Chapter Three
Games
0o0
Astoria chose to sit at the Slytherin table for breakfast the next morning, partially because she was hoping to run into Theodore, but mostly because it was becoming something of a habit of hers. What had started on her first day at school as an act of desperation had now matured into a regular means of touching base with her sister. Breakfast was the most informal meal of the day, and it was therefore the most acceptable time for sitting at another house's table.
Today Astoria was craving her sister's audience even more than usual as she had a rather fantastic story to tell. A story involving a three headed dog and a narrow escape from the jaws of death itself. After much sleep and romanticized reflection, Astoria was quite firmly of the opinion that the whole ordeal had been a fantastic adventure and one that she was quite keen on sharing.
"Hello!" Astoria sang, taking the seat nearest her sister, who was already finished with her toast. Daphne was the only reliable morning person that Astoria had ever known and as such, she was regularly in the Great hall as early as seven o'clock.
"Hello," said Daphne curiously, so unused to Astoria's early morning zest the she seemed suspicious almost at once.
A few feet away, Theodore looked up from his queer pre-adolescent breakfast of nothing but coffee and un-vented sarcasm. Upon seeing that Astoria had come in, he immediately scooted down the table.
"Morning," said Theodore pointedly.
Astoria beamed at him.
"What's with you two?" asked Daphne, frowning nervously.
Astoria took a deep breath and prepared to unleash but Theo cut her off with a cough-like scoff.
"Last night—"
"—Last night, Theo and I had a fantastic adventure!" Astoria rushed.
"Fantastic?" Theodore repeated skeptically. "Root word 'fantasy'? Yes. Fantastic as in fun? No."
"Oh breathe," Astoria sighed. "It's morning and you're still alive, aren't you?"
"Why wouldn't he be alive?" wondered Daphne, a look of alarm beginning to flirt with her usually placid features. "Did something happen?"
"Last night, your sister and I were nearly eaten alive," said Theodore, sensible to the dramatic flair that such a story afforded even if he was not sensible to its wonder.
Astoria was about to chime in when Draco Malfoy entered the hall.
Both Astoria and Theodore paused awkwardly in their recounting of the night before to watch him, aware that he too had played a part in their story even if he did not know it. Unaware that he was being watched, Draco's gaze shot instantly to the Gryffindor table, where he spotted both Harry and Ron taking in a merry breakfast of muffins and juice. Draco's expression moved rapidly from one of surprise to one of bitter disappointment.
"Really!" Draco hissed in response to something that Goyle must have said, "and here I was thinking that Gryffindors were supposed to be brave!"
"Just reckless, I think," clarified Theo in a loud voice. Astoria was beginning to realize that Theodore did not particularly enjoy Draco's company, but this morning he seemed quite eager to see the story fully unfold nonetheless.
"Are you surprised to see Harry?" asked Astoria, feeling rather smug in the knowledge that she and Theodore knew something that Draco did not.
"He told you about the duel, did he?" snapped Draco after an unsure pause. "Showing off as usual, then. I suppose it was you who warned him not to go?"
It was clear that Draco wished to sound nonchalant about this but he was failing spectacularly
"No, Harry didn't tell me anything," said Astoria, feeling chipper and rather keen to instigate. "Actually, I know for a fact that he did go."
Draco sneered to cover up his confusion. "How would you know?"
"Because I was there."
"You went?" said Draco, blinking in surprise. Then, all of a sudden, his look became aggressive. "What, as moral support? Best pals with Potter now, are you?"
"No," said Astoria, savoring the bizarre mixture of stress and irritation that she seemed to be causing. "I didn't go with him, but I was in the trophy room. Ask Theo, he was there too."
"Theo was with you?" sneered Draco contemptuously, looking even less fond of this arrangement.
"Oh yeah," confirmed Theodore with a smirk. "You should have been there, Draco. Literally."
"What were you two doing together in the trophy room at midnight?" asked Draco, his voice more than just tinged with unexplained annoyance now.
"We had a bet on," said Astoria. "Theo, the evidence."
Theodore produced the photograph of McGonagall in her quidditch days from the pocket of his shirt. Astoria wondered if he had slept so poorly that he had not had time to change into a fresh one or if he had simply neglected to spruce himself up on purpose.
"Is that supposed to make me lose my breakfast?" asked Draco, a smirk creeping onto his face anyway as he took in the black and white photographic wonder.
"So you think it looks like McGonagall, too?" asked Astoria, glancing at Draco, who appeared to be as repulsed as he was amused.
"It looks like her because it is McGonagall!" Theodore insisted. "I read it on the trophy plate before Potter and his crew crashed in looking for a fight."
Draco laughed unpleasantly.
"I'll be confirming that myself," continued Astoria shortly. "We can stop by the trophy room again after class today. I want to see her name etched into something."
Draco's eyes flicked from Theodore to Astoria, betraying an involuntary flash of displeasure.
"Anyway," said Theo, taking the story back up again, "Potter showed up and then so did Filch, because Draco sent him there."
"Why did Draco send Filch?" wondered Daphne, startled by the very idea.
