Common Ground ⌁ Draco Malfoy [2/4] ✔

1

[[This is the second part to 'The Carnival']]

--

There was such oddity and abnormality in the room. It was not like it used to be, and the three people sat perched much less than a family rather than before. Mr Baranov sat in his usual brown, leather armchair, one leg lazily clinging onto the opposite thigh, and the daily prophet, much darker than usual, in his hands. His reading glasses slipped further down the bridge of his nose as his eyes fiercely scanned the ink on the paper, and he eagerly flipped to the next page.

Mrs Baranov was a tall woman with dirty blonde hair that reached her breasts. Unlike her husband she looked rather young and independent, but in reality she was neither. She feared for her brothers and sisters who she no longer had any contact with. She was an opened book, terribly easy to read. It was the little things she did. She, much like her daughter, had a bad habit of chewing her nails when anxious about something. In addition to this, her lightly tanned skin would pale and age when she worried too much or over stressed. But Mr Baranov, however, was a puzzle.

It had been 15 years since taking in the daughter of another, whom was hauled away from a brother and thrust into the arms of friends – ex members of the Order which Mr and Mrs Baranov had no choice but to explain.

"Chelsea, darling, have a look at this."

Mr Baranov's voice thrust Emma from her thoughts. It was nearing midnight and she was wearily awaiting an owl post. She had been for a whole day, but there was not an owl in sight. Deep blue eyes searched the night sky for any sign of a winged-creature, but all was clear, and all was quiet.

It was hard to be the opposite of distant from the two people who had raised her from the age of one, but, she could not help but feel betrayed. It was understandable that they couldn't tell her for her protection, but she was sick of being lied to for her safety. Words didn't depend on anybody's safety – unless, of course, one gives another up to the enemy.

She saw, from the corner of her eye, the two Baranov's cast her a look, but she was far too absent-minded to decipher what kind of look it was. The eyes were like strings that ought to have pulled her attention, and she finally looked away from the window.

"Emma," said Mrs Baranov tentatively, quietly, and cautiously. Her tone, to Emma's dismay, suggested that she feared her daughter might lash out and attack her. "It might be wise for you to read this."

Emma looked at the daily prophet. She had not so much as touched one of them since she turned it away from Harry in the hospital wing before the last term ended.

"We know you've been avoiding it," she went on. Emma said nothing. "But it's got some stuff to protect you. It's not all bad in here."

She didn't move. She sat there, quite still, unable to form words. Mr Baranov's stare just was not the same any more. She didn't feel a parent's love; she didn't see a parent's love behind his dark brown eyes any more. There was a hope for her mother, though, for there was still a trace of care in her worried blue eyes each time they looked Emma's way. Her mother made her way over to her instead with the daily prophet in her hands, and smoothed out the pages. She made sure not to get too close to Emma with it, as if it'd burn Emma had it got too close.

"Protecting your home and family against dark forces," Emma read aloud. Her mother smiled; it was the first words she'd said all evening. Emma barely gripped the sides of the daily prophet, and gently moved it up to her line of vision. Her mother stayed with her; her father sat a bit away, but Emma was not tempted to look up at him just yet. She skimmed through the page. "It's all obvious stuff."

She thrust the daily prophet back into her mother's hands and turned to look out the window again.

"Emma," she felt her hand being gripped gently. "We're not your enemy."

"I know."

"You want to see him," her mother went on, a touch of understanding in her voice but it wasn't good enough. "We know. But it's too dangerous. They know there's another."

"I'm not even getting letters from him anymore," Emma replied. Her eyes looked left but didn't quite meet the worried blue of her mother. "A simple hello would assure me. Maybe if you and Dad could just escort me to The Burrow – " Mrs Baranov shook her head, and Emma saw Mr Baranov doing the same, his mouth opening but Emma spoke first. "Please. He's there, I know he is."

"He's not."

"Then let me visit the Weasley's. I could go to school with them."

"No, Emma. We want to look after you. Besides, it's too dangerous now. I'm not entirely sure we should even send you back to school."

Emma nearly fell sideways off the sofa she was sitting on, and her teeth were suddenly bricks that were too heavy to hold her jaw up. "What?!" she shouted. "You can't be serious. Hogwarts is safer than it is here!"

"She's right, Chelsea," her father spoke up for the first time in a calm voice, removing his slipping glasses. His judging eyes moved between the two women in front of him.

"I know she is but – but – I just can't stand not knowing what's going on anymore," her mother sighed, and her shaking, aging hand reached up to her mouth. "I can't, Sam – I can't. Yes, yes, I know what you're going to say, she's got to go back, I know."

Chelsea's grip tightened around Emma's hand, and she, for a moment, did not feel like going back to Hogwarts unless her mother was going with her.

The next morning, Emma woke to an owl poking its brown beak against the window, tapping. She shot out of her bed quickly, excited, and opened the window for the owl to drop the letter. The only thing that made her heart sink was that this was an owl she had never seen before.

EMMA CHELSEA BARANOV HAS ACHIEVED:

Astronomy: A

Care of Magical Creatures: E

Charms: O

Defence Against the Dark Arts: E

Divination: P

Herbology: A

History of Magic: A

Potions: O

Transfiguration: A

She was barely breathing the entire time she'd read through her O.W.L results, and she was squealing a little too much when she finished. She hadn't really passed Divination, but that was OK, she didn't expect to nor did she care much anymore. What she hadn't expected, though, was to receive an 'A' in History of Magic, and an 'O' in Potions. An 'O'!

"Mum!" she yelled, tearing out of her room and bumping right into her mother's running figure. She looked alarmed and frightened, but sighed when Emma was jumping up and down in joy. "I got two Outstandings! I didn't even think I'd manage one!"

"Well done," Mrs Baranov smiled, her eyes reading the page. Emma was tempted to ask about the adoption, but was too afraid that her mother would become upset. It was, after all, her father's idea to cancel the last adoption and that was the last thing her mother wanted.

Sheremembered him telling her mother that it was too dangerous in a time likethis, bringing a Muggle baby into the wizarding community was an awful idea.