Astoria yawned, tuning out the voice of Professor Sprout. Herbology simply wasn't enough to maintain her interest today, not after staying up late into the night reading Lily Potter's account of her time in Hogwarts and beyond. It was equal parts thrilling and frightening to have such material; she was sure that if it were to be discovered the diary would be confiscated, at best, and seen as treason simply for possessing it, at worst. Yet Astoria could not put it down.

The notion that Harry would trust her with something so taboo, so forbidden; the account of his mother's life, in her own words must be something he treasured above all else. And he'd shared it with her!

Astoria supposed that he must think rather highly of her, to do such a thing. The thought caused a pleasant shudder to tremble through her being.

"Do you think she's coming down with something?"

Flora's cool hand pressed against her forehead. "I'm not sure, she doesn't feel warm, but she's been flushed all day."

"I'm fine, quit it," Astoria demanded. 'Merlin, was she that obvious?' "Just tired, I didn't sleep very well."

Sprout's shadow fell over her and the twins. "Ladies, your chit-chat can wait. Please get to work."

"Right, sorry Professor," they said, turning to the large potted plant before them.

Harvesting leaves from the Venomous Tentacula was not easy work; the plants, strange as they were, had predatory instincts that made their handling and care a hazardous chore. For this reason, Herbology students previously would not engage with them until their Seventh Year.

At least, that was the case until a distracted Chosen had suffered a near-fatal poisoning. Following that event, it was the Sixth Years' responsibility for pruning and harvesting the valuable ingredients that the aggressive fanged plants contained.

"Listen, why don't I hold the tentacles on this side, Flora can take the other side, and Hestia, you harvest the leaves. Sound good?" Astoria asked, not bothering to wait for their reply. The twins had yet to refuse any of her requests and weren't likely to start now.

While she held onto the thick tentacles that gave the plant its name, Astoria's thoughts drifted. She'd only read up to Lily's Sixth Year and was surprised at the animosity that Harry's mother felt towards his father. How in Merlin's name had the two of them ended up married, with such a contentious relationship? There was such a draw, a need to know more. The tale which the diary spun, of the life of Lily Potter née Evans, was more entrancing than that of any book or serial she'd encountered.

The tentacles in her hand went lax, ceasing to pull and instead winding up her hands and circling her wrists. To think, it was all true! Astoria found it hard to imagine that the world could have been so different just twenty years before. Her mother wasn't much older than Lily; why didn't she ever speak of the way things were? It was as though everyone had collectively decided to forget, to refuse to acknowledge certain aspects of daily life prior to the war, except for those that directly contributed to the reasons for Tom Riddle's rise.

She couldn't wait to read more. Certainly, Harry would let her continue to borrow it until she'd finished, wouldn't he? He had told her about it for a reason, after all! It was in her bag, even now; perhaps during lunch she could sneak away and-

Astoria fell forward as the tentacles jerked and pulled, much harder than before, and a sharp pain in her wrist drew her out of her thoughts.

"PROFESSOR!"

"Look out!"

"It's got her, just- Diffindo! Diffindo!"

"Oh Merlin, there's so much blood!"

"Hurry, get her to the castle!"

The pain in her arm was intense, but fading - along with her vision, Astoria realized. The last thing she saw was Professor Sprout's worried face, crouching down to lift her up.

The next thing she heard was a woman. "Easy there, that's right; all down to the last drop. There's a good girl," the voice said, soft and kind. It felt like her mouth was made of sand, with heavy weights attached to her eyelids.

"Will she be alright?"

"Of course, now settle down or I'll force a Calming Draught down your throat."

"The Minister's daughter! What a nightmare!"

"I'm sure it was just an accident," the first woman said. "She'll be fine, the poison has been flushed and the paralysis will not last beyond a few hours."

"I tried to take the Venomous Tentacula off the curriculum after the first time, but it's appeared on four of the last seven NEWT examinations! I don't have any choice but to teach it!"