"He was trying to get Harry expelled, Daph," shot Astoria sternly. "Come on, keep up."
"There was only one way to run, so Astoria and I booked it down three floors with Potter, Granger, and Weasley. Granger was hopping up and down, mad with fear about expulsion. Then, Longbottom fell and took Weasley with him into a suit of armor. At that point Peeves showed up..."
Draco leaned back in his chair lazily, evidently pleased with the idea that he had managed to induce such chaos from afar.
"I tried to reason with Peeves," continued Theodore in his most dignified voice, prompting Draco to scoff, "but then Weasley tried to punch him."
"At some point we lost track of where we were going and ended up down the third floor corridor," said Astoria.
"That happens to me all the time..." began Daphne, but she trailed off. Draco had shot her a silencing look of the sort that Astoria would have willingly paid to slap off of his face.
"And?" Draco prompted, plainly secretly interested in the end of their story.
"We ended up in the forbidden corridor," said Theodore, "and now we know why it's forbidden."
"What's it forbidden for, then?" Draco demanded.
Astoria leaned in closer under the pretense of mysteriousness and Draco blinked, disarmed by her proximity. Astoria motioned toward Daphne and Theodore to do the same, not wishing to be overheard.
"Tell them, Theo," said Astoria, excited even though she knew the punch line.
"They've got a monster locked in there," said Theo.
"What?" sneered Draco in disbelief. "No they don't! The staff are probably just renovating the floors down that wing."
Astoria shook her head. "Theo's telling the truth. It's a giant three headed dog with fangs as long as my arm."
Draco stared at her, weighing the evidence of her word against his own reasoning. "That's impossible," he said at last. "The board of governors would lose their minds."
Astoria shrugged, "You would know better I suppose. Still, I know what I saw."
"We'd show you, if you weren't such a little coward," added Theodore curtly.
Draco flushed pink. "What did you just say to me?" he sneered. Theo had hit a nerve and it showed
"You challenged Potter to a duel and never even showed up," Theodore scoffed.
"You think I wouldn't have actually dueled Potter, if I had wanted to?" spat Draco, his eyes darting toward Astoria. "The plan was to set Filch on him, I never meant to actually duel him! It's not like I chickened out—"
Theo shrugged, seeming to know that there was more power in his silence than his words.
"Do you think Dumbledore's the reason for the three headed dog?" asked Astoria quickly, wishing to change the subject.
Malfoy fidgeted defensively for a moment but finally answered: "If he is, then he snuck it in somehow. If the board had approved of something like that, my Father would have told me."
0o0
Halloween was approaching. For three days the grounds had been soaked by a dense rain and the results were dazzling. The lawn, once a sprawling emerald carpet, now glistened, red-bright with fallen leaves. A chill wind had begun to make its presence known as well, skirting the edges of the corridors and rattling the window panes in the night.
On October the Thirty First, Astoria went in to the great hall for breakfast only to find that it had become inhabited by live bats overnight, acting as living streamers. These bats floated so softly between hanging jack-o-lanterns that they were virtually noiseless, but they certainly had the power of dropping Astoria's jaw. As though to add to the feeling of it being a holiday, first period Herbology was cancelled due to the gathering rain that was visible through the enchanted ceiling.
It was Astoria's first free period ever and the Weasley twins, who were older and normally had this block of time free for study anyway, were determined to show her a good time.
"Come on," said Fred, who was leading the way, "this is great, we promise!"
They were walking down a warm, well-lit, stone hallway on the first floor that Astoria had never had a reason to venture down before. Portraits lined the walls, some depicting various feasts of cheese and fruit while still others showed scenes of provincial-looking harvests. In one particularly memorable picture, a monk was fermenting a vat of wine and chanting rather tipsily.
Fred and George stopped when they had reached the end of the hallway, which finished in a nook that was stacked to the ceiling with a shipment of barrels.
"What's that?" Astoria asked, pointing toward the barrels.
Fred raised a finger to his lips to indicate that she should keep her voice down and whispered, "Entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, but that's not what we're here for."
Astoria looked back at the barrels again with renewed interest. "How do you know?"
"Got a few mates in Hufflepuff," answered George nonchalantly, apparently feeling that knowing where the entrance to a banned common room was did not count as impressive knowledge to be in possession of.
"You get in by tapping the barrels in a specific rhythm, but if you mess it up you get squirted with a whole lot of nasty vinegar, so try not to shake anything," added Fred.
They were standing in front of a portrait of a bowl of fruit that was as tall as Astoria was. Fred looked both ways and then, with a grin, reached out and ticked a painted pear. To Astoria's surprise, the pear giggled and became a green door handle before her eyes.
"Where are we going?" asked Astoria quietly, even though she was beginning to form her own suspicion.
"Kitchens," said George with a wicked smirk, giving the green door handle a firm push.
Astoria had never seen so many house elves in once place before in her life. Several of them rushed to greet Fred and George with such excitement that it could have been mistaken for panic.
"Misters Weasley," said an old house elf with a long face and bulbous nose gravely, "you is honoring us with your presence."
