He hadn't sought her out since their first day back.
It wasn't that they only met at his request, so she could have reached out, but Astoria felt confused and uncomfortable after he'd left her in the Tower. Instead, she'd contented herself with staring at him during meals, imagining his personality transforming into that of her sister's, lovesick and vacant, mooning over Parkinson.
Ironically, it was Parkinson herself that made her realize she had to force the issue, and suck up her pride to seek Harry out. It was a late night in early October, and Astoria had braved getting caught by Filch to practice nonverbal spellcasting, not returning to the common room until well after curfew.
While she'd not expected to see anyone still up, it wasn't all that uncommon for the older students to put in extra hours studying, as she herself had done. What was unusual was that it was just Pansy, staring into the dwindling flames of the hearth, a thin blanket wrapped around her.
Astoria considered just walking past; she was tired, after all, and it wasn't as though she and Parkinson were close friends. Or even friends at all, for that matter.
"Parkinson? What are you doing down here?"
"I don't know."
Astoria waited for her to elaborate, but clearly no further detail was coming. "Well, you should probably get some sleep, don't you think?"
Pansy shrugged.
"Whatever," Astoria mumbled, turning to walk to her own dorm room, when Pansy's quiet voice sounded again.
"Greengrass, wait. Could we- could we talk?"
Offering a shrug, Astoria took a seat in a nearby armchair. "Only if you actually say something."
"Sorry, it's just- I've been so lonely. Everyone else has their Chosen, and, I mean," at this, she waved her hand towards the dormitories, "you can see how they are."
"The euphoria associated with the initial formation of a soul bond will pass in roughly three months, the time that it takes for-"
"-three lunar cycles to reach completion, three being one of the strongest magical numbers. I've read the same textbooks you have. It's still hard; like all these people who have been my friends for the last six years aren't even aware I exist anymore."
"What about your Chosen?" she asked, ignoring the way that her insides clenched at that question.
Pansy grimaced, then sniffed. 'Merlin, if she starts crying I'm out of here' Mercifully, the older girl seemed to regain control. "I tried to talk to him, but he just- he wants nothing to do with me. He doesn't even look at me."
"I'm sure that's not it. I mean, you're soul mates, you're meant to be."
"Not yet, we aren't. And- what if he, I mean, what if he somehow rejects, or sabotages the bond? You know what happened to Draco's mum after her bond was broken. It's a half-life, she can barely function!"
The same way that Lily Potter had been held up as a warning of the evils of unbonded love, Narcissa Malfoy was an example of the hazards that incomplete bonds could cause. "Why would he do that, though?"
Pansy's laugh was harsh, and the look she gave Astoria contemptuous. "Don't pretend you don't know who was selected for me. I hear your little friends gossipping every time I enter the dungeons."
"You're not being very fair. Ha- Potter is his father's son as much as he is his mother's. Have you even talked to him about this?"
Even in the dwindling firelight, Astoria could see the guilt flash across Pansy's face. "He doesn't want to talk to me. He doesn't want to be with me."
"If people were a little kinder to him, he might be a little friendlier to them," she said pointedly, feeling no sympathy for the older girl. She was well aware of the cruelty that he'd endured for his mother's sins.
There was silence again, but this time it was Astoria who chose to look into the fire, uncomfortable beneath Pansy's penetrating stare. Had she been too transparent? It wouldn't do for there to be rumors about her and another woman's Chosen.
"I've been thinking lately about just initiating the bond myself. Draco told me that it only took a few seconds of skin to skin contact. I mean, it's stupid to see him every day and just keep putting it off, right?"
Though she wanted to scream and rage at Pansy for even suggesting such a thing, Astoria forced her expression not to change, for her voice to remain even. "What would Draco know? It's not like the Chosen are of any use to the world while their bond is still stabilizing."
"Draco met with his soulmate in July, their bond's already complete."
"Oh." She didn't know that, but then Draco was always so quiet in public that it was tough to get a read on him. "Who's his Chosen?"
"Susan Bones," Pansy replied, a little wistfully.
They were getting off topic. "Either way, I don't think it's right to initiate a bond that way. It's the biggest moment of your life, when you and your soulmate finally join as one. It shouldn't be done like an ambush, in some out of the way deserted corridor."
"What does it matter? I'm tired of waiting."