"Pomona, it was an accident, relax. You should get back to the greenhouses, you have another class starting shortly."

"Of course, of course," the voice she belatedly recognized as Professor Sprout muttered. "Here, I had one of the Carrows fetch her bag. I'm afraid it got a bit trampled during the commotion."

A gentle 'thunk' next where she lay was heard. "I'll see that she gets it."

Nothing more was spoken, and after a time, another potion was poured into her mouth. Astoria faded into unconsciousness.

For once, Harry was grateful that the Hogwarts gossip mill functioned so quickly and effectively as it did; the news that the Minister's youngest daughter was in the Hospital Wing following an accident in Herbology had made the rounds with lightning speed. So it was that even he knew about it by the time that lunch began.

His stomach tightened the moment that he heard the Sixth Years sitting nearby tell the story, appetite disappearing as they shared in graphic detail her arm disappearing nearly up to the elbow in the predatory plant's maw. Pushing his plate away untouched, he grabbed his bag and hurried from the Great Hall, making a beeline towards the Hospital Wing.

Sliding the doors open quietly, Harry crept through the nearly empty ward, quickly identifying his friend in the only occupied bed. She was deathly pale, lying motionless on her back, dark hair fanned out around her on the pillow. He approached her, tentatively reaching out, wanting- no, needing to touch her, to feel for himself that she was alive and well. He knew he'd not be able to focus on anything until he was sure she was all right, that she would recover and-

"Mr Potter," Madam Pomfrey came up from behind him, stuffing books and parchment back into a torn school bag before repairing it with a wave of her wand. "You shouldn't be here."

"Erm, I- I came here because-"

For some reason, the healer showed no surprise, merely standing with a knowing look as he stuttered through an attempt to come up with some reason for his presence. "Miss Greengrass is fine, you may return to lunch."

They both started as the doors slammed open, heavy steps of booted feet rapidly approaching. Six aurors, their crimson robes trimmed with gold embroidery on the sleeves and collar, took position around Astoria's bed, making way for the approach of a beautiful blonde woman.

She had high cheekbones, a pert nose, and a small mouth; combined, this provided her face's neutral expression a regality that made Harry glance to the floor as her deep purple eyes locked onto him. Despite the ostentatious appearance of her escort, she wore plain grey robes, her hair tied back into a simple ponytail.

"How is my daughter?"

Madam Pomfrey bowed. "She is well, Minister. All of the poison has been flushed from her system, and she will make a full recovery in a matter of days."

"How did this happen?"

"It was merely an accident while pruning Venomous Tentacula; Miss Greengrass had a moment of inattention-"

A single sculpted eyebrow rose. "My daughter was at fault? Was there not a supposedly qualified instructor present?"

"Professor Sprout was there, but was engaged with students on the other side of the greenhouse-"

The Minister held up a single hand, halting Pomfrey's explanation, her eyes returning to Harry. "Why is this young man standing so close to her?"

Harry could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow, but Madam Pomfrey answered without any hesitation. "I was monitoring Miss Greengrass' condition when he arrived. Professor McGonagall asked him to relay a message to me."

Minister Greengrass stepped closer, her gaze still on him. "What is your name, boy?"

"Harry Potter, ma'am."

"Potter?" she repeated curiously, several of the aurors behind her shifting their weight, the rustle of their robes clearly audible in the silent infirmary. "I see." At last, her attention returned to the healer. "I will be taking my daughter home for the duration of her recovery."

'No!' he thought silently, while Madam Pomfrey protested aloud. "That's really not necessary, Minister, I'd only planned on keeping her overnight for as a precaution-"

"Yaxley, prepare her for transport," the Minister commanded, overriding the healer's objections, both Harry and Greengrass moving to the side as her bed carefully floated off the ground and walked to the Floo. "Rest assured, I will be speaking with the Board of Governors about the lax safety procedures in the greenhouses. Are those her class materials?"

"They are," Madam Pomfrey said, holding out the school bag for one of the auror's to take.