There were a fine tangle of hairs on the elf's upper lip that Astoria first took for a mustache but soon recognized were actually an impressive protrusion of overzealous nose hairs.
"Cheers, Bumbles and a happy Halloween to you," said Fred looking perfectly at ease despite the commotion and clamor of pots and pans all around them. Astoria guessed that this was far from the twins first visit.
"Thank you, sirs," said Bumbles, doing a very good job of retaining his dignity in spite of his voluminous nose hair. "We is very busy at work, sirs, preparing the evening feast."
"I see that Bumbles," said George, "in that case, we'll be of your hair as fast as we can."
Astoria was certain she would not have used the phrase 'out of your hair' had she been speaking, but the elf did not seem to take offense.
"Not at all. What can I be doing for you sirs?" inquired the butler-elf eagerly.
"We were hoping you might have a few extra bottles of butterbeer kicking around," said Fred, eyeing a passing tray of sweets as it hovered past. "Something you weren't planning on sending up to the staff table tonight, maybe?"
Bumble's face fell. "You know that is what I wish to be giving you whatever you like, but you is not supposed to be drinking butterbeer..."
"Well, in that case," said George dramatically, "I guess we'll just give you our Halloween present and take our leave!"
Fred withdrew a tiny figurine from his pocket. It was the type of toy that could occasionally be found at the bottom of a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. Astoria could not see anything special about it but the elf had frozen.
"This here is Artemisia Lufkin, first ever female Minister for Magic," said Fred, handing over the small action figure. "You can add her to your collection."
Bumbles the elf began to tremble with gratitude.
0o0
"Butterbeer isn't strong stuff, of course," said Fred a few minutes later as they ambled their way back out of the Hufflepuff basement, their pockets clinking under the weight of several glass bottles, "but they know we're not supposed to be drinking it. Bless their hearts."
"If we hadn't found Bumbles' collection of toys in second year, we might have had to do without," added George. "He's mad for those little statues. It's easier to just just nick drinks from Hogsmeade, of course, but sometimes there isn't enough time for that."
Astoria was not a person who was easily impressed, but she was struggling with her awe for the crooked network of petty crime that the twins seemed to have established for themselves in only three years.
You can sneak into Hogsmeade?" asked Astoria sharply.
"Oh yeah," said George as they made their way across the entrance hall. "It's a lot easier than you would think, but the secret tunnel is miles long. It makes for a better night mission, really."
Astoria pulled her cloak around herself tightly and preparing herself for the cold as Fred pushed open the front doors. What would it take in order to convince the twins to let her tag along on a night mission to Hogsmeade with them, Astoria wondered?
They took the bottles of butterbeer to a vacated, rain slick courtyard. A small bench was situated up against the eaves of a nearby roof, so they sat on the thin top of the bench and braced their backs against the stone wall of the castle to keep out of the storm. Water still spat up at the soles of their shoes and the seat of Astoria's skirt was slightly damp, but they managed to evade most of the deluge from their makeshift perch.
George opened a bottle of butterbeer and passed it down to her before opening two more for himself and his brother. Astoria had never drank butterbeer before, but it smelled delicious, like spiced tea and caramel. She tried a sip on her tongue and found that it was pleasantly warming.
"So, how is it that you two seem to know all these Hogwarts secrets?" Astoria asked, taking a proper gulp from her bottle now.
"Oh, we certainly know how to manage some mischief, don't we Fred?" said George, letting out a knowing chuckle.
"Well put, brother, " smirked Fred conspiratorially,
"Seriously though," Astoria pressed, her cold fingers clenched tightly around her drink. "The kitchens I understand, but secrets paths into Hogsmeade?"
The twins exchanged a look of uniform amusement.
"Put it this way," said George, winking at her, "keep marauding with us and maybe we'll show you."
Two bottles of butterbeer apiece later and it was nearly the end of first period, which meant that Fred and George were obligated to go to charms class. This was a bit of a let down for Astoria however, because her first class was a double period and she suddenly found herself adrift with a whole hour and a half to fill by herself.
Astoria continued to sit on the bench for a while, watching as the rain fell onto the vibrant, leaf-strewn grass, her head swimming with the muted effects of the drinks she had just consumed. Fred and George had been pretty clear about saying that Butterbeer was not strong, but if Astoria was being perfectly honest with herself, she felt a little loopy.
Finally, when she could no longer feel her chilly feet, Astoria got up and ducked out into the downpour, yanking the flap of her hood up over her head to keep out the rain. She pounded across the slick cobblestones, kicking up spray from puddles until she reached the door. Blindingly feeling about for the door handle, Astoria tripped over the threshold and collided with something decidedly solid and human feeling. Her hand brushed across someones knuckles like the ghost of a fist bump.
"Watch it!" snapped a sharp, displeased voice.
Astoria dropped her cloak as Draco Malfoy managed to catch his balance. Behind Draco, Crabbe was already flexing his muscles.
"Oh," said Draco, his aggression fading when he recognized her, "it's you."
"Sorry," Astoria muttered, shaking out her wet hair.
