The Carnival ⌁ Draco Malfoy [1/4] ✔

40

Up along the seventh floor, brackets with torches and stone torched posts lined up against the walls, there was a secret door for it's purpose was for people in great need of it. In the secret room sat one body. Just one. 

Her back was stiff, facing the exit of the room. Long brown hair cascaded down her back, barely moving for there was no wind, and barely moving for Emma hardly dared to breathe. 

For now, her main priority was to think. Think. There was so much going on in Emma's head that she'd barely been granted the time to accept certain situations. The hardest thing for Emma would have been accepting that Harry Potter was her brother, her twin. That a man named Samson Baranov and a woman named Chelsea Baranov were not her parents, but a man named James Potter and a woman named Lily Potter were. That entire dilemma was never going to feel normal for Emma, and she was certain Harry felt the same. 

She tried visualising herself in Harry's shoes. She had not been told in detail what had happened when Harry spent the Summer with his Aunt, Uncle and cousin every year, only that he hated it very much. And that hatred, along with growing up believing that his entire family had been murdered - considering he and Emma had no idea about what they meant to each other till just months ago -, must have been hard on him as well. She wondered if he'd ever felt jealous, perhaps envious of her. She'd grown up with two loving parents and enjoyed every minute of it. What if, deep down, Harry hated her for it? Blamed her, even? Maybe even narrowed down the entire thing and thought she was to blame? She could still hear the words he'd spoken the night they'd confronted Sirius, the hurt in his voice, as though he was speaking directly into her ear. 

'It's just...it hurts that after all this time, Emma was always in the dark while I was always in the spotlight.'

Emma sniffled a little, glancing over her shoulder a few times to make sure she was still alone. Letting a shuddering cough escape her dry lips, Emma's shaky fingers gripped the photograph Sirius had lent her for Christmas. She had never really fully looked at it yet, studied it. She wasn't entirely sure why...to convince herself that the Baranov's really were her parents? To forget the brick in her stomach that formed each time after being reminded of her true identity? Perhaps both even; Emma enjoyed being a Baranov...it was all she knew to be. 

Her eyes scanned the woman in the photograph, her fingers tracing her dark red hair and her pretty face, and she stared into the eyes of her mother as though staring directly into her own in a mirror. Emma couldn't help but notice that her own light freckles, which she'd hated all her fifteen years of living, had come directly from Lily Potter. On instinct, her hand reached up to her own nose and traced it, wondering if her mother had ever done it to her as a child. The mother that didn't raise her. The only thing that told her that she and Harry really were the children of this woman were the eyes all three of them shared. The children both inherited their father's hair colour, and she traced the facial features of the man that resembled Harry's so very much. 

Tears glossed Emma's eyes - she couldn't help it. The adoration in James' and Lily's eyes told her, had they been alive, that they'd be such great parents. But unfortunately she'd never be proved right. 

Emma carefully placed the photograph in her bag and her eyes automatically landed on Sabrina's anklet. It looked like it could've been worth a lot of Muggle money...why would Sabrina have just given it to her? She shook her head, dismissing all thoughts of it, and moved for the exit after swinging her bag over her shoulder. She needed to get back to the common room and study. As weird as it was, Emma could not study in ear-splitting silence. She was more worried by what would come out of it, or who would enter the Room of Requirement while she was still in there, alone...she wished the entire DA would just show up. She missed it very much. 

When she reached the Slytherin common room, it was very quiet. There was already a few seventh-years doing some revision, and were so deep into it they had not looked up upon her arrival. As the sofas and armchairs were taken, Emma quietly sunk into a chair in the corner of the common room and put her bag on the desk in front of her. 

It had been at least an hour of Emma studying, reading the same pages repeatedly as her mind was not fully focused on her work. She was thinking about Professor Dumbledore and where he was at this very moment. She wished she had gotten the chance to ask him about her relative dilemma, as she was doubting Sirius very much. It didn't feel like he was entirely truthful with her and Harry. Emma didn't put very much thought into Sirius' explanation - she never got the chance to. The doors had just burst open. 

It came a group of cranky, groaning Slytherins - Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad to be more specific. The lot of them looked like they had just taken a beating, or lost to a duel. 

Emma deserted her belongings and rushed over to Millicent and Draco. 

"What happened?" she asked quickly, jumping back when Draco turned his head and let out a very loud sneeze. 

"Just inquisitorial Squad business," Millicent said stiffly, and brushed past Emma to sit in one of the chairs. 

This left Draco to stare at Emma quite hungrily, and she tried to whirl around as casually as she could and went back to her desk, face burning. There was no way she was going to be left alone with Draco, not after that very awkward confession and that long week of purposely avoiding him. Emma would prefer to be left not knowing what had happened to the Inquisitorial Squad. 

"I'm going to go lie down for a bit," said Millicent, beginning to stand. Emma had a small feeling she was talking to herself. 

She quickly shoved her books and pens in her bags and followed Millicent. Millicent didn't have very much of a reaction, simply held her nose high in the air and stared ahead as she walked. Perhaps she'd known Emma didn't want to be left alone with Draco...she still had no idea how she felt about him...

Sometimes he was nice and made her laugh, but other times he'd get under her skin...quite a lot. There was the very few rare gaps in which she'd like to lay her head on his shoulder or his chest while he rubbed her back soothingly or played with her hair. It calmed her to visualise this happening, but after reality had hauled her back into the present, she'd feel quite awkward and would trip over her own two feet. 

Emma stopped dead in her tracks - Millicent did the same from beside her. She suddenly felt the way people described an encounter with a Dementor. Dread filled every vein in her body and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up instantly. Her shallow breathing soon transitioned into something rather loud and ragged and harsh, and her throat swelled up and blocked itself. Emma's entire body seemed to have just shut itself down. 

She could not believe her eyes, but they were full of tears anyway. Her head managed to turn an inch, catching the look of fear and disbelief on dear Millicent Bulstrode's face and she, too, was paralysed. 

Emma's eyes trailed back over to the scene before her, and though her throat sealed itself shut and her body switched off, she still managed to let out a loud, blood-curdling scream of terror and grief.