"Astoria will return when I deem her ready. Good day, Madam," Minister Greengrass nodded her head to the matron, her violet eyes pausing on Harry once more before turning to leave.

When the Hospital Wing was empty once more, Madam Pomfrey turned to him, summoning a quill and parchment. Scribbling a quick note, she held it out for him to take. "Bring this to Professor McGonagall, just like I summoned you here to do for me." Confused, he reached out and took the note, pausing as she maintained her grip. "Tread very lightly, Harry. You don't know just how thin the ice beneath your feet is."

She released the parchment, and Harry left, worrying both for Astoria and for himself.

Before she even opened her eyes, the succulent smell of peach crepes greeted Astoria. "Rinny?"

The Greengrass family house elf that had cared for her and Daphne throughout their childhood jumped at her voice. "Missy Tory is awake!"

"What are- why am I here?"

A breakfast tray loaded with her favourite foods floated over to the bed. "Question time comes after eating, Rinny will alert the Mistress," the elf gave a hard look that Astoria had often received as a child, waiting for her to pick up her fork before vanishing with a pop!

She ate slowly, warm sunlight from the huge arched window in her room shining down on her. 'How did I end up here?' The last thing that she remembered, she was in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing, after her incessant daydreaming led to the disaster in Herbology.

Thankfully, Astoria seemed to be completely recovered without any lingering pain or discomfort. Let that be a lesson, she told herself, not to stay up all night reading-

'The diary!' She sat up with a gasp, nearly knocking the tray off of her lap. It was in her bag; what if Hestia or Flora discovered it? How could she explain her possession of such a thing? And Harry- he would never forgive her losing the only remaining piece of his mother he had.

Dressing quickly, she walked through the enormous manor that she'd lived in nearly her whole life. The way was familiar but the sheer size meant it took five minutes to reach the Minister's office.

"Mother?"

Looking up from a roll of parchment she was reading from, her mother smiled. "It's good to see that you're better. I was very worried."

"It really wasn't that big of a deal," Astoria muttered. "I just- I messed up, that's all."

"The mistake that was made was not yours," came the officious reply, and just like that, it was not her mother but the Minister speaking. "But you needn't concern yourself over such a thing. Instead, I'd like to talk about this."

Astoria's felt all the blood in her face drain away, her stare locked onto the school bag held aloft. "You- that's my bag-" she protested weakly.

"Yes, when I removed you from the Hospital Wing, I brought it along. I didn't want you to fall behind in your studies, after all. But when I looked inside, imagine my surprise at what I found!"

"It's… it's not mine-"

"No? Then perhaps you can explain this?" Astoria's rubbery knees almost gave out as her mother reached inside the bag. "You didn't even finish this essay! You don't cite any books, none of your points are researched; it's like a Second Year's essay. You're taking NEWT-level courses, Astoria - both your professors and I expect more."

"I- what-" Belatedly realizing her mother was holding up the Charms essay she'd ignored the night before, Astoria stumbled through her reply. "Sorry. You're right."

"Get your head on straight, young lady. I'll be looking over your assignments for the rest of the week."

"I'm staying here? But- what about school?"

Setting Astoria's essay on her desk, her mother approached her and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm not allowed to worry about you? It's only a week, you can go back after Halloween."

'After Halloween? No!' She needed to be there for Harry, Parkinson's deadline was Halloween! "I need to get back, I'll fall behind in my classes-"

"I personally contacted your professors and received your assignments. You'll be fine, and this way you can attend the Ministry's Halloween celebration."

"Why? Everyone my age is at Hogwarts!"

"You'll do as you're told, young lady!"

"But- it's not fair!"

"That's enough. You're sixteen years old, I'll not tolerate any tantrums out of you. Do I make myself clear?"

Astoria lowered her head, nodding. "Yes, Mum."

"Good. Now, since you're well enough to argue, you're well enough to get to work," her mother picked up the discarded essay, holding it out for Astoria to take. "You can start with rewriting this. I'll check it over during dinner."