"Why aren't you in class?" asked Draco, peering out the door behind her nosily.
"Herbology was cancelled," said Astoria stupidly. If she had been feeling the numbing effects of the butterbeer sitting on the cold bench outside, it was nothing to what she was suddenly experiencing in the warm hall. "Why are you lurking in the entrance way?"
"If you call standing, lurking," said Draco. "Quirrell's had another nervous breakdown or something. Avery says he was giving a lecture on vampires and fainted, the great stuttering moron, so we have the morning off."
Crabbe grunted to confirm this story.
"Oh," said Astoria, feeling very out of it. Draco stared at her, obviously waiting for her to say something. How long had she been standing in front of him?
"Just ran into your pal Potter a minute ago," Draco went on when it became evident that Astoria did not plan on speaking. "I caught him sneaking out of the hall. Someone's sent him a broomstick."
"He's not really my pal," Astoria argued, surprised by how thick her tongue felt. "Broomsticks are illegal for first years, aren't they?"
"Obviously," said Malfoy, pleased to find that they were of the same mind. "First years aren't even allowed to try out for the house team, which is criminal, really. Father agrees..."
He wasn't so bad, Malfoy. His presence seemed to be greatly improved by the consumption of two alcoholic beverages.
"Of course, I'll make the house team next year but what Potter thinks he's doing with a secret broomstick is beyond me," sneered Draco. "I don't know what Flitwick thought he was talking about. Something about a 'special' circumstance..."
Astoria nodded, which seemed to be enough encouragement for Draco to go on.
Perhaps this was the secret of his friendship with Crabbe and Goyle? They weren't actually stupid, they were both just drunk and Malfoy was always so busy complaining that he had never noticed?
Astoria giggled.
"Right?" said Draco, obviously thinking she had laughed at something he had said and looking vaguely proud himself for it. "They'll probably dock him about fifty points."
"Mmm," said Astoria, feeling more like Crabbe than ever. Would Draco notice if she reduced to grunting?
"Of course, Potter would have been expelled if you and Nott hadn't helped him get away from Filch," continued Draco. "That's just like Nott though, he likes to contradict people so much that he always ends up ruining the best ideas."
There were some details that had been rearranged poorly here...
"Oh, sorry," said Draco, not looking sorry at all. "I didn't mean to say something rude about your new best friend."
"Best friend?" said Astoria, parroting the part of Draco's sentence that she found most interesting.
"Well, he seems to think so," said Malfoy sarcastically, smirking at the idea as though it was ludicrous. "Did you know he actually saw his mother die? Right in front of him— I mean, can you imagine?"
Astoria couldn't and for a moment she felt freakishly close to crying.
"That's probably why he's so morbid all the time, you know," said Draco knowingly, "because he's deranged mentally. For all you know, he's secretly a dangerous lunatic."
Astoria could not see how witnessing the death of a parent should count as a mark against a person, but Draco had certainly made it sound that way with perverse ease. Why was Draco telling her this? Was this his idea of acceptable gossip?
"Of course, Theodore's father raised him but he's gone a bit daft with old age himself, which is a pity because I know my father used to be fond of him," said Draco. "Still, with two lunatics in the family, Theodore was always going to turn out a little bent."
The bell for lunch rang. Astoria shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Had she been standing with Draco for a whole hour?
"Astoria!" called Daphne, rushing up from the dungeons. One look at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle seemed to give her pause, however. Daphne's look of delight swiftly became strained. Draco shrugged off toward the great hall and Crabbe and Goyle followed suit.
"What was that?" asked Daphne, watching as Draco found a seat at the Slytherin table. "Was he being rude? Why aren't you in class?"
"What?" asked Astoria, rattled by the wealth of unwanted information she had just received. "No, Harry Potter got a new racing broom or something. They called off Herbology."
"Oh, because of the rain?" pressed Daphne comprehendingly. "That's nice. What did you do?"
"I think I may have gotten drunk," said Astoria, still blinking stupidly.
0o0
Though the butterbeer had at first seemed like a novel if not slightly foolish experience, it soon began to wear off and feel like something closer to sickness by the late afternoon. The dull roar in her head that had made the world recede began to fade and suddenly everything came surging back in the form of a terrible headache.
By the end of last period, Astoria had made the decision to skip the feast all together. The idea of food was slightly unpleasant to her and the noise of the entire student body, doubly so. Instead she retreated to her dormitory and climbed under the top blanket on her bed. With her face resting against her pillow, she shut her eyes and listened to the soothing sounds of the continuing rain.
Inevitably though, her mind turned to Draco and what he had said about Theodore that afternoon. Was it possible that Theodore had really watched his mother die? It would be so easy to pass the idea off as an outrageous lie, if only Draco had not known Theodore's family for so long. Astoria's instinct, knowing Theodore only just little, told her that the story was probably true. If it was fact however, Astoria could not shake the feeling that Draco had behaved very badly in telling her about it.
Astoria considered Theodore's own tirade about Draco several days before and realized that, while Theo had not spared Draco much mercy, he had also not told Astoria anything about Draco's dark family history. In fact, Astoria seriously doubted that Theodore had told her anything that he would not have told Draco to his face.
