Chapter Twenty Six
Revisions
0o0
Astoria woke up early on her birthday, feeling blue and decidedly out of spirits before she even climbed out of bed. The January weather—a moody winter-grey—seemed to reflect the same attitude of despondency; clouds hung overhead, pregnant with a chilly rain that was refusing to fall and a white fog clung to the ditches and knolls of the snow obstructed grounds.
Just as she'd expected, there was a letter from her aunt waiting for her at breakfast. Pouring herself a strong cup of coffee, Astoria settled down to open her aunt's card, privately hoping that the contents would cheer her up—Belladonna's notes had warmed considerably since Sirius Black's break-in.
Astoria,
Happy birthday, darling! Another year older! We will celebrate properly when I see you in June, of course. Until then, I leave you with this package and a bit of news concerning the Quidditch World Cup...
Astoria tore open the package impatiently. Inside, she discovered a few pots of fine quality ink in royal purple and a variety of chocolates. Pulling the lid off the chocolate tin with one hand and holding the note aloft with the other, she read on, curious to see what her aunt had to say about the quidditch world cup. There was quite a bit of news on that front: not only was the match scheduled to be played in England, but Aston Mendel (at his son, Maudlin's behest) was already making plans to attend.
"Happy birthday!" exclaimed Tracey, materializing behind her. She snagged a chocolate from Astoria's tin and peeked at the top of Belladonna's note. "Oh, these are good!"
"Yeah," Astoria agreed, folding up the letter. "I don't know where she buys them. They're always nice..."
"Are you excited to be fourteen?" asked Tracey, her mouth bulging with truffle filling.
In truth, Astoria did not feel that there was very much to be excited about. It had not been an especially heartening year—being reminded of a milestone did nothing to cheer her. Still, her somber outlook wasn't appropriate for anybody under the age of thirty. She attempted a feeble grin.
The regular mail arrived moments later. A large barn owl brought a hastily scribbled letter from her stepmother; a second delivered a note on a thick piece of parchment and a long brown package.
"What's this?" asked Tracey skeptically, weighing the long parcel in her hands.
"That's a broomstick," answered Draco. He had been walking down the table behind them, but now he came to an abrupt halt. "Who would send you a broomstick, Greengrass?"
Astoria thought she had a very good idea who.
"It's from Maudlin," she muttered under her breath, pulling the card loose.
"Why bother?" demanded Malfoy snidely.
"You don't even fly," added Tracey ruefully.
"You don't fly because of Maudlin Mendel," persisted Malfoy, correctly remembering that it had been Maudlin who had pushed Astoria off her first broom and ruined the sport for her forever. "Why waste a broomstick on you?"
"He's got his tickets pre-ordered for the world cup," Astoria answered, hazarding a guess. "He's probably just excited."
"To watch you fall off a broomstick twice?" sneered Malfoy nastily. Without waiting for a reply, he stalked off down the length of the table toward Crabbe and Goyle.
Tracey began to unwrap the front of the broomstick so Astoria directed her attention toward Maudlin's card.
"Astoria," whispered Tracey quietly, "this is a bloody Nimbus Two Thousand and One..."
"So?" Astoria grunted, beginning to feel a little annoyed herself. Perhaps Draco had a point, even if he had only stopped to voice it because he was already mad at her. The broomstick really was a waste of good money. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a querulous thing for Maudlin to have sent. Was it his idea of a joke?
"So," hissed Tracey, "it's still the second most expensive broom on the market. And look—it's never been used!"
"Morning!" interrupted a bright, unexpected voice.
Astoria glanced up from her letter and was surprised (although not entirely delighted) to discover that Fred and George had braved the Slytherin table to catch her during breakfast.
"And a happy birthday, we might add!" Fred grinned.
"Yeah, thanks. Hey, what are you two doing over here?" asked Astoria nervously.
The Slytherins typically tolerated Astoria's table invasion, but only because she had always done so and because she only sat there in the morning. Fred and George were a different matter entirely. Astoria could already feel the accusing looks of the people on either side of her burning holes into her face.
"Delivering your present in person of course," George bragged happily, producing a paper bag from behind his back. "We didn't want to wait until lunch."
Feeling faintly uncomfortable, Astoria took the bag and peered inside. "What is this?" she asked dubiously.
"Oh, a little of this and a little of that," explained Fred, leaning against the table. Harper, a dour faced Slytherin second year, stood up and moved.
"Its a pair of slippers, an enchanted hat and a box of tea that we bought off of some bloke near the entrance of Knockturn Alley," George rattled off excitedly.
Astoria pulled the box of tea out of the bag and inspected the label.
"Erotic tea?" she read out loud, shooting the twins a look.
"We reckon it was supposed to say 'Exotic Tea'," shrugged George. "That would explain the discount we got, at any rate."
"All the way from Africa it is, that stuff," continued Fred. "We bought it for three knuts. Funny, isn't it?"
Astoria stared at them, suddenly tamping down a bizarre urge to cry.
"Not that we think you only deserve misprinted tea boxes or something," added George hastily, misreading the look on her face.
"It's perfect," Astoria managed, trying to disguise the lump in her throat. "Here, I've got something for you as well."
She picked up the broomstick and thrust it into Fred's hands. Fred turned the handle over; the inscription was plainly visible where Tracey had torn the packaging away. For a moment, he stared at it mutely.
"Er—" Fred muttered, shooting her a look of mingled horror and awe.
