Astoria took a slow breath, staring at the door before them. Ron and Hermione's apartment had been a place of mixed emotions to say the least. She closed her eyes, Draco had wanted to come, wanted to help, but Ron still didn't trust him, and this wasn't a time to be distracted. Cautiously, she knocked at the door.
She could hear small, domestic sounds through the wood. A kettle being put away, perhaps teacups clinking, and heavy feet padding toward the door. As it swung open the flame of red hair almost made her gasp. For just a moment she thought-hoped- it was George.
"Mornin' Astoria, you're out awfully early." Ron squinted at her, still wearing his pajamas, a cup of hot tea steaming in his hand. He pulled the door and nodded her in. "What you need?"
"To see Hermione." Astoria looked around, expecting to see Hermione. She had come early, she knew that would be her best chance to catch them before work.
Ron nodded. "Tea?" He raised his cup slightly. When Astoria shook her head he shrugged and turned away.
"'MIONE!" He bellowed, and Astoria winced slightly. "HEY HERMIONE!"
Astoria heard something splash and in a moment was greeted by the sight of Hermione in the door, pressed and clean, almost ready for work except for her hair, which was half twisted up and wild, and looking absolutely furious.
"Ronald, I have told you a thousand times, do NOT shout for me like that! You scared me half-Oh!" She stopped short as Astoria stepped out from behind Ron, waving meekly. "Astoria! Hello!"
"Hey Hermione." Astoria did her best to muster a smile. Hermione, zipped into her pocket and a cup and saucer appeared in her hand.
"Tea." She said forcefully, handing it to Astoria, despite her protests, and pulling her to the small dining table. Ron floated nearby, clearly still half asleep. He settled, leaning against the wall.
"What's happened?" Hermione asked, taking Astoria's hand. "Is it Draco? The Ministry?"
Astoria shook her head. "No it's..." She took a deep breath. "Hermione, when someone...well can someone send a memory to another person? In their sleep, perhaps?" She took a sip of the tea. It was scalding.
"Well..." Hermione looked puzzled. Clearly this was not why she had assumed Astoria had visited. "I know memories can be removed for a pensieve. As for sharing...well Harry could see You-Know-Who's thoughts, because of his scar connection. But I think that was due to the horcrux. He had a sort of...link." Her eyes widened. "Have you seen something? Something because of the Department of Mysteries?"
"No!" Astoria rushed. "No, no, nothing like that, nothing to do with...well with that." She took a deep breath. "Last night, well it may have just been a dream but I saw something, a memory, it was like...I was living in someone else's skin." She lowered her voice to a whisper, barely audible. "Have you heard of a man Named Marius Claude?"
Hermione leaned back. "Astoria, if you think I didn't find out all about your time at Beauxbaton then I think you may not know me very well." She gave Astoria's hand a small squeeze, her voice kind. "But that doesn't define you, Astoria. I've seen the the person you really are. You were just a child." She glanced at Ron. "And lord knows people do stupid things when they are kids."
"Whuh'd I 'oo?" Ron looked up, his mouth full of toast. He seemed to be finally waking up. Hermione rolled her eyes before turning back to Astoria.
"It's not about what I...what I did for Claude." Astoria said slowly. "He had...a terrible past. I knew so little about it all at the time, but he was angry, and scared more than anything. But what I saw last night was...different, I saw his family, I saw what happened that made him do what he did."
Hermione frowned. "You said it was like you were in the memory? Like it was yours?" Astoria nodded.
"Sounds like what Harry said Snape used to do to him. Legilimens." Ron offered. Hermione's eyebrows raised and she tilted her head, looking carefully at her partner. "What?' Ron said, looking hurt. "You're not the only one who can solve things."
Hermione shook her head. "Occlumency and Legilimens don't work like that." She said rapidly. "You can only see your own memories, or the memories of the person casting the..." She slowed. Astoria felt her stomach drop.
"Astoria, where is Claude now?"
Ron and Hermione looked at her expectantly. She took a deep breath. "I don't know." She said softly. "He could be anywhere really. He wrote me once, when he was in prison. I never read the letter. I took it to Madame Maxine, told her what he was trying to do." Astoria looked up at Hermione, who's brows were furrowed, deep in thought, and Ron, his head tilted, taking everything in.
"There is someone who might know." Astoria breathed. "There was a boy in our...well he helped Claude as well. Arnaud Duquette." Hermione stood and was back in a moment, quill and parchment ready as she recorded the name.
"I'll look into this." She said firmly.
"Hermione, it's not that easy." Astoria whispered. "Arnaud...he was volatile. He enjoyed the curses, enjoyed hurting people. I don't know what it was Claude saw in him, but he followed me for years, even after he left Beauxbatons. He was obsessed with blood status, he idolized Grindelwald." She shook her head. "It took me years to shake him. He has left me alone since I came here, but before that it was...difficult, to say the least."
Hermione nodded. "I will be discrete, Astoria. But we have to look into this. The Ministry keeps tabs on you, on all of us. But if what you saw was in fact a real memory from Claude we can't dismiss the possibility that he is here."
"What could he possibly want with Astoria?" Ron interjected. He was at Hermione's back now, his hand on her shoulder.
They both looked at the woman across the table. Astoria didn't look back. For a moment the only sound was the rattling of china. Astoria looked down, quickly releasing her tea cup.
But her hands were still shaking.
...
Arnaud smiled into the fire. Everything was going to plan. Again, she was in his sights. He turned the letter in his hands over, looking at the flowery signature of Daphne Goyle. Her hand, he thought, was too elaborate. Insecure. Practiced without the neatness that makes it all worthwhile. She was necessary though, for now. A link to Astoria.
Astoria.
He closed his eyes, picturing the girl. Her cropped, dark hair brushing the collar of her school robes, the pale skin of her neck beneath. She had been beautiful, even then. Before he knew that beauty was a thing that could be cultivated.
"Everyone, meet Astoria Greengrass." Claude smiled down at the girl beside him, almost dotingly. The students murmured their hellos, Arnaud eager to get back to his potion. Astoria, small as she was, looked around the room, her eye caught his and held it, just for a moment, and then, in the next moment, she looked right through him.
.
"I will not have her exposed to this ugliness!" Claude cried. Astoria lay, prone on the floor, she was just beginning to stir from her daze.
"But Professor, I was only-." Arnaud hissed. The girl had been there for weeks, but Claude had hardly let her out of his sight. They had all gone through it, all done the tests. It was only fair...
"You do NOT decide what to do in MY experiments, Arnaud!" Claude cried. He pushed the boy against the desk, sending him tumbling to the floor. "You don't get to practice your curses on her. Never!"
"WHY IS SHE THE EXCEPTION?" Arnaud shouted. He could feel the hot sting of tears on his cheeks. Claude had never touched a student before. He found himself more angry for crying than for the blow. "She's just some little girl...she can't even brew a proper potion." He glared over at the girl. "Just because she can cast a few charms..."
Claude glared down at the boy coldly. "You are jealous." he hissed. "Jealous of a little girl. You and your families looked the other way when Grindelwald came through the villages, killing for sport." He said quietly. "You will do the same when the next dark wizard comes. You will bow your heads and allow it."
"And she won't?" Arnaud spit. Blood.
"No, she will not. Eleven years old and she has more courage than all the purebloods in France."
Arnaud looked up at Claude. He had knelt now and was murmuring spells over the girl. She wouldn't remember the curse. He watched the older man carefully for a moment before speaking.
"She's a pureblood too, you know." Arnaud laughed. Once. "Maybe when the Dark Lord comes to the continent she can convince him to spare you." Claude winced, and Arnaud pushed on. "She'd be a prize after all, a pretty parakeet for one of his cages."
"Get out of my classroom." Claude growled. He didn't look up, but Arnaud felt a force pushing him. He made it halfway down the hall before he sank to the floor.