A thunderous commotion from the common room an hour later roused her from an early sleep.
Confused, having not expected anybody back from the feast so quickly, Astoria stumbled her way back down the staircase in alarm. The smell of food hit her the moment she reached the circular common room. Nearly the entirety of Gryffindor house was lingering about on armchairs by the fire and an unusual buffet table had been set up near the hearth.
"What happened to the feast?" asked Astoria when she had located Fred and George in line for dinner, holding plates.
"Cancelled on account of troll!" called George ecstatically.
"What?" scoffed Astoria.
"Yeah!" chirped Lee Jordan, joining them at the back of the queue. "Professor Quirrell passed out in the middle of the hall!"
"I can't believe you missed it!" said Fred. A coy smile suddenly crossed his features. "Were you going to skip the feast?"
"Not feeling great?" prodded George, looking equally mischievous.
"Not really," Astoria admitted with less embarrassment then she might have felt in front of people who were less naturally pleasing.
"Yeah, well, George and I weren't feeling so great either," Fred went on, his grin widening.
"Usually doesn't happen with butterbeer," said George, "but then Fred and I checked the date on one of the bottles."
"We were thinking maybe ol' Bumbles gave us something a little older," said Fred, his grin barely contained. "A little stronger, if you know what I mean."
"Turns out the whole batch was brewed in 1958," said George.
Astoria blanched so Fred laughed and elucidated in way that she could understand, "I think it's fair to say that you drank a little whiskey with us today, Greengrass!"
0o0
The news of the troll break-in was all anyone wanted to talk about the next day. After listening to speculation about the upcoming quidditch match and having to hear the same story about the troll being repeated by the same people a hundred times, Astoria eventually gave up on the common room and went to the library.
Astoria had no desire to share with Theodore her new awareness about the particulars of his childhood, but she was very much hoping to run into him and the library seemed like the most likely place that Astoria would find him. Between Astoria's own lark in the kitchens and the ensuing mixup that had followed, Astoria had more than enough to share without ever having to bring up the fact that Draco had slipped and mentioned the particulars of his mother's death...
Sure enough, Astoria found Theodore near a set of long windows, sitting by himself with his nose in a particularly moldy looking book.
"Hey," said Astoria excitedly, dropping her bag onto the floor. "Did you see the troll last night?"
Theodore did not look up.
"Theo!" said Astoria, snapping her fingers to get his attention. "Hello?"
Theodore slowly lowered the book but his face remained cold and impassive. Astoria dithered, suddenly uncertain. There was a long, hostile pause.
"What's wrong?" asked Astoria, feeling suddenly chilly.
"Nothing," said Theo shortly, picking the book up again, "nothing at all."
"Ok," said Astoria slowly, "well then, vis-a-vis troll, I missed the whole thing so you need to fill me in! I was up in the dormitory when everything went mad."
"I noticed," said Theodore a touch unpleasantly. "You didn't miss much. It's not the first time Qurriell's fallen over from shock, plus the troll was never actually in the hall."
"Oh," said Astoria awkwardly, trying to understand what could have made Theodore become so distant with her overnight.
"Other highlights include about half of a meal and Potter's quidditch team scandal," Theodore went on tersely, still refusing to look in her direction.
"Yeah," said Astoria slowly, trying to recollect what she had heard about Harry's broom. "I think Malfoy said something about that."
"Oh, Malfoy told you, did he?" asked Theo waspishly, his voice going up a pitch. "He's just a font of news!"
Astoria paused, unsure of herself, trying to guess if Draco had told Theodore about what he had said to her the day before.
"So I take it you two are friends now?" asked Theodore harshly, breaking the silence. "Why don't you just ask him about the troll? I'm sure he'd go on about it for ages for you."
"Why would I ask Malfoy about the troll?" demanded Astoria, perplexed and trying to backtrack. "I just happened to see him in the hall yesterday."
"I know," sneered Theo in an accusing tone, "I heard all about it."
"Heard all about what?" asked Astoria fearfully.
Theodore cleared his throat and when he spoke it was in imitation Draco's high, drawling voice, "You know, I don't know how Astoria Greengrass ever got sorted into Gryffindor. If you didn't know otherwise, you'd almost think the she was more our sort, wouldn't you?" Theodore scoffed, "I mean, did you literally kiss up to him or was it more metaphorical than that?"
Astoria was, for a moment, genuinely shocked.
"Well," Astoria finally managed, "I don't know about any of that. I ran into Draco after hanging around with Fred and George, who accidentally tricked me into drinking two bottles of fifty year old beer. I'm not sure I actually managed to string more than two sentences together the whole time Malfoy was talking to me. Crabbe and I were practically grunting in unison."
"What?" snapped Theo, looking as though he really wanted to continue on being angry but was thrown by this confession to the point of distraction.
"I broke into the kitchens yesterday and drank backwoods fire-whiskey," said Astoria. "Are you seriously going to sit here and give me a hard time about Draco?"
