Chapter Fifteen
Talons and Numbers
0o0
The first sight that greeted Astoria at breakfast the next morning was Draco Malfoy. He was busy reenacting what looked like a very precious fit of fainting before a large group of Slytherins, who were all laughing unpleasantly. Assuming that he was imitating her, Astoria chose a seat at the furthest end of the Slytherin table and settled down to wait for her sister, perusing her course schedule irritably.
Astoria had three new classes scheduled between the morning and the afternoon but even the promise of new material couldn't quite shake her out of the dark mood she had woken up in. When Daphne finally appeared, Astoria allowed herself brighten. But then, Daphne's eyes slipped from Astoria to Pansy and there was a moment of paralyzing doubt as Astoria waited to see who Daphne would sit with.
It was a stupid moment to put so much emotional stock in, but when Daphne stopped halfway down the table and chose a seat next to Pansy Astoria found herself blushing.
She returned to her schedule intently, positively burning with private shame. She continued to stare at the time blocks on the sheet in front of her until long after she had memorized them, afraid of looking up and exposing the shock and hurt on her face to the rest of the table. Theodore was not at breakfast yet. Perhaps she should go join the Gryffindor table? Would anyone notice her skulking away?
"He's not making fun of you, you know," said Millicent quietly, mistaking the cause of Astoria's sadness.
"What?" asked Astoria, eyes snapping up to find Millicent staring at her watchfully from across the table."Oh, Malfoy? I don't care, let him laugh."
"He's doing Potter," Millicent clarified, still gazing at her slyly. "Apparently Harry fainted when he saw the dementors too."
Suddenly realizing that Millicent had noticed her distress and was trying to be kind, Astoria endeavored to check her mood.
"Harry fainted?" she asked, warming toward Millicent considerably.
"Yeah, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher sent an owl ahead of the train. Madam Pomfrey was waiting for him when we pulled in. I think it was much worse than what happened to you."
Astoria reconsidered Draco's routine, noticing now that he was not speaking in a falsetto and that he kept gesticulating toward his forehead.
"Oh yeah," said Astoria slowly, only slightly cheered. "I can kind of see it."
"Theo probably won't make it to breakfast," continued Millicent knowingly, filling up the silence. "He wasn't feeling very good last night."
"Oh," reacted Astoria lamely, wondering if Millicent was suggesting that, without Daphne or Theo present, she was not welcome to sit at the Slytherin table. She glanced back at her sister instinctually. Daphne was was smiling calmly through Pansy and Flora's high pitched squeals of delight. She was like a still sea under a scorching sun.
Tracey Davis, Astoria noted, did not seem nearly as amused as the rest of her friends. Perhaps her own experience with the dementors had been enough to cure her of finding them very funny, or else she did not think Draco a very good actor. Her expression was still grim.
"Yeah," Millicent pressed.
Astoria fidgeted with her fork, toying with her untouched breakfast awkwardly.
"Flirt with McLaggen at lunch,"suggested Millicent bizarrely, betraying no trace of a jibe.
Astoria stared at Millicent, nonplussed and confused, so Millicent clarified: "That would make Pansy and Flora curious enough to send Daphne back to you for the scoop."
It occurred to Astoria that Millicent was about ten times more observant then she had ever given her credit for, but this idea did not tally with her thinking.
"I don't want to force Daphne to hang out with me," scowled Astoria rather proudly. "If Daphne wants to be best friends with Pansy, that's her decision."
Millicent raised her eyebrows but said nothing more. Astoria continued to munch her toast in silence, smoldering with embarrassment.
0o0
Despite the high hopes that Astoria had set on the subject, her first period class did nothing to improve her desperate mood.
The Room of Runes was located on the sixth floor. A round tower room with a raised platform in the center, it reminded Astoria a little of a courtroom; the student benches rose up from the middle in three separate, ring-like tiers so that each person sitting was afforded a clear view of the podium. Despite the fact that Astoria and Theo had both signed up for the class together, it appeared that they would be taking it separately. Other than Hermione Granger and Seamus Finnegan, the room was awash with the blue and bronze of Ravenclaw. Theodore, a Slytherin, was slated to take it with the Hufflepuffs later in the day.
Before Astoria could come to grips with this new disappointment, the class was brought to order by a plain, short woman with a bob of greying brown hair that had been parted vigorously down the center. Professor Bathsheda Babbling introduced herself from the podium and at first, Astoria took her to be as no-nonsense as Professor Mcgongagall. Soon, however, it became apparent that Professor Babbling was self-indulgent, irritable and guilty of a particular weakness for flattery.