Hogwarts, bereft of Astoria's presence for the last week, felt increasingly oppressive to Harry. As the second month of classes came to a close, more and more Chosen that had initiated their bonds prior to the term gradually returned a semblance of normality. Unfortunately, that meant that he and Parkinson started drawing more attention from their peers for being unbonded.

Could she have been hurt worse than he'd been told? His anxiety for Astoria gave Harry an excuse to not dwell on the murmurs and stares of his peers. Walking into the Halloween Feast, he took a seat during the ghosts' performance and mutely filled his plate, unable to repress occasional glances toward the Slytherin table every now and again.

Just as he stood up after pushing his plate away, ready to return to the library and find a quiet corner to complete his assignments, a quiet voice called his name. Standing near the doors to the Great Hall was Professor Rowle, the pleasant expression on his face looking foreign and out of place.

"I'd appreciate it if you would come by my office this evening, to discuss some concerns that your classmates have brought to my attention."

Harry knew well what this was about; Parkinson had warned him to his face, after all. "Am I in trouble?"

"Of course not," Rowle replied easily, though it seemed the edges of his smile hardened. "Nothing more than a friendly chat. I'll see you at eight."

So. It was really happening. This was sure to be uncomfortable, but Harry wasn't planning on giving in. He ran through the list of excuses he'd come up with: the second half of the quidditch season, being apart from Parkinson over Yule Break, preparing for NEWTs.

For the next two hours, he sat in the library, staring blankly at the tabletop. Stalling in this manner wasn't going to work forever. To deny a soul bond was unheard of; he really needed to come up with a way out of this, a way out of…

Harry started, as though an electric shock had run through him. Was that what it would take? Fleeing the country, abandoning his heritage and his birthright, all for the sake of avoiding being Chosen? Could he really go so far as to take such drastic action?

He thought he just might. Harry had grown up over the last year and faced a lot of uncomfortable truths, starting with the discovery of his mother's diary inside the Potter vault in Gringotts. For most of his life, he'd run from her legacy; after all, the insults, the bullying, the violence against him were always accompanied by slurs against his mother. It had been a heavy burden for a child to bear.

Nonetheless, he could never bring himself to hate her, even though as the years passed, the only memory he could summon of Lily Potter that wasn't hazy or ill-defined was that of her corpse, hanging from the rafters; of sobbing and holding onto her legs, begging her to wake up. It wasn't until he read of her decision in her own words that Harry could make sense of why she'd chosen that path. And now, as he approached his History Professor's office, it was time for him to make his own choice.

"Mr Potter, do come in, " Rowle said in greeting. "Please take a seat."

As his professor closed and locked the door behind him, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. The office had been rearranged, the desk transfigured into a light wooden table with two seats on each side. Already present and waiting, respectively wearing a scowl, a cheerful smile, and a frown were Draco Malfoy, Susan Bones, and Pansy Parkinson.

"What are they doing here?"

"Mr Malfoy and Miss Bones offered to join this meeting to help assuage the concerns you seem to have regarding your destiny with Miss Parkinson. As you well know, I was never given the opportunity to establish a bond with my Chosen, so I felt their presence would be helpful."

"He has never, not once, tried to help me. I don't want him here."

From his position leaning against the opposite wall, Malfoy's scowl shifted into the default sneer he always maintained around Harry. "I'm just here looking out for my friend. It's bad enough that she was matched with a worthless wizard like you, she doesn't need you refusing to bond with her!"

"I'm not- I'm just not ready, I've already told her that I wasn't rejecting our selection."

"It feels like you are," Pansy muttered, still the only one seated despite the full room.

"It is unusual that you have delayed for so long. What about MIss Parkinson's feelings? Surely you can see that your reticence is hurtful to the woman you're meant to be with," Rowle offered, still standing next to the only way in or out of the office.