"Fine, I know. I'm sorry— it's not you," said Theo, finally closing his book. There was an uncomfortable, dogged look in his eye now, although he was doing his best to hide it. He began to fidget uncomfortably. "I suppose he talked about me?"
Astoria hesitated, feeling that they were finally getting to the heart of the problem.
"He did, didn't he?" Theodore pressed.
"You talked about him," Astoria pointed out.
"What did he say?" Theo demanded sharply. "I guess he probably told you to watch out because I'm a nutcase or something?"
"Well, yeah," said Astoria, trying to inject her voice with a teasing edge, "although frankly, I'd already worked that out for myself."
Theo said nothing and doodled uncomfortably on his text. There was a short, nervous pause. "What else?"
Astoria watched him doodle while dread gathered in her belly. Surely Theodore already knew, or at least suspected, what Draco had told her or else why would he bother interrogating her like this?
"Well, he said that your dad is— I don't know, kind of senile?" Theo's shoulder jerked but he did not look up. "And something about how you watched your mother die…"
Theodore's face had gone blank with wordless horror. Her guess had been wrong. Astoria knew immediately that Theodore had not been expecting this bit of information to come out of her mouth.
"Malfoy said that?" asked Theo, in a voice of such forced calm that his chin twitched.
"It doesn't matter," said Astoria more quickly than she meant to.
"To you maybe!" Theo barked, suddenly livid. "What did you say to him?"
"I don't know!" said Astoria desperately. "Nothing, what was I supposed to say?"
A wild, almost animal panic was creeping into Theodore's whole frame as though he had been cornered by a pack of predators.
"Please don't be mad at me," Astoria begged. "I wasn't asking him about you! I wasn't even going to tell you, except—"
"Oh, that's rich," barked Theo cruelly. "You think I don't know about your parents?"
Astoria froze.
"Your mom is Lucrezia Lestrange, isn't she?" spat Theodore, who was so upset that his hands were shaking. "How else would your crook of a father have ended up with so many high paying clients? Your dad is a poser, and the reason that you don't talk to you mother isn't because she died or ran off, it's because she's in Azkaban! For life, I'd guess, since she murdered about a half a—"
He stopped because Astoria had thrown his own quill, freshly inked, directly into his face. Theodore sputtered and for a split second, she could see the horrible regret blossoming across his face.
Astoria picked up her books, leaving the quill on the ground where it had fallen.
"Astoria, don't—" said Theo remorsefully, trying to stand up in time to stop her, but Astoria was too fast for him. When she reached the hallway he stopped calling after her.
0o0
The next weekend marked both the first quidditch match of the season and the end of the most trying week Astoria had had yet at Hogwarts. She did not know which she felt more; intense anger at Theodore or crippling anxiety about the idea that he knew such secrets about her mother.
Astoria knew now that she should not have concealed her mother's name when she had first arrived at school. The idea of having her mother's identity revealed by someone else was far worse. What Astoria should have done, was admitted the fact immediately and cut off any gossip at the source. It was the fact that she had kept her mother's identity a secret that was giving Theodore such power. By hiding Lucrezia in the first place, Astoria had just as good as admitted what a bad person her mother had been. It would be a mark against Astoria if the fact were to be revealed now. She would not be a victim, she would be a sneak, a fraud.
Astoria had waited all week for the axe to fall, certain it would come from a Slytherin in the form of a sly comment. From Pansy perhaps, asking Astoria how she could live with herself for being such a Gryffindor hypocrite when everyone knew that her mother was really a Death Eater?
After a week of tense lessons and poorly rested evenings however, Astoria was forced to accept that Theodore had probably not said anything. Gradually, she began to realize that he probably wouldn't either, and for some reason this just made her angry all over again. Why had Theodore bothered being so rude in the first place, if he hadn't even meant it? By the time the Astoria awoke on Saturday morning, her anger had made a full circuit and come back around to where it had begun and part of her wanted to throw another quill in Theodore's face for causing her such seemingly unnecessary angst.
Saturday was the day of the big match and November had brought with it a variety of frozen winds that were sure to make being a spectator as uncomfortable as possible. Astoria walked with Daphne down to the quidditch pitch after breakfast, both of them wrapped in scarves and sweaters for warmth. The sky was a clear blue and the winter sun shining overhead was bright even if it was doing very little to warm them. Fred and George had gone down to the pitch early, as they were both on the Gryffindor team.
"Where do you want to sit?" asked Daphne, rubbing her gloved hands together for warmth.
Astoria eyed the benches warily. Fred and George were her only reliable Gryffindor friends and as even Lee Jordan was commentating, she suspected that Daphne was going to want to sit with the Slytherins.
There was a nice row of mostly vacant seats straight ahead but just as she was on the verge of pointing them out, Astoria spotted Theodore's crooked nose poking out from behind a copy of the Sunday Prophet several seats down.
Annoyed, Astoria forced her sister to stagger up two entire rows in order to give Theodore a wide berth and she was already in her seat before she realized what she had done. In her attempt to avoid Theodore Nott, she had inadvertently put herself in a middle row, directly above Pansy Parkinson and her friend Tracey Davis and directly below Draco, Crabbe and Goyle.