"You can't be serious!" burst George, snatching the broomstick away from Fred. "Astoria, do you know how much this broom is worth?"
"Not a clue," Astoria admitted, still misty eyed. "It was a gag gift anyway. I never fly. The person who sent it was making fun of me. Take it in good health."
Fred blinked sheepishly, torn between guilt and extreme excitement. Further down the table, Astoria saw Marcus Flint tap Montague's arm and point toward the broom in George's hand.
"Take it!" Astoria insisted. "Practice on it before the final."
"I can't believe you just did that," hissed Tracey the moment Fred and George had left. "That broom is probably worth a thousand galleons! You should have pawned it, if you hated it so much! Why would you give it to the Weasleys?"
"Where would I even begin to pawn a broomstick?" Astoria snorted. "At least someone I like gets to use it this way."
"What are you going to tell Mendel?" gaped Tracey.
"I'll tell him that I gave the broom to my impoverished, blood-traitorous friends," snapped Astoria flatly, scooping eggs onto her toast. "Serves him right for sending me an insulting birthday gift."
"How do you know he didn't send it to be nice?" Tracey pressed doubtfully.
Astoria was about to respond when she was suddenly distracted by the arrival of her sister. Daphne was standing behind Tracey and peering at both of them with a pinched expression on her face.
"Hi," said Astoria a little breathlessly.
"Hi," said Daphne, biting her lip and frowning.
Astoria looked both ways to be certain that Pansy was not sitting nearby, but Astoria and Tracey were now separated from the nearest students by several seats thanks to Fred and George's pop-in.
"Where's Pansy?" sniped Tracey coolly. "I thought you were her little shadow these days."
"Shut up," muttered Astoria at once, not wanting to do or say anything that would frighten Daphne away. Tracey scowled but fell silent. "What's going on, Daph?"
"I just came to say happy birthday," returned Daphne a little stiffly. "I didn't realize that I'd be interrupting you."
"You're not interrupting anything!" Astoria pleaded hastily.
"Yes, I am," insisted Daphne even more coldly. "You're giving out broomsticks to the Gryffindor quidditch team."
"Just one," Astoria reasoned, a little puzzled, "and it was a gift I never would have used! Sit down with us!"
Tracey rolled her eyes; Daphne stared at the nearest seat dubiously.
"No, that's alright," she decided stonily. "Happy birthday, Astoria."
"Daphne!" called Astoria, standing up at once to follow her sister out into the hall. "Daph!" she gasped, grabbing her sister's arm when she caught up. "It was just a broomstick. I haven't talked to you in ages—come back!"
"It's always something, though, isn't it?" snapped Daphne.
"What do you mean?" asked Astoria nervously, dropping her voice. "Are you afraid Pansy's going to be rude to you if you talk to me? Because it's just one meal on my birthday. I can say something to her—"
"No!" exclaimed Daphne, hot with annoyance. "That's not— It's just— Why can't I ever find you doing homework like a normal person? Why are you always leveraging broomsticks or taking bets or plotting to steal friends like a human trafficker?"
"I'm not," stuttered Astoria dumbly, taken aback. The hopeful flame that Daphne's presence had provoked fizzled out.
"Yes, you are!" Daphne hissed. "You know what, I'm sorry I disturbed you, ok? Really, I am. Happy birthday."
"Daphne!" yelled Astoria, giving chase again as her sister sped off toward the dungeons. "Look, it wasn't as bad as any of that! Come on, won't you please talk to me? I miss you!"
They had reached the stairs that led off to Snape's potions classroom. Astoria began to feel the first pangs of shame knowing that she would not succeed in stopping her sister's flight.
"I never even saw you over Christmas!" she argued wildly, hoping to somehow guilt Daphne into slowing down.
"Because you were too busy with MacLaggen trying to meet famous people and then sneaking Slytherins back over to your aunt's house!" shot Daphne.
"I wasn't—I didn't even want to have people over! That was all Tracey's fault!" sputtered Astoria desperately, thinking of what Tracey had said about Millicent being close with Pansy and realizing that she had probably been right.
"You never mean it, Astoria!" exclaimed Daphne, turning on her with a look of pity. "That doesn't make your life any less chaotic or excusable, though!"
Daphne hesitated, sucked in a sharp breath and continued.
"Do you know what Blaise Zabini said about you last week?" she demanded jerkily. "He said you should start a blow job club and charge your members. You know, because you're pretty and irresponsible but you have such a keen mind for making money!"
Astoria blushed, unsure what she had ever done to make Blaise Zabini think she was game for loose blow jobs.
"What about blow jobs?" asked Tracey avidly, coming up behind them. Astoria blushed even harder, wishing that Tracey would go back to the great hall, certain that she would only incite Daphne further.
"Apparently Blaise reckons that's how we should be making our pocket change," answered Astoria in a tight, offhand voice.
"Really?" purred Tracey, her face lighting up with glee.
"Yeah," Astoria fumbled, trying her best to sound sarcastic and unbothered. "I guess that means we know who to leave off the invite list when we start the club..."
"Speak for yourself," Tracey leered.
Astoria shot Tracey a quelling look, trying hard not to smirk.
"See!" cried Daphne. "You're laughing at that! It's not funny, Astoria! It's your dignity!"
"I'm not! Daph, it was just a stupid joke!" Astoria backtracked.
Daphne stopped on the bottom stair and turned back to stare at them. Her glare now trembled with a note of finality. "It might seem like a joke now, but do you really want people to laugh every time they hear your name? Just—grow up, Astoria!"
