Chapter Fourteen
Dementors Aboard the Hogwarts Express
0o0
The next morning dawned bright and sunny. A clingy humidity lingered near the eaves; the byproduct of three day's worth of rain being slowly burned away. The effect—far from pleasant—was rather like being forced to wake up inside of a fish bowl. Astoria kicked everything except her sheets off of the bed and tried to sleep on, but the bright chirping of birds and the moist buzzing of bees in the garden roused her before noon.
There was a letter from Theo waiting for her on the foyer table when she went downstairs. Astoria opened it standing up in the middle of the room.
Astoria,
The rain has stopped and the world is moist and glorious!
Astoria paused, certain that she must have misread. But no, there they were, in Theo's lurid handwriting, the words: 'the world is moist and glorious!'. She opened her mouth and squealed with silent delight.
Come visit me around lunchtime. I've been in the garden since sunrise.
Theo.
Eager to learn what had turned Theodore Nott loose and poetic, Astoria skipped the breakfast she had been on her way to pillage from the kitchen and instead went back to her room. Here, she put on the thinest sundress she could find (even her hair was sticking to her neck) and a pair of rubber boots before making her way through the floo.
Theo was sitting near the sunken garden in his backyard. Astoria had been here once before, on the occasion that she had met Theodore's father—Mr. Nott, suspicious that Astoria might be a muggle, had threatened to murder her. The garden seemed to have changed greatly with the season, however.
The old well was now perspiring green moss and heavy climbing hydrangeas hung off the half-broken statuary. Theo looked up from his book as she approached, his eyes bleary from hours of mulling over small text.
"Hello," said Astoria jauntily, wet to her knees from the overgrown lawn that surrounded the sunken sitting area. Even as she watched, a butterfly flew by, stopping for a moment to perch on a wet leaf before fluttering off toward the forest.
"Hello," called Theo, closing his book and stretching his long, thin arms. His back cracked like ice in warm water when he arched it and Astoria tried not to wince.
"What are you reading?" Astoria asked, turning the book in his hands over to reveal the title. It was the complete words of Lord Byron. Theo blushed and turned it over again. At his feet, a copy of Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul lay flat against the stones. Astoria chose to focus on the least embarrassing of the two.
"I thought we weren't taking Divination?" she said, pointing toward the book at his feet.
"We're not," said Theo promptly, "but take Broken Balls home with you anyway. It's scintillating reading. Worthy of even Lockhart's approval."
"Ah," remarked Astoria sagely, "now that is praise."
They both grinned at each other. Astoria sat down on one of the drier looking stones and extended her rubber clad feet.
"How was your lunch?" asked Theo, his face lighter and less lined than it normally was, especially when confronted by so much natural beauty. Astoria wondered if the sunshine had finally gotten to him.
"Lunch was typical," Astoria sighed. "Father forgot all about us ten seconds after we got there. I ended up drinking gin and napping in a forgotten corner."
"Ah, the country club," sighed Theo, snickering. "Millicent said she might come over today."
"Did she?"
Astoria had not yet been able to make up her mind about Millicent Bulstrode. On the one hand, she knew that Theo found something redeeming about her personality because he did not seek out anybody that he was not fond of. On the other hand, however, Millicent's hitherto unproven intrigue seemed to degrade to nothing but grunts and moody eyelash batting in Astoria's presence.
"She doesn't like me, you know," said Astoria airily, watching his expression.
Theo shrugged. "She just doesn't trust you."
"I've never done anything to Millicent," Astoria argued tensely.
"No, I suppose not," said Theo, "but Millie's never had a very easy time of it. Between her parents and the other Slytherins at school, it's a miracle she hasn't thrown herself off a building. It's not easy being shy and ugly, you know. Take it from me."
"You're not ugly, Theo," said Astoria, suffering a pang of annoyance at these words. "You're funny and wise and I don't know what I would do without you."
Theo laughed. "You'd find another dark, witty academic I suppose. A Ravenclaw might do. As for Millicent, she doesn't take to people easily. Did you know that Malfoy charmed Millie's face onto a copy of Holidays with Hags and then gave it to her as Christmas gift last year?"
Astoria had not known this, although it did not surprise her.
"She should have turned around and stuck him on the cover of Voyages with Vampires, the pale little twit," snapped Astoria, tracing a line in the mud between the stones with her boot.
"Yes, well, maybe that's what you would have done," said Theo slowly, attempting to explain with great care. "You can get away with that sort of thing because you're pretty and you have friends. People care about what you say when you speak. For someone like Millicent, that would have been tantamount to social suicide."
"No," argued Astoria, suddenly angry. "The difference is that I don't care what other people say about me. Millicent needs to grow a pair and be her own boss, if you want to know what I think."
"You don't care what people think because people are already predisposed to think well of you," said Theo, his tone shifting to become slightly cutting. "Good looks and charm tend to have that effect on people. Besides, the whole thing is a joke anyway because Draco wouldn't stick your face on a copy of Holidays with Hags in the first place, would he? It's a moot point."
Astoria pulled her damp hair away from her face and piled it heavily on top of her head. "What about 'Year with a Yeti'?" she suggested, feeling the thick frizz under her fingers and grinning.
"Fat chance," sneered Theodore snidely. "Your book is called, 'I'm Using My Hand but I'm Thinking of You'."
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Astoria sharply, but before Theo could reply, a loud and catastrophic bang from somewhere nearby caused all of the birds in the trees to leap into the air, squawking riotously.
"What was that?" Astoria gasped, bringing her hands up to her ears.
Another terrific bang echoed off of the side of Theo's house and a distant tree limb was blasted apart.
"Dad," sighed Theo moodily.
Behind the front of the house was a long, uneven lawn bordered by an out of control shrubbery. A brick terrace abutted a set of open doors, forming the backdrop against which Mr. Nott and an aged elf were standing.
Astoria paused, taking in the sight because she had never been behind the Notts' house before. Then, suddenly, Theodore pulled her up against the gutter without so much as a warning.
"PULL!" roared Mr. Nott and the tiny old elf, quivering as though he was carrying a very heavy weight, triggered a mechanism. A flying clay disk leapt into the sky. With another deafening bang, it exploded into pieces that showered down onto the clumping grass like powdery comets.
"Merlin's balls, father!" hollered Theo and Mr. Nott paused in reloading what looked like a double barreled muggle war weapon. The tiny old elf jumped heartily and released a second clay discus by accident.
Swearing fervently, Mr. Nott swung the shinning stick upward with enough momentum to make it click ominously and took aim.
BANG!
Astoria was prepared this time; her hands were already clapped over her ears when the disk exploded.
"We are ON the lawn!" Theo yelled, stalking forward as the sound receded into a whooshing echo.
"Were you?" asked Mr. Nott over the clattering of shells falling to the ground.
"Hello, Mr. Nott!" called Astoria merrily. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
"Eh?" growled Mr. Nott. "If you say so."
The quivering elf sunk to his knees and Astoria began to understand that the loud noises were probably as unnerving to him as they were to Theodore.
"ON the lawn, father," Theo insisted angrily. "You could have shot Astoria!"
"What did you bring her to the backyard for, then?" asked Mr. Nott cantankerously. "Closer range?"
"What are you shooting, anyway?" asked Astoria curiously, stepping out from behind an irate Theodore and examining the rod in Mr. Nott's hands.
"Skeet shooting," grumbled Mr. Nott. "Muggles get to blast things apart, so I figured, why can't I?"
The front doorbell rang and Mr. Nott froze.
"That'll probably be Millicent," snapped Theodore irritably, charging past his father into the house and muttering. "Always ringing the front door bell... doesn't realize there is a lunatic with a gun behind it!"
Mr. Nott handed the gun to the elf, who took it gratefully before collapsing under its weight.
"Here," Astoria volunteered, prying the weapon from the elf's horrified fingers, "let me."
Astoria followed Mr. Nott into the darkness of his formal living room, holding the gun over one shoulder. There were several nice couches and a tea table made over with a lace doily in this room, but a quick look told Astoria that it had been unused for years. A thick coating of dust covered everything from the mantel piece, on which an old clock ticked, to the victorian lamp shades. Mr. Nott barreled through as though the room itself made him itch under his skin and stopped in the front hall.
Millicent peered around Theodore from the open door.
"Damn the blasted bell! If you ever ring that thing again, I'll rip your fingers off!" bellowed Mr. Nott threateningly.
"Hi, Millicent!" called Astoria, hoisting the heavy shotgun up a bit higher.
Millicent blinked, but for the first time, it seemed to be out of shock rather than sulking dislike.
"Tea!" grumbled Mr. Nott violently, remembering himself. The elf at Astoria's feet disappeared with a small crack.
"Sod tea," mumbled Theo, but Millicent pushed past him and made for Mr. Nott's study.
The study was just as bizarre and unlikely as Astoria remembered it; dark, shrouded and populated with a collection of the most unlikely books imaginable. A rack of antlers had been installed on the wall over one of the shelves and there was now a candy bowl filled with what looked alarmingly like shark teeth, but the space was otherwise comfortingly familiar.
"You've decided on Arithmancy then?" rumbled Mr. Nott over his tea, making what Astoria assumed passed for his idea of small talk. "Blasted, cunting subject! Perfect for small-handed Nancies and people with narrow minds."
"Yes. Arithmancy," Astoria persisted. "Also Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures."
"Ancient Runes, eh?" Mr. Nott scratched his whiskery chin. "Now that you might like."
Theo made an emphatic face into his tea cup.
"I thought the same thing, actually," Astoria agreed, ignoring Theo's looks of resentment. "I enjoy translating. So does Theo." Astoria glanced at her friend pointedly. "Don't you, Theo? What about you Millicent?"
Neither Theo nor Millicent seemed to want to say a single word to her, however, so Astoria added cream to her tea and gestured sharply toward the rack of antlers hanging on the wall with her spoon. "What a great rack of antlers, sir."
"Nabbed 'em off of a Wolpertinger," exclaimed Mr. Nott in his gravelly baritone.
"Fan-tastic!" replied Astoria crisply, slamming her spoon down, wishing all the while that Theodore would stop ignoring her.
"Aren't Wolpertingers nearly extinct?" snapped Theo waspishly.
"And aren't they just rabbits with horns?" Millicent prodded further.
"They've also got WINGS!" cried Mr. Nott, holding out his hands to indicate a wing span, smiling in a manic way that was generally reserved for villains in children's books.
"But do they fly?" Astoria instigated, gazing up at the dark ceiling, "or are their fuzzy little rabbit bodies too heavy to get off of the ground? What do you think, Theodore?"
Theodore hissed.
"You know," mused Mr. Nott conversationally, "I'm not actually sure. Usually, I just point a gun at them and they scamper!"
Theo put his cup down and cleared his throat.
"You know what, yes, Astoria. I also like to translate."
Astoria smiled at Theodore through narrowed eyes.
"You'll find a lot about Runes in Gobbledegook," continued Mr. Nott, turning rather serious. "Theodore said you read the book I sent you."
"Yes," said Astoria.
"I'll send you home with a few more."
Millicent continued to stare at Astoria, her expression unreadable.
After tea, Mr. Nott turned them loose into the garden again. As he showed no signs of recollecting his gun and joining them, Astoria felt confident enough to sprawl out on the low prickling grass to listen to the hum of insects drone by.
The dew had mostly evaporated and while the air still smelled moist and earthy, Astoria's hair had ceased to plaster itself against her neck. A few feet away, a bush wobbled and a low, naughty snickering sound emanated from the roots.
"You've got gnomes, again," stated Millicent, staring in the direction of the noise.
"Yeah, I know," said Theo. "I think dad secretly likes them. He thinks they keep muggles off the grounds. I just let them be."
Astoria, whose aunt wouldn't let a gnome within twenty feet of their garden without drowning it, thought this was very sensible.
"I've always thought they were rather cute," Astoria offered, causing Millicent to stare at her blandly. "Sort of like rogue, drunk babies."
Theo snorted at this description, the sound turning into a laugh as the gnome in the shrubs peered through the greenery at them coyly; its bald, flat face wrinkled at the sight of them.
"What about the idea of a rogue, drunk baby appeals to you, exactly?" asked Millicent.
Astoria turned her head slightly, surprised that Millicent had spoken to her, let alone posed a question.
"What doesn't?" she smirked, secretly pleased to have been included.
0o0
"I've always wanted a cat," sighed Daphne dreamily a few weeks later, playing with the tassels on a decorative throw pillow in Belladonna's foyer. "I wonder if mum and dad will let me get one? I've made top marks in all my exams."
"Shh!" Astoria whispered urgently, craning her ear toward the closed living room door. "I'm trying to listen."
Behind those oak doors, Aunt Belladonna was having a discussion with someone in the fireplace. A heated discussion, too —every now and then, her aunt's voice raised past a civil octave and became clear enough to understand.
"Why do you care?" asked Daphne. "She obviously wants to be private."
"Nothing is private in this house," Astoria hissed back darkly, her head still cocked. "If she can set Bonky on me to keep tabs, then I can eavesdrop on her floo conversations!"
"Two wrongs don't make a right," sang Daphne, still fingering the tassel on the pillow. "How much longer do you think she'll be? I can't wait to get to Diagon Alley."
Astoria, Daphne and Belladonna were supposed to have left for London to do their school shopping almost an hour ago. It was quite unlike Belladonna to allow a floo call to make them all late, and Astoria was anxious with curiosity.
"Dunno," returned Astoria, paling slightly because whatever Belladonna had just said had sounded suspiciously like 'lying underneath you'. She really did not know if she would be able to stomach another of her aunt's dreaded marriages so late in life.
There was a long moment of silence. The hallway clock ticked; its swinging pendulum moving back and forth regularly. Finally, Astoria heard the sounds of her aunt's shoes approaching.
The living room door was suddenly flung open. Belladonna drew a breath as if to call for them, then noticed that both sisters were already sitting on the love seat near the front door.
"Oh," remarked Belladonna, her face darkening considerably as she observed Astoria's near proximity. "There you are. I thought I told you to wait for me outside."
"You did," said Astoria sharply. "Nearly an hour ago. It's hot out."
For a moment, Belladonna looked slightly flustered. Then, she motioned for them to get up. "Come along," she said tightly. "We've wasted enough time already this morning."
"You've wasted time, you mean," Astoria mumbled, following Daphne into the living room. Despite the heat, a fire was still burning hot in the grate.
"When we get to Diagon Alley, who is going where?" asked Belladonna clearly, opening the mantelpiece snuff box that contained their floo powder.
"Aren't we all staying together?" asked Daphne in confusion. "I thought that with Sirius Black on the loose..."
"Nonsense," Belladonna snorted. "What does the likes of Sirius Black want with two pure-blooded, well dressed girls? A ransom? Bah! I couldn't pay it."
Daphne stared at Astoria in shock, but this announcement did not take Astoria by surprise.
"Are you going to the tailor, then?" asked Astoria crisply.
"It was my plan to start there," admitted Belladonna. "Will you girls be able to manage your books without me?"
"I expect so," said Astoria, almost glad not to have her aunt swooping about them as they walked.
At the Leaky Cauldron they separated; Belladonna bound for Madam Malkin's, and Astoria professing a desire to visit Flourish and Blotts.
The moment her aunt was out of sight, Astoria undid all of the buttons on her blazer, exposing the thin silk slip she had tucked into her skirt underneath. It was well and truly blazing out and the idea of Belladonna lecturing her about propriety was enough to make her angry. Astoria exhaled and ran her fingers through her hair.
"Where to, then?" she asked, wishing she had thought to bring sunglasses to cut down on the hazy glare of the shop fronts.
"You look very like your aunt right now," commented Daphne absently and Astoria promptly cleared her throat and began down the cobblestone street, subtly redoing one of her buttons.
They went to the apothecary first so that Daphne could ogle the cats. Astoria stood a little behind her sister as she ooh-ed and aah-ed at the felines lined up in small cages against the walls.
"How mad do you think dad would be?" asked Daphne, her voice turning very serious as one of the kittens swiped at her hands through his wicker bars.
"He probably wouldn't even notice," said Astoria truthfully, tilting her head to look at one of the barn cats near the floor. "You should just get one. If he asks, tell him that he said it was alright when we all had dinner. Lord knows he was drunk enough—he'll never even know that he didn't agree."
"Astoria!" Daphne chastised, giggling a little anyway as the kitten began to purr. "How much money do you have on you?"
Astoria raised an eyebrow, surprised by this act of rebellion on her sister's part. "Enough to buy a cat," she conceded.
Several minutes later, clutching a wicker basket containing one kitten, Astoria and Daphne reentered the street.
"Shall we get our books, then?" asked Astoria while Daphne simpered and poked her fingers into the basket. "I did tell my aunt that was where we would be."
Daphne, who had already purchased the only thing she cared about, agreed. So they set off through the burning heat toward Flourish and Blotts.
The shop was surprisingly busy when they entered. A small crowd had gathered around a cage near the front windows containing what Astoria first thought was a family of raccoons. A moment's worth of observation later, however, it became clear that the furry, writhing things inside the cage were books and not animals at all.
Nervous about what the small queue of Hogwarts-aged students in front of this cage suggested, Astoria consulted her booklist. A volume listed as 'The Monster Book Of Monsters' caught her eye immediately.
"Back up, now, back up!" the irritable shop keeper yelled at the surrounding crowd of students. "I've been bitten already this morning, give me room!"
People jimmied backward to give this harassed manager enough space to put on his gloves.
"I don't know why we have to buy one of those," muttered Neville Longbottom miserably a few feet away. "It's going to rip all of my new robes to shreds."
"Enough," tutted Augusta Longbottom, shooting her grandson a quelling look. "The list says you need a copy, so we'll be buying one with the rest of your class."
Neville sulked, continuing to eye the books—which had begun to shred each other—gloomily.
"Why don't I just pop over to the outfitters across the street and fetch a belt?" suggested Augusta a little nervously, disliking the sound as a dozen books began ripping a tattier copy in half. "A belt will do the trick. Yes sir."
Astoria made room for Augusta Longbottom to press by toward the street.
"Afraid of the biting books, Longbottom?" jeered a drawling, delighted voice. Draco Malfoy elbowed his way through the crowd the moment Augusta disappeared. "Did you really just send your Grandmother off to buy a belt to keep you safe? God, it's like you aren't even a wizard!"
Neville quivered with shame. Freshly aware of how alone he was, he tried very hard not to look at Malfoy, who was leering at him maliciously.
A few of the students ahead collected their thrashing textbooks and sprinted toward the checkout, making room for Astoria and Daphne to edge forward.
"Draco," came a second, colder voice that Astoria recognized as belonging to Lucius Malfoy. "Come along."
Neville grew even paler. His eyes flicked toward the doors hopefully, plainly desperate to spot his grandmother pushing her way back through them.
"Coming Father," called Malfoy lazily, his eyes still on Neville. "Look Longbottom, I think it's your turn."
It was true. The shopkeeper was pointing at Neville and gesturing for him to come forward. Neville tried to shake his head but it was no use.
"Come on, boy," said the manager irritably, brandishing a long stick at the Monster Books of Monsters. "Keep the line moving forward!"
Draco stepped back, watching Neville excitedly. Behind him, two elderly gentleman parted without being asked to make way for Lucius. At Lucius's feet bobbed a small, over-burdened house elf.
"Go on, Longbottom," Draco drawled cruelly, only slightly checked by the presence of his father, who appeared tolerant if not bored, "we don't have all day."
Astoria had seen enough. Shrugging past a group of little boys who were all staring at the Monster Book of Monsters' cage and murmuring enthusiastically, she managed to wriggle in behind Draco.
"Hi, Neville!" Astoria called merrily, daring him to follow her example and let her rescue him.
Draco visibly startled and Astoria was very gratified to see that he appeared slightly flustered.
"Draco," continued Astoria civilly, acknowledging him with a hard look.
"Astoria," Draco jerked back quickly, trying to hide the way his body had stiffened guiltily at the sound of her voice. Lucius, who missed nothing, glanced between Astoria and his son with a barely palpable interest. The last time Astoria had seen Mr. Malfoy in a shop she had managed to amuse him, but she had never given him cause to search her expression before.
"Next in line!" called the manager desperately.
"Was that you, Malfoy?" asked Astoria, bracing herself. She moved forward just enough to block Neville's cowering form from Draco's line of sight.
"I thought I'd let Longbottom go first," suggested Draco, who had recovered just enough to work up a faint sneer.
"That's awfully nice of you," said Astoria firmly. "You should pick your buddy Goyle up an abacus while the mood lasts. I heard he's taking Arithmancy with you this year, and I think we both know what happens when he tries to count past ten."
Malfoy went slightly pink.
"Don't, Astoria," mumbled Neville nervously. "It's ok."
"Tell you what Neville," continued Astoria, gesturing over her shoulder. "Why don't you go help my sister hold her cat. It looks like it's a bit heavy for her."
"I—really?" stuttered Neville gratefully.
"Sure," Astoria shrugged stubbornly. "I'll get your book."
Neville shuffled past with a furtive, fearful glance in the Malfoys direction. Knowing what she had to do next, Astoria turned her eyes away from Draco and nodded slightly to Lucius, willing her legs not to feel like jelly. "Mr. Malfoy."
"Miss Greengrass," returned Lucius civilly, surprising Astoria by remembering her name.
"What was that?" demanded Draco twitchily, annoyed to have been checked in front of his father. "Are you mad that I insulted your pet-loser?"
Across the room, Neville had taken the cat basket from a very confused looking Daphne. He was now holding it diligently with both hands, giving every appearance of modeling a comically faithful butler.
"No," Astoria muttered, crossing her hands across her chest, suddenly remembering how thin and clingy her shirt was. She really should have redone the buttons on her blazer before entering the shop...
Across the room, Neville nearly dropped the cat basket and Daphne had to dive forward to prevent it from hitting the ground.
"Good," sneered Malfoy. "You could do better."
"Next!" shrilled the manager, nursing a brand new cut across his forearm. "For God's sake, next!"
"That's you," said Astoria pointed out bluntly.
"Go," commanded Mr. Malfoy, pushing his elf forward. "I'll be settling the bill, Draco. Don't dally."
The moment Lucius had begun to walk across the shop, Draco grew looser and more irritable.
"You're not doing him any favors, you know," Draco pressed nastily. "If the strong come out on top in life, then Longbottom's the bottom of the barrel. It's almost kinder to let him get used to being stepped on now."
"Lovely," Astoria snorted lightly, keen to purchase her books and be out of this impossible shop.
"What are you going to do now, anyway? As if two biting books weren't bad enough now you have to carry three," sneered Malfoy, pointing out the obvious. "Honestly, who assigns a book that wants to rip its owner to pieces?"
"You know what," brightened Astoria, spotting Percy Weasley near the used books aisle, "I find that when I'm not allowed to use my own wand, someone else will almost always lend me theirs. Percy!"
Percy Weasley looked up. Recognizing her, he dropped his battered paperback into the discount bin and offered a rather pompous hand shake.
"You're a seventh year, right Perce?" asked Astoria, determined to make it out of the shop without losing an ear.
"Yes, yes," said Percy boisterously. "I don't know if Fred and George have told you the news, but I've been made Head Boy!"
"Excellent, you're legal!" exclaimed Astoria, ignoring Draco's snort of derision. "You can help me enchant these books to stay closed."
Fifteen minutes later, Astoria, Daphne, and Neville carrying one basket all stumbled back out into the alley, very glad to be out of the bookshop.
"Why did you send Neville Longbottom to hold my cat?" hissed Daphne out of the side of her mouth, blatantly annoyed despite the fact the Neville was still standing beside them.
"Because he was having trouble with his book," argued Astoria angrily, annoyed by her sister's lack of common compassion.
"It was Malfoy," explained Neville sadly. "He was trying to make me take the book with my bare hands."
"So you got into a fight with Malfoy and sent one of your Gryffindor friends to drop my pet?" asked Daphne waspishly.
Astoria stared at her sister, seeing her for the first time in a new and unkind light.
"She's right," muttered Neville. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to get you in trouble. Malfoy's dad was there and everything—"
"You got in a fight with Draco in front of Mr. Malfoy over Neville Longbottom?" sneered Daphne, appalled. "Well, thats just perfect, Astoria! Can't you ever go out in public without insulting someone—or, or trying to get drunk or—"
"That's my Gran," said Neville miserably. "Thanks again, Astoria."
"I'm sorry!" snapped Astoria, watching Neville cross the street with his shoulders hunched. "It wasn't as bad as Neville made it sound! There was no actual fighting."
"Oh," said Daphne hotly. "No actual fighting. You mean you didn't get into a public brawl? What a relief!"
"Are you serious right now?" spluttered Astoria, fighting down a strange sense of dread.
"This is why Pansy doesn't like you, you know," Daphne went on, fixing the top of her basket shakily, "because you're always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong or intentionally being unpleasant."
"Oh please!" Astoria snarled. "Draco is permanently intentionally unpleasant and she likes him well enough."
"Yeah, well, maybe that should be your second clue," sniffed Daphne coldly.
"Let's just drop it, ok?" said Astoria, feeling very stung. "You've got your books. I didn't rile Draco up enough enough to start any blood feuds. I'm sure he'll forget about it."
Daphne let out a sharp gust of air and they walked the whole way to Madam Malkin's in silence.
0o0
Things were still not as they should be between the sisters by the first of September, although Astoria could not exactly say why.
Perhaps the problem was that, on some basic level, Astoria felt that all of the things her sister had complained about were traits that came naturally to her; things she could not change, even if she tried. This, coupled with the fact that they had not exchanged more than the briefest of letters since their fight meant there was a definite strain in the air between them as they boarded the train. None of Astoria's smiles or casual stabs at conversation seemed to be able to cut through it.
Ten minutes after the train had left the station, Daphne wandered off in search of Pansy and for the first times ever, Astoria was not sorry to watch her go.
A light rain began to pick up, washing the windows with an eerie, inky tint. At a loss, Astoria purchased a back of droobles and chewed her way thoughtfully down the hall in search of Theodore. Theodore, however, was no where to be found and after several hours, she began to suspect he was either hiding out in a luggage compartment or had failed to turn up in time to catch the train. Realizing that this was the longest she had ever ridden on the Hogwarts express alone, Astoria stopped over in Fred and George compartment feeling thoroughly sorry for herself.
"Queen Maeve again," said Fred, flipping over a chocolate frog card and frowning. "They must have printed about a million of her. You ever notice she'll turn up on one out of every five of these?"
Astoria shrugged as rain continued to fall, spattering the windows with wet soot.
"Her and Wendelin the Weird," Lee agreed. "Those two are the worst."
Astoria spat out the piece of gum she had been chewing and stuffed it back in its wrapper.
"Hah, gross!" said George delightedly, watching Astoria throw the gum wrapper onto a stack of newspapers and magazines in one of the seats.
Astoria's gaze shifted from the droobles wrapper to the newspaper under it. Once again found herself staring into the eyes of the escaped convict Sirius Black. Unbidden, words came back to her in Malfoy's lazy tenor: 'Father says Black had it in so close with the Potters that they actually named him their son's godfather.'
Astoria shook her head to dislodge her shiver. It was a very strange sensation to know that she was staring into the face of the man who would have killed Harry Potter as a baby. She pushed the gum wrapper onto the floor and tried to get a better look at the picture, but Sirius Black did not seem to want to look into the camera.
"I can't eat another one of these," groaned George, flicking another chocolate frog card into his pile. "Astoria, you want one?"
Astoria looked up distractedly. At that moment, with a loud creaking of breaks, the train began to shudder and slow its pace.
"Are we already there?" frowned Fred, getting up to peer out the window.
"We can't be," scoffed George, checking his watch. "We've got another hour to go. What's going on out there?"
Astoria stood up to peer through the window as well, but she could not make heads or tails out of the commotion in the darkness below. All of the lamps went out as the train came to a final jerking stop.
"What the hell?" muttered Lee nervously. With a great shifting of chocolate frog wrappers, Astoria heard him stand up.
"Looks like someone is boarding the train," warned Fred sharply, his profile just visible against the window. "More than one person, maybe. It looks like they're wearing cloaks. I can't see—"
The compartment door snapped open and there was a sudden scuffle at the doorway.
"Move it," snapped Draco Malfoy's voice harshly, and Astoria could tell by his tone that he was nervous. "Out of the way, Crabbe!"
There was another bumping sound as someone else, probably Goyle, blundered into the wall.
"Oy," yelled George sharply. "This is our compartment!"
"As if I care, Weasley," sneered Malfoy tensely, his voice still coming from the direction of the doorway.
"What's happening?" demanded Astoria, somewhat infected by Draco's obvious fear.
"Greengrass?" Malfoy's voice cut keenly into the darkness. "How many people are in here?"
The soft sound of movement in the hall made everyone fall silent. A gust of wind made the door to the compartment rattle.
Draco jerked away from it with an intake of breath and collided with Astoria, who did not even have the strength to be angry. It was as though the room had gone suddenly cold. Her breathing was becoming irregular and strange; a panting, feverish gasping.
The door rattled again. To Astoria's horror, someone was unlocking it from the outside. It slid open slowly—almost soundlessly. The sound of Draco and Fred panting fearfully on either side filled Astoria's ears. Was she breathing that hard? It certainly did feel like she was...
Only she must be. Astoria was beginning to feel alarmingly ill—dreadfully ill, as though she might die. Whatever was in the room with them was clearly evil and Astoria wanted to be as far away from it as possible. She pushed backwards against the wall instinctually. Somewhere close by, she heard Draco whimper.
An inhuman, rattling breath rent the air and suddenly Astoria knew absolute dread.
She reached out for something, anything to keep her from falling and managed to find a person's arm. The shock of human warmth was enough to make her choke. It meant that the cold wasn't real cold at all—it was coming from inside her. She really was dying and it felt terrible.
Lucrezia had been pregnant with Astoria when they had sentenced her to life in Azkaban. Was it possible that her mother had murdered with Astoria already inside her? Yes, that seemed right...
How had this cruel, life-twisting thought never occurred to her before?
Astoria stumbled sideways, clinging to the arm that she had caught, trying not to fall to her knees. The thing in the doorway continued to rattle softly, drawing toward it a little bit of Astoria's sanity. She felt herself thrash, forcing the person that the arm was attached to in front of her.
Please, let someone else stand in front of her...
Astoria's uncle Alfred had taught her how to add columns of numbers, but then he had died of a heart attack in his sleep. A peaceful way to die, Belladonna had remarked at the wake. Belladonna had lost so many other husbands that Astoria had assumed she knew best.
They had spent all morning the day before Alfred died picking Doll's Eye, a pale white berry that grew behind their lilac trees.
"Put them in the basket, Astoria," Belladonna said, watching Astoria carefully. "Three of these will put a man to sleep, you know, but feed him six and he'll never wake up."
Uncle Alfred had never woken up and Astoria had spent the night wishing that she hadn't helped pick berries. Why had her aunt let her help pick the berries?
Astoria felt her knees touch the floor as she slid downward. Her face pressed against someone's leg —the same person holding her arm. They were trying to pull her back up, but it was no use. She could not move. Astoria was giving up, all she wanted was for the terror to cease.
Then, the door closed with a click and some of Astoria's senses seemed to come back to her. It was still dark as night, but she could make out the feeling of fabric against the side of her face. There were tears on her cheeks.
"Blimey," muttered George in a voice rent with sorrow. "Was that a—"
"Astoria?" snapped Draco intently, his tone almost desperate. He dragged on her arm, either to pull her back up or to confirm that she had not died. Astoria's face was probably pressed against his thigh, and it was a mark of how much her insides hurt that she could not even bring herself to care.
The warmth was returning but it did not seem to be able to penetrate her skin.
"What's wrong?" asked George, sensing the disturbance.
Draco stumbled and Astoria reached up and grabbed his his shirt, trying to find balance, desperate not to be left alone in the pitch black horror-scape that was her mind.
The lights flickered back on. Astoria was staring at the window through blurred eyes. Behind her, Crabbe was curled up against one of the seats and shivering.
Weakly, Astoria tried to move her head. Somehow, she must have yanked Draco around to stand between herself and the door because he was still holding her arm at a very awkward angle, and that seemed to be the only thing keeping her from hitting the floor.
"Hey!" hollered George, finding a little of his strength in order to come to Astoria's defense. "You let go of her, Malfoy!"
"Let go of her?" Malfoy repeated sneeringly. "Why don't you just hit her head for her, Weasley?"
"I'm fine," Astoria mumbled, surprised by how far away her voice sounded. "Everybody stop."
Astoria stiffened as George grabbed her and pulled upward. She flinched away from him uncertainly, loathing any sensation that was not utter stillness. Malfoy had still not relinquished his grip on her other arm. He jerked Astoria away from George the moment she had her weight on both feet.
"Don't—" Astoria mumbled, pulled herself away from him as well.
For a moment, it looked as though Draco was going to say something retaliatory but the pale, haggard look on her face seemed to make him hold his tongue. Astoria raised a trembling hand to her eyes and her fingers came away wet.
"Did you just faint?" asked Malfoy in disbelief.
"No," said Astoria, still gasping. "I just couldn't breathe..."
"It was a dementor," explained Fred darkly. "That's what came on the train. That's why everything got so cold."
Crabbe was still blinking stupidly. He had not moved an inch and did not appear ready to, either.
"Dumbledore never would have let the Dementors search the train!" declared Lee. "This was a sneak attack!"
"Says who?" sneered Malfoy, still peering at Astoria as though he was privately afraid that she was about to go mad. There was a distant rumble as the train started up again; a creaking of pistons as they pushed forward.
"You should sit down, Astoria," said Fred gently. "You look a little shaky."
In truth, Astoria was trembling violently, but another thought had finally occurred to her. "I should find my sister."
"She's in one of the back compartments," Draco supplied. "Get up, Crabbe."
Crabbe's eyes were wide with confusion and horror. The fact that the lights had come back on and the train had begun to move did not seem to be reaching him. Astoria reached out and gently removed her old gum wrapper from the sleeve of his robe. Crabbe blinked at her. He made a strange, strangled sound as he got to his feet.
The hallway was pandemonium. All along the aisle, doors were open and students —some grim faced, some queasy—were congregating and interrogating each other. Astoria stepped around Ernie Macmillian, who was gesturing fiercely, and almost lost her footing. She was forced to lean against a mercifully closed compartment window to ward off her dizziness.
Draco led the way by right, but it seemed to be Goyle who was doing most of the elbowing. Crabbe walked in single file behind Astoria, his eyes on the floor and his face strained.
Astoria spotted her sister's worried face through the glass window of her compartment before the door was even opened.
"Draco!" exclaimed Pansy ecstatically, catching sight of him. "Where have you been? The craziest things just happened! Our compartment was searched!"
"By the dementors you mean? That happened all over the train," Malfoy informed her lazily.
Some of the enthusiasm drained out of Pansy's face as she took in the number of people in their party and counted past three. Her eyes fell on Astoria, standing between Crabbe and Goyle, and her expression changed quickly from surprise to hard displeasure. "Oh, you brought the other Greengrass."
"Astoria!" cried Daphne in a strangled voice, standing up immediately.
"Are you ok?" Astoria asked, reaching for her sister and pulling her nearer to inspect her face. Daphne looked pale but otherwise untouched. Better, in fact, than Astoria did.
"I'm fine," Daphne murmured, extracting herself from Astoria's grasp. "Just a little rattled."
"You look like you've seen a ghost, Astoria," observed Pansy unkindly, eyeing her smudged makeup. "Did the scary dementors make you cry?"
Draco slung himself into an empty seat and promptly helped himself to someone else's cauldron cake. Astoria waited to see if he was going to mention her near fainting spell, but it seemed that he had not been listening well enough to spot the opportunity.
"Tracey didn't hold up so well either," Flora sing-songed and Astoria finally noticed Tracey: she was sitting in the corner with her head between her knees.
"What were dementors doing on the train, anyway?" demanded Pansy loudly. "There are students on here."
"Looking for Sirius Black, obviously," drawled Draco, polishing off the cake. "I suppose they wanted to make sure he wasn't being smuggled into Hogsmeade. As if he'd have to take the train to get there!"
"But why would Sirius Black want to go to Hogsmeade?" insisted Pansy stupidly, provoking the suspicion that she was only going out of her way to provide an opportunity for Draco to talk.
Astoria tuned them out and focused on her still shaking limbs. Her knees were knocking loosely and a cold clammy sweat still clung to her forehead. Slowly, she sank into the empty seat beside Draco. A part of her knew that this would probably provoke Pansy, but Astoria was past caring. If she did not sit of her own violation, she would soon collapse.
This was literally the last place she wanted to be when she was feeling ill and confused: Pansy's Parkinson's compartment. The trouble was, she was not sure that she had the mental strength to get up and pursue more pleasant company.
"Bloody dementors," moaned Tracey, heaving a great breath at last. She raised her head and reached for a water bottle that had fallen underneath one of the seats. "Awful things."
"We were playing cards when the lamps went out," continued Pansy dramatically. "No one had any idea what was going on. Flora thought we had broken down."
"I was in the hallway," supplied Draco, who seemed much improved by the chocolate cauldron cake he had just consumed. "Crabbe and I actually saw them get on the train."
He shifted his legs slightly so that he filled up his seat and half of Astoria's comfortably. Astoria tilted away, afraid of making any further contact with his body in her weakened state—an act that would surely bring down Pansy's irrational ire.
"Ooh," crowed Flora energetically. "Creepy! I thought it must be a mechanical problem, but then Tracey dropped her card hand and started to hyperventilate."
Tracey shot Flora a penetrating, hateful look. Astoria felt for her immediately.
"They made me feel ill too, Tracey," she offered.
"Ill?" sneered Malfoy quickly, his eyes flicking onto her face. "I thought you were having some kind of a fit."
"Were you in the hallway too, Astoria?" asked Pansy coldly.
"No," said Astoria, taking a small amount of pleasure in distancing herself from Draco's tale. "Draco barged into my compartment when the lights went off."
"Good thing, too," Malfoy sneered awkwardly, "since you were so keen to have a swooning fit."
"She swooned?" repeated Flora vapidly. "You mean she fainted like a princess?"
"I didn't swoon," Astoria clarified at once.
"You couldn't stand," Malfoy insisted, looking as though the memory made him slightly uncomfortable.
"Who's been swooning?" asked Blaise Zabini, sliding the compartment door open. "Not you, Draco?"
Draco scowled at the dig. Blaise bullied a still stunned looking Crabbe out of the way in order to fit into the compartment. To Astoria's surprise and delight, Blaise was followed in by a very rumpled and agitated Theo.
"Theodore!"
Theo did a double take, evidently surprised to have found her in the very lap of Slytherin third year territory. "Astoria? I've been looking all over for you!"
"Until the dementors came on board," corrected Blaise smoothly. "After that you spent spent about an hour in the bathroom looking for your courage."
"Yes, thank you, Zabini," said Theo irritably before snapping back on track. "Really though, where have you been? Nobody knew. I even checked with those Weasleys you run around with and they said you left with Malfoy to find your sister. Did you see the dementors?"
Realizing that there were no free seats, Blaise quirked an eyebrow and leaned against the wall
"I looked for you all morning," countered Astoria, chaffing a little at Theo's accusatory tone. "Yes, I saw the dementors, but since then I've had my hands full between all the swooning and trying to remain elusive. Where have you been?"
"I've been looking for you!" retorted Theo in annoyance.
Blaise chuckled softly. "Let me get this straight Greengrass, you swoon at the sight of the dementors? Like actually go down fainting?"
"I didn't faint," repeated Astoria, becoming more clipped.
Blaise's eyes swam with cruel amusement. "Well, you can stand in front of me on the next Hogsmeade trip, if you like."
Flora giggled stupidly but Malfoy didn't seem to find this witty at all because he sneered and sat up a little straighter. Astoria felt his arm jostle her seat and Pansy's hands tightened on the deck of cards she was shuffling as she watched all three of them intently.
It was a mark of how dumb and sick Astoria still felt that Malfoy beat her to the punch before she could respond.
"Yeah, Zabini?" sneered Draco condescendingly, suddenly ill tempered. "That's your best game? Skulking behind girls and waiting for them to faint?"
Blaise's smirk deepened as his eyes swept carelessly from Astoria to Malfoy.
"Yeah, why not? Unless, of course, she prefers you as a savior. Can't see any bruises so you must have caught her pretty quickly."
"Come on, Astoria," said Theo in a rare display of protectiveness. "Sod this. Let's go find the lunch trolley. Some Ravenclaws were saying chocolate fights off the effects of a Dementor attack."
Astoria's eyes went straight to Daphne but she was leaning toward Pansy and there was a strange look on her face, as though she wished Astoria would stop trying to catch her eye. Astoria got up and brushed down her skirt, still light headed—a sensation very similar to the high of a just-broken fever.
"Yeah, alright," she agreed. "I'll give it a try. That cauldron cake seemed to do something for Draco. Maybe there's something to it."
"That was my cauldron cake!" moaned Tracey.
Pansy jumped claimed Astoria's seat before the door had even closed behind them.
"You lot are a weird, intense bunch," observed Astoria wryly, sensing that their exit had been strained.
"You asked for it when you let Malfoy be your escort into Pansy's compartment," shot Theo tartly. "Did you actually faint?"
"No," said Astoria. "Everything was so dark and cold that I fell over. I thought about the worst things, though—stuff I hadn't remembered in years."
"Yeah," Theo agreed. "Sounds like me. Blaise was fine the second the dementors left, but I almost threw up for a full hour after the lamps came back on."
By the time they reached the trolley, the train was beginning to slow down. Theo purchased a slab of chocolate and snapped it in two. From the first mouthful onward, Astoria began to feel some of her normal vigor returning.
"Wow," gaped Theo at last, gratefully stuffing another square into his mouth.
"Definitely," Astoria agreed. "That helped loads."
They passed the Dementors again on their coach ride up to the castle. Helpfully, they were easily recognized them from afar, giving Astoria time to prepare herself by leaning back against her seat. Hard.
Another wave of cold washed over her, this time less encompassing. The threat of being totally engrossed by sorrow did not return.
"It's not so bad when they're further away," Theo muttered once they had passed into the school grounds.
Astoria agreed but by the time she had finished her dinner and gained the stairs to her dormitory, the slick, cold dread was catching up with her again. She fell asleep almost restlessly, wondering if it was even possible that her mother was still sane after surviving thirteen years under the constant watch of dementors.
0o0
I won't kid around, I secretly cherish writing Mr. Nott because he is straight up crackers. I don't even know what his section of this chapter was supposed to provide other than a hilarious example of skeet shooting. (Nothing says high-class villainy quite like shooting skeet over the lawn with a manservant to attend you, after all.) By the by, a wolpertinger is a real mythological creature native to the forests of Bavaria in Germany (or so wikipedia tells me) and they are, in fact, fuzzy rabbits with antlers and wings.
Other than that, welcome to third year. There are dementors and social politics have officially become teenage and tense.
Drop a review and tell me what you think!