Not inclined to suck-up a woman she barely knew, Astoria remained silent as the Ravenclaws on either side of her slowly caught on and began to banter and cajole. Anthony Goldstein, who seemed to have sensed Professor Babbling's fondness for sycophancy the quickest, immediatly sought to make a name for himself and was sure to become a great favorite
For the last ten minutes of class, Professor Babbling lowered the lights in the room for a live demonstration that she saved for all incoming third year students. The minute the circular space was plunged into proper darkness, she began to summon forth ancient markings that had been carved into the stone walls by speaking them out loud; a showy but useless display of light and sound. Despite the fact that these runes were likely as old as the castle itself, Astoria gathered her things for the bell, determined not to be impressed.
The only up-shot, thought Astoria as she made her way upstairs, was that she was already miles ahead of her classmates when it came to subject matter. Thanks to Theodore's father, she had been able to recognize several runes from old Goblin texts with impressive accuracy. But her competition would not be academic. Ancient Runes was one of the rare subjects in which Astoria imagined she might be able to demonstrate effortlessly competency, but the idea of scrabbling against Anthony's brown-nosing left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Dejected and warm, Astoria was not holding out much of an expectation for Arithmancy (she had always dreaded numbers), but she was vaguely cheered when she reached the seventh floor and discovered that Theo was among the small queue waiting outside the doors.
"Missed you at breakfast," muttered Astoria aggressively by way of a greeting. "Is this everybody?"
Having sat in silence for most of the day, she could feel her nasty mood coiling itself unpleasantly, searching for an outlet.
"I hear a few other people tried to sign up but Professor Vector turned them down," returned Theo quietly, ignoring her hostility. "Apparently he's very selective."
There was a note of pride in his voice it was not very hard to figure out why. So few students appeared to have been accepted into Arithmancy that the line actually contained students from all four houses.
Astoria glanced around and quickly spotted Ernie Macmillian and Anthony Goldstein. The only other Gryffindor present was Hermione.
"Everyone always says that Arithmancy is hard," murmured Astoria, shifting uncomfortably.
"I must be!" agreed Theodore excitedly. "Look around—no riff-raff! The professor cut students before they even had a chance to try out the homework! Have you ever heard of anything so fantastic?"
He clapped his hands enthusiastically but Astoria flinched, unable to share Theodore's sense of glee.
"I'm rubbish at math," she mumbled. "I'll probably end up chucked out too."
"Oh, no you won't," scoffed Theodore dismissively, gesturing over Astoria's shoulder. "Look at that, it's Malfoy! And he's alone!" His eyes misted over. "Vector must have cut Goyle!"
It was possibly the happiest that Astoria had ever seen him but she was suddenly distracted.
"Wait a minute, I thought Daphne was taking Arithmancy," frowned Astoria, swiveling about to look for her sister. "Vector didn't toss her out?"
"No, she was going to take Arithmancy," Theodore assured her, "but she dropped out last minute to take Divination with Pansy and Flora."
Astoria stared at him.
"Think I should lend her my copy of Broken Balls?" Theo continued, elbowing her. A small, almost judgmental smile pursed his lips.
"Whatever," snapped Astoria. It was as though she had just been punched in the gut for the third time that morning.
"What's with you?" Theodore frowned.
"Nothing," Astoria snapped irritably. The door behind them opened to announce the start of class.
It was immediately on Astoria's mind to march toward the most remote seat possible. She did not strictly enjoy sitting by herself during class, but a bizarre desire to exaggerate her own misery seemed to be urging her to. If she had been with anyone other than Theo, who was oblivious to 'moods', she probably would have.
Astoria put her bag down heavily on the table next to Theodore, as far away from Anthony Goldstein as she could manage, forcing herself to behave.
The Arithmancy classroom was the exact opposite of what the Room of Runes had been; simple, unadorned and practical. There were two sets of long benches at the front of the room, one stretching to the left and the other to the right. This was enough seating to accommodate the entire class. Furthermore, the fact that there was only one row seemed to offer a hint as to the nature of this demanding subject; they were all expected to sit in the front.
"I thought Babbling made some very good points today," said Anthony Goldstein in a carrying voice, prolonging the ghost of her miserable morning. "Every rune responds to its spoken syllables. It's almost the same as calling them by name."
Padma Patil nodded absently beside him.
"Pompous twat," Astoria hissed, pulling out her inkwell and quill.
"Sorry?" sneered Malfoy.
Draco was half-way into the seat on Astoria's other other side and he seemed to think that this comment had been meant for him.
Astoria looked up irritably, realized her mistake and made a face. "Not you."
The door seemed to have opened of its own accord because there was still no sign of Professor Vector. It was not clear whether or not they were allowed to talk.
"How was Ancient Runes?" whispered Theo.
"Miserable. Professor Babbling's a blow hard with a bob. Wait until you see her hair—it's so straight you could cut yourself on it," admitted Astoria, not bothering to keep her voice down. "To cap it all off, I'm stuck taking it with Goldstein over there."
"What's wrong with Goldstein?" wondered Theo, and Astoria could not help noticing that his eyes jumped rapidly from Anthony to Padma. "He seems clever enough."
"Yeah," sneered Astoria vengefully, "clever enough to get himself pushed off the astronomy tower some midnight, if you ask me."
"You've got a problem with Goldstein?" interjected Draco drawlingly, making no attempt to conceal the fact that he had been eavesdropping.
"Yeah," declared Astoria stoutly, irrationally annoyed. "I do. He's a pompous wank."
Theo blew air through his nostrils, finding this outburst slightly embarrassing. Draco, however, was obviously and unduly pleased.
"He was probably just excited to be starting a new class," said Theo fairly. "He is Ravenclaw's most academically decorated third year, isn't he? You probably just hit on the wrong side of him."
"Oh yeah?" continued Astoria, surprising even herself. "Well, I'd like to hit on both sides of him. With a shovel, if you know what I mean!"
"Is it even remotely likely that I would not know what you mean?" returned Theodore, directing his suffering eyes upward.
Draco, who had clearly not been expecting this from her, leaned back in his chair gleefully. He stared across the room at Anthony appraisingly.
At that moment, the door behind the teacher's desk opened to admit a wizard of middling height. Professor Vector (for who else could it be) appeared, wearing a vest suitable for golfing underneath a tweed blazer. Everything, from his brown, well-worn loafers to his neat salt and pepper hair screamed of academia. The room fell silent at once.
"A new year," said Professor Vector calmly. He placed his mug of coffee on top of his desk and began to survey them.
The door of the classroom flew open again and Tracey Davis charged in looking harassed and windswept. "Sorry," she barked, perhaps angry with herself for her own lateness. "Sorry!"
Several heads bent low to titter about this but something about the mad, bedraggled way that Tracey's short hair was sticking up reminded Astoria so much of herself that she almost wanted to stand up an embrace her.
"Class begins when I enter the room and not a minute after," called Professor Vector, who did not actually look very angry at all.
"Sorry," hissed Tracey again, nearly dropping her bag as she pushed into the last remaining seat on their bench next to Draco. Draco shifted his things away from the maelstrom of movement, looking annoyed.
"You have each been approved for this subject," continued Vector, moving on with great grace. "The study of Arithmancy! Can anyone tell me what you will actually be learning here this year?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Arithmancy is a discipline that studies the magical properties of numbers," she supplied primly.
"Yes, that is a serviceable definition," admitted Professor Vector. "Arithmancy is the study of all things magical when properly channeled through the medium of numbers."
He did not go on to award Hermione any house points.
"Those of you who were raised among muggles may quickly come to understand that Arithmancy is rather like Chemistry," he want on, pacing leisurely. "After all, it is also the study of matter and its properties. But an Arithmancer studies all things, you see, because he studies the patterns of magic that make up our universe. Who can tell me what a spell is?"
Perhaps sensing a trick question, nobody raised their hand.
"Come now," said Vector, smiling wryly. "You're all third years. Surely you must all be familiar with what a spell is."
"Well," began Hermione uncomfortably, "I suppose a spell is a charm or enchantment that, when performed correctly, changes the natural state of something else."
"Serviceable again," said Vector. "But what makes up a spell? What makes those particular words or wand motions work?"
"The fact that we're wizards, perhaps?" drawled Malfoy snidely.
"Only partially," Vector corrected. "If being magical was the only element involved, then a wizard could simply look at an object and, without thinking any words, he would be able to make that object obey his desires. But that is not enough. Magic is not so simple, is it? You could not, for instance, look at the person next to you and make them confess their deepest secrets?"
Draco's eyes flicked toward Astoria.
"Not without your wand, surely?" Vector prompted. "Not without the correct enchantment and a great deal of practice. The magic in your veins does not allow you such boundless power. You are not omnipotent."
Hermione was writing so fast that her quill stabbed the table every time she punctuated.
"We still needs spells, then," Professor Vector went on. "Words and motions that, when broken down into their most basic state, form patterns that we may interpret in a numerological style. But how do we make spells? This is the study of the invisible magic that governs even the most basic enchantments of our world. This is the study of the nature of magic itself."
Contrary to such a promising introduction, what sounded at first like a very interesting task soon proved to be tedious and finicky. Professor Vector set them to work with their copies of Numerology and Gramatica, supplying an ancient Latin text that he wished them to translate against a very complex number chart. When the bell finally rang, Astoria's head was spinning.
"I don't know what my dad was talking about," said Theo in a serious tone as they made their way to lunch. "Arithmancy seems fascinating."
Astoria nodded unhappily. She had ink on her hands from blotting out so many mistakes on her practice sheet and the view outside the windows offered nothing but a glimpse of flat, grey sky.
"I like that the class is small, too," Theo went on. "We'll probably get loads more done."
"And you can stare at Padma Patil all you like without anyone being any the wiser," added Astoria. Theodore blushed and peeled away for his house table as she knew he would.
0o0
The sky was the same iron color after lunch when Astoria set off across the grounds for Care of Magical Creatures class. A pack of students were already waiting outside Hagrid's hut when she reached the last sloping hill: Slytherins and Gryffindors.
Daphne was standing between Flora and Pansy, giggling and whispering animatedly, so Astoria dithered, uncertain what she should do with herself. Neville Longbottom shot her an encouraging grin when she finally joined the back of the crowd alone. Never having felt more pathetic in her life, Astoria tried to smile back.
"Come on now, get a move on!" called Hagrid as the last of the class gathered round. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Follow me!"
A few feet away, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were snickering unpleasantly. Preparing herself for the very worst, Astoria shuffled forward.
They ambled along behind Hagrid for several minutes, jogging to keep up with his lengthy strides. For a harrowing moment at the edge of the lawn, Astoria feared that was leading them toward the forest, but Hagrid turned right when he reached the trees in order to follow a grassy path that Astoria had never seen before.
It was an interesting little road, but Astoria's eyes kept betraying her. They strayed to the front of the line where she could see her sister's pony tail swinging, ignoring her new surroundings. Daphne hadn't even looked to make sure that Astoria had joined them...
"Have you ever noticed that Professor Hagrid can't speak?" asked Draco loudly. Somehow, he Crabbe and Goyle must have looped around to stand behind her. "It's like he's allergic to finishing words. He gets halfway through and doesn't bother pronouncing the rest of the letters."
Crabbe and Goyle laughed oafishly and Astoria wondered cruelly what their accents sounded like. She had only ever heard Crabbe and Goyle say about ten words between the two of them, but she imagined they were coarse.
They stopped walking when they reached a paddock that abutted a growth of dark evergreen trees.
"Everyone gather 'round the fence!" called Hagrid. "Everyone close enough ter see?"
Astoria rested her arms on the wooden barricade and peered over. There was nothing on the other side except grass. Draco Malfoy shouldered Neville out of the way to stand next to her and leaned over the side himself.
"Well, this is fascinating," he sneered.
"If everyone wants ter open their books—" began Hagrid, but Draco cut across him.
"How?" he asked coldly.
Several students turned to look and a few of them seemed to think Malfoy's question was a fair one.
"Eh?" said Hagrid.
"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated insolently.
Hagrid seemed thrown by this. Most of the class had pulled out copies of the Monster Book of Monsters, but they were nearly all bound, tied or sealed shut.
Hagrid looked about in shock.
"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em!" he exclaimed, shaking his head as though this were the simplest idea in the world. He demonstrated by seizing Hermione's and stroking the length of its furry binding.
"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess?"
"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry Potter in a low voice. Hagrid seemed to have been under the impression that the books were funny rather than terrifying, because he suddenly looked slightly unsure of himself.
"Oh, tremendously funny!" sneered Malfoy. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"
"The first rule of Caring for Magical Creatures," whispered Theo quietly, sneaking in next to Astoria, "is that when it comes to taming the savage beast, the smartest thing to do is simply to stroke its length."
Astoria laughed so hard that she had to clap her hand over her mouth. This was slightly unusual humor coming from Theodore and it did wonders to brighten her mood.
"What's so funny?" demanded Malfoy. Hagrid had gone off to collect whatever it was he intended to show them.
"I tried that once," Astoria whispered back, grinning wickedly. "Aunt Belladonna was furious."
Theo leered.
"Tried what?" asked Malfoy, somehow managing to become annoyed about being left out of a conversation he wasn't even a part of.
Unable to deny Malfoy anything, Pansy interjected with a disapproving sniff. "Just ignore them. They're talking about giving creatures hand jobs, Draco."
Theodore made a funny little noise; the snicker he was trying to hold in leaked out of his nose in short blasts. "Ye've got ter stroke 'em!" he cracked out in Hagrid's rough brogue.
Astoria dissolved into a fit of giggles. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, not entirely committed to finding the idea of bestiality funny.
"Classy, Astoria," sneered Pansy, but Tracey Davis caught Astoria's eye and for the briefest moment it looked as though she might laugh.
"Oooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the entrance of the paddock.
They all turned just in time to see Hagrid leading some of the most bizarre looking creatures that Astoria had ever seen through the fence's gate.
At first glance they appeared to be birds. The front half of the animal was made up of feathers and talons. A beak protruded below a set of deadly yellow eyes. Upon closer inspection, however, they more closely resembled horses.
"What the hell is that?" asked Theo smartly, still choking on his own grin.
"Hippogriffs!" hollered Hagrid. "Beau'iful, aren't they?"
"Beau'iful," Theo repeated quietly, savoring the word.
"Do you think we'll be expected to stroke them?" wondered Astoria mildly.
"Urg!" Pansy exclaimed, pulling Flora and Daphne away.
She needn't have bothered. Astoria's urge to laugh began to fade the moment Harry Potter slung a foot up over the fence and vaulted into the paddock.
"What's he doing?" asked Astoria sharply, watching Harry stride across the grass toward the grey hippogriff. "Why's he standing so close to it? Can't he see the talons?"
The same thought seemed to have occurred to Draco because his eyes had narrowed excitedly. Hagrid was urging Harry not to blink. The ferocity in the hippogriff's eyes was apparent even from twenty feet away. Had she missed something?
Harry bowed, exposing his neck to the mercy of beak and talons alike. No one was speaking. Astoria clapped loudly with the rest when the creature finally dropped to its scaly knees and bowed back.
"Please," muttered Malfoy sourly. He did not applaud.
"Righ' then, I reckon he'll let yeh ride him!" cried Hagrid.
Just when Astoria thought the lesson was finally safe, Hagrid hauled Harry up by his robes. Her hand fluttered toward her mouth in horror. Surely flying on a broomstick was bad enough? Would they all be expected to do this?
Malfoy's eyes twitched, burning a hole into the side of her worried face.
"What did he just say?" Astoria whispered tightly to Theo, panic bleeding into her tone. "Why is Hagrid making him ride it?"
"Seriously?" sneered Malfoy savagely. "Potter loves an audience, Astoria. The oaf's just giving him a chance to show off."
Hagrid slapped the hippogriffs flank and it took off at a trot. It charged about the paddock until suddenly, with an ungainly leap, it was in the air. All four feet worked hard; legs pumping on a swing set. The hippogriff soared around in a lofty circle before it leaned back down toward the ground. Astoria physically flinched when it landed heavily again on the grass.
The Gryffindors broke into explosive applause. A few Slytherins, perhaps impressed with Harry's ability to remain seated, joined in, but Astoria could not remember Malfoy ever looking so disappointed and bitter.
Slightly less nervous, the rest of the class began to creep closer. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle took over Harry's hippogriff so Astoria and Theo moved toward a large, brown one.
"You've got to bow, Theo!" called Astoria. Theodore approached the hipprogriff for the fourth time, inclined his head and then promptly backed away again. "Properly bow!"
"I am!" Theodore insisted sneeringly. "It just won't have me! What the—!"
A flurry of steely talons followed by a sharp bird's screech made both of them jump. Harry's hippogriff was on its hind legs and Draco, yelling in terror, had collapsed onto the ground underneath its rearing claws.
Astoria stared at this spectacle stupidly, not quite comprehending what she was witnessing. The greatest opportunity for violence seemed to have passed when Harry had landed. Why was Malfoy yelling?
Then, a hand seized Astoria roughly from behind. She was pulled out of the way by Hagrid in order to charge past her. Between the hippogriff's tether and wing she caught a glimpse of Draco's frozen face. There was something red in the grass. Astoria sucked in a surprised shudder as she put a name to it: blood. It was everywhere, blossoming through Draco's robes.
"Oh my god," gasped Parvati Patil in shock.
Draco whimpered and tried to curl his body away from the still rearing hippogriff. His hand scrabbled wetly for purchase on the ground...
"Out of the way!" bellowed Hagrid nervously. He lifted Malfoy's limp form off the ground. "Got teh get him teh the hospital wing."
Hagrid's form began to recede. Astoria blinked, her noisy thoughts focusing with a pin-like precision on the splattering of red Draco had left behind. Hargid had left an actual boot-mark in blood...
"They should sack him!" Pansy was wailing to Daphne and Flora, tears running messily down her face.
"I'm sure Draco's father will make sure he gets the punishment he deserves!" Flora agreed vehemently, patting Pansy on the back.
Slowly, like the procession at a funeral, the class began to follow Hagrid back toward the castle.
"Bloody hell," mumbled Theodore darkly. "It's a good thing Madame Pomfrey knows what she's doing. Can you imagine what Lucius would do if his son lost a hand?"
"Do you think it was that bad?" asked Astoria, speaking at last, trying to un-see Draco's terror-white expression.
"Woe to us all if it was," answered Theo grimly. "Even if it was Draco's fault. What an idiot! Did you hear him talking to that hippogriff?"
"How can you say that, Theodore!" snapped Pansy dramatically. They reached the marble steps. "I'm going to go see if he's alright!"
Tearing herself away from Flora, who had been supporting her up the path, Pansy ran across the entrance hall. Astoria could hear her sobs reverberating until she turned a corner.
Muttering grimly, students began to disperse.
"Poor Pansy," leered Flora, who looked as though she had just seen a very exciting stage act. "She's so distraught that she's unbalanced!"
"You know who else might end up unbalanced?" whispered Theo very quietly. "Malfoy, if he looses his arm."
Astoria was not quite recovered enough from the shock of Draco's screaming to laugh.
0o0
The next couple of days were some of Astoria's loneliest at Hogwarts.
At first, Astoria pretended that this was because her schedule did not very closely resemble Theodore's, but it was more than that. Daphne's desertion—and it was rapidly becoming clear that that was what it was—had taken her very much by surprise and had left her feeling very downtrodden.
It was not so much that Daphne seemed to prefer Pansy's company to Astoria's—that Astoria could have lived with. It was the fact that Daphne would no longer meet her eyes at breakfast and exchanged only forced courtesies with her in the hall when Astoria managed to hunt her down. If Astoria didn't know any better, she might have guessed that Daphne did not wish to know her anymore at all.
Astoria could not entirely manage to understand this, though she had spent hours in bed trying. She could see how it might be hard for her sister to be Astoria and Pansy's best friends at the same time. She could even respect Daphne's choice to form greater solidarity with members of her own house, but she couldn't see why this had to be the end of their relationship entirely.
To make matters worse, the quidditch season had begun and nearly all of Fred and George's free time had been absorbed up by Oliver Wood's intensive new training schedule.
"It's his last chance to win the cup," George had explained apologetically when Astoria met them late Tuesday afternoon in front of the Fat Lady. "He graduates this year, you know? He's never managed to win the thing from Flint. We figure we owe it to him."
"Let's meet up later though," Fred had added hopefully. "We can talk about bids on the first match! It's against Slytherin, so the stakes ought to be high!"
When 'later' might be, however, Astoria did not know. Still, she had watched them leave without complaining even though their preoccupation meant that she would have no one to sit with in the common room except for Neville.
Added to her growing list of worries was her new Arithmancy coursework. Their first homework assignment had proved very difficult for her and it was with a sense of shame that she realized she would be forced to admit this to Professor Vector after another of Professor Babbling's classes.
By Wednesday, Astoria was so disconsolate and desperate for company that she actually began to wonder if she missed Draco. Malfoy never certainly never anything nice to say to her, but there could be no denying that, while undoubtedly hostile and frequently whiney, he at least went out of his way to talk to her.
This bizarre thought struck her afresh when she heard his snide, drawling voice again in person.
Astoria was on her second, aimless trip back from the library when she spotted Draco and Marcus Flint in the corridor.
"It might be permanent damage, of course, but who can say?" said Draco, heaving a false sounding sigh.
Astoria continued toward them, tucking the book she had checked out under her arm. If it had been last semester, when she still had the warmth of friends and intriguing criminal interests to count on, she might have kept walking, but her total lack of anywhere else to be made her stop when she drew level with them.
"Astoria," murmured Flint, his hard, unkind face splitting into a grin at the sight of her.
Astoria ignored him and let her eyes drift over Malfoy with an almost rude level interest. His heavily bandaged arm was hanging in a sling, but otherwise he looked no worse for wear. Catching her staring, Draco subtlety shifted his wounded arm so that it was more visible.
"Still symmetrical then?" asked Astoria, unable to think of anything nicer to say. "Pansy made it sound as though you'd lost the whole arm. Why are you still wearing a sling?"
"Because he has had a very serious injury," answered Flint, eyes shining with private amusement. "Why else?"
"You were there," said Malfoy pointedly. "You saw that hippogriff attack me."
"It almost makes me wish I took Care of Magical Creatures," said Flint thoughtlessly. "Of course, that was probably Hagrid's last lesson so there's no point in starting now."
"I should think so," agreed Malfoy lazily. "Father's complained to the board of governors and the ministry already. You know the sort of influence he's got, Flint. Of course, all the parents will be concerned anyway—they won't want their kids to end up with lasting injuries."
"Lasting injuries?" repeated Astoria dubiously.
"Madam Pomfrey did what she could, of course," Malfoy sighed, his pale eyes flicking toward Astoria to judge her reaction. "But who knows when I'll be able to use it again?"
"Doomed to stroke your monster book left handed for life, then?" snorted Astoria flatly, not believing a word of this. Madame Pomfrey had grown back every bone in Harry's hand the year before. What was to stop her from mending a few gashes?
"Sorry?" demanded Marcus, elated. "What have you been stroking, Draco?"
"She's talking about the stupid textbook," snapped Malfoy hastily, turning faintly crimson. "I'll never have to open that book again Greengrass. Neither will you, thanks to me."
"Well," said Flint, brushing his hands down his robes and patting his deep pockets, "I'd best be off. I want to catch the quidditch pitch away from Wood for an hour."
"Are you flying one handed?" Astoria asked Draco, trying not to smirk at the visual this conjured.
"Of course he isn't," tisked Flint and the same oddly pleased smile he had been wearing before infiltrated his features again. "We can't have our seeker playing with a broken arm, can we? This is going to be the worst kind of setback for the team."
Something about the weird glimmer in Marcus's eyes seemed to betray this as a lie. Astoria watched him leave, biting her lip suspiciously. Malfoy continued to lean against the wall; he had nowhere to go, Flint had declared him unfit for quidditch practice.
"You're just faking that injury to get Hagrid sacked," Astoria decided at last.
"Think so, do you?" Malfoy scoffed, this time less falsely.
"Madam Pomfrey's brought Potter back from the dead," Astoria snorted. "Are you so delicate that healing charms don't work? You just got cut—"
"Slashed by a rampaging animal, you mean?" hissed Malfoy defensively. "That doesn't make me delicate—"
He stopped himself short before his veneer of causal haughtiness shattered, but Astoria could tell that her lack of sympathy was deeply grating to him.
"Is Flint going to try to use your fake injury to switch around the quidditch matches?" groaned Astoria point blank, thinking of the victorious look on Marcus's face.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" snapped Malfoy sourly. "Thinking of taking bets against me because because of my arm, are you?"
"I wouldn't take bets on a person that was actually injured," Astoria sneered hotly.
"I bled everywhere," hissed Malfoy bitterly, dropping his voice. "I could have died, and it was all because that oaf decided to bring monsters to class!"
"Yeah," agreed Astoria, annoyed. "Only you didn't. You're fine."
"So it's alright to gasp and cringe when Potter has to ride a horse, but I get mauled and you don't see anything very concerning about that?" spat Malfoy, betraying far more resentment than he had perhaps meant to.
"I was concerned when you were still bleeding," Astoria reasoned slowly, refusing point blank to pretend that he was some kind of war survivor.
"Sorry to disappoint you!" Malfoy sneered. A touch of high color had appeared in his cheeks.
"Eh," said Astoria coldly, taking a strange and savage pleasure in being irritating, feeling that Malfoy deserved it for milking his injury for all it was worth.
"Not everyone is disappointed that I'm not armless, you know!" countered Malfoy. His expression became strangely vindictive. "Pansy sobbed while Pomfrey bandaged me. I don't think I've ever seen her so upset."
His eyes flicked toward her face furtively, watching closely to see how she would react.
"Yeah, I caught some of that show," scoffed Astoria, unable to imagine anything more aggravating than having to deal with an injury and Pansy's howls of anguish at the same time. "She's certainly got a real flair for theatrics."
Whatever reaction Draco had been looking for, this was not it.
"At least she doesn't swoon over precious Harry Potter every time he has to fly on something!" spat Draco furiously.
"You seem to think I do a lot more swooning than I actually do," snapped Astoria, blushing a little at the idea of being perceived as overly fascinated with Harry Potter. "I hate watching anybody fly. Have you really never noticed?"
"What's with that anyway?" demanded Malfoy spitefully. "Your father dropped you off a practice broom?"
"No," scowled Astoria, recalling the exact trauma that marked the beginning of her fear of heights, "but Maudlin Mendel pushed me off of a real one when I was about nine."
Malfoy's sneer only deepened. "God, Is this going to turn into a story about how sorry he was?"
Astoria laughed. This comment was so much at odds with the actual Maudlin that it is was nearly ridiculous.
"Maudlin's got about eight brooms because his dad is as rich as Midas, but he can't ride a single one of them," Astoria scoffed. "I'm sure he probably cherishes the idea that he ruined another person on the sport for life."
"I suppose if some girl talked about me like that, I'd probably push her off a broom too," hissed Malfoy viciously. He groped about with his good hand to straighten his tie, looking slightly self-conscious.
The parallels between Draco and Maudlin were so strong in this scenario that she had nearly just insulted both of them.
"Not with one arm, you wouldn't," Astoria retorted, ducking back out into the hallway at top speed, certain that he wouldn't be able to keep up with her.
0o0
Fred and George were sitting in the common room when she returned.
"Surprise!" called Fred happily we he saw her. "We don't have practice tonight!"
"I know," admitted Astoria, chucking her book onto the hearth rug. She sprawled out in front of the fire. "I ran into Flint on his way to practice."
"Tosser," said George, ripping foil off of something in his lap. "I suppose he's sweating Malfoy's injury?"
"Sweating wouldn't be the word I would use," said Astoria slowly. "Who would Gryffindor play if Slytherin postponed?"
"Eh?" said George, lowering what looked like a flimsy sauce pan toward the fire. "Probably be Hufflepuff, wouldn't it? They're next in line."
"Yeah, it would have to be," Fred agreed, "but the teachers don't usually let a team postpone. Most of the time, if a team can't play, it's a forfeit."
"But what if a team couldn't play because a student was injured by a teacher's negligence?" Astoria pressed.
"Don't you go blaming Malfoy's attack on Hagrid!" George chided sternly. Small popping sounds were beginning to emanate from the pan he was holding. "The way Harry and Ron tell it, Malfoy was asking for it."
"He probably was," Astoria sighed, "but Lucius has complained to every board, party and governor in the land and Draco seems intent on working his injury for all it's worth. It might be worth keeping in mind that the Malfoys have some sway."
"Well," said George slowly, weighing this idea, "that would change the game considerably. We've been practicing to play against Slytherin. Hufflepuff is a different sort of team. It would definetly lower the odds of Gryffindor winning. Rotten, sneaky move. Sounds a bit like the sort of thing Flint would do, come to think of it."
"By the by," Fred seized a handful of popcorn from the pan the moment George pulled it away from the coals, "we might have a working prototype for those invisibility cloaks we were talking about last year."
"Really?" asked Astoria. She had nearly forgotten all about this scheme over the summer.
"Yeah," confirmed George, levying the popcorn her way as well. "The whole cloak stays invisible now. Of course, they work better at night."
"You can sometimes see movements during the day," Fred clarified. "It's like the background morphes wherever you move your limbs."
"Other than that though, it's pretty solid," rejoined George.
"I want to see," said Astoria at once.
"We'll lend you one," said George excitedly. "You can test it out and provide us with feedback. We were thinking of having them up for sale by Christmas."
"Brilliant," Astoria beamed, popping one of the small buttery kernels into her mouth and grinning.
0o0
"Did you see the notice for the first Hogsmeade trip?" asked Theo keenly.
It was Friday afternoon and they were climbing the stairs to the seventh floor together. Astoria had just sat through another Ancient Runes class, stunned to find they were growing even more depressing.
"Yes," she said as the reached the top of the landing. "It should be fun, shouldn't it? Once we get past the dementors at least."
"You're definitely set on going, then?" Theo asked.
"Yes," said Astoria, surprised by his lukewarm response. "Aren't you?"
"I don't know," admitted Theodore. "It's not as though it'll be my only chance to go, is it? It's supposed to be cold this weekend."
"Theo!" Astoria hissed, hot on his heels as they entered the classroom. "You have to go!"
"Why?" choked Theo, startled by the look on her face.
"Because if you don't go, I won't have anyone to talk to!" Astoria let her voice drop as Malfoy approached, not keen to let him overhear her begging for company.
"Ugh," sighed Theo, wanting nothing more than to wheedle his way out of this scheme completely.
Professor Vector was strolling along the table handing out worksheets. Astoria eyed him warily.
"It'll be great!" she continued desperately, officially wheedling. "We can explore the whole village."
"What's there to do there, anyway?" demanded Theodore. "It's just candy and butterbeer, isn't it?"
"No," said Astoria firmly. "There's also the shrieking shack, shopping and that weird old pub run by the bloke that people say has sex with goats. It's worth going past the dementors for! Please!"
"Who has sex with goats?" demanded Draco, maneuvering his worksheet with his good hand.
"You, probably," snapped Theo, who seemed to have had enough of 'tragically injured Draco' since his return to class.
"Professor!" Draco drawled at once, his eyes glittering malevolently at Theodore. "I'll need help filling in my worksheet, sir."
Astoria snapped up Draco's quill before he could get Professor Vector's full attention and inked Draco's name into the top corner, not wishing to annoy Theodore any further. Draco blinked in surprise but did not complain.
"I've heard all sorts of villainous hags and trolls go there to drink," Astoria needled, attempting to appeal to Theo's sense of morbid curiosity. "Wouldn't that be fun?"
"Your idea of fun is drinking with villainous hags and trolls, Greengrass?" drawled Draco, amused.
"What's the name of the place?" asked Theo. Astoria could tell that his curiosity was piqued when he started to stroke his chin.
"The Hogs Head," continued Astoria, copying the symbols Professor Vector was drawing on the chalkboard first onto her paper and then onto Draco's. His quill was nicer so she left off switching them out.
"I've heard of that," said Draco at once, straightening up. "Father says all sorts of crooked wanderers and drifters go there to strike deals before they have to pass over the mountains again."
"Do you think a place that courts to drifters and wanderers is very likely to let us in?" asked Theo. "We're underage."
"Come on," Astoria begged. "It'll be the best! Even Fred and George have never managed to get in and that's what they do best! Can you imagine if we beat them to it?"
"That's the wrong number," drawled Malfoy, pointing lazily toward the digit Astoria had just filled in to represent the letter 'N'.
Astoria gave him a long look. She leaned closer under the guise of scratching out the last number sequence and pushed his inkwell. Draco's bandaged hand flinched forward to stop it and then froze. His eyes twitched back toward hers to see if she had seen.
"Hmm," said Astoria pointedly, very slowly crossing out her mistake. "Look at that."
Draco's delayed scoff stirred her hair as she wrote in the new answer.
"I guess I'll think about it," Theo harrumphed, but Astoria knew she had him on the hook with a maybe.
0o0
This chapter ran a wee bit short but that's only because the Hogsmeade trip has enough plot to support almost an entire chapter of its own and I didn't want to break it in half. I'll have that up as soon as I can! I know Astoria was pretty much a sad sack all chapter long over Daphne so I've added some element of fun to the next one!