Harry turned his head to face his professor as he spoke but kept his eyes locked on Malfoy. "Park- Pansy and I haven't gotten along that well over the years. It feels a little weird that I'm supposed to be excited about pledging to spend the rest of my life with her all of the sudden. All I want is some time to get used to the idea, that's all."

"That's just it, you don't have to get used to the idea," Susan began, "It's what makes being Chosen so special, you-"

"I don't know anything about her!" he interrupted. "I mean, it's like getting married to a complete stranger!"

"'Married'?" Rowle repeated, all the pleasantness gone from his voice. "That's a rather passé term for bonding."

Parkinson, though, was less concerned about his verbiage. "It's not like you've tried to get to know me! You just avoid me, every chance you get! I think you'd be happy to never initiate the bond!"

"Yea? Well, I-" Harry abruptly fell silent, biting his tongue before he said anything too damning.

"You need not worry about being unfamiliar with your Chosen, Mr. Potter. The bond will ensure that you will desire no company beyond Miss Parkinson's, you'll soon know her better than anyone ever will."

A weighty silence settled over the small office, and finally Harry turned to his professor. "I think I'll head back to my dorm."

Rowle's eyes flicked over his shoulder, and Harry felt more than saw a sudden movement in his peripheral vision. Whipping his wand out of his sleeve, he cast a Banishing Charm at the table as Pansy had jumped from her seat, both hands extended outward towards his face. The table slid along the stone floor with an awful screech, catching her thighs and pushing her away from him.

Malfoy had pushed off the wall, the rage he'd vented on Harry so often over the years written all over his face, so with a minor adjustment, he shifted his wand from where it was pointed at the table and cast a stunner at the charging Slytherin.

Susan didn't even have time to react when Malfoy jerked her arm, pulling her in front of him to take the spell full-on, and Harry's vision exploded into stars as his rival's fist impacted his temple, knocking his glasses off his face and sending him tumbling to the floor.

"Mr Malfoy..." Professor Rowle drawled, stepping closer and sounding supremely unconcerned while Malfoy straddled him, his weight locking Harry's arms against his body, trapped on the floor as he struck him twice more.

Even through the adrenaline, Harry felt his heels throb as he kicked and flailed, trying to dislodge Malfoy, legs scrabbling back and forth to try and free himself. Without his glasses, everything was blurred and indistinct.

"For fuck's sake, Pansy, get a move on!" came Malfoy's command from above him.

The table scraped against the floor once more. Harry heard the tap of her flats approach, and he struggled even harder, trying to roll his shoulders to loosen even one of his arms, twisting, turning, thrashing in an effort to free himself. Still, Malfoy kept him pinned to the ground.

Parkinson was close; he could make out the pattern on her stockings as her legs came to a halt above him, then Malfoy grabbed two handfuls of his hair, raising Harry's head up and slamming it into the ground.

This was it. He couldn't stop them, couldn't-

The door creaked open. "My, what an unusual sight to see in one of my professor's offices."

"Headmaster!"

"What am I looking at, here, Thorfinn?" Despite the cheer in Dumbledore's voice, there was an undercurrent of steel easily audible.

"Merely a mediation session between some of my students, one that, admittedly, got a bit out of hand. That's enough, Mr Malfoy."

Malfoy lifted himself off Harry, who immediately pushed him away and scrambled blindly for his glasses and wand. "Stay away from me," he warned, looking between the two Slytherin Seventh Years.

"It seems a rather non-traditional form of conflict resolution, in my opinion. I think I'll take young Harry up to my office and see if I can't get to the root of this problem in a more conventional manner."

"Of course, Headmaster," Rowle immediately agreed, reviving Susan with a flick of his own wand.

"Come along, then," Dumbledore instructed, and Harry gamely followed his rescuer out of the office and into the corridor.

They walked in silence until they were in sight of the gargoyle standing guard outside the Headmaster's office, the stone statute sliding to the side as they approached. "Are you alright? Shall I summon Madam Pomfrey?"

"I'm fine, sir."

"Very well," Dumbledore said amiably, taking a seat at his desk and holding out a bowl of yellow candies. "Lemon drop?"

Harry took two; the sour flavour was greatly preferable to the coppery taste of his own blood.

"Allow me to assure you that no member of my staff will ever oversee something like that again. Professor Rowle's actions were inexcusable, and there will be consequences for him allowing that sort of behaviour to take place while he stood idly by."

"Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore steepled his long fingers in front of his flowing beard. "That being said, both he and Mr Malfoy are rather sympathetic figures in our society. Especially given the circumstances of that… 'mediation', it's more likely that you, not them, would be the one castigated were this incident to come to light."

For all Harry cared at that moment, they could get an Order of Merlin for beating him up and he'd still feel relieved. 'That was too close' "You- you know what that was about?"

"A meeting between the only two unbonded Chosen descending into violence? It hardly takes much reason to guess." Harry didn't reply, choosing instead to take in the Headmaster's office for the first time. "You are opposed to bonding with Miss Parkinson. Why?"

"I didn't choose her. We've never gotten along."

"But your magic did. That's rather the point of soul bonds," Dumbledore noted.

"Maybe I decided on some- something different before my magic made up its mind."

"I see." Harry finally met Dumbledore's pale blue eyes, surprised to see the typically lackadaisical old wizard unusually serious. "While I will see that Professor Rowle will conduct himself professionally from here on, I fear that Miss Parkinson may not be dissuaded from continuing a more direct approach."

That seemed rather obvious, given the way this night had gone. "I know."

"A union between our very souls is a unique and wondrous sort of magic, Harry. But no matter how special, it is my belief that any bond should be entered into freely and consensually, by both parties. I may have just the thing for you…"

He trailed off, turning and opening up a drawer that was obviously magically expanded, given how the Headmaster's entire upper body disappeared inside, rooting around and eventually coming out with a carefully folded piece of silvery fabric.

"This, dear boy, belongs to you. Your father loaned it to me several years before his death, and I must admit to being rather taken with it and not returning it as promptly as perhaps I should have."

Harry reached out, taking the piece of fabric - a cloak, actually - and holding it in his hands. "This was my father's?"

"It was, indeed."

"Why didn't you give it to me before now?"

Dumbledore paused before quietly responding, "I'm familiar with Mother Shipton's."

And just like that, all of Harry's petulance vanished. The orphanage was a rough place; a cloak like this would have been immediately taken away by the older children. "It's beautiful, but how does this help?"

Without looking, Dumbledore snapped his fingers and the window behind him morphed into a mirror. "Try it on, and see for yourself."

"Are you ready? It's nearly time to- oh my," her mother breathed, "You look so lovely!"

"It feels a bit much," Astoria grumbled, looking over the blood-red gown she wore, pulling on the accompanying black opera gloves. It was backless, with a flouncing slit that showed off her lower thigh with every step she took.

With a chuckle, her mother pressed a kiss to her temple, careful not to muss her styled hair. "You're young, it wouldn't do for you to arrive in a burlap sack like this," she said, gesturing to her own modest, ankle-length dress. Now, hold on tightly."

With a soft crack, she was side-along apparated to the entrance hall of the Macmillan's home.

"Minister, welcome!" Lewis Macmillan, a wealthy lord in the Wizengamot, greeted them personally. "Please, allow me to escort you to the ballroom, the celebration has already begun."

"Why, Lewis, you didn't need to abandon your own party just to wait for us! Surely, after so many years with your wife, you must know that a lady takes a considerable amount of time to get ready," her mother's voice was light, amused, but Lord Macmillan didn't seem to appreciate the joke, instead laughing nervously while a sheen of sweat appeared over his brow. "Certainly a house-elf could have led us to the ballroom just as effectively."

"I would never- it's no trouble at all, Minister. Ella in particular would never forgive me for showing such discourtesy to a woman of your stature!"

Astoria followed a step behind, unacknowledged, while her mother matched Macmillan's steps alongside him. "Oh yes, it's been ages since I've caught up with Ella. How is she?"

She could see Macmillan's shoulders stiffen, and a trickle of sweat slid down the back of his neck. "She's wonderful, we're very happy together, very much in love. I know that she's looking forward to catching up with you as well, Minister; she's talked of little else since we won the bid to host the Halloween celebration!"

'What is his problem?' They entered the ballroom, where enchanted instruments played a stirring melody, house-elves floated trays of refreshments to and fro, and elegant decorations were tastefully arranged throughout the space.

"Well, I can see that the Wizengamot made the right choice, everything looks lovely. We appreciate the escort, Lewis. I'll leave you to get back to your hosting duties while we mingle."

The surge of relief on his face was transparent. "Of course, please enjoy yourself. Thank you for gracing us with your attendance, Minister."

"He's a bit… odd," Astoria said, watching him hurry over to a blonde woman and whisper urgently in her ear. "Do you know his wife or something?"

Her mother smiled, looking over at the hosts as well before accepting a flute of champagne and raising it in their direction. "Ella Stanhouse was a Gryffindor, a year above me in Hogwarts. She was… hard to forget," for a moment, Ava Greengrass' expression sharpened, then relaxed immediately after. "She married well. A shame that neither of them volunteered for selection, though; I'm sure the happiness this wealth brings would pale in comparison to the bliss of being Chosen."

"Oh." That innocuous comment made Astoria look around the ballroom once more, realizing that for the first time, it was likely that many of the people surrounding her were not Chosen. When the Department of Mysteries began conducting selections among the general population, seated members of the Wizengamot were granted exemptions from the selection process, for fear of destabilizing the fragile postwar government while their bonds settled. She opened her mouth to respond but before she could, a man approached.

"Ambassador Hristova! You made it, after all!"

Dressed in plum-coloured robes, he stepped closer before tapping his glass against her mother's. "And miss a celebration of this calibre? Never! Happy Halloween, Minister. Please, call me Boyan."

"Someone with your influence surely entertained many offers for the holiday. I'm pleased that our humble government affair drew your attention."

"Nonsense! This is very impressive," the large, rotund man took a sip of champagne, wiping at his thick moustache as he swallowed. "Who is this vision of loveliness at your side?"

"My daughter, Astoria. Dear, this is Boyan Hristova, the current ambassador from Bulgaria, first cousin of their Minister. Astoria is in her Sixth Year at Hogwarts."

"Oh-ho! I remember well those days. My own son just completed his final year at Durmstrang. Aleksi! Aleksi! Come over here, boy!" A handsome young man who bore little resemblance to the ambassador approached, shoulder-length blonde hair tied up in a short ponytail, hazel eyes locked onto Astoria's body. "This is the British Minister for Magic and her daughter. Say hello."

"Charmed," he drawled, even that one word displaying a heavy accent. "It is nice to see young woman here."

Her mother laughed gaily but Astoria crossed her arms, feeling uncomfortable in his presence. 'Didn't he realize how improper it was to stare at an unbonded woman like that?' "Why, it just occurred to me, Astoria and Aleksi are likely the only young people at this party. How fortuitous! Darling, won't you accompany him for the evening?"

Aleksi offered an arm, and at her mother's urging, Astoria stepped closer, still careful not to touch him. "Some champagne and dancing, da?"

She forced a weak smile and walked away at his side.

Tomorrow, she'd be back at Hogwarts. She just hoped that her Harry would still be there when she arrived.

A/N: Still rolling along. I think that this chapter gave a good sense of how this story is going to go. This Harry has kept his head down most of his life, he's not powerful, he doesn't have experience with life-or-death situations. He's known cruelty and loneliness, but there is no Dark Lord after him, no prophecy over his head.

All that is to say he's not much of a fighter.

Hope you enjoyed! And if you think this AU is cool, feel free to spread the word. This fic has been way overshadowed by A Malignant Ruse (what's the deal Haphne fans?! No love for Astoria?!) haha.

Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles