Chapter Thirty One
The World Cup Pt. Two
0o0
"What a fool!" Maudlin jeered, still sneering over the railing. "He'll be regretting that if they manage to sew him back together. Why chase the snitch at all?"
Astoria grunted and shrugged her way up onto tip toes. Boxes to the left and right were letting out into the walkway, but there was still no sign of her father. She no longer knew whether ought to be angry or afraid. Either way, the match was over and she needed to decide what to do next.
"Astoria!" called Maudlin, attempting to direct her toward the stairs.
"Hang on," Astoria hissed, suddenly faint with relief: she had just spotted a dark, familiar head of hair. "I'll be right back."
Ducking and weaving, Astoria managed to reclaim the balcony-like walkway again. Two teenagers cut past, re-encouraging her former sense panic. But then, sure enough, they slipped down the stairs and there stood her father, ringed by all three McLaggens. George was laughing freely—as though he had not forgotten about his teenage daughter for an entire day at a public venue—and Mr. McLaggen was plainly mid-joke.
"Father!" Astoria exhaled shrilly.
"Darling!" exclaimed George, dropping an arm across her shoulders. "I've only just arrived—what a match! One for the record books. I've never heard of a World Cup wrapping up so quickly!"
Astoria bit back a retort and forced herself not to ask George where he'd been. Certainly not with Mr. McLaggen: she'd seen him during the match...
"Yes, indeed!" agreed McLaggen. "Just under thirty minutes! All this hullabaloo—" he gestured about at the massive stadium, "—and it's already over!"
Astoria's gaze, which had been following Mr. McLaggen's sweeping hand, landed on his wife. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Mrs. McLaggen looked oddly flustered...
"You missed a show nonetheless, George!" McLaggen boomed. "The mascots got into a feud."
"Father, could I talk to you for just a—" Astoria was cut off by a sharp elbow to the side. Two curly haired witches jostled around her, trying to gain access to the stairs.
"Yes, darling, of course," George conceded, trying to wave off McLaggen.
Unfortunately, at that exact moment, Bertie Higgs, Cornelius Fudge and Lucius Malfoy rounded the corner and appeared on their stretch of walkway.
"One moment, Astoria!" called George, holding up a finger to indicate that she should wait. "Stay there!"
Restless, Astoria leaned back against the railing. A cheaper sensation of relief was beginning to overwhelm her bitterness. She took a deep breath and tried to reclaim her optimism: the night was warm, a soft breeze was coming in off the field, and she had finally located her Father. With any luck, she would not lose him again. There was nothing wrong with the world—her basic needs were once again being met.
"So, that was Mendel, was it?" jeered a scathing voice beside her.
Draco Malfoy, free of both his mother and father's attention, had slipped through a gap in the crowd unseen.
"You know," he drawled, leaning smugly again the railing beside her, "he almost looks like me? Of course, I don't wear pink and I've never run headfirst into a wall, but other than that—"
Astoria laughed heartily. This was actually a very truthful (if unkind) comparison of Draco and Alec's features, but the fact that Malfoy had bothered to weigh his own looks against Alec-the-false-Maudlin at all was what really struck her as hilarious.
"I suppose he is a little crooked," she allowed, still chuckling. " Only that wasn't Maudlin. That was his friend, Alec."
"Oh?" Malfoy scoffed. "In that case, you ought to tell Mendel to buy his friend a mirror. Save them both the embarrassment."
"Alec's father is Aleksander Hundin," replied Astoria shortly. "He can afford his own mirrors."
"That was Aleksander Hundin's son?" sneered Draco disbelievingly, torn between annoyance and surprise.
Alec's family, although slightly less rich than Maudlin's—or Draco's for that matter—had a decidedly dark reputation. There was some exciting dispute about his being related to Rasputin (Astoria had never actually asked if this was true), but what she did know for certain was hardly less outrageous: Alec's father was well-known for his cruelty and his surname was legendary for being tied to some of the dirtiest deals and foulest manipulations that had ever slipped through a court system unproven.
"I know," agreed Astoria delightedly, reading the look on Draco's face. "Don't let the pink fool you. He really is a proper psycho."
"What do you think went wrong there?" Malfoy sneered, clearly deciding that Alec's last name was not enough to acquit him of his crimes involving pink linen. "That must be why he knew the Bulgarian Minister, though. I wondered..."
Draco broke off to allow Astoria's father to push in next to them.
"Darling, I'm so sorry," breathed George, finally released from Bertie's orbit.
Astoria bit her lip tensely, all too aware of the way Draco's grey eyes were turned alertly onto her father.
George, meanwhile, was scrambling for a distraction: "You found your seating alright? Is Aston still here? Will they be staying?"
"I don't know," murmured Astoria, trying not to let herself become angry in front of Malfoy. She did not want to arm him with any knowledge about how pathetic her family could be, lest he found a way to use it against her later. Draco's silences were often his greatest treachery: an opportunity for him to collect material for future satires unnoticed. "Where were you all afternoon?"
"Everywhere and nowhere," chortled George, and he looked as though he meant it. "Couldn't walk five feet without running into somebody who needed something."
"But where will you be tonight?" persisted Astoria pointedly, wanting to make sure George did not slip away from her twice. "If Aston is leaving, I'll come find you—"
"Oh, no need for that!" frowned George carelessly. "Do whatever you like—the place is crawling with security."
"Higgs' probably won't stop until dawn," remarked Draco offhandedly.
If Draco meant this to be a hint as to where she might find her father later, it was not a very good one. George did not like to stay in one place for very long. In fact, the only thing this bit of information really told her was were Draco and Flint would be as the night wore on.
"You remember where we're camped, don't you?" asked George.
"Yes," hissed Astoria, biting back anger. It wasn't as though her father had been the one to show her were the tent was in the first place...
"Yes, alright then," continued George distractedly, gazing over her shoulder. "Enjoy yourself, sweetheart. Let me know where you are staying—"
"Where else would I be staying?" snapped Astoria.
This was precisely the sort of thing that made Belladonna dislike sending her off with her father. She suffered a pang of sadness witnessing the proof of it.
Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy had finished with Bertie Higgs and was looking about for his son. Astoria felt Draco melt away beside her. She waited until he was out of earshot before continuing.
"How would I even tell you if I wanted to stay somewhere else?" Astoria hissed, feeling much freer now that it was just the two of them. "We don't have a meeting place!"
George blinked balefully but Bertie, now done with Lucius, was making a bid to sweep back in. Disgusted, Astoria gave up and started back toward Maudlin, hoping that he too had not up and left her.
The entire Mendel party was still gathered outside of their box, evidently debating their own plans for the evening.
"Your father?" asked Maudlin as Astoria rejoined them.
"Yes," she returned flatly.
"Good," remarked Aston. He paused, perhaps struck by Astoria's expression. She quickly rearranged her features. Aston had known her father since before she was born and she had a notion that he had never been entirely fond of George. He had his reasons, most likely, she mulled darkly. But Aston was one of her mother's oldest friends. She did not want to upset him or allow George's careless parenting to cause a rift. She suspected that he guessed too much already, and she was afraid of what he might say if he knew just how scattered her plan for the night was.
"We were just discussing Portkeys," Aston admitted at last.
"Pity the match was so short!" Maudlin complained bitterly. "I'd like to stay, but the next portkey back to the continent is in an hour. If we miss it we'll have to stay until tomorrow evening to catch another."
"I'd rather stay," Alec murmured, smirking to himself. "It would be a shame to miss the celebration."
"Father wants to be back before the morning," Maudlin pivoted. "Don't you, father? I assume you'd rather not deal with the rush? Frankly, I'm not sure I want to either if it's as bad as we think it will be."
Aston glanced at Astoria, perhaps trying to decide how she felt about all of this.
"Will you be angry with us for leaving?" Aston asked. His tone was light but his expression belied a doubtful shadow.
With a pang of embarrassment, Astoria realized that this was Aston's thinly veiled way of asking if she was secretly counting on them.
"Never!" Astoria exclaimed pleasantly. "I'm starving. I suppose I'll eat and then turn in. The morning is bound to be mad."
This settled the matter.
Astoria walked with them halfway to the Portkey station. At Aston's insistence, they stopped to buy her dinner from a cart selling various meat pies and curried chicken on skewers—a small mercy. Astoria had left her aunt's house that morning without packing any money, thoroughly taking for granted the fact that she would be traveling with her father. A rookie mistake, as it turned out.
After a hasty dinner, Alec and the Mendels were obligated to make a dash for the portkey before it left without them. Astoria watched them go, finishing off the end of her chicken, thinking that for all of the complaining Maudlin was capable of doing about how much his father expected of him, he did not realize a good thing when he had it.
Astoria made the trip back across the campsite with surprising ease. Between the lights coming from the tents that she passed and the various celebratory fires, there was more than enough illumination to comfortably guide her.
Her own tent was lit by only a single lamp. Astoria kicked off her heels upon entering and threw herself onto her bed, leaving the door to the living room open for light. Outside, she could still hear the sounds of witches and wizards going past quite regularly. Someone in the distance was singing and the more Astoria listened, the more she began to find the noise of so many foreign lives slightly comforting.
Surely there were places to be and rowdy parties to be attending, but Astoria did not feel like putting forth the effort to find them. Between the scotch she had been fed by Terrence Higgs, the vodka she had drunk on her own and the heavily seasoned chicken, Astoria was actually beginning to feel rather sleepy. Her feet hurt from climbing so many stairs and navigating so many paths in heels. Astoria had managed to see herself through the night without any real disaster, why tempt fate further? Overall, the match had been a success, even if it had been short lived...
Astoria did not know how long she had been asleep when she was roused by the sound of screaming in the distance. For a moment, Astoria lay in the dark puzzling over this. You're at the World Cup, Astoria reminded herself, scrambling about the corners of her brain to make sense of her foreign bedroom. This still could not explain the screaming outside her window.
The longer Astoria adjusted to wakefulness, the more a feeling of dread began to creep over her. Astoria hastily scrambled off her bed and back toward the living room in a state of disorientation.
"Dad?" Astoria called out unsurely, wondering what time it was. "Father, are you here?"
There was no response. Astoria stumbled over the book on Goblins she had been reading earlier and cursed at the sudden pain in her toes, searching blindly for her shoes.
The easiest pair to locate were the heels that she had worn earlier. They were not particularly practical footwear, but Astoria was so anxious to have a look outside that she hastily put them on anyway.
The campsite was a blur of panic and strange light outside her tent. People were running in the direction of the woods, tripping and staggering in their haste. The noise that had woken Astoria had indeed been the sound of many people screaming. Astoria swiveled about in shock, peering at the source of the strange fiery glow and shivering in the chilly night air.
Perhaps a hundred feet away, several tents were smoking. Beyond that, Astoria could just make out what looked like a pack of marching wizards in the darkness. They appeared to be masked and cloaked, so none of their faces were recognizable. The most confusing aspect was also the most horrifying, as a little boy running past with his mother, stopped and pointed out for her.
"Tops!" the little boy shouted. "Look, mommy! Tops!"
When Astoria realized what this child was pointing at, she felt some of her numb puzzlement begin to turn into real fear.
There were people in the air, suspended above the marching wizards heads. Even from a distance, Astoria could almost see what the little boy had meant, because each of the suspended figures appeared to be spinning like a top.
A tent, this time a bit closer to Astoria, went up in flames. This new blaze illuminated the spinning shapes in the air and Astoria recognized one of them as the muggle campground owner.
This was all Astoria needed to see to take off running after the little boy and his mother. There was nothing in Astoria's tent that was priceless or could not be replaced, so Astoria felt no urge to rifle about for anything before abandoning ship.
Astoria kept moving, focusing mainly on her clumsy heels until she reached the edge of the woods. The moment she had barreled under the branches of the treetops, she made the familiar groping motion toward her pocket for her wand only to have her fingers scrabble aimlessly against the side of her dress.
What had hitherto been real nervousness suddenly became true panic, because Astoria's dress did not have pockets. In a moment of sparkling clarity, Astoria understood that she had not had her wand with her since she had changed into her dress that afternoon.
The realization that was entirely alone and unarmed in a dark forest only feet away from a violent hate crime was nearly enough to undo her. Not only was Astoria unable to conjure even a simple lumos charm so that she could see, she also had no way of defending herself in the shadowy chaos that lay before her.
Bodies knocked against her, pushing her deeper past the tree line. Astoria staggered blindly, trying to see the ground and keep moving at the same time. She could hear the sound of screaming all around her, but Astoria could not see far enough in front of her own face to recognize any of the darting shapes. The sound of her hurried breathing seemed to be filling her ears like static.
"Oof!"
Someone running as fast as they could had hit her hard from behind. Astoria stumbled forward but instead of landing on even ground, her foot caught on a tree root and she barely had time to put up her arms before she fell face forward onto the gnarled track. A sharp pain in her knee told her it was bleeding and she could taste dirt on her mouth. Astoria muttered weakly, working about with her hands, trying to find something to grab hold of.
"Astoria?" demanded a snide, disbelieving voice. "Is that you?"
"Draco?" Astoria gasped desperately, unsure if it was scorn for Draco's connection to the scene by the tents that made her speak so loudly, or the sheer and unadulterated relief she felt at the sound of his familiar voice.
"Did you trip on the tree root?" Draco demanded. "Why isn't your wand lit?"
"Because I don't have my wand," Astoria bit out, trying not to sound as terrified as she felt. "Malfoy, where are you?"
This last sentence came out of her mouth as such a shaky plea for help that Draco lit his wand, holding the light between his fingers so as not to draw attention to his spot under a nearby oak tree. "Seriously?" said Malfoy, taking in the sight of her, tangled up on the ground. "I just watched Weasley fall on that same root a second ago-"
Astoria winced, looking at the cut on her knee. It was not deep. She pulled herself to her feet just in time to get out of the way. A pack of muttering goblins was creepily scuttling along without any light, their small, cunning bodies more adept at navigating in the darkness than Astoria was. One of them turned to look at her, his coal dark eyes glistening in the light of Draco's muted lumos spell.
Draco watched them nervously, not liking the look of their small fidgety forms one bit. Astoria quickly scrambled towards Draco before he could put out the light at the tip of his wand, grabbing hold of his arm to keep herself stable in her shoes.
"Nox," Draco muttered at once and Astoria knew she had been right in thinking that the the rogue goblins had unnerved him more than the scene back in the field possibly could.
Still, if the goblins had not needed light to see the path in the first place, Astoria seriously doubted that Draco extinguishing his wand would be enough to hide them.
Malfoy took a step backwards toward the trunk of the tree he had been standing under and Astoria, still clutching his arm, fell forward after him.
"Why don't you have your wand?" continued Malfoy rudely, perhaps beginning to fully appreciate Astoria's plight.
"I didn't realize that I didn't have it," said Astoria a little unkindly. "I forgot that my dress didn't have pockets and I fell asleep... it was disorienting. What's going on?"
Malfoy snorted and turned her so that she could see through a gap in the trees. Astoria reluctantly let go of his arm as she turned, privately terrified of losing him in the darkness.
"Are they just attacking muggles?" asked Astoria at last, in a low voice.
Draco did not respond.
Astoria let out a ghost of a breath and felt about behind her, suddenly irrationally afraid of losing yet another person that night. "Draco?!"
"Shhh," Draco hissed, grabbing hold of her arm to keep her from knocking him in the face. He pulled her a few inches closer to him and further away from the path. Astoria tangled a hand in his dark sports coat as a precaution, anchoring him in place.
Out of the corner of her eye, Astoria saw that there was a wand lit through the bushes and she understood that Draco was trying to keep his relative position unknown to passerby. It was almost impressive that he had even managed to recognize Astoria by her voice in the dark when she had fallen because Draco had truly chosen his hiding spot well.
"Are you actually scared?" drawled Draco almost gleefully once the foreign wand-light had passed by. His eyes flicked down to her hand where it was grabbing at his coat and his face flushed with undue smugness. "It's just muggles they want, Astoria. They wouldn't do anything to you."
"It sure looks like they're blowing things up at random," said Astoria tartly, wincing as another fire went up in the clearing.
"They're not," said Draco, dismissing this notion with a maddeningly nonchalant shrug. "Although, I suppose wouldn't want to be Granger, caught wand-less on a night like tonight."
Astoria swallowed hard. If one of the Weasleys had just tripped on the same tree root that she had fallen over, then perhaps they were still nearby? Fred and George would make safe allies only they would be very unlikely to take joy in the situation.
Still, Astoria wasn't sure she wanted to risk finding the twins alone while she was unarmed in such darkness. Astoria chafed at Draco's casual attitude towards the violence at the campsite, but she was not quite fool enough to view running into him as a bad thing. Draco had his wand after all, and a terribly calculating part of Astoria's mind was urging her to remember that Draco's father was probably one of the men in masks. Tactically, anywhere near Draco was probably the safest place she could be.
Astoria let go of Draco and pulled a little further away from him to wipe dirt off of her dress, feeling very conflicted. If only she had her wand. How had she been so stupid as to forget something so essential?
Sniffling slightly, Astoria wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. Now that her initial terror had worn off, she was becoming distinctly more aware of the chill in the dewy air. The sound of yet another explosion made her flinch and she caught a swift glimpse of her scuffed kneecap in the brief light.
Draco was watching her quietly, distracted from his former pursuit of keeping an eye on what was happening across the campsite. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he insisted again, almost complacently. "Not with me here, at least."
Astoria snorted and then regretted it almost immediately.
"What? You really think any of those wizards would give me an ounce of trouble?" demanded Draco tensely, a hard edge to his voice. "They know who my father is- they wouldn't dare."
Draco clearly wanted to hear her agree with him or to express some kind of gratitude at having him for a savior, but Astoria could not quite bring herself to do it. Instead, Astoria turned her eyes on Draco and fixed him with a look, dimly aware that this was the same trick she often used with her father when she wanted him to feel guilty about something but she knew that his mind was already made up.
Draco stared back at her, more affected by this little guilt-manipulation than her father had ever been. Had there been enough light to tell for sure, Astoria suspected she would have seen him blush and she knew that he felt her dissatisfaction keenly.
"Fine," snapped Draco resentfully, his tone extra nasty to make up for the exposed look she had just seen on his face. "If that's what you think, why don't you just go hide with the Ministry lot? I don't know what you're hanging around me for."
Astoria sniffled again, not wanting to fight with Draco or worse- tempt him into to leaving her alone in the dark. It was bad enough having lost a parent and her wand already, Astoria really did not want to lose her only ally in so many miles of unlit woods.
"You're just mad at me because your father ditched you, anyway," Draco went on when Astoria still had not responded, mistaking her silence for scorn and taking a cruelly accurate stab at what he had gathered from Astoria's conversation with George because of it. "It's not my fault that you're all alone without a wand, you know!"
Normally this would have provoked Astoria to near wrath but because of the screaming in the distance, the stinging truth of Draco's words and the ominous shadow of the dark trees, Astoria suddenly felt very exposed and pathetic. The back of her throat ached with the desire to curl up and cry.
Astoria had a feeling that the most dignified thing to do would be to leave Draco and try to find her way along the path by herself, but all of the fight seemed to have gone out of her. She could feel a tremor in her chin, a sure promise of tears. The pain in her knee seemed to triple in sympathy.
"Just stop," said Astoria, surprised that she was able to make her voice came out sounding exasperated instead of tear-baited.
"Or what?" sneered Malfoy in an oddly nasal voice. "Are you going to cry on me?"
Astoria pushed him. There was no Crabbe or Goyle to stop her and because it was very dark, he had not seen it coming. Draco staggered back a step into an oak tree and a flash of something bizarrely wounded and furious crossed his face. A sense of dread steadied Astoria's quivering lip almost immediately.
"Oh, that's rich," sneered Draco in a voice that was suddenly almost as shaky as Astoria's and contained a promise of a total abandonment of sense.
Astoria turned, deciding to brave the forest after all, desperate to get away from whatever it was that she had just started.
"You walk around pretending that you're so innocent," Malfoy shouted, no longer caring if anyone on the path heard him because of it. "You think people don't know about your mother?"
Astoria froze, dreading what was coming, paralyzed by fear and self-disgust.
Astoria opened her mouth, willing to beg him to stop before he said something destructive, but Draco was too quick for her.
"She's not dead, is she?" Draco sneered knowingly. "That's a lie. She's in Azkaban and you know it. If she were here right now, she'd probably be out there with my father-"
There were a million insults that Astoria might have reached for but her own desperation seemed to have washed her clean of any reason or shame. Astoria pushed Draco again, this time harder and Astoria almost had to wonder at his lack of resistance because the gnarled tree behind him looked like it must hurt.
"I mean, she was a death eater, wasn't she?" Draco sneered, his wand all but forgotten despite the fact that he had now been struck twice. "I don't know how you thought you could hide it. Both of your uncles were- I'm almost embarrassed by how long took me to realize."
Astoria pushed him a third time, this time with more feeling than actual force because her arms felt like jello. Between being goaded about her father's negligence and this dropping of secrets about her mother (perhaps Astoria's darkest) as though they meant nothing, Astoria had nothing left inside her but a clean longing to cause Malfoy as much physical pain as possible.
"I've always thought there was something oddly punishing about you," spat Malfoy almost feverishly, grabbing Astoria's hand to keep her from hitting him again. "That's what you like, isn't it? Making people suffer just so you can be in control?"
Astoria was suddenly afraid that she might murder him. If he had been talking the same way where they could be overheard by people she knew or Astoria had had her wand, the threat might have been real. Astoria had never understood Belladonna's hatred for men so well as she did at that exact moment. Why couldn't Draco ever leave it alone? What did he care what Astoria thought about about the Death Eaters at the camp or her parents or any of it? Couldn't he see that she was about six inches away from ripping his throat out?
"Of course, I didn't realize that your problem wasn't just with your mother-" Draco went on recklessly, sensing that he had found her emotional jugular, "-it's with your father, as well, isn't it? Is it rare for him to leave you places and forget about you- or does he do that often?"
Astoria wrenched her hand free and slapped Draco so hard across the face that her fingers stung. Draco made a weird sound somewhere between pain and actual shock and Astoria immediately began to cry.
"Fuck," Draco swore through his fingers, clutching his affected cheek.
Astoria continued to sob, wanting nothing more than to push Malfoy down onto the grass and leave him there. An actual tear rolled down her face and fell soundlessly into the dull night air.
Astoria could not remember the last time she had let herself get so worked up that she had cried in front of someone. She did not think she had done it since she was in diapers. True, Astoria had once falsely cried in front Draco to Professor Vector, but this time there were actual tears on her face and she was shaking uncontrollably. Malfoy seemed to realize the difference too, because in the dim light of the distant fires, his expression was moving away from anger and toward actual alarm.
"Have you lost your mind?" Draco breathed, his face red all over, particularly in the place that Astoria had hit him.
Astoria let out a strange tragic sound that seemed to contain all of her horror and anger at once.
"Stop it!" said Draco, sounding almost panicky, clearly disconcerted by her weeping. "What's wrong with you?"
What was wrong with her? It suddenly seemed to Astoria that Draco was perhaps just as insane as she was. Had he not just heard himself speaking?
Astoria shook her head, trying to stop herself from crying but it was as though Astoria had already been walking around all day bleeding and all Draco had done was finally expose the wound. She did not know how to turn off this sudden feeling of endless hopelessness.
Astoria turned, fully intending to strike off down the path and make for the nearest stump so that she could wait out the scene at the camp there but Draco snagged her by the elbow regretfully. His desperation seemed to be so great that Astoria could not tell by his face if he was even angry anymore, despite the ferocity of the smack she had just dealt to the side of his head.
"Don't-" he muttered almost pathetically. "I'll stop-"
Astoria tried to pull away from him but at that moment, an eerie green light began to glow between the trees, cresting above the highest branches like a silent and ominous firework.
Astoria stared up at the light in the sky, waiting for the noise that she was sure would follow but it never came. It took her just long enough to realize what she was looking at that she had already yanked her arm free before the forest around them erupted with terrified screams.
"That's not coming from the campsite," said Draco sharply, his face betraying the first sign of nervousness all night at the sight hovering Dark Mark above their heads. "Look-"
The death eaters in the field were Disapparating, fleeing the scene lest they be connected with the Mark in the sky.
Astoria knew enough about the former Death Eaters who had avoided Azkaban to know that they had told all sorts of lies; had sold out former friends or allies to maintain their freedom. Dressing up in masks to taunt muggles was one thing, but to send a Dark Mark into the sky was another entirely. This was bad, whatever it was, and Astoria did not want to be anywhere near it.
People were suddenly moving in the trees around them. The pathway had become chaos. If the crowd had been anxiously waiting before, they were now in a state of panic.
Astoria stumbled away from Draco, moving through the dense undergrowth as fast as she could, guided by the ghostly green glow. The problem of being able to see had been solved by the green light, but a new madness was in full swing. A little girl was sobbing nearby and someone was laughing unpleasantly in a patch of bushes. Two very official looking wizards wearing navy robes barreled past, knocking Astoria off course. She stumbled through a clump of low trees and into a patch of dark, mossy forest ahead.
Astoria kept moving forward, only realizing at the last second that the ground sloped downward. Astoria tumbled down the small hill and landed in a patch of dead leaves in a grim stretch of woods that was so dark and thick, that even with the Mark in the sky, Astoria could barely see her own hands. It was as though she had fallen through the Earth into a subterranean cave.
Who could be dead? Was that why the Dark Mark had been used for the first time in fourteen years? Surely the mob at the campsite had started because of too much drinking and easy access to an already confused muggle family. Could one of them have gone a step further and actually murdered in cold blood?
Someone else came through the trees behind her and Astoria had a very keen idea that it was probably Draco. This figure hit the slope as well and took the hill she had just tumbled down at a rough stumble.
"Draco?" Astoria called out shrilly, her fear overcoming her anger. The figure stopped at the sound of her voice.
Then, a second sound like a sharp popping but much closer at hand, made Astoria freeze again. Someone else had just Apparated into the woods.
Astoria thought of the men in masks, fleeing at the sight of the mark in the sky and felt her blood run cold. Astoria was not muggle born but she was still a young girl without a wand. Was it such a stretch to move from muggle-torturer to rapist?
Astoria pushed back up onto her feet, determining that the best thing to do was run. Several twigs snapped beneath her feet as she did so.
"Who's there?" demanded a cold, hard voice from the place where the popping sound had emanated. "Show yourself!"
Astoria said nothing. The sound of her own pulse in her ears was suddenly so loud she wondered if she had gone deaf. Astoria turned desperately toward the place where the shape that she imagined was probably Malfoy had just been, praying that it was in fact him and not some poor, lost child. She opened her mouth to scream.
Several other small twigs snapped and a hand grabbed her from behind. Astoria whipped about, ready to use her fists if she had to but it was only Draco after all. His breathing was shallow from running and his grip was tense.
In a queer flash of deja-vu, Astoria recalled the last time that she had been alone and terrified in a forest with Draco. It had been during their first year and the sight of the cloaked figure drinking unicorn blood had never quite left her. This was not first year, however, Astoria reminded herself. Draco now stood a foot taller than Astoria did and he was armed. Their current treat was not mythological, but most certainly human.
All traces of her anger forgotten, Astoria threw herself at Draco. If the fight they had just had had been initially spurred on by Astoria's refusal to say that she thought Draco was impressive enough to keep her safe, he was about to get his money's worth.
"I can hear you! Show yourself!" the ruthless voice demanded again and there was no trace of forgiveness in its bark.
Draco stumbled a little under Astoria's sudden and unexpected weight, his eyes on the dark figure even as he tried to maintain his footing in the old leaves beneath his feet.
"Don't do it!" Astoria begged urgently, suddenly recalling the oddness of the Dark Mark, certain that there was nothing Draco could do to stop whoever it was from killing them both if he had been the Mark's caster. "Stop! You don't know if it was one of your father's friends who conjured the Mark- it probably wasn't! He could be anybody! Think!"
Astoria saw the uncertainly creep into Draco's eyes. It was enough. There was a second loud popping sound as the unknown stranger Disapparated. Draco flinched at the sound.
Silence once again swallowed them. Astoria could feel a second resurgence of tears threatening to choke her.
"Don't," pleaded Draco, his pale face panic stricken at the idea of Astoria starting to cry again.
Astoria squeezed her eyes shut, refusing cry a second time when she already loathed herself for the first. Spare moisture seeped through her eyelashes onto Draco's neck. Draco shivered a little at the perverse intimacy of this but he did not move away.
"Just, stop-" Malfoy muttered tensely, his confusion making him nervous. "You should have let me speak- I couldn't think with you talking!"
The longer they stood, the more the green light seemed to trickle through the dense tree coverage.
"How do we get out of here?" Astoria wondered thickly, trying to locate the hill that they had both tumbled down.
Draco seemed to think that he had passed a gnarled lightning-struck tree a few feet back, so they set off in that direction. Astoria was relived when the ground beneath their feet became steep again. Panting and aching from so many falls in the dark, they came back out in the section of woods that Astoria remembered entering near the trail. It was much brighter here, but the unearthly green light was unsettling, almost diseased. With the Death Eaters dispersed, it now seemed to Astoria that the campsite was likely the safer place to be.
Draco seemed to think so as well, because he found a low place that sloped off toward the field and pushed aside several branches. Astoria followed him, relived as the green light above them gradually grew duller. By the time they had reached the first pitch of tents, it flickered and went out all together.
There was quite a gathering of witches and wizards near the edge of the forrest, waiting for a ministry official to appear and give them news. Astoria could not help but notice one woman in particular. This woman was standing next to a very shabby and shifting looking man and was so blonde (not to mention wearing robes of such a repulsive shade of magenta), that Astoria actually did a double take, thinking wildly that it might be her stepmother, Beatrice.
It was not Beatrice however, and Draco did not seem keen to hang around near this inquisitive crowd. When Astoria made eye contact with him, Draco made a slight head motion to indicate that he wanted to cut around the nearest tents. Astoria followed like a lost duckling in search of her flock, stepping over fliers and printed programing from the match that had blown free and now littered the path like tumbleweeds.
Here and there were other clusters of witches and wizards, gathered close together and muttering. One man pointed toward the sky and began to speak very rapidly in a language Astoria did not understand before making a swift indication with his pointer finger to his forehead.
"From half a word a way and he's still heard of Harry Potter," said Astoria, guessing that this was what the man had meant by his hand gesture. "Do you think something bad happened to Harry, tonight?" Astoria asked tentatively, her voice flickering a little, thinking of the Dark Mark.
"Who cares," muttered Draco darkly, obviously as put out by what he had just seen as as Astoria had been disconcerted by it.
They had reached the middle of the campground. Astoria began to feel awkward, no longer certain where she should go or what she should do with herself. She had not recognized anybody during the march across the field, and the collective mood of the people she had seen had been so gloomy and worried that Astoria did not really want to break off by herself to continue her search for her father. It was George's fault that they had become separated during such a catastrophe and, as far as Astoria was concerned, it was officially his turn to look for her.
"Where are you going?" Astoria asked, her eyes straying first left and then left right at a fork in the path.
"I don't know," said Draco, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Astoria. "I wish I knew where my father was. They couldn't have been planning on someone casting a Morsmordre in the sky." Malfoy made a face. "Mother's with the Rowles, but I don't know if she can leave. She's probably worried out of her mind."
Astoria forgot her discomfort in a moment of fleeting fascination. To Astoria, the whole evening had been a blur of chaos and terror but to Draco, who had always had an eye behind the curtain of fear, the evening had been something else entirely. She's probably worried out of her mind.
The idea of Narcissa Malfoy sitting around fretting over the lost members of her pack as though waiting for them to return from war, was a very odd one indeed.
"Can I follow you?" asked Astoria quietly. A chill wind swept down the pathway, sending leaves scattering.
"Yeah," said Draco in an offhand voice, perhaps not wanting to appear overly eager at the idea of keeping her.
Astoria eyed the darkened campsite warily.
"Come on," Draco muttered, taking the left path. "I need to leave word with my house elf. Mother will probably try to check in..."
Even in the darkness of the very early morning, Astoria could tell that the Malfoys were the owners of one of the least muggle-looking tents, although they did not seem to have a jacuzzi or a giant purple fireplace as some of the others had.
They approached the tent from behind. Draco ran swiftly up a set of actual granite steps and gained entrance through a set of tall patio doors, hung with heavy curtains.
Astoria dithered in the doorway, resisting the allure of the space beyond, which was quite dark but almost seductively warm. Gradually, Astoria's eyes began to adjust and she realized that she was not standing near the front entrance to the tent. The patio they had just walked across seemed to connect to one of the bedrooms. Realizing that this meant that Astoria was very unlikely to run into Lucius Malfoy or any of his friends, she moved inside, shivering with pleasure at finally being out of the damp night air.
Draco was looking about for something on top of a nearby table. He located a watch in a shallow ornamental dish and held it up to check the time.
"Barns!" said Draco, opening the bedroom door with a snap.
Astoria heard a house elf pop into sight on the other side of the door. A cool breeze wafted in from the patio, driving Astoria further inside. She sat on the end of Draco's bedspread and inspected her knee.
It felt tacky to the touch but it did not seem to be bleeding. Still, the scrape would leave a mark for a week unless she asked her aunt for a spell or a salve of some kind. Asking for any assistance from Belladonna would be most unwise however, as Astoria did not want to have to explain why she had fallen so many times in the first place. If Astoria's aunt ever found out that her father had left her alone during a Death Eater rally...
Draco and the unseen house elf named Barns were having a hurried discussion. From what Astoria could make out, neither of Draco's parents had returned yet.
Astoria rested her head against the cool fabric of the blankets and closed her eyes. Her feet, which were still in heels, hurt from so much walking and then stumbling. There was a warm, raw feeling running across both of her palms from where she had caught herself falling. Astoria had been useless without a wand... she had nearly killed herself just trying to move about all night.
With her eyes closed, Astoria could have nearly tricked herself into believing that she had a fever. Her limbs hurt and her chest was tight from so much worry. If she had been anywhere other than the Malfoy's tent, she might have considered pulling a blanket over her bare arms.
"All right," Draco sneered, hitting a brick wall with his elf. "Fine. If they come back here before I find them, tell my mother that I'm alright and I made it out of the woods."
The elf made a sound of demurred agreement. Draco was about to turn before he caught himself and added, "If I'm here and I'm sleeping, tell them not to wake me unless we're leaving. You can tell mother you saw me last around three in the morning- she'll understand."
He shut the door on the elf's face, which Astoria considered a trifle rude. Then again, Astoria herself had been waging a war with Bonky for years now and she knew that she did not have much of a leg to stand on where this sort of thing was concerned. For all Astoria knew, Barns had once dropped Draco out of a window as an infant and he still had a memory of the incident.
Draco turned around and must have caught sight of her laying half asleep on top of his duvet but the moment passed without a sarcastic comment.
"Is it really three in the morning?" asked Astoria dully.
"Yeah," said Malfoy, his voice curiously subdued. She heard him put the watch back on the table top.
"Did you see my father tonight?" asked Astoria after another long silence, thinking of the insults Draco had flung at her earlier, suspecting that he might have seen something of George after the match.
"No," said Draco. "I thought you must have both gone somewhere else."
Astoria hesitated, thinking of Mrs. MacLaggen and her suspicion that George probably knew Cormac's mother as more than just a friend. "Did you see the MacLaggens?"
"Keeping tabs on Cormac, are you?" asked Draco icily. There was a brief pause. "I didn't see them, but I know they're camped in the next lot over if you want to go find them."
"I don't want to move," Astoria sighed, pulling her feet, which were hanging over the side of the bed, up a little closer to her body. She thought of Mr. MacLaggens boisterous drunk laughter, certain that was the exact sound she could expect if she turned up at his doorstep in the middle of the night. "Can we just stay here?"
There was a moment of dastardly silence. Astoria could hear Malfoy's steady breathing across the room and knew that he must have heard her. It would have been nearly impossible for him not to have.
Astoria waited, so tired that she did not particularly care what happened next. It seemed to her that Draco had spent years of his life lurking about in odd places just so that he might have a clearer shot at either annoying Astoria or spying on her personal life. Astoria had never once fed him a dose of his own medicine and, now that she was finally doing so, she was almost devoid of fear.
Clearly her position could not get any more pathetic. Either Draco would allow her to sleep where she was already lying, or he would kick her out and Astoria would be no worse for it than she had already been since the start of her day. Moreover, if Draco's parents weren't going to wake him up until they were leaving, they would never even know that Astoria had been there at all. The house elf hadn't even got a glimpse of her. Astoria could leave when the sun came up and start afresh in her search for a way home from there.
Draco must have realized the same thing because he closed the patio door, blocking out the sound of several wizards who were arguing a short distance away on the grass. The heavy curtains blocked the last of the light.
Astoria kicked off one shoe with ease and pulled the blanket over herself, aware that by doing so she was committing to one of the most unexplainable things that she done in quite some time. Her second shoe proved tricker and ended up lodged at the bottom of the bed between the sheets and the duvet. The pillows in Draco's tent were probably just as nice the ones Astoria had in her actual home, so Astoria pulled her hair out from under her arm and buried her face into one willingly.
She heard Malfoy shrug out of his sports coat and throw it onto a nearby chair. He emptied his pockets, putting his wand and several galleons onto the bedside table. Astoria thought about that wand. Astoria had hit Draco earlier- hit him so hard that her fingers had smarted and here she was, volunteering to sleep next to him. If Draco was anything like her aunt, he would smother Astoria in her sleep.
Astoria shook herself as Draco got into bed, trying dislodge this bizarre and frightening train of thought before it could get a firm hold of her mind. She moved slightly so that the blankets weren't trapped underneath her.
She was being ridiculous. Draco wasn't going to smother her. In fact, something about the stiff way Draco was lying seemed to mark him as more unsure than vengeful.
Astoria briefly tried to picture Draco's sleepovers as a child and it began to occur to her that Draco's version of a slumber party had probably never involved everybody piling into one bed at the end of the night. Surely Narcissa and Lucius ran their home more formally than that, not to mention had bedrooms to spare. Draco didn't have any siblings either, unlike Astoria, who had spent her childhood snuggling next to Daphne. It suddenly seemed very probable that Draco had never actually had to sleep in the same bed with another person in his life.
Draco's arm brushed against her hair, then twitched away uncertainly and Astoria considered her theory quite proven.
Astoria took pity on him. Slowly, almost silently, she shifted toward him until her shoulder was touching his chest. She curled up slightly, naturally drawn to the warmth of his body and pushed her feet against him.
Draco breathed out and Astoria realized by the sound that he was much closer than she had originally thought. Draco moved so that his arm wasn't jammed between them and then paused. Astoria pressed back against his chest, almost daring him to drop his arm over her, which he did the moment she made it clear that he should.
The darkness had the effect of anonymity. There was nobody around to see them and now that Draco was certain that Astoria would not kick him away or run and tell her friends that he had tried to cuddle her, he was suddenly much less hesitant. For a moment there was nothing but the sound of rustling fabric as they both moved, searching. Astoria felt Draco's other arm slide under her head. His face was on the edge of her pillow. It occurred to Astoria that she was wedged so neatly against him that she could smell his deodorant.
Draco's breathing slowly grew deeper and more even with sleepiness, his touch faintly less calculated and more possessive. The longer they were silent, the more Astoria became aware of a dull thrill that was slowly pulsing in her chest, warning her that she was basking in the lazy comfort of something potentially dangerous and unclear.
What had started out as a matter of convenience had quickly turned into a moment that Astoria would be forced to conceal. After all, Astoria would rather tell a thousand lies than admit to the fact that she had slept underneath Draco Malfoy because a pack of Death Eaters had scared her. Not to mention the scorn Theodore would undoubtedly express if the incident was ever mentioned in front of him.
Astoria closed her eyes, lulled by the startling warmth and the crispness of the sheets, thinking that in the end, Draco was probably as unlikely as she was to recount this moment to anybody. Astoria's father may have abandoned her, but it was Draco who had ended up taking her in. Surely he would not want to to admit that out loud just for the sake of embarrassing her.
Astoria came floating back into consciousness a few hours later, blinking in the dark, uncertain if the dim light around her was an effect created by the curtains or if it was still actually nighttime. A fierce desire to keep her head still and her eyes closed told her that she had not slept long however, and it was a moment or two before she realized what had woken her.
Astoria could hear soft voices from the other side of the bedroom door. Someone else had managed to make it back to the tent, but whether it was Lucius, Narcissa or both, Astoria could not tell.
Neither option was reassuring. As much as Astoria did not like to admit it, Lucius Malfoy had always struck her as a figure of almost fearsome authority. Much like Belladonna, Lucius had a way of always getting the final word and they both shared a general air of self-preservation and orderliness. Both of them would like to think that they were the final line on law and taste, but unlike Belladonna, Lucius had the money and the political connections to ensure that his opinion was almost always heard, and this made him particularly frightening.
Astoria did not really believe herself to be in any danger, not even after watching the mob sweep across the campsite. Astoria was a pureblood after all, but Lucius had a taste for the fanatic that her aunt did not share. Belladonna, for all of her many faults, had never been a Death Eater. Belladonna certainly shared some of Lucius's feelings of superiority over those who had been born into non-magical families and something of his dubiousness at the inherent abilities of most muggle-borns as well, but Belladonna was very unlikely to view the idea of muggle murder as tasteful.
Surely Lucius would not be particularly tolerant of Astoria's unannounced presence in his home so late at night? Especially on an evening that had been so nearly incriminating for him.
It was a mark of just how vulnerable Astoria felt, that the idea of Lucius Malfoy catching her napping with his son was not at all funny to her, not even in her state of almost delirious fatigue. Astoria pushed the blankets away from her ear and shifted under the dead weight of Draco's arm to listen as closely as she could.
There was definitely more than once voice and, if Astoria had to guess, both of them were male. The dull clunk of something heavy being placed on wood put her in mind of a glass, weighted down by liquor.
"Karkoroff! He was always something of a coward..." a low, unfamiliar voice rang out vehemently.
How bizarre it was, listening to this faded conversation that Astoria had been given no permission to hear. Astoria would have been willing to bet all of her earthly possessions that both of men considered themselves quite at liberty to speak freely without the threat of being overheard. It was no wonder that Draco was such a font of ministry gossip; between what Lucius told him and what he was able to overhear, he probably knew nearly as much as the senior undersecretary.
Feeling like a spy, Astoria slumped back down. Draco shifted his arm over her again in his sleep and his breathing stirred the hair near her face. Astoria was intrigued past the point of her fatigue, however. Lucius and his friend were talking about Barty Crouch.
"...his elf. The whole squad of them stunned her, or at least that's what Runcorn says. Clutching the wand..."
Barty Couch's elf had sent up the Dark Mark? That made no sense to Astoria. Runcorn? Didn't he work for the Department of Mysteries? Or was it the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? How would he know the Malfoys? Or was it possible that Runcorn shared sympathy with the rest of the Ex-Death Eaters and their cause?
One of the men said the name 'Potter' and Astoria suspected that it must have been Lucius, because he was not speaking in such a bellowing tone as his guest. Astoria strained to hear but failed to catch what this had been in reference to. There was more murmuring and then the room went silent. After a moment's wait, it remained that way.
Guessing that the conversation had broken up due to the lateness of the hour, Astoria felt safe enough to get out of bed. She poked about in the darkness until she found the watch that Malfoy had looked at earlier.
It was five o'clock in the morning. Astoria had been asleep for less than two hours. A glance at the crack in the curtains served to confirm that it was not yet light out. After having warmed herself so thoroughly, the floor beneath her feet felt cruelly cold.
Astoria slipped back under the blankets as lightly as possible, feeling more than ever like an intruder. Draco had moved into the divot that Astoria's face had left in her pillow, his normally sleek hair slightly disheveled. Astoria gently nudged him aside until there was space for her own head to fit again and pulled the blankets up as high up as she could. Draco stirred next to her, roused either by the cold air from when she had rearranged the blankets or her subtle movement.
Astoria pressed her face down below the pillow, resting her cheek against the cotton of Draco's sleeve. Goosebumps formed on her arms as she reacclimatized to the wondrous warmth.
"Time'sit?" Draco mumbled, startling her slightly.
"Five," answered Astoria in a muffled voice, partially afraid that he would suggest that she should leave before sunrise.
Astoria was about to voice her plan to leave within the hour out loud, just in case, when Draco rolled back into her, sliding his face onto the bare spot of pillow that Astoria's head had just vacated before reclaiming sleep. Astoria stretched out her arm and something cold brushed against her skin.
She located the source, running her fingers over Draco's exposed hand. He was wearing a silver signet ring, embossed with his family seal. Astoria traced the pattern with her fingertips softly, seeing how many of the shapes she could recognize.
A moment later, Draco surprised her by blinking against her hair and Astoria realized that he was not asleep at all, but laying quite still, watching mutely as her fingers moved over his.
Astoria immediately ceased this needless touching, trying not to understand what sort of appeal could have compelled Draco to watch her for as long as he had without twitching his hand away.
0o0
Hmm. Well, I personally like this chapter, although I think an argument could be made for the fact that there is a whiff of dysfunction about it that could probably stand to be slightly softened. In this chapter's defense though, Draco finally admitted to knowing about Astoria's mother and I feel like that would be a dirty fight provoker. I also feel as though there is some real development present that will push character maturation, so I give only the weakest apologizes for all the unpleasantness.
I also kind of like the fact that Astoria ends up in Draco's space for a change, since it always seems to be the other way around. You never see much of the Malfoys with their guard down and I imagine the experience would be a little surreal.
I'll probably post again on Sunday/Monday. Until then, happy weekend to all!
Reviews are the ultimate treat so feel free to tell me what you think. :)