"I- I just-" Astoria struggled to think of a reason, of something, anything to dissuade Pansy from this course of action. There was no logic behind that desire, just a frantic, hysterical sense of wrongness that she had to stop her. "Shouldn't you talk to one of the professors before you do something like that? I mean, you were so worried before about complications-"
"You're right. The last thing I want is to waste away from some half-formed soul bond. Thanks, Greengrass; it was nice to talk to someone again, you know, actually talk to them."
"Sure. Goodnight, Parkinson," Astoria said, turning away to head to our own dormitories.
It wasn't until she was back in her dorm room, pulling her robes off that she felt the slick sheen of sweat on her brow. Huh. The fire must have been warmer than it looked, she thought, ignoring the blissful relief she felt at talking Pansy out of doing anything drastic.
Still, the pressure was not gone, so much as delayed. She didn't have much longer to spend with her friend. Tomorrow, she was going to find Harry and they were going to talk.
"Hey Potter, you awake?"
He considered pretending to be asleep, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth the effort. Besides, of all his roommates, Neville was the only one that had made any sense at all lately. "What's up?"
"Can you believe he brought her here?"
He could, truthfully. Ron was brash, boisterous, and never one to fear causing a scene. "I mean, he's the only one of us whose Chosen is in Gryffindor. Wouldn't you have been tempted if Mandy could have come up to your room?"
In the early morning light, he couldn't make out Neville's expression, and there was no response for a long while. Just when Harry thought he'd fallen back asleep, he heard his muttered response.
"If she can sleep through his snoring, it must be true love."
Reaching over to the nightstand between his and Ron's beds, Harry quietly put on his glasses, looking through the darkened dormitory to where his roommate and Sally-Anne Perks were cuddled together in bed. McGonagall would have his hide if she knew what was going on, but none of them would snitch. Harry hadn't been far off in assuming that the others would do just as Ron had if they were able.
Still, there was something so… voyeuristic about seeing them together. Not that it wasn't innocent, no; both were dressed in their pajamas, after all. It was more that it was so rare to see anyone show romantic affection at school.
Why would they, after all? Every student at Hogwarts grew up knowing that soulmates exist, and that when you came of age you'd learn the identity of who you were meant to be with. In the face of that knowledge, there simply weren't relationships that went beyond platonic boundaries until one was Chosen.
That reality, combined with growing up in an orphanage, meant that Harry Potter had lived nearly his entire life bereft of touch. He could faintly remember his mother and father, but the sensation, the visceral feel had long since been subsumed by the fog of time. For as long as he'd been aware it was a thing, Harry had never felt someone hold him, hug him, actually show that he meant something.
He understood the reasons why. He knew that it wasn't considered proper to… fraternize outside of soul bonds, and he was all too aware of why he was excluded from more platonic forms of contact, given the way he was treated like a pariah.
But knowing that didn't mean he didn't long to feel.
His roommates roused, alarms going off here and there, the rustles and murmurs of their morning routines providing a steady background hum as Harry lay motionless in his bed, imagining what it might be like to trade places with Ron. He kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep, as one-by-one the others all left to shower and start their days, but still Harry remained.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Soon enough, he'd be done with school and finally in control of his own life. Would it really be so terrible, to experience that with Parkinson at his side? Weren't those other choices enough, that he could sacrifice this one for the sake of the assurance that she'd always be at his side? It would be so easy, and then he wouldn't need to jealously imagine what it felt like to be held, to hold someone, to-
He gasped, like a drowning victim sucking in a lungful of air. Swinging his legs off the bed, Harry dragged his trunk out from beneath the four-poster, pulling out a thick anthology of Martin the Mad Muggle comics. With a surreptitious look around to make certain he was alone, Harry tapped the cover with his wand, the book reverting to a smaller, more compact diary.
Lily Potter's diary.
He read through her neat, elegant script with trembling hands, almost desperately poring over the words she'd written leading up to her marriage to his father. No. No one was going to decide for him. What Ron had, what they all had, it wasn't real love. It couldn't be.
He didn't show up for breakfast.
Astoria couldn't understand why he was avoiding her like this. It wasn't like they'd even had a fight! It was so unfair that he'd take out his frustrations over who was selected for him on their friendship! She'd had it all planned out: she'd time her exit from the Great Hall to coincide with his, and then drop her books in front of him, using that distraction to slip him a note with a time and place for them to meet tonight.
It would have been perfect, but stupid, stubborn Harry-bloody-Potter had decided to have a lie-in!
Instead, she'd had to endure the Carrow twins simpering over breakfast, duplicating a childish calendar they'd crafted counting down the days to when the Department of Mysteries would dispatch an Unspeakable to Hogwarts, to cast the spells that would record who would be their Chosen.
That event, along with apparition training, were the big parts of Sixth Year, which itself was a placeholder of sorts between the OWLs of Fifth Year and the NEWTs of Seventh. So while Astoria could understand looking forward to it, she was beyond tired of it dominating the daily interactions she had with her friends.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized just how empty and shallow her relationships were with her roommates and friends in Slytherin. They never talked about the world outside of Hogwarts, never questioned their ambition, their goals. It was taken for granted that everything would work out for them and their Chosen. How could it not, after all, in such a paradise as Magical Britain?
No, for that sort of discussion she relied exclusively on Harry, who never failed to challenge her, intrigue her with possibilities she hadn't considered, who questioned and provoked and just exuded an intensity unique solely to him.
There was a vibrancy about him that no one else seemed to share. He was the reason that she was always so excited to leave the opulent palace that her mother had constructed for them and return to the cold, stone castle every year. Harry brought color and excitement to the drab and dull world that they all existed in.
But no, that selfish prat was off moping around, leaving her to deal with her annoying roommates, and Parkinson's scheming, and-
Her jaw dropped. 'Oh no' Parkinson! Slytherin shared classes with Gryffindor, what if- what if she decided to ignore Astoria's warning, and take matters into her own hands like she'd planned? She had to tell Harry, he had to know-
"Come on, you're slower than a flobberworm today!" Hestia said, looping her arm through one of Astoria's as Flora took the other, the twins ushering her into the History of Magic classroom she'd stopped outside of. "We're going to be late, just because our Head of House is the professor doesn't mean we can get away with tardiness!"
"But…" Sure enough, the twins were right, and no sooner had they dragged her to their seats did the professor begin to take attendance.
When Astoria was a First Year, she'd heard stories from the older students about how an actual ghost used to teach History of Magic. It had widely been considered the worst course in all of Hogwarts, one that everyone dreaded and few could stay awake through. A few years before she started school, though, a new hire had been brought in, one that was highly respected and seen as a tragic hero of the new order of postwar Britain.
"Settle down, everyone," Professor Thorfinn Rowle said, looking sternly over the assembled Sixth Years. "Pass your essays to the front."
Astoria mechanically removed her homework from her bag, passing the parchment to the student in front of her, still feeling a terrible anxiety over her fears of what could be happening right now in the Transfiguration classroom one floor above them. If that stupid cow tried anything she'd never forgive her!
"Very good, we'll be continuing our lesson on the rise of Tom Riddle. I trust everyone did their reading?" A murmured affirmative came in response.
"Now, when hostilities commenced in 1970, Riddle's identity remained shrouded in mystery. It was, in fact, Headmaster Dumbledore who was the one to connect Riddle with the nascent Dark Lord that stylized himself as 'Voldemort'. There were a number of families that were seduced by Riddle's ideology, which was centred around… what, Miss Weasley?"
The redhead answered quickly, not even glancing at her textbook. "The blood status of a wizard or witch's parents."
"Correct, take a point to Gryffindor. With the backing of those families, the Ministry was paralyzed internally, the form and structure at the time preventing decisive action from being taken. As casualties mounted, an attempt at negotiation with Riddle's forces was made in what year, Miss Mulciber?"
"Nineteen… seventy-six?"
Professor Rowle frowned. "It was 1978. One point from Slytherin. A not insignificant number of concessions were offered to Riddle, who rejected them outright. This was the first inkling of the sort of madness that the Ministry faced. It was not long after this that the Headmaster shared what he had learned of Riddle's own heritage with then-Unspeakable Ava Greengrass."
There were a few side-eyed glances at Astoria as he said this, but she ignored them. She knew the history inside and out, after all, and had for most of her life.
"You see, Tom Riddle was born from a union of a muggle and a witch. This was before the time of the Chosen, and a secret investigation uncovered that his birth was a result of something even more nefarious than the standard violent unions of the past," Rowle's voice lowered, the suspense of his lecture captivating the class."You see, his father was ensorcelled, bewitched to lie with his mother."
Hestia and Flora gasped in unison on either side of her. "It may seem shocking, but brewing so-called 'love potions' was entirely unregulated at that time. They wouldn't be declared Unforgivable until what year, Miss Greengrass?"
It wasn't until Flora nudged her leg with her foot that Astoria snapped out of her daze. "I'm sorry, what was the question?"
Professor Rowle regarded her seriously, his penetrating eyes locking onto hers for several seconds. "Please pay attention, Miss Greengrass. It was in 1983 when the brewing of love potions were classified as Unforgivable, the third official act of Minister Greengrass. But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Back to Tom Riddle…"
The lesson continued, and Astoria made a vain attempt to pay attention despite her worries. That was made all the more easy with the way that Professor Rowle directed his gaze towards her every time he paused to ask a question, despite him not calling on her again for the rest of the class.
He'd no sooner dismissed them when Astoria leaped out of her seat, taking off at a full sprint out of the classroom. Her bag, laden with textbooks and writing supplies, beat a painful rhythm against her back, but she ignored it, taking the steps two at a time as she rushed up to the fifth floor, to the Transfiguration classroom.
The Seventh Years were leaving as she rounded the corner, the Chosen easily noticeable with their arms wrapped around each other. She couldn't find him, didn't see him among the others, where was he?
"Daphne!" Her sister gave an absentminded 'hm?' in reply, nibbling on Nott's earlobe as she approached. "Daphne! Where's Parkinson?"
She wanted to howl in frustration as her sister paused, seemingly weighing the question in her mind like it was a sphinx's riddle. She opened her mouth once, twice, but each time closed it immediately after.
"I think I saw her talking to Potter, over that way," Theo said, gesturing vaguely behind him as he ran the fingers of his other hand along Daphne's arm.
Astoria took off running once more, her mind conjuring image after image of Harry wearing the same blissful, vacuous expression as her sister. 'There!' She skidded to a halt, quickly evaluating the scene before her.
Pansy had her arms crossed tightly in front of her, a furious expression on her face. Harry leaned against the wall, his own features impassive, hands shoved in his pockets.
"-never said I was rejecting you, Parkinson, would you quit being so dramatic?"
"Then why? It's been almost two months, you realize we're just about the only ones in our entire year that aren't Chosen?"
"Big deal, it's not as though anyone noticed."
"It's a big deal to me! What do you hope to gain, delaying like this?"
Astoria stiffened, pressing herself tightly against the wall behind a suit of armor as Harry pulled one hand out of his pocket, running it through his unruly hair. "Nothing, I- the thing is, with how long it takes the bond to initialize, I just didn't want to deal with it over Yule Break."
"You know my family would let you stay at our home," she replied.
The Parkinson's were scarcely better off than the Weasleys! Harry might as well spend his holiday at Mother Shipton's!
"Would you lay off? I'm going to be late for Arithmancy."
Harry turned to leave, and Astoria very nearly put her nonverbal spellcasting to use as Pansy's hand snapped out, grabbing onto his sleeve. "Halloween. You've got til Halloween, and then I'm going to Professor Rowle."
Yanking his arm free of her grasp, Harry didn't bother to look back at her. "Do what you want, Parkinson."
Pansy stared after him, then started to walk back in the direction of the Transfiguration classroom. Astoria pressed herself tighter into the shadow of the suit of armor she stood behind, feeling her heart hammering in her chest as the Seventh Year girl paused two paces away, slowly letting out the breath she'd been holding once Pansy continued on.
The stress and worry were only just beginning to abate when Parkinson paused at the end of the corridor, back still to Astoria, and said in a clear voice, "The next time you decide to eavesdrop on a private conversation, Greengrass, I'd recommend not wearing perfume. Some people might wonder why you're so interested in my soulmate." Not bothering to wait for a reply, she turned the corner, the sound of her heels on the stone floor fading into the distance.
'Oh Merlin' She really needed to talk to Harry, and soon.
A/N: A little bit of exploration into the AU of this story. I'm feeling a little bit better about the idea, but that doesn't necessarily mean that the story will be good, haha. Hopefully you all enjoy it. Thanks, everyone for the fav/follows, and especially for the reviews. It definitely made me want to write more to know that there were people reading.
Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles