Once he started looking, he couldn't stop. It seemed like everywhere Harry went, there were Chosen touching, kissing, embracing. It was beginning to drive him a bit mad.
He supposed that this was the one upside to his being ostracized for years - he'd rarely felt welcome in areas where other students congregated, preferring to spend his time outside of class in isolated places; abandoned classrooms, the Astronomy Tower, the Owlery, and so forth. Without intending to, he'd shut himself off from the Chosen until it was his own year-mates engaged in such behaviour. Harry had largely managed to exist through his time at Hogwarts without bearing witness to the one thing he both yearned for and was terrified by.
Meals were especially difficult. Neville, who'd bonded with Mandy over the summer and was a decent bloke to talk with, sat at the Ravenclaw table leaving Harry the option of sitting with the younger years (who whispered behind his back and carefully never made eye contact), or with the other Seventh Years, all of whom were still in the initial stages of their bonds.
So Harry occupied himself by reading the paper, cover to cover, studying for his NEWTs, anything to keep his mind away from the impending deadline that Parkinson had thrown down. He distracted himself, because the fact of the matter was that he did not have a secret plan, a hidden strategy, or a clever scheme. All he had was- was…
He snuck a glance across the Great Hall, at the familiar figure of his best friend. She'd recently taken to sitting with Parkinson at dinner time, a fact which unnerved him greatly. Was she getting to know her so that when- when their bond was established, Parkinson would still approve of their friendship? Was Astoria offering advice to her, on how best to garner his cooperation?
That possibility was too grim to even consider.
Or maybe it was that he simply didn't want to believe such a thing was possible, for the same reason that Harry had not sought her out since she'd had no reaction to the thought of him and Parkinson being Chosen. It was obvious from her perplexed question - 'I mean, there's not really any other option, is there?' - that she didn't feel the same way, didn't question the rightness of being Chosen, didn't…
Harry looked over again, and this time their eyes met, her warm cinnamon brown stare stirring a tumult within him. She is the Minister's daughter, he chastised himself, what was he expecting? It hadn't been all that fair of him to hint the way he had at such seditious ideas. He'd been accused of being a lot of things, but 'a bad friend' was one label he'd like to avoid.
Astoria was too loyal, too caring; hell, she was too smart to be disloyal to her mother that way. She would never betray the vision of the future that the Minister had in mind for her, much in the same way that Harry would never betray the sacrifice that his own mother had made for him. In the end, whatever else he thought and desired didn't really matter all that much.
Not when she didn't share these feelings he had that, for years, were so confusing and exciting all at the same time. The feelings that made him absolutely crave the knowledge of what it meant to touch someone, to hold them in his arms, to be loved. To feel love, the kind that Lily Potter had described in her journal.
The kind that he felt for Astoria Greengrass.
She stewed in rage, listening to Malfoy taunt Parkinson over her selection. His snide comments actually made her long for the company of the Chosen, their aimless distraction preferable to his goading.
Malfoy had always had it out for Harry since she'd started school; in fact, he'd probably had it out for Harry since well before the two of them arrived at Hogwarts. Astoria used to feel pity for him; growing up with a mother that was broken in such a permanent fashion must have been tortured and painful. But so was growing up unwanted and hated in an orphanage, held up as the product of everything that their entire society was built to prevent.
If Malfoy were a better person, he might have had a shred of sympathy for the way that his and Harry's lives were simultaneously destroyed by a single act that neither of them had any control over. If he were kinder, he might have used his own pull and influence with the other students to give Harry - a boy whose only lasting memory of his parents was discovering their dead bodies - a break from carrying his mother's stigma throughout his time at school.
But Draco Malfoy was not a good or kind man.
Well before she grew close to Harry, the way that Malfoy targeted him made her deeply uncomfortable. After all, her mother had worked tirelessly to rebuild a nation shattered by hatred and war into a paradise of perfection and true love. What place did Malfoy's cruelty have in that world?
She remembered saying exactly that to him in her Third Year, when Malfoy had broken Harry's arm and given him a concussion with a late hit following Harry catching the snitch. Daphne had quickly slung an arm over Astoria's shoulders and directed her away from the common room. Once they were in her dormitory, she'd explained the way that Malfoy had grown up with only house-elves and the dysfunctional shell of what was Narcissa Malfoy for company, and ordered her not to antagonize him.
Astoria had obeyed that command but it was never more difficult to do so than it was now. Part of her wished that she could have seen Malfoy and Bones together when their bond was still forming, to see him lovesick and blissful the way the other Chosen still were. Instead, his grey eyes were as empty as ever.
"All I'm saying is, he should be grateful to have matched with you. It's you that's making the sacrifice."
"Yea…" Parkinson agreed, using her fork to shift her meal back and forth on her plate without really eating. "I heard that the Potter's estate is quite large, though."
"And couldn't your family use that gold? By right, what's his is yours. Just get on with it already, Pansy!"
Astoria opened her mouth to interject but swiftly recalled Parkinson catching her in the corridor outside the Transfiguration classroom, choosing instead to remain silent. It was bad enough that she felt the older girl's eyes on her every time she left the Slytherin quarters.
"I don't know… Would you? I mean, if Bones had wanted to wait-"
Malfoy smiled, his eyes drifting over to the Hufflepuff table, where Susan looked up and waved cheerfully to them. "Who's to say she didn't?" he asked, a dangerous inflexion present in his voice.
Astoria felt like she was going to be sick.
She couldn't wait any longer. Excusing herself, she pushed away her uneaten meal, and left the Great Hall, squatting down in front of a section of wall beneath a tapestry and between two suits of armour. She was far from invisible, but someone would need to be looking down to spot her, and she had a clear view of everyone passing by as they left dinner.
Naturally, when Harry appeared he was alone. She knew he would be, by now so numb to the way he was treated that she hadn't even considered for a moment the possibility he would exit in the company of anyone else. At some point over the years, she'd stopped feeling pity for the way he was held at arm's length by the rest of the students, and felt a guilty sort of gratitude - after all, if he hadn't been spurned to such a degree then he wouldn't be hers. Their loss had turned into her gain.
Rising from her hiding place, she fell into step beside him. He jumped, startled at her sudden appearance before relaxing upon recognizing who'd just popped up out of nowhere.
"Potter. How has your term gone, thus far?"
"Fine," he replied blandly.
"Are your preparations for NEWTs proceeding well?"
"Yes." She huffed in annoyance, vainly trying to decipher any hidden content within his monosyllabic response.
"Personally, I've taken to working on my coursework in the fourth classroom from the staircase, off the third-floor corridor. It's nice and quiet, and I rarely encounter anyone there in the evening."
He didn't respond to her not-so-subtle hint, and they proceeded in silence to the juncture where she'd turn to head to the dungeons, and he would continue towards the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower. Only this time, she didn't make the turn, quickening her pace to stand in front of him.
"What's your problem?"
"What are you doing?" he hissed, worriedly looking over his shoulder.
"I have things to tell you, and-" Astoria slowly inhaled, "-and I've missed you."
A group of Fifth Year Gryffindors came up from behind, falling silent as they observed Harry Potter and the Minister's daughter standing closely in the centre of the corridor. Her tongue seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth at their attention, and a quick glance in his direction showed a panic-stricken expression flash across Harry's face. They weren't in the same House or even the same year - what reason could they offer for a man and woman being seen like this?
"Here you are, Miss Greengrass," Harry said, reaching into his bag and removing a book. "Tell your sister that I said thank you for letting me borrow it, and I'm sorry that you had to chase me down to get it back."
She looked down at the anthology of Martin the Mad Muggle comics, nodding primly. "See that it doesn't happen again, Potter." And with that, she stepped around him, careful to give a wide berth, making her way past the Fifth Years that looked far less interested now.
Slipping the silly comics - 'Since when was Harry a fan?' - into her bag, she hurried to her dormitory, eager to drop off her things and get to the classroom she'd mentioned to Harry. Astoria just hoped that he wouldn't be far behind in getting there.
Halloween was only a week away, after all.
He was scared, in a way that he hadn't been in a very long time. Any choice to not meet with Astoria had been taken away the moment that he handed her the disguised diary after dinner. And what had he been thinking, anyway, doing that? The instant it left his hands, he wanted to snatch it back from her, the other students standing witness be damned!
If only she hadn't been so brash! What sort of Slytherin would engineer such a confrontation, anyway, in the centre of one of the most trafficked corridors in the whole school? Didn't she realize the implication that anyone who happened by would draw from unbonded male and female students together like that?
The fear on her face, when those Fifth Years came up on them made him react without thinking. It was a natural instinct to do whatever he could to protect Astoria, all the more so when the threat to her came from associating with him. It wasn't as though he felt regret at his actions, not when he weighed what the alternative might have been.
But he had to get that diary back. He only hoped that she was actually waiting, alone, for him to do so.
The third floor was almost always empty. None of the core classes were taught there, and the only elective that was - Muggle Studies - was far away from the classroom that Astoria had selected. It was isolated, which made it a good choice for them to meet.
He opened the door, quickly scanning the classroom. There she was, seated on top of the instructor's desk in the front, legs crossed at the ankle. No longer wearing her robes nor her school uniform, Astoria had on a loose grey jumper at least two sizes too big for her and was wearing trousers, an unusual choice for a conservative young woman.
"You came," she said, her face lighting up and relief evident in her voice.
"Do you have my book?"
The happiness shifted quickly to confusion. "What book?"
"The one I gave you, in the corridor. I need it back."
"The comics? I don't have it-"
Fear gripped his insides. "Where is it? You didn't- it's safe, isn't it?"
"It's in my bag, in my dormitory. What's the matter? I've never seen you read Martin the Mad Muggle, what's going on?"
"I just- I really need it back."
"Okay," she said, "But I need to talk to you first. It's important, so would you sit down and listen? Please?"
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, then sitting down in the front row of the student desks. "Are you okay?"
"Are you? What's going on with you?"
Harry looked closely at her. She seemed sincere, worried; maybe he could trust her, after all? "You've been hanging around with Parkinson."
"I know. If you hadn't decided to ignore me for the last two months, I could have explained why."
"So explain, then."
Astoria leaned forward, her voice hushed, and Harry's eyes fell away from hers. The wide collar of her jumper slipped off one petite shoulder, revealing a black bra strap that, try as he might, he couldn't drag his gaze away from.
"-done my best to talk her out of it, but now Malfoy's sniffing around, and I'm really worried she's going to try something anyway!"
He blinked. "What?"
"What's the matter with you?!" she practically shouted, frustrated at his distracted reply. "Don't you even care?"
"I'm sorry, I just- I sort of drifted off."
"Pansy's planning to force the bond on you."
'Oh' he thought. That was important.
"Well? Are you just going to sit there?" A strand of dark hair fell out of her loose ponytail, and Harry wondered what it might feel like to tuck it behind her ear.
"It's my Seventh Year," he said woodenly, "I'm not all that surprised. Parkinson's hardly kept her opinions to herself."
Her face fell. "So you've decided it's for the best?"
Maybe it was the extreme shifts he'd undergone that night, from surprise at being confronted outside the Great Hall, to fear at the thought of Astoria suffering from being caught with him, to terror at unthinkingly giving away his most treasured legacy of his mother. No matter the reason, Harry couldn't stop himself from giving into the question his heart had been wondering since the Unspeakable had waved his wand over him the year before.
"Do you think I should bond with her?"
"No." Astoria looked aghast at her immediate answer, eyes widening and a flush breaking out over her pale skin. "I mean- I- I don't know."
He waited, too breathless to interrupt as she went on. "I know that magic itself matched your souls, but I've known her since I started school, and she's- she doesn't deserve you. It doesn't make any sense, and just the thought that you're her Chosen makes me…" Astoria trailed off, her hands clenching around the desk's edge. "I hate it. I hate the thought of you being her soulmate."
It was so silent in the classroom after she finished speaking, his footsteps sounded like thunderclaps as he stood and walked to the desk, turning and sitting at her side, their shoulders only inches apart as they looked out over the empty dust-covered classroom.
"Would you do me a favour?"
She looked curiously at him, but he determinedly kept his eyes forward. "Sure, what is it?"
"When you go back to your dorm tonight, cast a Dispelling Charm on the comic I lent you. Just- please be careful with it. It means so much to me."
"I will, I promise."
With that, he smiled and turned to regard her fully, their eyes meeting and some of the tension dissolving. "If I remember right, you've got career counselling next week, right? What are you going to tell Professor Rowle you want to do?"
"Oh, I don't know. I've always thought that joining the DMLE sounded rather exciting, you know, all the stories from their victories during the war and all. But this summer Daphne took me around our manor, casting diagnostic charms over everything we could find, and enchanting just seems to have so much potential. LIke, an-"
She abruptly cut off. Slowly, tentatively, Harry had shifted his hand along the smooth desktop, the tips of his fingers grazing her own. He watched the way she stared down at their hands, almost in morbid curiosity, but didn't pull back. Even slower still, giving her the chance to move away, his hand encased hers, his fingers interlocking with her own smaller digits as she relaxed her hand within his.
Her eyes flashed upward to meet his, then back down to where they held hands, and a slow, brilliant smile came over her face, before she cleared her throat and continued like nothing had happened. "Like, if I were an enchantress, the things that I design might change people's lives in little ways. Did you know…"
Astoria began to describe the many ways that enchanted objects improved daily life in the typical magical home, and Harry listened attentively, enraptured by the way her face lit up as she described a topic that clearly had captured her interest.
They sat there together, hands linked, until curfew, parting with a promise to meet tomorrow so that Astoria might return his book.
She practically floated back to the dungeons that night. Seeing Harry again, for only the second time since the previous June, truly emphasized how much his friendship improved her life.
Astoria blushed, having fully committed the sensation of his rough, calloused hand cradling her own into memory. That had been- she didn't know what that was, but it felt magical. She could hardly believe he'd been so bold but from the moment they touched, denying him had never crossed her mind. It felt so right, like- like the culmination of years of moments building to that instant.
She sighed for probably the hundredth time since she'd left the Third Floor, walking into her room to find the Carrow twins working on an essay with Regina on her bed.
"Hey!" Hestia greeted, discernible from the two freckles below her eye. "Did you already finish your Charms homework?"
"I took care of it after lunch," she lied. "How's it going for you all?"
"Well enough," Regina answered. "Where were you all night?"
"Working on nonverbal casting," to which the others all nodded in understanding. "I think I'm going to relax before bed, don't mind me. I'll put up a Silencing Charm."
Withdrawing the comic anthology from her school bag, the other girls rolled their eyes and bade her goodnight, leaving Astoria to change into her pyjamas and draw the curtains around her four-poster for privacy.
'Well, no time like the present to put my nonverbal casting to the test' she thought, tapping the book with her wand and thinking 'Finite Incantatem' with as much focus as she could. Before her eyes, the silly image on the cover and the shape of the comic anthology itself began to morph, shifting to a small, plain book.
With her wand lit with a weak Lumos, Astoria opened the cover, not bothering to suppress her gasp at the first words she saw.
This Diary is the Property of Lily J. Evans.
A/N: Awwww.
Big shout out to my reviewers, who all had really great thoughts and questions about this fic. Hope you're all enjoying it as much as I am!
Stay safe, happy, and healthy! ~Frickles