blanket and wrapped her into it. Still Mr. Watson didn’t say anything, but rather ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head.

"I needed to clear my head." She tensed in her mother’s arms, not sure if Mr. Watson was over her anger, or would explode again in a moment. She steeled herself for another slap or some degrading remark, and though she tried that every time, it never seemed to work very well -- she would still feel hurt, in one way or the other.

"That’s for damn sure, Emma," his father said. "You still need to clear your head. I wonder if this whole Harry Potter thing is a good idea in the first place or just another crap to get you out of line." There was not a hint of anger in his voice, but rather utter disappointment. "You’re a child, you must study and be good and shut up and obey us, all the rest is crap."

Mrs. Watson didn’t add anything, but shook her head too.

"But dad, I’m doing really good! I love it and all the people here, and the money’s good! You said that yourself! Please, I’ll be good!"

Meanwhile, Alan had reached the Watsons’ trailer and waited by its side, trying to hear something.

"You’ll be good? What’s that supposed to mean? You’re not a child begging not to be spanked. ’I’ll be good’... you know what? Whatever! Go out to movies, get yourself hurt, do whatever you want. If you won’t listen to us, that’s your business." And he grabbed his coat and bag and was out of the door in a flash. Mrs. Watson gave Emma one peck on the cheek and followed her husband outside.

Emma hung her head and plopped down on her own bed, then pulled her knees up to her chest. He hadn’t slapped her again, but his words had hurt just as much, and her mother’s silence while he berated her had been awful too. Just to make herself feel better, she stood up and opened her bathroom door and then slammed it shut a few times, then found her teddy-bear and a Ben & Jerry Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream and curled up on her couch, beginning to pig out. The silence loomed around her, and the hurtful words swarmed in her head, making tears come to eyes, and the sting of her cheek almost seemed to hurt even more.

Outside, Alfonso spotted Alan and called him over. "Well, that was appalling. I am sure you’ll see Emma, and if you do, tell her that I won’t need her tomorrow, that she can rest, please."

Rickman nodded and thanked Cuàron, then shook his head. "That girl deserves something better than that," he said, and, careful not to let the Watsons see him, went up to the front of the trailer and quietly knocked on the door a few times. "Em, it’s me. Can I?"

"Sure," she called softly.

Alan opened the trailer’s door, stepped in and closed it quickly behind him. "So, how are you doing? Feeling alright?" But he knew the answer as she saw her hugging that bear again and eating like a bulimic would, and shook his head.

She looked up at him as he entered. "Can you wait and spank me in the morning? Please? I juts... need... to not hurt.... for a few hours."

"Emma, I’m not here to spank you," he sighed. "Well, maybe I am, I don’t know yet, but anyway, did your father... you know...?"

"Hit me again? No. But I’m a very big disappointment, and though he didn’t say it, his words says that he hates me, and my mom not saying a fucking thing means that she does too. Well, screw them, they suck and I don’t need them....... oh shit!" she bopped the bear onto the couch in frustration, realising one second too late about her bad language.

Alan felt like he was facing a choice, now. First he had one good reason to give her a well-deserved spanking, but now he had two. The thing was: Is she able to endure this on top of everything, tonight? I don’t know. On one hand, she needs a release... on the other, she just needs sleep. Umm... let’s see... He approached her, and sat on the couch aside her.

"Well, you are not a disappointment to me."

"Well you’re the only person then," she whispered and absent-mindedly ran a hand over the back of her neck a few times. "And maybe I am now, because you won’t spank me. I thought you spanked me because you cared about me and what I did. I guess not anymore." Her hand moved away from her neck and her face disappeared in the ragged teddy’s stomach.

"Hey, little girl." He dug his hand in the teddy bear and found her chin and raised it so he could look at her. "I *am* going to spank you, you know that better than I do. And I’m glad that you are finally seeing that as a sign of my love for you. I was simply wondering whether you can take the spanking you deserve here and now."

She shrugged. "I don’t know about anything anymore. I just wish they’d love me for who I am and be nice to me! Is that too much to ask?!" she wailed, diving into his lap. "If you can, why can’t they? They are my parents, for God’s sake!"

"And be careful with Fuzz," she added, mumbling, "he’s older than dirt."

He sighed again, and welcomed her head and caressed her hair softly with both hands. "I know, I know... some people find it harder to express their feelings, but they do love you, I am sure." He said... lying, perhaps, but he couldn’t know. And yes I’ll be careful, with both of you."

"No they don’t they, they hate me. He said if I do stuff and hurt myself it’s my business and not them. And why do you have to be careful with me?" Emma asked, confused, looking up at him with eyes devoid of tears. There was just nothing left to cry, she had already cried so much.

"Yes, they do," he repeated, again, and again looked in her eyes. "I need to be careful with you because... well..." He wanted to say ’because you are so wee and fragile and may break at any time’, but he couldn’t, so he said: "Because I don’t want to lose what we’ve gained lately."

She shook her head. "You won’t lose me, you’re all I got left, just you and Fuzz, and he ain’t much for conversation." It was obvious she was trying to draw the talk away from herself. "And he’s like handicapped or something." She rubbed a few furless spots. "Stupid fire," she muttered.

"Oh don’t say that. Your friends?, I’m sure you’ve got plenty. Hmm, he’s a battered little thing, I see." He took the teddy and turned it over in his hands for a while, smiling, then gave it back to her.

Emma hugged the bear tight, then looked up at him. "Do-- do you have to use a brush?" she whispered, anxiety flitting across her face. "That thing is like, evil, it’s scary." She gave a tiny shudder.

He sighed and nodded. "Yes I will give you the hairbrush. You scared us to death, Emma. It was agreed you would watch *one* short movie and be back, not three... and not even make a call?" he said, hoping that switching the conversation to the present facts would help her a bit.

Emma cringed and nodded. She hugged Fuzz one last time, then went to tuck him under her pillow. Gathering all the courage she had left inside of her, she entered the bathroom, and returned with the dreaded hairbrush. She handed it to him, her hands shaking.

"Just not too much, okay?" she whimpered.

He took the hairbrush from her hands and stared at her, amazed like he had never been in the past. Where did she find the guts to do that? He was impressed, positively impressed, and he gave a little smile as she handed him the instrument.

"You’re making me very proud of you, Emma, you know that, don’t you?"

She blushed. "I hope so. I hate it, but... but... I love you. And I know you won’t hurt me," she whispered. She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them, and before she could lose what little courage she had left, she leaned over his lap, and shuddered.

There was nothing else he could hope for. She was taking her responsibilities better than any adult, and in such a hectic moment, too. She was admirable, and he would be there for her when her parents obviously couldn’t.

"I promise I won’t let you down," he said. Then he raised her skirt, exposing her pale yellow underwear, which was the next to go, down her slim thighs and wrapping her knees.

She whimpered, and her hands clutched his leg in a death grip. Her bottom cheeks quivered in nervousness. It was starting – again. Alan dropped the brush on the couch, and rested his hand on her shapely bare bottom for a second, then raised it and smacked it down quite hard across both cheeks with a loud SMACK.

"OUCH!!" she shrieked. The first stinging spank always took her by surprise.

whack whack whack. He took on a steady pace, varying the spots where he spanked, but keeping the smacks come down. He didn’t spank hard, but fast and frequently, reddening her bouncing cheeks from the base of her back to the base of her bottom.

Emma squirmed and whimpered, her legs kicking just a little, and she kept her grip on his leg. "I’m sorry!" she wailed already. "I’m sorry!!!" She yelped and gasped at each stinging spank that landed.

Alan kept up the spanking for a while, concentrating some mild smacks on her sit-spot too. "I know you’re sorry... spank whack spank whack... but I DO care for what you do... spank whask... and it’s not just your business." whack spank

"I’ll be good, I promise!" she squeaked, jerking forward slightly, her legs kicking a little faster now.

"I trust you will, Emma... spank whack... I trust you." And with that, he stopped. Her bottom was coloured in a slight pink hue, and the hand-spanking hadn’t been severe at all, but she was still crying bitter tears, probably more out of shame and humiliation than real pain. He knew she felt so bad already, but it had to be done, so he picked up the brush and said: "Are you ready, hon?"

She shook her head no; how could anyone ever be ready for that brush of torture? A shudder passed through her whole body, and she began to beg. "Please no, please, I be good, I sorry I bad, I sorry, I be good, no mores, hurts too much," she babbled.

Alan sighed, and he raised the hairbrush. "I’m sorry too, Em..." WHACK! SPANK! He landed two quite hard smacks, which left two distinct oval shapes on both of her cheeks.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH" Emma screamed, trying her best to lift herself of his lap. Her breathing came faster as she screamed and bucked, and her mind whirled with the events of the night, making her lose focus on what was happening. "Daddy stop I be goooooood!" she screamed, not realizing what she was saying.

Daddy... Alan almost broke his resolution. All he wanted to do was raise that child -- yes, a child -- from his lap and hug her and tell her she was loved, but he knew she would be disappointed in him if he did that. She expected a spanking, and she needed one, so he hardened his heart and raised the hairbrush again. whack whack whack whack. He aimed a long series of (milder) smacks to both of her buttocks, while circling her waist to keep Emma still.

"Oh God please STOOOOOOOOP!!" Emma screamed. She began flailing about as hard as she could, her little fists banging his leg, thought it could not hurt him in the slightest. She was so distraught and emotionally drained, that it was no more then the force of a tap.

Again it took him all his self-control to maintain his resolution and keep going. He smacked her three more times and stopped, then said: "This was for coming back late. And these are for your language... which will also earn you thirty minutes in the corner and a mouth-washing, tomorrow morning." And he quickly resumed walloping her with the hairbrush, aiming at the tender and relatively untouched flesh of her thighs.

After what seemed like an eternity and a million spanks, Emma finally went limp and strangely quiet, gasping for air as her bottom was scorched to a new height of pain. Her little hands stilled, and her body shook. It would never stop, she thought, never ever.

Alan kept spanking her with the brush, until he saw she was no longer screaming, and crying quietly to herself. So he stopped and turned her head towards him, checking for signs that she was alright. "Easy, breathe slow," he said, knowing it was hard.

Her face was red and swollen with tears, her eyes nearly swollen shut from too much crying. Her voice had gone hoarse, so all could do was cry, her throat hurting too much to keep screaming, which was why she had stopped.

Alan saw the condition she was in and dropped the hairbrush, wondering if he had gone too hard on her. He took another look at her bottom, which was now red though not bruised, and decided it was okay. But she was totally shaking, so he gathered her small body in his arms and sat her on his lap, face to face, and hugged her tight.

She buried her face in his chest, hiccuping. "Drink?" she croaked out. "Throat hurts."

"Of course... come, we’ll get you something." And he lifted from the couch, taking her with him, and went to the small fridge in a corner of the room.

Emma opened the fridge and grabbed a Dr. Pepper and opened it, sipping slowly. "I’m sorry Alan, I’ll never do it again," she said, as her voice began sounding better after some liquid touched it.

Alan kept holding her as she drank, and rubbed her hair and back as she sipped from the bottle. "I know, I know... you have been good, tonight, Em."

"I-- I have?" she asked, confused, through her tears.

"Yes you have... you made me very proud by accepting your punishment. No child would ever do that," and he kissed her congested, sweaty forehead.

Emma managed to give a little smile. "I just trust you, that’s all. But now I’ll never ever sit again."

He couldn’t help but smile, himself. "Oh yes you will, just give it some hours. Oh, by the way... Alfonso told me you don’t have to work, tomorrow, so we can go for a walk if you wish. That doesn’t require sitting," he winked.

Again, Emma smiles and nodded. "I’d like that" She hugged him tight and tighter. "And I’m sorry I swore, do I really have to have my mouth washed out? Couldn’t you just forgive me this once? Please? I’ve been so good about it until tonight!"

"Uh-huh," he arched his eyebrows and shook his head. "No deal with that, little miss. You’ll get your mouth washed out tomorrow morning before we leave, and you’re standing half a hour in the corner tonight before you go to bed. C’mon, the worse part is over already."

"Corner?" she asked, then suddenly became aware she was still bare. "Can you put me down? I need to, you know, fix my clothes..."

"Yes corner, and yes I’m putting you down," and with that he walked to the nearest free corner and dropped her there. "As for your clothes, I’m sorry, but your panties are staying down while you stand there. You can keep your Dr. Pepper though... but just this once."

Emma felt so stupid and naughty and bad. Oooh, this would be a bad place for her. She already felt humiliated and punished enough. She hung her head and leaned against the wall.

Alan smiled at seeing her so compliant. He raised her skirt and folded it carefully under her top so it would stay up, and since her underwear was still at her knees, he saw a very sorry thirteen-year-old with a very red bottom standing and facing the corner.

But she wasn’t doing alright at all, because she soon began shaking with humiliation. It seemed so cruel to her to be put here, when she just wanted to be held, and after all she had been through. She set her pop down and rather hugged herself, trying hard not to start bawling again.

He saw that she wasn’t reacting very good to what was a normal practice after a spanking, but then he considered that nothing about spanking was ’normal’ to Emma, so he walked to her and kissed the back of her head.

"I’m still here, don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Be brave now and take this part of your punishment, then you can go to bed."

It truly, for once, did not make her feel any better, for him to kiss her head. She felt so lonely and scared there, more so then she usually did.

"Emma, you’re shaking..." he said, noticing she was.

She nodded; as if she didn’t already know. She fidgeted and shuffled, trying to remain calm, but she couldn’t seem to get rid of the lonely feelings she had right now, even though he was in the same room. Plus she had a question, and was not sure she was allowed to talk or not, and she certainly was not going to talk and risk that brush again!

Seeing that he got no response, Alan turned the sniffling child around and looked at her straight in the eye. "Emma, are you okay? I’m sorry, probably this corner thing wasn’t such a good idea after all... Talk to me, say something."

"I don’t wanna feel lonely" she whimpered, reaching her arms for him. "It’s scary."

He outstretched his arms and held her very tight, kissing her head once again as she cried. "I’m here, you’re not lonely... sorry, I didn’t think. Come on, let’s get you ready for bed instead, okay?"

Emma nodded, calming almost instantly. She just needed that assurance that she was still loved and was not going to be left there by herself in her misery, crying in a dark corner with the cold walls and a Dr. Pepper as her only comfort.

"Th-thanks."

"That’s okay, you think you can forgive me?" he asked, wanting to give her something nice to say.

"I already did," she told him sincerely. "I’m sorry I called you daddy, by the way," she whispered, averting his eyes, as they walked to the bathroom.

"Don’t worry about that... I understand... it took me by surprise, though."

"Yeah me too... but... if I could chose mine," she started, slowly, referring to his last statement. "I’d choose you". Her eyes met his and there was no way he could miss the simple, innocent adoration and love that shone there. They needed each other more then either of them even truly realized yet.

He was really, really, on the verge of saying that she was the kind of girl he would be proud to call ’my daughter’... his mouth opened, he almost did it... but instead he just smiled and kissed her once again, but on both cheeks this time, and felt the salty taste of her tears on his lips.

"I-- I..." he stammered. "I think your pyjamas is in that closet, isn’t it?"

She nodded, and reached to open the closet. He saw that the closet contained several pairs of pjs and night-gowns, and he randomly chose a light purple one with shirt and bottoms, but she pulled out a long night-gown of soft purple material, with lace around the collar and hem.

Alan smiled at her choice -- which overrode his, and was obviously much cuter -- and led her to the bathroom. He replaced her panties to protect her modesty, then said: "Come on, let’s get this off," pointing at her sweater. "And no, I won’t look."

She watched him close his eyes, then took off her sweater, shirt and bra and grabbed the night-gown, pulling it over her head, making sure it covered all the important parts before telling him he could look again. He did not have any trouble keeping his eyes closed as he heard the ruffling sound of tissue being moved.

"Oookay," he said as she told him he could open his eyes. "Wow, that’s a pretty night-gown", he commented, finding it awfully girlish but wanting to sound nice.

Emma smiled. "I like lacy things and my favourite color is purple. Plus it’s soft and my arse hurts... wait, can I say that?" she squeaked, covering her mouth.

"Umm... spell it," he said, knowing that ’arse’ and ’ass’ sound very much alike.

"A-R-S-E... it’s just as ’bum’, no?"

He smiled. "I’m just teasing you, silly. Yes, you can say that," and he tousled her hair.

"I’m not silly, you’re silly," and she smiled and hugged him.

Alan hugged him back, and rubbed her back -- tempted to rub some sting off her bottom too, but knew she would ask for that if she needed it.

And in fact, one hand of hers slipped back to rub as she still hugged him. "I wanna turn on cartoons and go to sleep," she decided.

"Sure... if there’s cartoons this time of night, that is," he said, not having a clue about what was on television anyway. "You’re more likely to find adult shows, and you’re *so* not watching those."

"I have them on video, silly" she told him, opening a drawer and pulling out a home-made DVD marked Em’s toons. "You know, Bugs Bunny and that lot. They are funny, and they help me sleep."

"Ahh you have them on video," he said, mimicking her voice. "That is fine... or, ’cool’, as you youngsters would say. Well, do you want me to stay here until you fall asleep?"

Her face lit up at his offer. "Yes please!"

She turned on the video and slipped under the covers of her bed. A moment later, her panties found the hamper as she tossed them over there.

Alan watched with a perplexed expression as he saw a pair of white underwear fly across the room and landed in the hamper, then turned back to look at Emma. "Sitting on a hot-spot, dear?"

"Not funny," she retorted, tossing a fuzzy pink pillow at him playfully.

"Oh yes, it is very amusing," he said, tossing the pillow back to her. Then he leant forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you."

"I know." She lightly bopped his nose with the same pillow. "Now you are forgiven."

Alan smiled again. "But sleep on your tummy... and no, I’m not kidding, heh."

She rolled onto her side, and blew him a kiss

He sat at the bottom of the bed, and leant his back against the wall as the Coyote made pitiful attempts at catching the Road Runner. He glanced sideways at Emma from time to time, and saw that her head was getting heavy with sleep.

A moment later, and she was asleep, finally at peace for the first time in way too many hours. Noticing her chest rise and fall in a regular, slow pattern, Alan understood she was finally resting in Morpheus’ arms, and gently took the remote from her hand and switched off the TV. He planted another quick kiss on her milky-white (face) cheeks, then walked towards the door.

He quietly exited the trailer and stepped in the chilly night -- which, if compared to the warmth he had felt with her, seemed even more freezing.

click here for pictures of Emma and Alan