DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. But I am VERY excited about the movies that are coming out soon. (Nooooo, Dobby! Made me weepy...TT_TT)

iStat:
Chapter Title - Bonus Chapter: Escape
Word Count - 2,495 words.
Rating: PG. I guess.

This is set a couple years after the end of the seventh book (not the epilogue, of course) so it's a jump. The extras will be jumping around in time, randomly, because they're moments that pop into my head at equally random times.

DEDICATED TO:
The reviewers:
daydreambuff, AuthoressMegz, debzxxx, veritaserum804, FFFfanfictionfanatic, Gryffinclaw at heart, htskskcp, dragonlileth, x, writingismypassion27, tat1312, paper parasols, Clb, Charlene Bates, Hamiel Nox, Cazza79, Mellifluence, AoiKuroNekoSan, loveandotherdrugs, KaitlynEmmaRose, , YouSeeStrangerThings, BittersweetSummer, QuirkyFire, Material Girl, GuurrlyGalxoxo, buckbeak99, The Predatory Wasp, pinksummer909, myppe, Ravenhaired2, SB, Skippy Agogo, gigi, ElizabethKnightley, Elizabeth-nightwatchman, pinker, lb1863, Love Is A Fast Song, and emLILYEVANS.

The sixty people, some listed above, some not, who favorited.

The thirty-two people who alerted.

And the 16,720 who have read this story.

You are all amazing.

It was six years – to the day – afterwards when she finally learned.

Every year, on May second, the anniversary of the Battle – the one she had missed – Astoria made sure to visit the memorial service held on the Hogwarts Grounds. Her invisibility from her school days had held up over the years. Nobody ever asked who she was. Sometimes some of the D.A. would nod. Luna Lovegood usually came to stand with her, or Hannah Abbott. But she was still the invisible girl. The one who blended into the wall. She enjoyed it, sometimes. It meant that nobody asked what a Slytherin was doing at a memorial for those who had died during the Battle of Hogwarts, why a Slytherin would be sitting in silence to honor Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey, Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. It saved the questions.

She always wore the same thing. She hadn't grown an inch since her sixteenth birthday, and that meant it still fit – the dress robes she'd worn to the official designation of the forest on Greengrass land to the rebel herd that had once lived in the Forbidden Forest. Cressel would have loved to come with her – he had been one of the centaurs who had fought in the battle, alongside Professor Firenze, Taybur, and Elmer – but she hadn't wanted to try Apparating with him, and it would have been difficult to get him here otherwise.

She hadn't told Draco where she went on May the second. Not for the past six years. He had never asked, and she had always made sure to say quite specifically that she had plans on that day. She was fairly certain Narcissa knew, but since she hadn't seen fit to say anything to her son, Astoria had never done so. Besides, it had been Draco who had come to her this time, claiming plans himself. It had been a relief not to have to keep the truth from him again.

Especially after that article this morning.

Astoria crossed her arms over her chest as a few more people filtered out onto the grounds, taking the seats around her. All of the Malfoys had been furious. She avoided Lucius as best she could, and he avoided her – she didn't think he liked her very much – but she and Narcissa had grown close enough for Astoria to be able to pick out the white marks of shock and anger on her face. Astoria had snatched the Prophet from her grip and wanted to tear it in two.

They had found them. The bastards had found her parents.

They had been hiding with some family members in Bulgaria or someplace. Astoria had already visited with the solicitor, and made certain that her and Daphne's claim to the house was still legitimate – it was, thank Merlin, which meant her parents couldn't oust them from it – but that hadn't been the point. The point had been that Niobe (of course, always Niobe) had turned around and dragged it all up again.

When everything had finally calmed down.

When people had finally stopped spitting at the Malfoys in the street.

When people had finally stopped enquiring about the 'nature of your relationship with the Death Eater.'

When the vultures from the Prophet had finally stopped lurking out on the edges of the property.

She'd barely managed to sneak out of her own home in order to make it to Hogwarts (the centaurs had stampeded them and made them scatter like little gnomes, letting her take flight with her new broom) and it was driving her crazy. It was bad enough that she had had to Floo from the Malfoys to Greengrass House, when she hated Flooing, because of those…gargoyles. And now she was…well…hiding here at Hogwarts until she was certain she could sneak back inside without disturbing anybody.

Draco. She should have Apparated back to ask how he was. He hadn't been there when she had seen that look on Narcissa's face, and even though she'd checked his London flat he hadn't been there either. She wasn't worried, exactly – at least, not about him. Actually, she was more worried about what he would do to the reporters if they tried to tail him. He wasn't exactly the most patient male.

Or the most pacifistic. Or even really kind.

To people he didn't care about, anyway. She found herself hiding a smile behind her hair, and then felt stupid. Don't smile at a memorial. People aren't as tolerant once they learn who you are. Or at least remember you for the papers.

After all, it wasn't like the Prophet had left her alone. She and Daphne – until Daphne had left for her Ministry training – had been just as caught up in the Prophet as the Malfoys were. She'd been stuck with them – with him – for over six years now.

Six years. Over six years since that Christmas break when he'd left the dormitories to find her in the common room, and she'd almost cursed him. Over six years since that devastating year at Hogwarts. And exactly six years to the day when she'd learned they were free, free, free of Voldemort.

How odd. I can think his name now. Her lips shaped the word. Voldemort. Voldemort. Voldemort. I wonder if I can scream it. She would try as soon as she was alone. Maybe she would go into the Forest. Find an old haunt. Scream it to the skies.

"Excuse me."

It was a seventh year. A Slytherin seventh year. Astoria stared at him, and suddenly – inexplicably – felt old. She was twenty-one. She shouldn't feel old next to a seventeen year old. He had dark hair that fell over his face, and startlingly green eyes which matched his tie exactly. He hesitated. "Can I sit here?"

He indicated the seat next to her. Astoria studied him for a moment, seeing something familiar in his face, and then nodded and patted the chair. "Feel free. You're Rosalie King's little brother, aren't you? Malcolm."

High color flickered in his pale cheeks, and he dropped down into the chair beside her, refusing to look at her. Astoria wondered why. It wasn't like she had said anything embarrassing. "Is…How did you know?"

She hadn't seen Rosalie King in years. Astoria made a mental note to look her up. "I remember. It was your first year at Hogwarts when I…" She hesitated. "When I left. You were a sweet little thing."

More color in his cheeks. "I hope that's not how you recognized me."

"Of course not. You look a lot like your sister when she was your age. Are you skipping class to be out here?"

"No. I have a free period and I don't have any homework." He analyzed her face. "You're the one who's dating Malfoy, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

"Really?" Astoria smirked behind her glove. "I highly doubt he'd like to hear that. He's under the impression that I won't leave him alone. On the other hand, I'm the one who keeps waking up wondering if I'm finally going to get a day on my own. But if that's 'dating,' then yes, I suppose you're right."

Malcolm looked hornswoggled. Sputtered a little. Looked away. Astoria laughed. "Did I shock you?"

"No." The answer came too fast. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What are you doing out here? The memorial service doesn't start for an hour."

"I needed somewhere to think, away from the vultures I work with. Well, intern with," she amended, "and I don't work the gossip desk. But does that really matter?"

Malcolm shot her a strange look. "You're…very odd."

"So my stalker tells me, frequently and with great vigor." At his second stunned look, she nudged him with her elbow. "Keep up, boy. What are you doing out here an hour before the ceremony starts? Are you going to attend?"

"No. I don't see the point. I'd more than likely get hexed." Malcolm stood, but remained still, as though he couldn't think of where to go. "I don't understand why you're coming to this after what was in the Prophet this morning."

"It was a better choice than disemboweling that troll Skeeter. So here I am." She crossed her arms over her chest, protectively. "Besides, I always come today. Every year."

"I know. I've seen you out here."

"Have you been watching me, Rosalie's little brother?" When he colored a hot pink, Astoria hid another smile. "Maybe I have two stalkers."

"Rosalie never said you were this annoying." He said, somewhat explosively.

"I've worked my way into it. Besides, I've figured out that when people sass you, it's best to just sass them back. Otherwise they take advantage of you so fast you have no idea what hit you."

"Are you talking about Malfoy?"

"Yes. Why do you keep coming back to him?"

"Because he's your boyfriend. Isn't he?"

"Think, Rosalie's little brother. Do you really want me to answer that question in graphic detail?" He paled. "I thought so. Besides. It's none of your business who I go out with, or what happens with them, no matter what you see in the paper. Now, if you don't mind, I want to pay my respects before the memorial service starts. I don't think I have the stomach to listen to Potter again this year. Send my love to your sister."

When she looked up again, Malcolm was gone. Astoria let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, wondering why that encounter had made her so tense, and stood, crossing the damp grass. They had used a single huge piece of rubble from the battle – the battle she hadn't had a chance to see – and carved the names of all the dead on it with simple, potent wand strokes. She reached out, her fingers barely brushing the rough edge of the stone before she pulled back.

How close had any of them come to dying in that school sitting behind her, so innocently, a haven of learning and magic? She had never been able to go down into the dungeons again, when she had finished her last two years there, graduating at eighteen rather than seventeen. Her O.W.L. career of potioneer had been a lie, something to keep herself safe. After all, if she hadn't chosen something so close to Snape, then she would have been under suspicion. She wondered how many people in her year had indicated they had wanted to follow in his footsteps, too. If she had told the truth – if she had told them what she knew now, how much she wanted to work in the Magical Creature Liaison Office (whatever it was called) at the Ministry of Magic – what would they have done to her?

What would her parents think of her now? They were on their way to Azkaban, or soon would be. They had funneled too much money into the Dark Magic Movement to go anywhere else. She shouldn't even by rights be calling them her parents. They had disowned her, hadn't they? She had found the legal documents. She and Daphne had finally worked through all the paperwork to make the disownment null and void, which meant she was heir to what little of the Greengrass fortune there was left (Daphne was the chief executor of the estate) but she didn't particularly care. The home she missed was her grandparent's house, in Ystrad Mynach, Wales. But she hadn't been able to visit them in years.

I'll go next week. She decided, suddenly, letting her fingers rest on Alicia Spinnet's name. I need to see them. I want to see them. It's been too long.

But would they accept who she was now? They had always hated the idea of the sort of stuffy pureblood the Malfoys were, and now it was the Malfoys who she had to deal with most of the time. One Malfoy in particular.

She couldn't even remember why she had been unable to entangle herself from now. She had forgotten where her decisions had ended and his had begun. She couldn't even remember where she began and he ended anymore, sometimes.

And no one else could see that. No one else could see why. The words of the article flashed through her head again – Does the return of her parents mean that Astoria Greengrass, freedom-fighter and new head of Greengrass House, will finally escape from the shadowy influence of the Malfoys?

Escape. She would have loved to meet that Skeeter woman, just so she could strangle her. She was so very sick of walking into stores and having people stare at her and then turn away and whisper. So very sick of wondering whether they were insulting her or him. So very tired of people and the mistrust they held in their hearts. Why can't they all just leave me the hell alone?

"You're not exactly unnoticeable."

In a way she wasn't surprised he was there. She was irritated, maybe, but not surprised. "Did I say that aloud?"

"I forget." A shoulder touched hers. She lowered her hand from the memorial, wondering if she was allowed to touch it. "What are you doing here, Greengrass?"

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" She asked, slipping into the old habit of addressing him by surname. It had taken her a full year to break herself of it and even now she buggered it up sometimes. "I thought I told you I had something to do this morning."

"I thought I told you that. It's not my fault that you decided to follow me like a lovesick puppy."

"Don't be a snob. I was here before you were. Therefore I have higher rank, making you the lovesick puppy."

Silence for a moment. His shoulder bumped hers again. "You've seen the papers."

"Damn right I have. And I'm bloody furious. Don't you see my fury?"

Malfoy shot her a look out of the corner of his eye. "No."

"Stuff it, lovesick puppy." Astoria sighed, and reached out with her pinky finger, touching his hand so gently he couldn't have felt it. "They're going to drag it all up again."

"They can piss off."

"Malfoy!"

"Greengrass!" He mimicked, his voice going strangely high and creakingly falsetto.

Astoria kicked his ankle. "I do not sound like that." When he said nothing, she kicked him again. "I do not."

"They're not going to take any of it away from you. You probably won't even see them. There's no reason for you to go visit them where they are now." There was a little tickle of breath on the side of her neck. He'd stepped around behind her, out of range of her kicks. Astoria let him wrap his arms around her from behind, and reached up and brushed her hands along his forearm, seeking comfort, inhaling the scent of him. "They're not taking you away from me."

"I don't belong to you." She scowled. "I don't belong to anybody except myself."

"Doesn't matter."

"Don't be a sexist brute." She admonished, but the tension was leaking out of her nonetheless. He was a git, and sometimes she hated him more than anything, but she'd stopped trying to break away from him. They were linked now. There was nothing either of them could to do stop that. "But I'll have to go see them sometime. You know that."

"So take a centaur with you. The things seem to hate them as much as you do. They might stomp Niobe's head in if you asked."

"As tempting as that thought is –" She turned in the circle of his arms, setting her wrists against his collarbone. "I asked you what you were doing here and you still haven't given me an answer, Malfoy."

"I…" For the first time in a long time, he was at a loss for words. "I remember my mother mentioning the memorial. And…"

"You didn't want anybody to know you were coming." She hid a smile. He was so predictable now.

"Neither did you."

"That's different. I don't announce that I'm coming, but they know that I'm coming all the same. You avoid it like the plague."

"I'll curse you."

"I'm faster than you are. I'll curse you first." At the impotent frustration in his eyes, Astoria actually showed off a smile for once and went up on her toes, kissing him lightly. "You're so easy to tease."

They looked at each other for a moment. Astoria was struck intensely by how odd this was. She wouldn't have been caught dead near him a few years back.

"I don't have to sit in the audience this time." She said, slipping back out of his grip. "If you don't want to. We can watch from the lake-edge."

A knuckle brushed lightly against her cheek, turning her to face him again, and Astoria barely had time to draw a breath before he was kissing her in a way that he hadn't done in a long time. The desperation in it matched what he'd shown in that midnight meeting. She kissed him back, and then pulled away. "What was that for?"

He pulled her to him again, and finally, when she managed to break it off a second time, he said, in a rough voice. "I meant it."

"Meant what?"

"What I said."

"What did you say?"

"Do you always have to be so bloody difficult?"

"Only with you, Malfoy." She couldn't see his face. She was pressed too close to him. That was when she started to feel worried. He was never this open with her, never in public. "Malfoy?"

"They're not taking you away from me." She felt the words rather than hear them, a rumble that echoed through her ribcage. "Not again. Not like Umbridge."

"Malfoy."

"You're not leaving me?"

A question. Not an order. That was all he could say. It meant everything. Her heart pounded in her throat. "No." She said, and fingered his hair lightly. "No. I'm not. Because there's nothing in you that I need to escape from."

bonus chapter: escape
by shu of the wind