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Game Over by er121876 [Reviews - 2]

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“EMMA! We have to go!”

Emma shot up in bed and stared at a Daphne Greengrass who had never looked more annoyed with her, maybe not even with anything.

“What time is it?”

“It’s a fucking quarter to nine! Get the fuck up; we’ve got to be in Transfig in fifteen minutes!”

“Oh, fuck...”

Daphne threw a robe at her. “You can do that later. Get the fuck up!”

Emma heaved herself out of bed with such difficulty that she wondered if she were still alive, and a strangely philosophical reflection for eight-forty-five a.m. popped into her head: Why do I let someone else dictate to me what time I get up?

It suddenly occurred to her that might not happen again after this term, and it was an oddly unsettling idea. What if, under Voldemort’s dictatorship, women were no longer allowed to go to work? What if she had to stay at home with the children she would inevitably have in the next two years? Hers and Snape’s children. She pulled the robes on and buttoned them up over her pyjamas, making sure no one could see them underneath, and thinking about her future. Snape had told her in his office the night before that they were going to the Malfoys that evening, instead of that weekend. Was this how her life would play out now? Endless meet-and-greets with notorious Death Eater families, a cocktail in one hand and a baby bottle in the other? She heard Daphne snap something irritably at her and wondered if she would ever see her again. Would Snape let her or any of her other friends visit? She couldn’t really see them all laughing over a plate of finger-food that she, as the perfect Pureblood wife, had made, as her husband marked essays in the corner, playing his proper part as the breadwinner.

“Emma, will you hurry up?” Daphne kept glancing frantically at the clock as she flung necessities in Emma’s bag for her. “Do you take this to class?”

“Just chuck it in if it fits,” murmured Emma absent-mindedly as she dragged a comb through her hair, not bothering to turn around and see what she was talking about. “Babe, I think I’m gonna take the day off. Can you tell Cutter I’ve got a cold?”

Daphne’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? You make me late and then you tell me you’re not even coming? You are coming, Emma Russon; don’t you dare think you’re not –”

“Daff,” Emma said firmly, her eyes shut tight, keeping her back to her, “I’m really not feeling it today.”

Belatedly as always, Daphne did the friend thing she had so much trouble with, and finally realised the problem. To her merit, she didn’t wait around to make Emma feel worse.

“I’ll tell him,” she promised.

Emma was left alone with her thoughts. She looked at the bag Daphne had been filling and smiled. Perhaps she could talk to Snape about that particular issue. He couldn’t expect her not to see anyone again, after all. He might even appreciate the break from her that an hour with her friends would offer. Idly, she wondered what the situation would be with her family, whether she would have to see them in secret, since it might be going too far to ask Professor Snape to fraternise with Muggles.

“Russon?”

“What the -?” Emma turned quickly to see Draco Malfoy sticking his head around the door to their dormitory, grinning maliciously. She gave a small squeak of protest and covered her face with her hands.

“I haven’t got any make-up on, you dick!”

“Yeah, gutted on Snape, having to wake up next to that face every morning.”

“How do you know about that?” asked Emma in shock, ignoring the dig, but still hoping she looked acceptable.

“Snape told my parents, you idiot. You think Mother doesn’t write to me about every bit of gossip she hears? Usually I don’t want to know, but... you know.” He smirked. “This is different.”

“You’re not supposed to be here, you know.”

“Well, I thought since we won’t be able to do anything anymore, we could have one last fling.”

Emma scowled.

“No?”

“Shut up, Draco,” she said, closing the door on his face. He had not been serious, of course, but any reminder of the one drunken night they had spent together tended to push her buttons. Well, he had been drunk, but she, for some reason, had once found him attractive. She shivered in revulsion. When she looked back at her unmade bed, she sighed. Perhaps going to sleep was the best thing for her. Like a cold, it was worth trying to sleep this off. Things always looked better when she was well-rested.

She didn’t wake up again until Millicent shook her and screamed in her ear that the Headmaster was looking for her.

***


“She’s rather quiet,” Lucius commented, watching Emma give a short laugh at something Narcissa had said. “Shy, perhaps?”

“I think she’s a little intimidated,” Severus said apologetically. Lucius shook his head and took a sip of wine.

“You know what they’re talking about, don’t you?” he murmured, eyeing the two blondes warily. “Look at them. They’re planning something. They’re planning your wedding, Severus.”

Severus’ head whipped around so quickly to stare at him that he felt his neck strain painfully. Putting his hand to it and wincing, he whispered furiously, “What? Why would they do that?”

Lucius snorted and didn’t answer. Instead, to Severus’ confusion, he began counting down from ten, ignoring his friend’s countless interjections and panic-stricken questions.

“One,” he whispered at last, just as Narcissa exclaimed loudly, “Oh, I’ll get you my veil! It can be your something borrowed!” and Lucius smirked widely at Severus, looking just like his son.

“I admit I was thinking she’d get her dress for her to try on, but the veil is close, don’t you think?”

Game Over by er121876 [Reviews - 2]

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