0o0
As far as birthdays went, fourteen was rapidly becoming Astoria's lousiest on record. All through Ancient Runes class, she sat alone, tearing herself apart. Every time she dismissed an anxiety as ridiculous, a fresh one would occur to her. Not only had Daphne found a way to scorn her yet again, she had also gone as far as to insinuate that Astoria was a silly girl—a flighty bimbo that the entirety of Slytherin house thought was destined to either become a slut or a joke.
Tracey's influence was certainly no help in a situation like this and Theodore didn't socialize enough to turn the tide. Perhaps Malfoy might been counted on to shut down this kind of talk for her a week ago, but the recent cold front between them left no doubt in Astoria's mind that he had probably heard Blaise's comment and turned his head away. Did everybody think that she was a fool with no self respect?
Astoria was not even sure why any of it mattered to her so much. Realistically, she'd made the decision not to care about what people thought about her along time ago—particularly after she'd begged the Sorting Hat to put her into Gryffindor. Still, it was a jarring thing to learn that people people talked about her and it was even worse to realize that they tended to mock her when they did so.
She was so late reaching Arithmancy that the line outside the classroom doors had filed inside and seated themselves. In her absence, Draco and Tracey had already vied for their preferred spot; the loser (Draco) was settled in the second best, leaving Astoria the space near the window that nobody wanted.
Vector was not in yet but instructions from last period were still written on the chalkboard—an ominous sign that he was in the mood to deliver a lecture class. Astoria had a love-hate relationship with these. On the one hand, they meant less work. On the other, they meant that she would have to take notes on a variety of new topics—material that she would surely understand no better than the last.
Draco's back stiffened as Astoria sat down next to him. For the first time in nearly two weeks, she allowed herself to be physically aware of his proximity.
Professor Vector arrived in an excitable huff, resembling a whirling dervish in a brown tweed suit. He lost no time erasing the chalkboard so that he would have room to write while he spoke. Having guessed what was coming, most of the class had already taken out their quills and parchment.
Astoria did her best to follow Vector's lecture but her mind was elsewhere. Had Daphne merely been parroting Pansy's opinion of her? Or had those words been attached to ideas that Daphne herself had been working on for some time?
Meanwhile, outside, the day-long threat of freezing rain finally decided to live up to its promise. It arrived noisily, pattering and pinging against the windows. Slowly at first and then violently. Against such a barrage of ice and water, the warm and dusty classroom gradually began to feel more like a refuge than a prison. Astoria found herself loosing track of Vector's lesson entirely.
Her eyes slid covertly toward Draco, who was listening idly and taking notes from the board. Perhaps it was the unnatural darkness of the classroom, but Astoria had never before appreciated just how blond Draco's hair was; an inimitable color that could never have been achieved by unnatural means—almost silver and always well kept. People often said that Astoria was nice looking, but she was actually terribly lazy about her hair...
Draco sniffed and slashed out a note he'd made. He touched his angular nose thoughtfully and then, because Astoria had been staring at him for several long moments, finally felt the burning intensity of her interest.
His pale gaze shifted toward her, more surprised than properly irritated. Astoria looked away immediately. Several seconds went by before she heard him scoff under his breath.
Perhaps Astoria had been too hasty to shuck off Malfoy? Perhaps she was being unnecessarily stubborn? Astoria had plenty of other friends who did things that she did not agree with. For instance, Astoria did not wholly approve of Tracey's fondness for stirring up trouble for no reason, nor was she much for Theo's method of avoiding people at all costs. Granted, Malfoy's idea of being disagreeable involved campaigning to have living things beheaded, but perhaps it was not her place to decide if this was just? Perhaps Daphne was right. Maybe Astoria was an irresponsible friend and she was in no condition to turn away others for their faults. Not when she apparently had so many of her own.
Astoria toyed with this idea uncomfortably, beginning to regret that she had not just apologized to Draco when it could still have been considered timely. Almost two weeks had gone by now and Astoria had done nothing to prevent Malfoy from becoming more and more annoyed with her—first for being rude and then for not caring. It was possible that Draco would no longer be interested even if she did try to say sorry. Perhaps he'd realized what an annoying (and confused) pain in his ass she was?
Compounding this problem was also the fact that she had never actually had to think about convincing Draco not to be mad at her before. In the past, she had simply acted in whatever way had appeared natural or necessary. Without any introspection at all. Astoria was very good at controlling a scene when it was forced upon her by surprise, but having to think about saying sorry (and then tactfully finding a way to do so) was not in her wheelhouse at all.
Professor Vector droned on. The freezing rain continued to fall heavily, warping the windows with runny curlicues.
Don't make it a plot, Astoria thought to herself, remembering what Daphne had said earlier about her tendency to be ridiculous. He's properly mad, you'll have to be genuine.
Nerves tingling, Astoria sat up straight and pushed closer to the table. The only thing worse than being wrong about refusing to say sorry in the first place was actually saying it and then being told to get lost. Malfoy was proud and not particularly generous when it came to forgiving wrongs that had been committed against him. There were so many ways that this could go wrong...
Astoria nudged Draco's leg with her knee. She knew at once that he'd felt it—his hand went still in the middle of the sentence he was writing—but he clearly did not want to be caught paying attention to her, because he pretended not to notice.
Astoria nudged him again, this time so deliberately that ignoring her would be foolish. She left her knee against his leg as a threat.
Malfoy turned his head, a look of tense annoyance already in place.
Astoria hesitated This was as far as her scheme had taken her.
"I'm sorry," she mouthed.
Draco's face remained still for a very long moment. Then, with a twitch, he narrowed his eyes and sneered at her disbelievingly.
Vector wiped the chalkboard again and rambled on, "So as you can see, the most important thing to remember..."
Draco's eyes darted back to the board but Astoria could tell by the rigid angle of his body that two weeks worth of resentment was ready to pour forth. He looked like he was itching to say 'For what?' as snidely as he could.
Astoria leaned forward, afraid of losing him to the lesson. Draco jerked his elbow out of her way, but Astoria continued to lean doggedly against his leg. She took up her quill and scrawled the message again along the side of his notes.
'I'm sorry.'
Draco sneered at the parchment. His arm twitched forward, as though he wanted to write something back, but then he seemed to think better of it. Astoria waited, unsure of herself. A new and horrible idea occurred to her: what if he went directly to Blaise after class and reported her pathetic antics back to him?
Finally, with a dreadful look on his face, Draco began to scratch something out. Fully expecting him to deny any knowledge of what she was even talking about, Astoria continued to stare at the front of the room until he had finished.
'Did Potter gave you permission to apologize?'
This was not what Astoria had been expecting at all. It was far more passive-aggressive and off topic, but at least he wasn't ignoring her.
Astoria wrote back: 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
Draco let out a bitter scoff and tried to flip the paper over, finished with whatever it was that Astoria was trying to do. Quickly, Astoria put her hand down to stop him, weighing her options.
After a moment of tense silence, she decided to risk the truth. This was the most frightening tactic of all—putting anything in writing gave Draco the power to actually show people later—but at least Daphne would not be able to accuse her of not caring enough.
'Thinking about Hagrid crying makes me sad,' she wrote, throwing all caution to the winds. 'Listening to you talk to my sister like you both wish I was dead makes me sad. I'm sorry. Please stop.'
It was succinct. It was vulnerable. It was half insane. Astoria kept her trembling eyes fixed on Professor Vector, afraid to look anywhere else.
After what felt like a very long time, Draco flipped the page over stiffly and reloaded his quill. He was taking notes again, Astoria realized. A backfire. Merlin.
Pansy was going to loose her mind. Why had she allowed herself sound so pathetic? And Blaise—well, he'd re-work the whole thing into a hilarious sexual innuendo. Wouldn't that be a treat? Yes, from here on out, her distress over Hagrid's tears would haunt her in the halls; it would become a running joke. She should never have written any of it down...
Malfoy twitched a hand through his hair irritably and Astoria caught a bit of the scent that she had come to associate with his shirts; a mixture of soap and freshly ironed fabric. It suddenly occurred to her that ironing was the real smell of money—a nice, lazy smell that nearly always meant that someone else was being paid to take care of things. People whose shirts were always pressed never realized that they didn't come that way; never considered the effort that went into something so unremarkable and mundane.
Malfoy made another sound that could have been mistaken for a hiss of self-loathing and sat back in his seat. His leg was suddenly pressing back against Astoria's under the table, solidly but surely.
At first, Astoria did not move, feeling as though an electric shock had just passed through her. Then, hesitantly (and because she had nothing left to lose) she slid her knee softly under his, testing to see if the motion had been accidental. Draco continued to watch Professor Vector, his eyelashes fluttering for an instant as, hidden below the desktop, Astoria slowly and intentionally shifted closer to him.
Vector began to write an example equation on the board. Neither of them moved. Then, Draco's knee pushed closer. Astoria's leg was no longer pulling on his pants but resting softly, flush against him.
He fell still and Astoria breathed a sigh of relief. This was as clear an indication of Draco's forgiveness as she could have hoped for. Somehow, miraculously, her speechless appeal had worked. For a moment, she half allowed herself to wonder if Draco hadn't been waiting for her to do something like this all along. Even though she'd been very sloppy, he certainly looked properly relived.
Cold rain continued to fall outside the windows. Astoria listened to it drop like the boots of a distant army over the grounds until the bell rang.
0o0
The dreary weather persisted all throughout the weekend and into the next week. February arrived wetly, ushering in a splotched green and white world shrouded by an unforgiving mist.
"Hogsmeade next weekend," remarked Tracey on Monday morning during break.
"Brilliant," Astoria snorted. "I'll break out my wetsuit."
Theodore clucked his tongue. The courtyard was wet but the entrance hall was too busy for loitering comfortably. Together, they turned to brave the icy-slick cobblestones outside, sticking close to the eaves to avoid getting drenched.
"Come on!" Tracey begged. "There's nothing going on at Hogwarts that we'll miss for a day! Filch will still be prowling for Black and the corridors will be just as cold when we get back. Why not embrace the fun?"
Normally, Astoria would have agreed with this logic, but at the moment, it was the exact wrong sentiment to appeal to her. Especially since she had spent the weekend actively embracing non-fun: between Daphne's scornful attitude, the damp weather and her failing Arithmancy grade, she had barely left the library.
"I was thinking I'd try to get some studying done," Astoria admitted, earning a wildly enthusiastic smile from Theodore. "I've got an extra credit essay from Vector that I need to turn in."
"Who cares?" whined Tracey. "Let's see what Zonko's is all about, we haven't been yet!"
"I can't fail that class," vowed Astoria grimly. "My aunt will disown me. I've got to at least scrape by with a pass..."
"Ugh, you will," scoffed Tracey carelessly. "Just copy down everything Malfoy does on his worksheets—or make friends with Goldstein!"
Astoria rolled her eyes but held silent. Truth be told, she already did a good deal of copying off of Malfoy worksheets and she had not yet forgotten Anthony Goldstein's attempt to rat her out to Vector. Neither option seemed likely to save her.
Theodore came to a sudden stop and glanced about furtively. He ducked behind a stone column and lit a cigarette with his wand, cupping the flame with his hand to protect it from the freezing wind.
"I don't know why you're bothering to hide that thing, Nott," called Malfoy from a short distance away. "McGonagall can probably smell it in her office four floors up."
He had been crossing the stone walkway with Crabbe and Goyle, but he came to a lazy stop at the sight of them.
Astoria held her breath. She had seen very little of Draco over the weekend, but she had sat through three breakfasts at the Slytherin table without him insulting her. She had taken it as good sign.
"Piss off, Malfoy," sneered Theodore hotly. "I don't care what McGonagall thinks!"
"Oh-hoo. Tough guy," drawled Malfoy lazily. "I suppose you wouldn't mind having to miss Hogsmeade for a detention, would you? You never go anyway."
"Speaking of detention, how was yours on Saturday?" countered Theodore. "I suppose McGonagall made you scrub bedpans for trying to sabotage her house's seeker?"
"Not that it's any of your business," answered Malfoy sneeringly, "but we wrote lines. Father complained to the governors after my last detention—you know, the one where Hagrid nearly got a pack of us killed in the forest."
"Your dad isn't even a governor anymore!" hissed Theodore morosely. "I don't know where he gets off complaining so much..."
"He complains because this school is run by crackpots," persisted Draco, starting in on a tirade that they had all heard before.
"Maybe you should just try getting fewer detentions?" suggested Theodore. "You ever think about that? Maybe you're the problem..."
He glanced toward Astoria for support.
"Don't look at me," grunted Astoria. She shook her head, determined to avoid any fresh fights with Malfoy until the spring thaw. "That forest detention was mad. We saw a blood sucking demon. It was complaint worthy."
"You saw a what?" demanded Tracey, eyes widening.
Malfoy made a self-satisfied noise and leaned against the column that Theo was hiding behind. He peered at Astoria out of the corner of his eye, clearly capable of reliving the memory almost fondly now that so much time had passed.
"There are blood sucking demons in the forest?" Tracey pressed. Popping onto her tip-toes, she turned to peer across the grounds at the far-off tree tops.
"I mean, I haven't seen one since," Astoria amended, privately certain that their frightening experience was directly linked to Harry's fight with Professor Quirrell that May.
"Where are you lot going, anyway?" demanded Theodore resentfully, obviously wishing that Draco would leave and take Crabbe and Goyle with him so that he could smoke his cigarette in peace. "Break's about to end."
"Is Daphne going to Hogsmeade?" asked Tracey suddenly, thwarting Theo's attempt to run Malfoy off. "Do you know, Draco?"
"Probably," Malfoy shrugged lazily. "Why wouldn't she be?"
"I don't know," sighed Tracey irritably. "Astoria and Theo are both staying here, though, so I have to find someone else to go into town with. Maybe Daphne will let me tag along... Hah, Astoria! Do you think she'd re-tell the story about Blaise's theory? The one about you and the blow—"
"I bet she is going, Trace!" Astoria interrupted loudly, desperate to prevent Tracey from mentioning Blaise's blow job comment in front of Draco. "Why don't you ask her?"
"Are going to be mad at me if I do?" wondered Tracey confusedly, taken aback by Astoria's outburst.
"Why aren't you going?" demanded Draco. His steely grey gaze swapped targets. "Nott I understand—he hates people. But that's no excuse for you to have to have to stay and keep him company."
"She thinks she's failing Arithmancy," Tracey explained, shooting Astoria a punishing look.
"I am failing Arithmancy," insisted Astoria, ignoring Malfoy's smirk of surprised amusement.
"You're not failing!" persisted Tracey, growing exasperated. "Not with all the extra credit essays Vector's giving you—" she turned to Draco, "—they're not even about Arithmancy! He keeps having her write about Transfiguration instead, so he can pass her. You should come this weekend, Astoria, really. Please."
"That's not true..." Astoria argued, blushing deeply. The bell rang, signaling the end of break. "They're not all on Transfiguration!"
"He assigns you off-topic essays?" drawled Draco in delightedly, pivoting to follow them back toward the castle.
Astoria turned toward Theodore, hoping he would stand up for her. To her hearty disappointment, he was smirking down at the cigarette he was putting out on the bottom of his boot.
"She's his golden teacher's pet, haven't you noticed?" lamented Tracey, rolling her eyes. "Your homework is awful, Astoria. He would have kicked you out by now if he wasn't going to pass you."
With that, she peeled away to collect books from her dormitory.
"He did tell you that he knows your aunt," Theodore reminded Astoria in an undertone as Malfoy bullied Crabbe and Goyle up the marble stairs case toward the sixth floor
"Yes," allowed Astoria tersely, "but in my experience, Theo, that's generally a bad thing."
"Maybe," Theodore shrugged. "I don't know. Goldstein tried to turn you in for taking bets on the last quidditch match, didn't he? Instead of taking points away or giving you detention, Vector put money on Ravenclaw."
"Shhh," hissed Astoria, looking about nervously. She was very grateful to Professor Vector for letting her off the hook; she did not want to do anything that would get him in trouble for showing her mercy.
"Made up with Malfoy, have you?" added Theodore, dropping his voice further still.
Both of them turned to watch Draco's back recede as he climbed the staircase.
"You were the one who told me that I should," whispered Astoria defensively. "At least he's being pleasant again."
"Yeah," Theodore frowned, "but he's also doing that thing where he hunts you down and pretends he's run into you by accident again. I'm not sure which is worse, really."
0o0
The weather plucked up its misty skirts and worked itself into a towering mess of heavy rain by Saturday. From the Gryffindor tower bathroom, perched on the warm tiled windowsill, Astoria watched as lightning cracked above the treetops of the forbidden forest, feeling very at peace with her decision to stay at Hogwarts instead of visiting the village.
Parvati Patil was applying eyeliner in the fogged mirror behind her, adjusting the Giambattista Valli hat that Astoria had given her on her head. Lavender Brown, tired of admiring Parvati's new outerwear and anxious to be away from the castle, had already gone down to the entrance hall.
"I still can't believe that he sent this to you himself," exclaimed Parvati for the thousandth time. "Have you felt the fabric—it's obviously designer! Do you think I should wear it today or wait for the weather to pass?"
"Wait for the weather to pass," answered Astoria at once.
Between the steam from the showers and the deluge outside, it already felt as though she was sitting in a warm bath.
"Cormac asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him today," continued Parvati in an offhand way, expertly smudging black kohl into the corners of her eyes. "I told him I was going with Lavender. I suppose he asked you first?"
"No, actually," Astoria murmured, thinking of the cold way she'd bid Cormac goodnight on New Years. "I haven't talked to him since I got back."
"Really?" insisted Parvati, this time in a light tone that belied a secretly keen interest. "I thought, you know, since you were his date for the party... I'm just surprised that you weren't the first person he'd ask."
"I'm not sure he had a very good time, to be honest," admitted Astoria, turning to angle her smirk toward the window.
"Really?" Parvati was busy watching Astoria's face in the mirror for clues now. "I mean, not that a boy would have to have a great time to want a second date with you—"
"If you like him, you should ask him to meet you somewhere today," Astoria assured her. "I'm sure he'd love it if you did."
Keeping her eyes down, Astoria opened a palette of Parvati's blush. It contained several compact powders in sparkling crimson and plum; Christmas colors that looked ravishing—edible, even—against the warm brown hue of Parvati's skin. Without asking, Astoria smudged her thumb. Curious to see what the blush would look like on her own face, she drew a small line against the inside of her much paler wrist. Garish. Sickly.
"So you're not interested in him, then?" continued Parvati. "I mean, not at all? You don't want a second date?"
Beginning to suspect that Parvati fancied him, Astoria tried not to let any distaste bleed into her voice. "I definitely don't."
"Ugh. Why not?" demanded Parvati, suddenly suspicious. "Is he a troll in private?"
"No, we just didn't get on." Astoria handed Parvati her blush. "If you do decide to meet him, wear the hat and bring an umbrella."
0o0
The hallways below were unnaturally dark and quiet for so early in the afternoon. Despite the fact that the storm outside continued to rage on, most of the school appeared to have braved the rain for a bit of shopping. Unnerved by the silence, Astoria made for the seventh floor nook near the divination tower, hoping to find Theodore.
She was in luck: he was already perched in his favorite careworn chair, flipping through an academic Charms magazine. He had the window thrust open and a packet of rolling tobacco rested messily on the watermarked table.
"We should become Animagi together," remarked Theodore distractedly, kicking a pile of books off of the moth eaten couch so that Astoria could sit down. "Turn ourselves into animals, you know? Like McGonagall, only we'd choose bigger creatures with proper fangs and claws..."
Astoria narrowed her eyes and gave her friend's long, narrow face an honest search. "You'd be a spotted owl, for sure," she admitted dubiously.
Theodore looked up over the edge of his magazine, blinking rather rapidly.
"And you'd be a seal," he finally decided, plainly let-down, "mischievous and clever."
"Let's not become Animagi?" Astoria suggested after a beat, tucking up her feet against the cold.
"Yeah, no," agreed Theodore, casting the magazine aside. "Rubbish idea, really."
"Why the interest?" asked Astoria a moment later, hypnotized by the wall of rain coming down outside the tower windows.
"I dunno," shrugged Theo. "It was a good article. What do you reckon there are people who learn how to do it and don't report themselves?"
"What do you mean?" Astoria frowned.
"Well, the ministry is supposed to keep records," explained Theodore. "Say, for instance, you could turn yourself into a mouse or something—and then you didn't tell the government that you could do it?"
"Sounds like a good way to get fined," Astoria snorted.
"Yeah, well, sure. But what if they didn't ever find out?" insisted Theodore pensively. "You'd be able to spy on whoever you wanted, or break into houses, or leave the country without anybody ever being the wiser..."
"I guess," Astoria allowed, forcing herself to appear interested.
"You don't even need a wand to do it..." Theodore trailed off. "What if Black can turn himself into a cat or something, and that's how he's been getting into the school?"
"He didn't look like a cat when I saw him," insisted Astoria. "You're starting to sound like poor Susan Bones. Have you heard her theory about how Black can turn himself into a shrub?"
"No, and please don't tell me," clipped Theodore, but the ghost of a smirk was playing with his thin mouth.
They passed an hour or two together in comfortable silence. Astoria whittled away at her homework assignments while Theodore continued to peruse an assortment of very odd academic magazines. Eventually, however, the chill from the open window began to work its way into Astoria's fingers. When pulling her sweater tighter no longer kept the cold at bay, she dog-earred her page and stood up.
"Library," she muttered, balling her fists into her sleeves. "I'll be back. I need a book."
Theodore shrugged so Astoria let herself out. She wandered down the staircase alone, bored and chilly, wondering if Tracey had managed to find her sister for lunch.
Perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad thing? After all, Tracey was liable to say nice things about her. But then again, Tracey also seemed to love the outrageous parts of Astoria's personality the most—and those were the traits that seemed to be causing Daphne such distress lately. No, on second thought, perhaps it was better if they did not meet...
On the second floor, several high windows afforded a vast view of the lake. Listlessly, Astoria stared out at the gathering rain: most of the snow had melted away. Even though it was still winter, she could already feel the silent energy of budding growth in the wilderness.
The sound of rapid footsteps suddenly drew Astoria eyes away from the watery scenery; her focus snapped back onto the dark reflection of the hall in the window glass. It was Draco Malfoy followed, as he always was, by Crabbe and Goyle.
"Seen your pal Potter, lately?" called Malfoy triumphantly, his white-blonde hair wet and sticking to his wind-swept (and extremely smug) face.
"No...?" returned Astoria dully.
"No, of course you haven't," Draco went on at a clip, "because he slipped into Hogsmeade under an invisibility cloak."
"Invisibility cloak?" repeated Astoria nervously, half deafened by the sound of alarm bells blasting in her ears. Surely not one of Fred and George's...
"Yeah," Draco drawled, looking inordinately pleased, "can you believe it? Half of the teachers in this place have been throwing themselves over to keep him safe from Black and he's sneaking out anyway. I don't know why they don't just chuck him out and be done with it!"
"What did the cloak look like?" asked Astoria evasively. "How did you even see him, if he was invisible?"
"He threw mud at Goyle," Malfoy clarified, twitching his head to indicate his wet, boulder shaped friend. "Then he tried to trip Crabbe, but Crabbe must have caught Potter's cloak with his foot because next minute, Potter's head was levitating in front of us."
This sounded like one of the twin's cloaks for sure. Astoria swore under her breath and pivoted. Would Fred and George be in the common room? No, probably not. They'd gone into the village that morning...
"Where are you going?" sneered Malfoy, obviously thrown by her lack of interest in his story.
"Common room," Astoria muttered.
"Thinking of taking a last look?" Draco jeered. "I've just been to see Professor Snape. I imagine Potter's probably packing his things as we speak."
Astoria turned back, distracted. Snape? In her confusion, she nearly ran headlong into Anthony Goldstein.
"Watch it, Greengrass," snapped Anthony grouchily.
"Watch yourself, Goldstein," scowled Malfoy.
"She ran into me," scoffed Anthony snottily. "Where are you headed in such a rush anyway, Greens? I didn't think there were any quidditch matches to fix for another month at least."
Astoria shot Anthony a very dark look, determined to ignore him.
"I'm sorry," Malfoy sneered, surprising her somewhat, "was anyone talking to you?"
"Forget it," Astoria grumbled, trying to inch her way around Anthony. "Go squeal to Vector, Goldstein. You're good at that."
"Fat load of good that'll do," retorted Anthony, still refusing to get out of her way. "How did you talk your way out of that one anyway, Greengrass? I'm curious."
"What is he talking about?" sneered Malfoy.
"Astoria's got an illegal betting ring, didn't you know?" Anthony sneered, affecting a snide, patronizing look of distaste.
"Everyone knows that," scoffed Draco scathingly. "What—do you want a medal for figuring it out?"
"Stop it," said Astoria sharply, no longer sure who she was talking to.
"You know what, Greengrass? I did tell Professor Vector," confessed Anthony. "I'd even be impressed that you avoided detention if I actually thought that you got out of it by being clever."
"Well, considering you gave him no evidence," countered Astoria angrily, "I'd say avoiding detention wasn't exactly an Olympian feat."
"I don't get you," jeered Anthony. Annoyed, he took a step back so that Astoria would have to listen to him. "You're one of the sharpest people in Ancient Runes, but you always show up to Arithmancy turned out like you were born under a rock. Do you think you can just sweet talk your way through the classes with male teachers? Or are you just an idiot savant who can only translate runes and everything else is a struggle?"
Astoria stopped trying to find a way around Anthony and fixed him with a level look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that, unlike some of us, you skate through Arithmancy without doing any work," explained Anthony, squaring his shoulders. "And when you don't know the answer to a translation in Ancient Runes, you just translate English into Gobbledegook to distract everyone from the fact that you didn't do the reading."
"Why don't you get lost, Goldstein?" suggested Malfoy nastily. "Before I have Crabbe make you."
"I'm Astoria!" insisted Anthony in a high pitched voice that was clearly meant to be an imitation of her own. "I speak loads of languages proficiently, Professor Vector!"
Astoria stared at him, so shocked that she almost forgot to be angry.
"I'm especially fluent in English, French and daddy," Anthony finished snidely.
"At least I don't speak jealous twit," Astoria scoffed.
"I still can't believe Cormac asked you out," Anthony laughed falsely. "He's such a sucker for looks. I told him he'd regret it."
"Oh, you're so wise!" snarled Astoria, close to pulling out her wand to make him move if she had to.
"You can't imagine how thankful I was that you ditched him before midnight. I'd rather be sick on myself than have to watch you two snog."
"You're about to be more than sick if you don't get out of her way," snapped Malfoy, who seemed to have become infected by Astoria's discomfort—to say nothing of the way that Anthony was almost physically menacing her. "You let him talk to you like that?" he snapped, turning toward Astoria angrily.
"I guess I just don't see it," Anthony went on, betraying an expression of bizarre relief—as though he had been dying to insult Astoria for months and was now being given the chance. "As far as I can tell, you're nothing but a bimbo with a bad case of vanity. I have to stop myself from laughing every time Cormac says he thinks you're good looking. He could do so much better."
"Sounds to me like you're the one who wants to be dating MacLaggen," sneered Malfoy sharply.
"Why, because I care about my friend being entrapped by some doe-eyed criminal who can barely spell?" shot Anthony. "I'm serious, Greengrass. You're the worst. I wouldn't touch you with someone else's mouth—"
To Astoria's immense surprise, Anthony jumped before she managed to come up with a retort. His hand suddenly shot toward his wand. Astoria tensed, startled by the motion, bracing herself for what might come next.
"Whats going on here?" rang a stern voice near the end of the corridor.
Professor Vector was striding toward them quickly, sensing trouble. Anthony, still clutching his wand, blushed and made to put it away but he wasn't fast enough.
"I see that wand, Goldstein, don't bother," called Vector sternly. "You too, Malfoy! You know there is no fighting in the corridors. Explain."
"Malfoy pulled his wand first, sir," said Anthony at once. "It was self-defense!"
Astoria risked a glance at Draco and realized that he also had his wand out and was glaring poisonously.
Professor Vector turned to frown his displeasure at Draco. Wanting to act quickly and seeing no other way, Astoria burst into fake, simpering tears.
"What the!" grumbled Anthony irately, stepping away from her as thought she might be contagious.
"I'm sorry, Professor!" Astoria cried violently. "It was my fault!"
"What do you mean?" asked Vector. He softened his tone, evidently afraid of upsetting her further.
"I got into a fight with Anthony, " cried Astoria mournfully. "He called me stupid and—and—" she heaved a false hiccup, "—and ugly!"
Vector sighed, plainly aggravated. Her turned to look at Anthony, who promptly threw both of his hands into the air.
"I called her a criminal and told her I didn't want her dating my friends!" Anthony snapped. "I wasn't using any magic! Malfoy threatened me with his two thugs there and then pulled his wand on me!"
"Alright, Astoria," Vector sighed, looking very put upon. He took hold of her arm. "Come on, now. You're made of tougher stuff than this."
"He said I was the worst!" Astoria choked, eyeing Anthony vindictively through the space between Vector's elbow and his chest. "He said that I don't try in class! That's not true, is it?"
Vector looked as though he would give anything to have left the teachers lounge five minutes later than he had. Malfoy had not moved an inch; he was watching the scene play out with an expression of great wariness. Both Crabbe and Goyle looked very confused.
"Please!" Anthony sneered. "She's fake crying!"
"Then," Astoria went on, gasping slightly, "he said he wouldn't touch me with someone else's mouth!"
"Come on!" growled Vector angrily. Anthony paled. "That's sexual harassment, Goldstein! You know you're not allowed to talk like that. What were you thinking?"
"I didn't say—" stuttered Anthony.
"Yes, he did," confirmed Draco coldly, spotting their way out. "He also called her a bimbo."
"For Merlin's sake!" sighed Vector tensely. "Alright, come with me, Goldstein. We're going to see your head of house. Back to your dormitories, you four!" he shot, stopping to briefly admire Crabbe, as though he had never seen a teenager so large. "I've had enough nonsense for a Saturday. Walk, Goldstein!"
Astoria fell back against the wall, watching as Vector pushed Anthony back down the corridor. Her look of tearful distress slowly shifted into a victorious smirk.
"I speak daddy, do I?" muttered Astoria, feeling rather satisfied. "Who's his daddy now?"
"Did you just fake cry?" demanded Draco, torn between disgust and admiration.
"Do you know, I've hated Anthony all year and I had no idea he felt the same way?" persisted Astoria. "I feel so exhilarated right now."
Malfoy scoffed, looking slightly amused even though he seemed to know that he shouldn't be. "Davis must be right. You really are Vector's favorite."
"Please, Vector had to punish him," Astoria laughed, eager to sidestep this idea.
"Just goes to show you about MacLaggen, though, doesn't it?" added Draco. "You can tell everything about a person by the company they keep."
Astoria tried to resist looking at Crabbe and Goyle. She did not comment on this bit of supposed wisdom.
"You ought to kick MacLaggen to the curb, too," Malfoy drawled, niggling still further. "I'm sure they both talk about you like that when you aren't around."
Astoria was relatively certain this was not true. MacLaggen was far too pompous to speak badly about his own dates (unless, of course, they had somehow wronged him) and he was far less observant than Anthony to begin with.
She shrugged and turned in the direction of Gryffindor tower, thinking it best to follow Vector's command and beat it.
"Tell Potter to enjoy his train ride home for me!" Draco called after her.
0o0
Sorry this took so long to upload guys! I've had such a busy weekend and an minor internet issue. I'll try to be more regular this week.
I should have another chapter up tomorrow! As always, reviews are a pleasure!