A/N: Written for the Houses Competition. Love to AJ, Di, and 2D for the betas.
AU-ish, I think?
House: Ravenclaw
Category: Additional Prefect Short
Prompt: Rainstorm
Word Count (excluding a/n): 843
She is sat on the lawn outside the castle and staring up at the inky blackness of the night sky. It seems so close that she thinks that she might be able to just reach out and touch it, so she stretches out an arm and grasps at the cool air with her fingertips. Predictably, she feels nothing, even when she catches a glimpse of her crimson nails. They are there as a reminder, and they seem to have worked so far.
They have stopped her from falling in love with another pale-skinned, blond-haired, Death Eater boy. She hasn't run around naively with the grown-ups again, playing with fire and dreaming all too much.
She hasn't killed another sister.
The red is all too familiar for that to happen again. She can see it when she closes her eyes, scarlet leaking from her sister's slashed throat, the wine her mother had been drinking when she ran downstairs, a dark crimson staining her full lips.
So, she wore red proudly every day, clothed her body in Daphne's spilt blood. A cerise ribbon tied around her arm, over the black seared deep into her skin, telling her to be careful, to just watch out.
She hears those same words in Daphne's soft voice, an echo of a warning once whispered as they sat side by side on a rusty swing, in the orchard they had played in as children.
"Be careful, Tori. This is dangerous. Get out while you still can. Just... watch out. They're more clever than you think, and I couldn't bear it if you got hurt."
But she had brushed it aside, because that day felt like it was kissed with sunlight, and she still had the world at her fingertips, the puppets dancing on her strings. Everything felt like a game that day, and she believed that if she just wanted it hard enough, if she wished on a star flying past her window, she and Draco would defeat the Dark Lord and everything would be oh-so-perfect.
Now, that seems like a child's make-believe game and Astoria wonders how she could have ever been such a fool. How could he, the young boy cowering beneath the glares of his parents, and her, the girl who trusted everybody and thought war could be solved with kindness and a touch of well-meaning deceit, ever defeat the cold, insidious man they had been forced to call Master. In retrospect, the plan of worming their way in, gaining everyone's trust and then reasoning with a madness forged in a bubbling pit of murder and inhumanity, seems more than foolish. It seems suicidal. Snakes will always bite, after all.
She would have done well to remember that. It didn't just bite, it tore her life open with razor sharp fangs, piercing her straight through the heart.
Draco being a target she would have expected, but Daphne? She was an innocent bystander, a pointless fatality. Astoria was a traitor, she knew that the Dark Lord thirsted for revenge, but her sister?
It makes her feel hollow just to think of her face, even all these years later.
Suddenly, a drop of water runs down her cheek, and she wonders if she's crying. The fuzzy feeling in her head intensifies, white spots blurring her vision. She looks up, and the clouds are dark and heavy, lightning arcing across the sky. Her hair is damp and limp with water, her dress clinging to her skin. Idly, she wonders if she's going mad, not even noticing the heavens opening above her. A tremulous giggle escapes her mouth, until she is laughing so hard her throat feels raw. Nothing is really that funny, though.
"Astoria!" She looks up and Draco is there, blond hair plastered to his face. "Astoria, what in Merlin's name are you doing out here?" His voice sounds far away, more distant than the booming thunder. He slips an arm around her waist, and hauls her back to the Manor like she is as light as a feather. She wishes she was, that she could just float away on the breeze.
She chuckles again at the thought and Draco presses a hand to her forehead. "Tori, you're burning up. We need to get you to bed."
Distantly, she thinks she ends up spending weeks there, trapped in a mound of fluffy white sheets and blurry thoughts. Once, she thinks she sees Daphne, but it turns out to be Scorpius, who tucks a red blanket up around her neck, suffocating her. He starts crying, and she can't move her arm up to stop him. She wonders if her fingernails are still painted red.
Draco is there next and she wants to kiss him like they are still sixteen and falling hopelessly in love but he just whispers, "Goodbye," and walks out of the room.
She hears the gentle lilt of the grand piano, the soft notes flitting around her mind. It's Daphne's piano, she faintly remembers. Lulled by the soothing music, Astoria drifts off into a dreamless sleep.