Book 3: Astoria Greengrass and the Legilimens of Hogwarts
Song rec: "Waltz" by Eugen Doga from "My Sweet and Tender Beast"
Notes: This isn't a tune one would have for a wedding, and it's not how I imagine Quennell's Waltz to sound, but this, above all other waltzes I know, definitely reflects Astoria's emotion during the dance scene in this chapter. For the choreography of Quennell's Waltz, I was shamelessly inspired by the waltz scene in "Anna Karenina" in which they dance neither a perfect waltz nor a perfect mazurka. I like to think that what Draco sees as "hand flips" in Quennell's Waltz is a very rich tradition in the Greengrass family that he will someday take part in.

Astoria kept her defiant streak going when she came back to the dormitory that night, feeling like she was on top of the world. Sometime between when her roommates had retired for the evening and when she arrived, somebody had dared to etch the M-word into their door, and had charmed it to ooze a foul-smelling muck. Astoria didn't tell her friends what had happened to their door when she walked in. She could take care of this problem herself.

"Flora, may I please borrow your book on hexes?" was the first thing she said, and all of her roommates assumed that something had gone wrong with Draco. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

"Do you mean my book on jinxes?" Flora asked, which was, all things considered, the more conscientious option.

"Oh I meant hexes," Astoria said with flair.

"As requested…" Flora sighed and the book landed in Astoria's hands.

"Did he—?" Rhiannon started.

"It's not him," Astoria said, flipping to the hex index to see what she could do about this awful writing on their door.

There was a whole chapter on revenge hexes. Flora's penchant for Knockturn Alley shopping was quite handy for tonight's order of business. Astoria found a neat little hex, practised the wand motion, and sneaked out the door when Rhiannon did not have her eye on it. Astoria first used a counter-hex that they had learnt the previous year (without any help from Umbridge) to fill in the carvings from the door. As the mahogany wood was restored to its usual beauty, the dark goo from the culprit's spell fell to the floor.

"Prior venare," she said, pointing at the slime.

Without a trace of loyalty to the original conjurer, the muck lifted from the floor and zipped, as a viscous unit, down the hall. Astoria couldn't help herself. She ran after it to watch what would happen. Staying at a safe distance, she saw that the slime had made its way under the crack of Rhiannon's old roommates' door. Astoria bolted back to her room and locked the door tight with her wand.

"Didja get 'em?" Rhiannon asked, still thankfully clueless as to what had happened.

A scream of anger got louder and louder as the victim ran after Astoria. Soon, fists pounded on their dormitory door with full force. Astoria knew that whoever it was would run to Snape, who would know exactly what happened without even asking. She might not get in trouble. It sounded like Imogen Stretton's voice attempting to use some more profanity at them, but the muck had evidently got to her mouth and she started to spit, stammer, and cough rather than cuss. Imogen's scurrying footsteps grew faint, and the girls enjoyed the rest of their night reading up on hexes and eating sweets.

Astoria did not see Draco at breakfast, but she spent most of the next evening with him upon his delightful insistence. They wandered the castle aimlessly, with Draco telling her all sorts of stories she had never heard, such as the haunting of the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade and how he had accidentally angered a staircase so much during his stint in the Inquisitorial Squad that it dissolved in thin air. Then he asked her why Imogen Stretton was so convinced that the hexing she had received yesterday had come from Astoria's room.

"I was the one who hexed her," Astoria said, and to make an example of Stretton, added, "because she carved the M-word into our door."

"You're looking at me like I was the one who did it!" Draco said. "You should know I happen to have a Muggle-born friend now."

Oh, please. Astoria had never seen Draco in the presence of a Muggle-born in a friendly context. Not once.

"What, like a pen-pal? Where do they live?" Astoria asked sceptically.

"Well, she's dead, but she's a ghost here."

"So you have one Muggle-born friend and she's dead. Do you realise how bad that sounds?"

"That does sound pretty bad."

"It's Myrtle, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's Myrtle."

"I'm sort of friends with her, too," Astoria said. "I met her through Rhiannon. They were both attacked by the basilisk."

Draco got rather pale.

"I didn't know that."

"Well, I wouldn't bring it up, even if you're especially chummy."

"No. I won't," he said.

Neither Astoria nor Draco wanted to admit that they had no idea where they were in the castle. They had seen what was likely the Alchemy classroom about ten minutes ago, but even that wasn't very helpful to them. Usually, there would be Peeves, Mr Filch and Mrs Norris, other prefects, or Aurors to "help" with navigation.

"We're back on the third floor," Draco recognised first. "There's the bridge."

This was the bridge that looked nearly ready to fall, which spanned part of the mountain. It was Rhiannon and Hestia's favourite place to go during Astoria's double Ancient Runes. The odd thing was there was not very much on the other side except a spot overlooking the forest. It must have served a different purpose in days gone by. Astoria imagined Salazar Slytherin teaching Flying lessons to his first students by pushing them off the crevice over there.

The view, as well as the old bridge itself, were both beautiful, with white mist rolling in the hills and caverns as the evening began to cool. The clouds weren't right for a spectacular sunset, but Astoria admired the gold light seeping through their heavy blue. Outdoor curfew was much earlier than usual this year, but Astoria and Draco stayed outside until the last possible minute, admiring the nesting calls of birds and the creeping dusk along the grounds' tree-lined paths.

"Which O.W.L. was the most difficult?" Astoria asked as they continued their wandering inside.

"History of Magic because of the big scene Potter made by passing out. It distracted everybody. You won't have that problem."

Astoria's train of thought crashed into anxiety for no particular reason; the clean mist they had seen over the bridge had not been dementor breeding grounds. Yet she felt that she and Draco had a tendency to talk about the war, school, or their own deep existential doubt. They had plenty of time before they had to meet for Astronomy at ten-thirty. She wanted to talk about all the fun and inconsequential things in life but had no idea where to start.

"Draco, what's your favourite colour?"

What a silly question. He's going to think you're a five-year-old.

"Black," he said, thankfully open to this kind of small talk. "Does that sound like I'm trying to be hardcore? I just think it's very sleek and neutral."

"Yeah, black goes with anything. I like a light green best," Astoria said.

"Not Slytherin green, though."

"No, none of the Houses' shades. I see them too much."

"Is there a Greengrass green?"

"Yes, it's on our coat of arms. It's more of a dark teal."

"Not grass-green?"

"No, actually."

"Astoria Tealgrass… hm… Sounds wrong."

"I wonder why."

"At least people know how to spell your name. I was Draco Malofy on Professor Trelawney's roster for the first six weeks of Divination."

"Did she call you that aloud?"

"No, but it showed up on all of the papers she passed out."

"Max Manson always calls me Astræa only to irritate me."

"Max… Oh, isn't he the Dark wizard in your class?"

"He thinks he is, but Flora would beat him in a Dark arts fight."

"She's not setting curses in your dorm, is she? I'll have to have a talk with her. It's a protective boyfriend sort of thing."

"No, she's very protective of the rest of us, but I appreciate it. You let me know if your roommates give you trouble, and I'll duel them properly."

"Goyle farts in his sleep and wakes the rest of us up at least once a week. Can you do anything about that?"

"I'm afraid not… Have you tried sound-proofing his pyjama pants?"

"No. Hey, you laugh, but I'm honestly going to try that next time he's out of the dorm. Smell-proofing him might be more difficult."

"I don't blame you. See, our problem is that one of us snores terribly. But we cannot Silence somebody sleeping because it'd be dangerous in case there's a problem."

"It's you, isn't it? You're the snorer."

"I am not the snorer."

"How do you know you're not a snorer?"

"Flora would have told me. She doesn't sleep."

"Ever? Must be one of her Dark arts things. Her eyes wax over after you all fall asleep and she summons things out of the lake."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if she had control over the things in that lake."

"Do you like to swim, Astoria?"

"Er, not in the lake!"

"We used to own a holiday home in Mallorca. The algae don't try to eat you there."

"That sounds lovely."

"It was more crowded than Father liked."

"Grand-père has an Unplottable island in France we go to sometimes. He's tried to convince us to hold the Equinox there before, but Grandfather Greengrass said no. It almost caused a fight."

"Unplottable island… nice."

"It is very nice."

"That equinox was today, wasn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, I'll be hearing all about it when I go home. Professor Sinistra will probably try to see who's remembered besides me."

"Well, the sun is crossing the celestial equator. That's why we have even daylight and darkness. Maybe I can actually surprise Sinistra."

"Forget Professor Sinistra — I love it when you talk astronomy," Astoria tittered.

"There's more where that came from… er, the moon is in apogee. So it will not be as bright even though it's full."

"Oh, do continue," Astoria joked, though she was genuinely impressed.

"Mars has been in…" he paused for effect, then whispered sultrily in her ear, "opposition."

"It's at perigee tonight," Astoria murmured back. "The very closest."

They started laughing and couldn't look at each other, but then Draco came back closely to her side, and she felt flustered again.

"I've heard your Vernal Equinox dances are very strange," he said. "Lots of lifting and weird hand positions."

"Who told you they were strange?" Astoria asked, guestlists spiralling through her mind.

"My mother saw it first-hand before," said Draco pompously. "But I've also heard rumours."

Astoria figured that if he could listen to comments from his mother, then he could listen to the actual explanation of the dances.

"The main dance of the evening is called Quennell's Waltz. There's a standard for guests," she said, "but married couples each have a different choreographed dance determined through arithmancy upon their engagement. So it becomes more than rotary and change steps for the family."

"Do you realise how complicated that is?" he laughed. "I'm all for family traditions, but that's a bit much."

Astoria firmly disagreed, "No, it's spectacular to watch, and the parents of the Greengrass are involved in choreographing for the new couple so that nobody's moves are copied. It's a blessing process. Uncle Faunus and Aunt Elly have been having the time of their lives helping Renshaw's new wife learn to dance. So, what we do is break down the parties' full names with arithmancy. My name is very long, but it all comes down to the number one. This would not be good for me if I didn't like to dance."

"Why not? What's that got to do with it?" he asked.

"One is the lowest value in this method, and the Greengrass spouse always has more leading hand moves than their partner. That must be what your mother thinks is so strange: the lead alternates. The number from your name determines how many moves you lead in the dance. Sometimes, the numbers are traded, and sometimes they are kept. My number would inevitably be traded with my partner, you see, because it's as low as it gets, and I am a Greengrass. Wait one moment," Astoria said, unrolling a piece of parchment in the nearest windowsill.

She wrote examples that had come to mind that would illustrate how the dance moves were determined.

Grandpa – 4, Grandma – 3.

"So," she said, as Draco hovered over her shoulder, "Grandfather, the Greengrass, does not trade here. His number is greater than Grandmother's, so he has four leading moves for every three of hers. It worked out."

Father – 2, Maman– 2.

"There's no trade here, and they each have two leading moves. Their dance has a low total of four cycling hand moves, along with the standard dance. It's a little boring in my opinion."

Me – 1.

"Now, does it make sense? I would trade the number of moves with anybody whose name calculates to greater than one, because I'm the Greengrass. They make me lead more. The least interesting dance of all would consist of two choreographed moves if a number-one married another number-one."

Though she only ever partook in the standard waltz, Astoria and all the other young Greengrasses were fascinated with the concept of having a personalised dance at the Equinox. Draco looked closely at it, resisted the urge to mutter "how tortuous" louder than he did, and then asked her what his arithmanceutical number would be. It made Astoria's heart skip; he apparently did not understand the direction he was taking the conversation. Using another piece of parchment, Astoria wrote out his full name and calculated it. Her hand was already starting to shake before she finished the calculation. It was nine. The highest — the most fun.

"Well, your name comes out to nine. So that would mean, er, a Greengrass would have nine leading hand positions with you at this dance, because we always have more," Astoria said as steadily as she could.

"Yes, that's what you said about yours being number one. So… I'm still trying to understand this weird dance of yours… That would mean if we danced at this thing, you would have nine hand flips for each one of mine?"

Draco flipped his hands as though he were swatting insects, saying, "How does that even work? People say it looks like arms fly everywhere when you do this."

"They're not hand flips, Draco," she said, her heart in her throat. "They're dance moves, that's all. It's choreographed upon engagement."

Was he really missing the part about how people did not get personalised dances unless they were marrying? These dances were used at the Equinox celebration for the rest of the couple's life. It was not to be taken lightly. The history was centuries old.

"I guess I'd have to be there. I don't get all the arithmancy. A waltz is a waltz."

"Pretend we are dancing," she said to illustrate the point, taking his hands and ushering him into the nearest classroom. "Now in an extreme case, where there is a nine and a one—"

"Are we considered an extreme case?" he paused her, smiling.

Do not do this to me, Draco Malfoy…

Astoria cleared her throat, saying, "Yes. I would have nine leading hand moves, and I determine the natural and reverse turns in the waltz. At the tenth move, it would be your directive. Most people with a large ratio opt for a twirl or lift at that point, because it makes the count reset in an obvious way. That would be where your mother saw lifts in some places and not others. It would probably look confusing to a guest."

"But it doesn't have to be a spin or a lift."

"No, that's just customary with large ratios."

"Well, I'd have to see it. Are you going to teach me or what?"

Astoria now doubted his pronounced lack of understanding. Instead of looking clueless, Draco had been very attentive. She was so nervous. This was never done. Choreographing was a painstaking process to ensure everything looked good in the waltz line and nobody collided. Never was this sort of example given to somebody outside of the family. Yet Astoria had enough knowledge to provide the example, if she would only stop shaking from the nerves. She frantically sought her memories for individual moves, chopping them up to try to avoid plagiarism. It wasn't enough. She wanted something unique.

There was no family here. It was only them. She could have demonstrated the very same point with the most basic of dance forms, yet her mind continued to race for something creative, and she found herself placing the back of her hand into the palm of his. With no actual pull, she drew him forward. He cooperated. That was move one. They paused. She sorted her thoughts.

Their thumbs were opposite each other. Nobody started this way. It would be fine… she extended their arms far left and grabbed his hand — move two served to correct the unusual start.

She slowly brought in their hands, elbows out, above her heart.

"That would be three moves there, for example."

Nobody ever danced this way! If her parents were there, they would say it was gauche. Actually, they would have more to say than that. An unengaged Greengrass butchering Quennell's Waltz with dance moves pulled from thin air. Disgraceful.

"Move four."

She pushed forth her arm as far as it would go, forcing him to step back. This would be easier if they were actually dancing. The melody of the waltz had been in her heart all her life, but there was no music. Draco did not mention that when she started the dance. She was disgraceful, disgraceful.

"Five."

She finally brought her left arm and his right to a normal level in a twist, but she had never given him her right palm.

"Six," she put their palms together and simply enjoyed the waltz, humming in his ear.

"Seven," she crossed their arms into an "x."

"Eight," they rolled their arms out and resumed standard position.

"Nine."

She extended her left arm over his shoulder. It would take so little for her to move and touch his cheek from there, but she refrained. The tenth move was up to him. It was Draco Malfoy she was dealing with here, so she could only brace herself for some bizarre lift that was out of time, or a showy twirl. To her wonder, though, he simply used his move to place both of their free hands behind his back. That was it. It was her lead again, and she nearly panicked trying to remember all that she had done. She didn't want to undo the move he had chosen, so they began to repeat a similar pattern with their other hands. It was so much easier now that they were actively dancing. It was so much closer with her hand at his back, even if others' waltzes never looked like this. Only at move seven, when they crossed their arms, did she free their arms to the front. Move eight, they uncrossed their arms. Move nine, her left arm went over his shoulder.

"Your move."

He switched the established move and instead placed both hands behind her back. It was peculiar; the moves were usually repeated exactly. Here, they had done the same thing but switched the hold. She kept thinking of how most couples utilised both arms throughout the entire dance. He had totally altered the pattern. He didn't know. He hadn't seen other dances. And yet…

"…Eight, nine, your move."

They went behind his back again, taking turns. Astoria felt it then, even with Draco's inscrutable expression. They were deliberately inhibiting each other's range of motion, and it would look purposely different from everything else in the waltz line. Their hands were in a carefully balanced hold between the sacred tradition of the dance and a brazen rejection of it. He had sabotaged the pattern she had established by choosing this as his move, but at the same time, he had forced himself into an even more limited stance. She loved the close hold of their dance. And when other nine-to-one couples might make a show of the last move, Draco would draw the eyes of others in a different way. They were totally entangled with each other. She had never felt this before.

They couldn't stop dancing even though there was no music, only her humming. She wanted to get the muscle memory of their pattern. Draco was telling her something. This was not the waltz's history; this was their history. He was showing her that he wanted her to have the agency her family so feared. The Greengrasses and the Malfoys would never rise together. Even the dance was an exchange of power. Where one family found clout and influence, the other always found danger and loss. Astoria and Draco, though, would not be bound by this their whole lives. They would claw their way out.

Astoria's throat eventually went dry from the contact, and she couldn't hum anymore.

"So, with this dance, eighteen moves would be the most you could have, and the least would be two," Draco figured. "I think ten's a good number. More than this would be hard to remember."

Remembering this dance she had pulled out of nowhere could haunt Astoria in the future. She would always prefer this one, their creation, to one her parents would influence per tradition. She would always remember the one she created on her own, having feared her Equinox dance would be boring like her parents' with her low number. Astoria's nervous shaking finally brought her to a halt, and she was forced to say explicitly that this dance was extraordinarily important to her family's marriage customs. It was not used for anything else.

"I'm sorry I made this awkward," he answered with but a trace of anxiety compared to hers. "We don't have anything like this in my family."

He had not let go of her completely, and his warm hand remained tight on her own, which was clammy and trembling.

"Thanks for showing me this. You have to admit that it's a bit of an odd process, though. I wasn't entirely wrong."

"It's just tradition," she mumbled for the umpteenth time.

"Well, I like that we made it ours," he smiled.

"Oh, well, er…"

"You're really frazzled, Astoria."

"I'm sorry."

"Come here."

Astoria did not like how much more obvious it made her juddering, but she never turned down a kiss. She wished there was a way to make it more. She started kissing his neck. Draco's robes must have been freshly laundered even though it was only Thursday — he smelled very nice. Her body almost calmed.

"…Are you smelling my clothes?" he asked.

"No," she lied.

Draco made a wild demonstration of burying his face in her shoulder and saying, "Yes, you are. You're going – 'Sniff! Nnngh, that's the stuff.'"

"You're the one playing piano keys on my back!" she returned.

"That's nothing. That's a nervous habit."

"I make you nervous."

"Yeah, when you're sniffing me like that."

"Oh my gosh."

Astoria almost forgot that they were supposed to be hiding their relationship when they arrived in the Entrance Hall for Astronomy. Even though their secret was a matter of safety for both families, it was sometimes difficult to keep it that way. It was funny, in a way, to think that You-Know-Who would be so preoccupied with the relationships that Death Eaters' teenaged children got into. It made him seem like an unnecessarily thorough tyrant with too much free time.

Astoria excelled in Atmospheric Charms that night. She wondered aloud to Draco whether it had more to do with the Equinox or Mars's perigee. She guessed the Equinox.

"Don't you ever give yourself credit for anything?" he responded, but it was difficult to do that when so much had been decided for her in the interest of others.

Professor Sinistra had charged Astoria with finishing her Legilimency book before Easter holidays, so after class, Astoria made sure to tell Professor Sinistra that she had successfully finished the last chapter. The chapters had been guarded, and had increasing difficulty for the reader, so having completed the book was a source of pride for Astoria. Maybe she could give herself some credit for it, like Draco said.

"Good," Professor Sinistra said. "When you come back, I can start you with Volume Two."

"What‽ There's more?" Astoria exclaimed.

"Of course there's more, dear! Legilimency is an ancient and advanced art. You can't simply read one book and call yourself a Legilimens."

There went Astoria's credit.

Easter holidays were very busy for the Greengrasses. For one thing, few family members had left Quennell Park after the Equinox, and in spite of the grand size of the mansion, it felt rather crowded. Astoria knew that Rhiannon felt wholly out of place, yet the duty of keeping her amused was similarly unbefitting for Astoria. She was more concerned with the conversations the elders in her family were having. Very few of them agreed on where the family should relocate, and even fewer agreed upon when.

Aunt Laureline was especially anxious to leave, whilst Astoria's grandparents and parents preferred to "get everything in order first." Gringotts bank must have been mentioned a hundred times, and how the family might move all of their stuff was being outlined in great detail. Astoria's father had brought her and Daphne into his study to talk during the first week of the holidays. They were told, in a falsely casual tone, to pack up anything they would not absolutely need for the rest of the school year. He went great lengths to emphasise that there was no rush. Astoria was left wondering why they did not expedite their departure. Surely other schools could provide her with Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Rhiannon had not been part of the talk, since she did not own very many things in comparison, but Astoria explained it to her anyway. Rhiannon helped Astoria pack up more unneeded items — occasionally reminding Astoria that she hadn't needed something in the first place — and they gave the boxes to her grandfather. Astoria felt that she had a right to know where her possessions were going (even if they were not, as Rhiannon said, the bare necessities), but her father utterly refused to say. He must have feared word spreading about where they were going to evacuate.

It did not take very long for Astoria to notice that her cousin Renshaw's new wife was distressed. Astoria could not imagine this debacle going on so soon after her wedding, and sympathised with this young lady who was stuck in the estate and had not even had a proper honeymoon. Gracie was a Muggle, quite aware of what her marriage to a Squib would entail, but she often looked shy and embarrassed no matter what she was doing. Astoria hardly knew her, but she could tell that Gracie hadn't been upper-class. It was like when Rhiannon first arrived at the estate, except Gracie didn't have the advantage of fitting in with magic. As soon as Renshaw left her side, Gracie always became timid. Astoria offered to take her for a walk in the grounds after church on Easter Sunday, and Gracie looked like she only accepted because she was afraid to say no. Astoria tried to gauge whether Rhiannon was interested in coming on the walk with them. She thought perhaps Rhiannon would know cultural nuances that could make Gracie feel better in a way Astoria could not hope to do. However, Rhiannon was totally consumed with preparing for the upcoming concert and did not accept the invitation.

Astoria had never talked to a Muggle before and suddenly wished she had opted for Muggle Studies instead of Ancient Runes, which she wasn't very good at. Gracie was a pasty girl of twenty years, with big blonde curls and rough hands. She had an accent Astoria did not always understand and used several Muggle-specific words in conversation, which left Astoria saying a noncommittal "M-hmm" more times than she would have liked. Ironically, though, Gracie claimed that Astoria was the first person besides Renshaw to understand her when she talked. Really, Astoria only understood the girl when she was looking her right in the face.

Astoria was nowhere near using Legilimency in either a wandless or nonverbal way, and certainly not both. Maybe Gracie's being a Muggle had something to do with the ease of sensing her foremost thoughts. Astoria did not know what Legilimency would be like with her Squib relatives because she was never left struggling to understand their speech. This was coming to her in a frighteningly natural way, but it couldn't be the right thing to do. Gracie would have no way of ever defending herself with Occlumency. How else was Astoria supposed to understand this girl and help her feel better, though? Legilimency was only a Dark art if it was used in a Dark way, and it was awfully rude not to make eye contact with Gracie when she talked. Still, Astoria did not like that the further she delved into Legilimency, the harder it was to shut it down. The world must be so loud for Professors Sinistra and Snape.

"Ren says you lot don't ever hunt in these backwoods," Gracie said after a rabbit fearfully crossed their path.

"No, we consider these woods to be sacred," Astoria said.

"Ah, yeah. He said that too."

Astoria was picking up on Gracie's condescension. The idea that she, a Muggle, thought she had superior knowledge about what was or was not considered sacred really slighted Astoria, but she remembered what Professor Sinistra said about Legilimens losing friends by not giving anyone the benefit of the doubt. Gracie had been shy and nervous for most of the time; she probably just didn't understand their beliefs.

"You got stables back here somewhere, I heard."

"Yes, up that way. Would you like to see them?"

"It's, er… horse stables, yeah?"

"Yes, we have some fine Thoroughbreds for polo. There's usually a game right before the Equinox. I take it there wasn't this year."

"Nah, I wanted a small wedding, believe it or not. Ren said this was small for you lot. I can't complain. I didn't have to worry about catering or none of that with your little elves. That's why I wanted to make sure we were on the same page about what was in them stables."

"It's only horses, I promise," Astoria chuckled.

"You ride?"

"I, er… I feed them."

"You mean you don't ride? If you can ride a broom, you can ride a horse."

"I, erm…"

"No brooms neither? Hell, Astoria, I thought I was the quiet one here. You know, I had the feeling that you lot thought I was taking Renshaw away from you. You're all welcome to visit the farm."

"I'm sorry the family has given you that impression. We've never married Muggles, so to have one of our own move into Muggle society might have been stressful on Uncle Faunus and Aunt Elly. They shouldn't be taking it out on you, though. Renshaw will do perfectly well in the Muggle world."

"Well, I don't blame 'em. Can't say my family's used to marrying wizards! But I'll take good care of Ren. He doesn't cast any spells or anything, except the one he cast on me!"

Gracie was really opening up on this walk, so Astoria was glad to have been of help. Renshaw, for as kind as he was, probably was not as in tune with the differences between a Squib raised in Wizarding society and a true Muggle. Things he thought were no big deal could have been stressful to Gracie, who was very thankful to do something "normal" like horse riding.

"What's your name, there, boy?" Gracie said in a baby voice to the first horse in the first stable.

"That's Summanus," Astoria said. "He's a stallion. The geldings are over here if you'd prefer an easier trip. We have more stables, too."

"No, he'll do. Think he'll mind if I call him Sam?"

"He won't mind."

Astoria did her best not to make a fool of herself in front of Gracie when she mounted Kauriraris, the gentlest horse they owned, who was past his sporting days and now a gelding. She had seen her father and Uncle Faunus do this all the time, but Uncle Faunus taught his children, and Astoria's father had not. All of Astoria and Daphne's skills with horses had come from watching, learning, and sneaking out to the stables with Rhiannon.

"You didn't get to meet Granddad when you was in school," said Gracie as they rode along the fence-edge of the estate. "He's the only one I could trust to come. I'm not close with my family like you lot are. I grew up with Granddad, and I told him when I met Renshaw, these people are wizards! And you know what he said?"

"I'm not sure," Astoria said, though she had a fair idea by looking in Gracie's eyes.

"He said, 'Does that mean your sweet's gonna help us on the farm? Rain-dance it?' And I said, no Granddad, he don't have magic himself. And you know what he said?"

"What did he say?" Astoria humoured her.

"He said, 'Well pick a real wizard out of them, Gracie! I'm gettin' old and need help!'"

"Everyone warms up to Renshaw eventually, though," Astoria said.

"Oh, yeah, he was just teasing. He loves him, and so do I. I'd love him the same if he were a magic wizard. Ren's always said he's a Squib, but that don't make any difference to me. I wouldn't have known if he wouldn't have told me. But, you know, if he were magic, I'd probably feel useless round the house. You lot just wave a wand and chant some mumbo-jumbo and poof!"

"It's often not as easy as poof, I've found," Astoria said. "Plus, we can't use magic outside of school until seventeen unless there's plenty of it happening round us."

"I mean, if I had magic as a kid, I'd raise holy hell, so I can see why that's not allowed."

"You're probably right."

"Speaking of holy hell, there's something creepy happening up there," Gracie said uncomfortably as she witnessed a patch of roses wither and fall clean off the bushes.

"Oh, yes, that's Quennell. I might go see him. You can stay back here if you like."

"Who's Quennell? Like Quennell Park? Like… a ghost? God, I always said the old farmhouse Granddad and I live in was haunted! Granddad doesn't believe me because I've never seen one, but I know there's ghosts there! Now look at me. Watching ghosts and talking to witches."

"It's plenty to do in one day," Astoria smirked.

"Can I come with you? I don't know if I could get near a ghost again without a witch by me. Usually I think of ghosts popping out in old cellars. But the horses ain't scared a bit. In the old horror films, you always know there's a spook or monster when the horses start carrying on. Oh, shite, I spoke too soon."

Summanus started snorting, whinnying, and getting harder to control. He had been trained very well for sports and almost never startled, but there was no mistake that he did not like the impression of Quennell. Fortunately for Astoria and her lack of skill, her horse Kauriraris was totally unmoved.

"Actually, Gracie, I'll have to ask you to take Summanus back there and tie him off if you can. Yes — way back there where he'll settle down. You can still meet me down here if you want. I promise I won't leave you out in the woods."

"How'd you know what I was thinking?"

Your emotions are so loud!

"Intuition."

"Roger that."

Who is Roger? Roger what?

Gracie handled Summanus extremely well, so well that he seemed to have run off his fear by the time they crested the hill. She dismounted him like a professional. Astoria did not want to look like she was supervising, but she felt partially responsible for Gracie's safety since she was a Muggle. That was the feeling Astoria's parents must have had when they thought she had been a Squib.

Astoria was able to ride Kauriraris right up to where Quennell was standing without the slightest problem. She tied him securely and comfortably to a tree.

"Good afternoon, sir," Astoria said.

Quennell appeared as a man in his mid-thirties. He was unlike the ghosts at Hogwarts in many ways, but Astoria had yet to figure out all the reasons why. Although Quennell appeared translucent and glowed very faintly, he was not washed in silver-blue throughout. In fact, he had a nice head of dark hair, a pale but not deathly complexion, and tidy brown breeches. Although Astoria could not see a single wound on his body, he was an arresting figure even compared with the Bloody Baron due to his lack of eyes. The eye holes had been the only reason Astoria would have ever listened to her parents about staying away from him, but she found his company very rewarding after having looked past the issue. Quennell always wore his deep red doublet open, revealing a fashionable shirt with blackwork embroidery. His breeches were held to his doublet by a collection of colourful jewelled aiguillettes that still shimmered in the sun. His overall appearance, though unsettling, hinted that he had been a very handsome man. His most prominent feature was the huge pointed hat he wore, with its brim spanning out past his shoulder width and often covering the eye sockets, which he was aware were upsetting to see. He removed it and held it to his chest upon Astoria's approach, but he kept his eyelids closed until he finished his greeting. The hat shielded their caverns once more. He had a very hoarse and present voice rather than a hollow, echoing one typical of other ghosts.

"Today is Easter, my dearest. Why are you not with your family?"

"I am with family," she said readily. "Renshaw the eleventh has married a woman named Gracie. We are out riding today. And are you not my family?"

"I know of Renshaw — I have overseen the Equinox. That is all I can do to say I am family to you and your kin."

Quennell was never once seen floating and instead stepped torturously along the stone path. He was prone, however, to speaking ill of himself, which Astoria pointedly did not acknowledge.

"You have become a Legilimens, Miss Astoria."

"I am trying to become one, sir. Are you a Legilimens?"

"I gravely wish I had been," he said. "However, I sense what commences in the House of Greengrass, big and small."

A rare trace of disgust began to taint Quennell's expression, and he said, "Oh, my dearest, you have also become engaged… Or… is that why you have sought me here today?"

"I'm sorry, sir. You must be mistaken. I'm not engaged," Astoria said anxiously.

Did this have something to do with her reinventing the marriage waltz with Draco? If the spirit was able to detect that, she must have done something wrong.

"I see now," Quennell said, his wet eye sockets coming into view.

He should have said he knew and not saw, since those pools did not seem like sight blessed them. Gracie was coming back at the worst possible time. Astoria preferred this conversation to be private, or to be not happening at all…

"Miss Astoria, behold this Muggle," Quennell said upon her arrival, and the change in his air caused Gracie to feel less brave about being near a ghost. "She knows nothing of our strictures, and yet she has brought herself here to be wed, to obey our traditions. I only ask that you take her, a Muggle, as an example of the strength of the custom. There is to be no exception. You must not be so quick to share the custom unless you mean to bring the man here on the day of the Equinox. No, do not fret so terribly, Miss Astoria. I simply cannot have you eloping based on your parents' disapproval. You must be here, with me, on that day. It has been on your mind."

"It was on my mind, sir, but I will uphold our tradition," Astoria said above the volume of Gracie's confusion and fear.

"It is not that you will; it is that you must," said Quennell, but he had settled down.

Gracie finally comprehended that there was nothing wrong, but she was already so frightened that Astoria thought it was best to leave. Astoria apologised once more to Quennell and bid him good day. She and Gracie both got on Kauriraris together and rode to the top of the hill to retrieve Summanus and finish their excursion. Upon their return, Rhiannon quickly got on Astoria's nerves about preparing for the concert in four days. There was no harm in rehearsing, but it was not very beneficial without Flora and Hestia, either.

The twins were staying at Hogwarts for Easter holidays, but Mr Mongaby was going to escort them to the Infinite venue in Diagon Alley to perform. Rhiannon had been especially nervous about what time the twins would arrive, since they had been AWOL for the Infinite Records meeting prior to school starting. Astoria reminded her that it was likely they would be there early since they were with the manager, and Astoria and Rhiannon were with protective parents. On the day of the concert, Rhiannon and Astoria held tight to Astoria's mother for Side-along Apparition to Diagon Alley. They had to be there three hours before the doors opened, not because it was necessary, but because Mr Mongaby said so.

"Good news," Mongaby said. "We filled more seats than we expected."

"Expected because of the war?" Rhiannon asked.

"Er… yes," Mongaby said, looking at an important chart. "Anyway, the rest of the seats will still be available at the door."

The conversation went on forever about what not to do, what to do, and when to do it. Astoria was half-listening. She was thinking about the articles she had read in Witch Weekly about The Weird Sister's concert tickets being sold in connection with an Undetectable Extension Charm. The size of the venue for Pariah, though, had been set. The higher-ups in the company were trying to see what proportion of pre-arranged seats were going to fill. That, combined with the fact that her mother was in the audience, depressed Astoria's mood. Hestia and Rhiannon, though, were having the time of their lives exploring the venue. Astoria and Flora warmed up instead.

"We're opening with 'My Root Doctor,' Astoria. You ready on that one?" Rhiannon interjected when Astoria started playing 'I Swear This Helps.'"

That was Rhiannon's hint that Astoria hadn't performed that to her liking. "My Root Doctor" was a very fast-paced song, and Astoria admitted sometimes she did not breathe correctly during it, which took away from the performance. She was going to do it right this time, though. "Root Doctor" was a songwriting collaboration between Rhiannon and Hestia, and it was Pariah's first truly narrative song that had not been inspired by their own lives. Rhiannon and Hestia came up with the song after some powerful lessons from Professor Burbage in their Muggle Studies class about respecting others' cultures, and not appropriating from them, because not all magic looks the same.

The chorus was exhausting to sing, which had been Rhiannon's goal in order to produce the raw emotion by the end to demonstrate the narrator's disillusionment with society. "My Root Doctor" was catchy and had become a wireless favourite not long after "Ashes," and Rhiannon took pride in getting people to sing along to songs with important themes. Astoria figured she was overdue in giving more passion to the performance, and tried to imagine Renshaw and Gracie facing societal problems for no good reason. She wasn't sure the audience ever got the point of this song, though, since she had not been educated on the subject, either.

Although there was no Extension Charm on the theatre, Astoria could not complain about the turnout. People were really coming to see Pariah even though they only had a small dedicated fanbase. It made Astoria's heart flutter, even though she could not identify any of her friends in the heavy crowd. They were out there. She was sure of it. Although Astoria did not understand all of the intricacies of the opening song that Rhiannon and Hestia had woven, she had the audience jumping along with her.

Rhiannon had no complaints about the execution of the song after that, and the rest of the show went very smoothly. Mongaby had the girls meet him backstage to go over figures of ticket sales, and though Astoria appreciated the update, she was again finding her attention hard to keep. Still energised from the concert, she soon had trouble distinguishing her excitement from disquiet. It felt like she was being watched backstage, and it wasn't by the frightening-looking wizards from Cannibal Coven, who were getting ready for their set. Mr Mongaby was about to talk to the girls about the next concert, when Flora put her hand up to stop him, and he looked rather affronted.

"Did you pre-order tickets or buy them at the door?" Flora asked loudly toward the ceiling.

Astoria clenched her jaw and her fists, but she was fooling nobody by trying to look tough. Flora and Hestia's aunt was sitting in the rafters of the stage like some sort of arboreal animal, a snake trying to offer them fruit. For her stout build, Alecto was quite acrobatic, and flipped herself upside-down over the beam, held only by her knees. She had to have been supporting herself by magic… but what kind of magic was that?

"Oh, I'm your biggest fan, my little flower. I pre-ordered."

Mr Mongaby looked entirely unsure of what to do with himself, and rather than recognising Alecto as a threat (or perhaps because he did), he stepped solidly backward to give her a place to land on the floor in front of them. Alecto jumped far but landed quietly, unscathed. Hestia stepped in front of Rhiannon, and Flora stepped in front of Astoria. It was sad how quickly the twins assumed these positions, even though no one was going to draw their wand backstage. Astoria's mother might, though, if she arrived.

"Where's Amycus?" Flora asked.

"He couldn't bear to come," Alecto sneered. Then she looked at Mongaby and forcibly shook his hand. His face scrunched; he looked like he desired nothing more than to wash himself of her touch.

"You must be Mr Mongaby. I'm Alecto, the twins' aunt. I'll be taking them home, so you don't have to Apparate them back to school."

"I was told—" Mr Mongaby began to argue, but Flora shut him down before he could put himself in danger.

"It's fine, Mr Mongaby. We'll go home this way."

"Would you like to join us, Astoria?" said Alecto craftily. "We'd love to have you for supper."

Astoria was thoroughly tired of the weight of fear preventing her from acting in this situation. She had to be fake. She had to be fake like Alecto and play the game that the Death Eater had set up. Maman was right. These people did take interest in any fresh blood they could find.

"No, thank you, Ms Carrow," Astoria said, but to show Alecto that she was not going to be the prey she expected, she added, "Perhaps another time."

Alecto showed her grey teeth and swept a hand through her thin hair.

"Well, you don't have to hide your face next time, love."

Oh, so Alecto had figured out that she and Hestia had traded places on the day of Abraxas Malfoy's funeral. The twins both caught this and glared at each other. Astoria considered her next move. Acknowledging Alecto could prove disastrous, but playing dumb might get Hestia and Flora in further trouble with her. They were the ones who had to go home with the Death Eater. Then it hit Astoria — the sneakiest way she could play her cards to keep the other girls, especially Rhiannon, out of Alecto's interest.

Astoria made a show of glancing at the other girls, though she already knew they weren't looking. Artfully, Astoria acted like she and Alecto shared a secret. She placed a finger to her silent lips and shook her head: 'Keep my attendance at that funeral a secret.'

Alecto was idiotically delighted, and a sickening grin spread across her dark lips. Astoria knew what this fiend had in mind. Alecto had never done anything useful enough for the Dark Lord before, because to have done something useful would have resulted in a prison sentence. Now Alecto thought she might finally have a pureblood protégé, a convert. And Astoria let her think that. It brought the Death Eater's interest to her and took it away from the twins and Rhiannon.

"Well, where are my manners? I've gone and trespassed backstage. Flora, Hestia, I'll be waitin' outside. Let me know about the ticket revenue, since we need groceries."

As Alecto stepped out of the shadows, she drew her hood up and lit a cigarette that smelt strongly of betony. Mr Mongaby tried, once more, to review the details of the next concert, but Flora did not trust her aunt's word to allow for further delay in their departure. Astoria was grateful when she cut him off and said they had to go immediately. Before the twins left to follow Alecto, though, Flora quickly grabbed Astoria by both arms and got right in her face.

"What do you think you're doing, Astoria?"

"Saving you the trouble. She was going to ruin your night over that funeral. Now she's distracted by me."

"Astoria, you idiot, it's worse when she likes you," Flora averred with a pained expression.