"Look, there they are!" said Daphne, pointing to the field as the crowd around them began to cheer.
The Slytherin and Gryffindor teams were approaching each other from opposite ends of the pitch. Lee began to commentate. Out of the corner of her eye, Astoria saw Theodore put away his newspaper.
Astoria continued to stare at the pitch while a lick of irrational anger swooped her insides. If Theo wasn't being such a prat, she and Daphne might have be sitting with him, perhaps enjoying the game and picking fun of the players. Instead, she was crushed between a pack of people she disliked and her eyes were unnaturally focused into a tunnel-like vision that could only observe what was already straight ahead of her.
"This commentator is ridiculous," snapped Pansy, following one of Lee's jokes about an attractive Gryffindor chaser. "He's not even talking about the game!"
Astoria wondered how long a game of quidditch normally lasted and tried to relax. She allowed her eyes to sweep the part of the stands that did not have Theodore in it and accidentally caught Malfoy staring at her very slyly out out of the corner of his eye.
Draco jumped when she caught him, but covered for himself quickly. "Are you going for Slytherin because you figure Potter will probably fall off his broom mid-game?"
Astoria shrugged. She didn't care who won and she didn't feel like arguing with anybody within earshot of Theo. "How long does a quidditch match go on for?" she asked.
"Until the seeker catches the snitch," said Malfoy slowly. He narrowed his eyes, possibly wondering if she was being deliberately obtuse. "You've never seen a quidditch match before?"
"What's a seeker?" asked Astoria, playing dense on purpose in the hopes that he would give her up as an annoying, lost cause.
"The smallest player," answered Malfoy. "The seeker catches the snitch and ends the game."
"So the snitch isn't worth points?" asked Astoria, failing to see the logic in this.
"The snitch is worth the most points," said Draco, employing a tone that most people generally reserved for small, slow children.
Several seats below them, Astoria heard Theodore Nott stir in his seat and cough with disapproval.
The small well of anger that Astoria had been digging in her own chest all week suddenly flooded over at the sound of Theodore's cough. A desperate need to throw something, or anything, at Theo caused Astoria to clench her fists in her lap to stop herself from doing something stupid. Malfoy was still glancing at her. Astoria relaxed her fingers as another plan for revenge, a better one, instantly resolved itself before her.
"So, who's seeker then?" said Astoria, propping herself back on her arms so that she was closer and could more easily hear Malfoy speak over the noise of the audience.
Draco shrugged to prove his lack enthusiasm, but he answered her question almost immediately. "Terrence Higgs for Slytherin and presumably Potter for Gryffindor."
"'Presumably Potter'?" parroted Astoria with a laugh, careful to keep her tone free of scorn lest she lose Malfoy, who was now an integral part of her scheme to annoy Theodore. "Is that what you're calling him now? It sounds like you don't think he's actually who he says he is."
Malfoy stared at her, trying to figure out if she was mocking him. Astoria smiled encouragingly in the most radiant way she knew how. Draco was forced to look away, blinking rapidly as though he had stared into a bright light for too long.
"Alright, I see Harry," Astoria went on, following the match at last, "but which one is Terrence— I assume the seekers are the ones to watch?"
"Most of the action happens with the chasers," Draco corrected. "The beaters are the ones who handle the bludger, so that's always a laugh but, of course, the seekers do end the game. It's best not to lose sight of them, if you can manage it. Terrence is the one on the the Comet Two sixty." Astoria shot him a blank look so Draco clarified, growing slightly more smug. "That's a broomstick model."
Several rows below, Theodore was sitting crookedly, no doubt following Astoria's betrayal as closely as he could manage. Even as she watched, Theodore let out a dry, unkind laugh.
"Point him out to me," said Astoria. Spurred on by Theo's laugh, Astoria leaned in close enough to follow Draco's line of vision. The side of her arm pressed lightly against his thigh and, after a second's deliberation, she left it there.
Draco's shoulders stiffened slightly. His gaze flicked down to the point of contact between their bodies evasively before he pointed into the air. "There, next to Potter—"
Suddenly both of the seekers began to dive toward the ground. Astoria craned her head, interested despite herself.
Both seekers were speeding against each other, neck and neck— no, Harry's broom was faster— he was going to win the game. Out of nowhere, Marcus Flint collided with Harry and pushed him off course. A collective groan went up from the Gryffindor side of the stadium.
"Hah!" jeered Malfoy, sounding very self-satisfied. He leaned back in his seat cockily. Astoria couldn't help but notice that this movement seemed to push his leg more firmly against her side.
"Is that a foul?" Astoria asked.
"Yeah," drawled Draco. "It's worth the penalty though, because Terrence blocked the snitch."
All around them, Slytherins were exchanging self-congratulatory looks. Pansy turned around in her seat with a knowing smirk plastered all over her flat, unkind face. Her eyes skipped from Draco to Astoria and her smirk flickered before tightening into a cold grimace.
Astoria sat up immediately. She leaned toward her sister, who also seemed to be watching Astoria from behind false features, perhaps wondering why she was intentionally asking for so much attention. Astoria had not factored Pansy into her plan, which was beginning to look like a lot more work than it was strictly worth.
"Disappointed, Astoria?" Pansy asked. "Had your fingers crossed for Potter?"
"I don't really care, honestly," Astoria confessed. "I don't follow quidditch."
"That's a little disloyal, don't you think?" sneered Pansy.
One of the Gryffindor chasers was now in possession of the quaffle and speeding toward the goal posts entirely unchecked. Draco leaned forward, continuing to commentate for Astoria over Lee's voice. "That's the penalty shot. The referee awards them for a foul."
"You've really never seen a single quidditch game, Astoria?" asked Pansy skeptically, calling over Draco. If looks could kill, Astoria would have been obligated to fall over cold.
"No, we haven't actually," said Daphne spontaneously. "I've never seen one, either. Dad never followed a team."
Draco turned back to Astoria incredulously. "I thought you said you lived in Tidenham? That's right next to Tutshill, isn't it? So you have the Tutshill Tornados."
Astoria did not remember ever telling Draco where she lived.
"What's your team again, Draco?" asked Pansy, firmly putting a stop to any discussion about where the Greengrass sisters' father lived.
"The Wasps, I suppose," drawled Malfoy, "as they actually win, although the Falmouth Falcons are alright. You do know how the Wimborne Wasps got their name, don't you?" he asked, looking at Astoria again. Astoria half-wished Draco wouldn't, because every time he spoke to her directly, Pansy shifted around a little more in her seat and her expression grew more lethal.
"No," said Astoria.
Tracey Davis squealed. Pansy accidentally fidgeted her weight onto Tracey's hand.
"Some beater back in the day—I forget his name—hit an actual hornet nest at another team's seeker during play."
"Speaking of retirement, Astoria," cut in Pansy with a forced laugh, "I remembered a crazy story from Tippy's today at breakfast!"
Tippy's. Pansy was talking about the finishing school course she and Astoria had both attended together the summer previously.
Tippy Tipman was an elderly, pure-blooded witch who was famous for offering etiquette classes to younger girls. Materialistic and unprecedentedly manipulative, Tippy had gone by her nickname since the death of her husband. Every summer she conducted a seminar with the help of her spinster friends at her palatial summer grounds in Kent. Astoria's time with Tippy had been one of the worst experiences of her life.
"It was during that special archery lesson? You know, the one when Mrs. Tippy's friend Dolly came to teach as a special treat?" insisted Pansy. As if Astoria needed any reminding about the incident she was referring to.
Draco raised a bored eyebrow. Clearly he did not find finishing school stories half as interesting as watching Harry Potter potentially lose at quidditch, but Astoria knew what story Pansy was referencing and she was certain that if Pansy finished telling it, she would have the attention of anyone within a ten yard radius.
"I remember that time at tea when Tippy smacked your hand because you were eating all the cakes," Astoria countered threateningly.
Pansy blushed furiously but plowed on. "Oh no, I'm taking about the time you shot our archery teacher! Speaking of hands, wasn't that where you hit Miss. Dolly with an arrow?"
"You shot your teacher?" drawled Malfoy, incredulous delight replacing boredom. Pansy had succeed. His interest was properly regained.
"It was a practice shot," sniffed Astoria, dismissing the whole thing as best as she could.
"In the wrong direction and it wasn't your turn," insisted Pansy.
"Something's wrong with Harry's broom," said Daphne, drawing their attention skyward again.
High in the air, Harry was struggling to stay atop of his broomstick, which was bucking and shaking beneath him. Far below, someone for Slytherin scored.
"Is that normal?" asked Astoria nervously, her own fear of flying infecting the spectacle that she was watching with a sense of personal danger.
Harry's broomstick began to roll over and over, Harry only just clinging to it by a single arm. Malfoy shook his head to indicate 'no' with a look of feverish excitement. Harry was rising higher by the second and the broom was growing even more restless. Harry began to zig zag and Astoria clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from squeaking. Then, all of a sudden, Harry had regained control and was diving down toward the ground. His hand went up to his mouth in direct imitation of Astoria and he heaved himself off his Nimbus.
"He's going to throw up!" said Malfoy, obviously delighted by this, his eyes narrowing with mirth.
Harry Potter coughed. Astoria cringed and then a wave of applause went up from the Gryffindors because Harry had spat out the snitch.
Astoria took her hands away from her mouth, relief that she had not had to watch Harry fall of his broom flooding her body. She turned to Daphne, "He really can fly well, can't he?"
0o0
A little bit of Pansy and Astoria backstory here which probably seemed like the most boring part of the chapter but it'll let you in on a wee little secret (it's one of my favorite details so far) Miss. Dolly will, in fact, be back much later in this story in a way that I get a huge kick out of.
Until then, there is some new Draco chemistry really starting to take off in this chapter. Add a dash of the dreaded 'friend fight' with Theo and things are really starting to get rolling. As always, reading comments is a joy so tell me what you think!