Chapter Forty
Welcoming Committee
0o0
On Saturday morning, the snowstorm finally gave out. A thick, white downy blanket clung to everything, from the window frames to the sides of the tower turrets. The entire world had gone still; soft and muffled by a dense, cottony layer of ice.
Astoria awoke to find the sun streaming in through her window again, twice as bright as it should be due to the stretching and white reflective surface against which it was beating.
Astoria met Tracey in the entrance hall, finding her near the bottom of the staircase, clutching several bacon sandwiches on a napkin.
"Lo'," said Tracey, swallowing thickly before offering Astoria the napkin. "Sandwich?"
Astoria shook her head, too eaten up with nerves over Fred and George's journey into the village and the prospect of her own dismal meeting to be much in the mood for food.
"Cassandra's letter said the meeting is being held in the portrait room," said Tracey, biting into the last sandwich and balling up her napkin. "Have you ever even heard of the portrait room? How is it that a foreigner is scheduling events in places I didn't even know existed?"
"It's off the entrance hall," said Astoria dully. "I suppose she must have organized it in the most unused room in the castle on purpose, hoping people like us wouldn't be able to find it."
Tracey snorted and brushed crumbs off the front of her shirt.
Truthfully, Cassandra's real reason for choosing the room of portraits probably had more to do with the fact that it was lavishly furnished, sporting stately oak paneled walls and long windows. The officious and stuffy leather furniture in the middle of the room was separated by an island of glossy wood in the form of a low table, which was currently supporting a tray of tea sandwiches. A fire burned in the hearth, competing as a heat source with the winter sunlight falling across the carpeted floor. Almost immediately, Astoria felt a wave of oppressive sleepiness wash over her.
Pansy and Flora were already nestled smugly on one of the couches, helping themselves to sandwiches and tea. Astoria took a moment to observe the handful of students who were present. There were several girls older than Astoria from other Hogwarts houses, including two Ravenclaws named Katherine MacDougal and Elizabeth Fawcett, who both must have already been members at the beginning of the year. Slightly relived to have spotted other students not belonging to Slytherin house, Astoria dithered near the doorway, affixing her etiquette pins to the front of her plain white dress. Tracey, who had no pins to attach, stood by awkwardly and waited for Astoria to finish.
The door opened behind them, forcing Tracey to move out of the way as Cassandra and Emilie both entered.
"Good," Cassandra sniffed approvingly, her eyes roving over the couches sharply and coming away with the head-count she had been hoping for. "If everyone is here, we can start immediately."
It was Astoria's turn to step out of the way as Cassandra pushed past her importantly. Astoria raised an eyebrow at Tracey and indicated that they should move toward the couches.
"Now, as the application process has been fully handled by the committee, I can officially welcome our newcomers by addressing them as junior members of the Sisterhood of the Eastern Star," said Cassandra, dropping a thick, leather organizing binder onto the shiny tabletop. "For those of your who are returning, welcome back."
Astoria sunk onto a sofa next to Flora's sister, Hestia Carrow. She scooted over to make room for Tracey.
"Our first order of business will be to discuss the Welcome Mixer that Hogwarts is hosting on Monday afternoon. This small party is for members of the native Ministry and delegations from the governments of several other countries corresponding to Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy."
Astoria began to wish that she had not waited for Cassandra to arrive before seating herself. Her legs were entirely too close to the fire and she could feel an unseasonal sweat breaking out across her skin. Astoria was hesitant to stand up while Cassandra was speaking however, suspecting that doing so would incur a wrath of some sort, so Astoria suffered on in silence.
"Now, the point of the mixer is to honor the members of government who have helped make the Triwizard Tournament possible, particularly those who will not be able to attend the Yule Ball on Christmas," Cassandra continued. "It's our job, as Sisters, to make sure that the guests are properly entertained and comfortable."
The heat was beginning to make Astoria feel absent and she found herself tracking the steady ticking of the clock near the mantelpiece like a metronome.
"All members are required to wear white, favoring dresses and skirts over pants. White is the color of the Eastern Star; but also of perfection, goodness and purity, all of which you might choose to remember when selecting the cut and length of your frock. You will never be remiss for erring on the side of modesty."
The winter sunlight was so clear that Astoria could spot specks of dust floating in the illuminated shafts of air in front of her. A log cracked in the fire and Astoria, weary from a week of poor rest, found herself blinking very rapidly in order to avoid dozing off.
"I expect everyone to be in the antechamber off of the Great Hall before one o'clock," Cassandra continued. "House elves will be handling the majority of the set-up, but it is our duty as hosts to make certain that everything is in order before our guests begin to arrive."
"Ooh," said Pansy. "Will we get to greet them?"
"Senior members of the sisterhood will manage the meet and greet alongside the Hogwarts staff," said Cassandra primly, subtly putting Pansy in her place, "while junior members will be charged with refreshments and other minor tasks."
Cassandra's eyes met Astoria's for the first time all meeting. They moved on to Tracey briefly, where they fluttered somewhat vindictively, before returning to Astoria again.
"Oh," said Pansy, sounding disappointed. "How long will I have be a junior member for, then? Until the end of the year?"
"Until I say otherwise," said Cassandra cooly, her eyes never leaving Astoria's or ceasing to promise future suffering. "The Sisters of the Eastern Star has long been famous for shaping future pillars of polite society. It is my job, as chapter president, to yank out any unruly weeds before they take root in an otherwise cultivated garden. I won't be recommending anyone for full membership until each girl has proven herself to me personally."
"Ha!" said Pansy gleefully, perhaps catching on to Cassandra's thinly veiled threat and the subjects to whom it was truly intended.
"That sounds an awful lot like hazing," said Katherine MacDougal, her simple face creasing slightly.
"Does it?" remarked Cassandra, her polite tone entirely unchanged.
"Our last president was Gemma Farley. She didn't do anything like that," said Katherine slowly.
For a long moment, Cassandra's expression remained unmoved. Then, just slightly, the corner of her lip twitched upward. "Gemma sounds lovely," said Cassandra, her voice laced with a trace of private amusement.
"She was," sighed Katherine, raising a sandwich to her mouth absently and nearly missing her lips.
0o0
Astoria did not expect the twins to return until the late afternoon, so when Tracey suggested that they go out into the courtyard and have a look at the snow, Astoria readily embraced the distraction this idea seemed to offer.
They stopped over in the dungeons for cloaks, Astoria borrowing one of Tracey's so that they would not have to traipse all over the castle, and then headed outside. Flurries of bright ice crystals, blown off of the roof and the tops of the towers by the wind sliced at their cheeks and dazzled their vision.
The cool breeze did wonders for Astoria's sense of well being and restored a certain wakefulness after a long hour closeted away near a stifling fire. After several minutes, the wind proved to be too biting for Tracey however, so they ducked under the eves near the outdoor corridor and huddled against the wall, pink-cheeked and shivering.
"Cassandra seems like she's going to give us a run for it, doesn't she?" muttered Tracey through chattering teeth, pulling her cloak closer around her bare legs so that the cold would not wick in toward the white dress she was still wearing. "How much do you want to bet she ends up making us hand out punch for the mixer?"
Astoria snorted, thinking of how precarious a job this might be for a person wearing all white. "What about the bit where we have to prove ourselves to her 'personally'?" Astoria clucked. "What sort of Herculean tasks do you think she's capable of coming up with?"
The faint, echoey sound of chatter coming along the closed-in walkway drew their attention toward the left. Draco Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were walking together, talking very animatedly in low voices.
"No, Goyle. How many times do I have to tell you? She can't be seen inside the grounds anymore, so we-" Draco broke off at the sight of Astoria and Tracey, looking startled. "Oh," he said lamely, "it's you." Draco's eyes worked over their closely pulled cloaks and dress shoes curiously.
Astoria shifted under his scrutiny, leaning back against the wall behind her and accidentally exposing several inches of tights-clad thigh to the biting cold as she did so. Draco blinked at this tantalizing slip for several seconds longer than he should have and then sneered foolishly to cover his preoccupation.
"Who's not allowed inside the grounds anymore?" asked Tracey loudly.
"That would be none of your business, wouldn't it?" Draco snapped, seizing a reason to look at Tracey immediately.
"You wouldn't be talking about Rita Skeeter, would you?" asked Tracey querulously. "Since I know Dumbledore's banned her from the castle."
"What business would I have with Rita Skeeter, Davis," continued Malfoy challengingly, his expression inviting her to go on, but only if she dared.
"Oh, look!" said Tracey, indicating something in the courtyard behind Draco with a triumphant smirk. "Potter and Granger are coming up from Hagrid's hut. What perfect timing they have."
Sure enough, Astoria could just see Hermione's unruly hair sticking out from underneath a crochet hat several yards away. She was magically plowing a path for herself and Harry to walk on with her wand. Harry look up from the treacherously icy footing and spotted Astoria watching them. He hesitated, perhaps a little thrown by Malfoy's presence, and then raised a hand in order to signal a feeble wave.
Tracey snorted. Astoria lifted her arm, determined to make a quick motion of recognition .
"Don't wave to that moron!" Draco demanded, trying to step in front of Astoria in order to solidly block Harry Potter from view. "What are you doing?"
Astoria paused with her hand half extended, and shot Draco a very flat look.
"Too late now," Tracey smirked. "He's already made it to the entrance hall."
"Good riddance," Draco snapped. "He's probably going to the ball with that jumped-up mudblood, you know. I bet we'll all wind up having to watch them open the ceremony together."
"Granger is going with Krum," said Tracey matter-of-factly. "I heard the youngest Weasley talking about it in the hall."
"What?" Draco scoffed, not believing this for one second.
"I know, right?" laughed Tracey. "It's possible Potter might not even have a date yet. You should go with him, Astoria. He's technically a champion."
Astoria scowled at Tracey, knowing that her words had been calculated to upset Draco and lacking the patience to deal with any fit on his part over a theoretical scenario that was unlikely to ever happen.
Draco surprised Astoria by remaining very calm however, with the exception of his look of quivering disgust. "Why don't you go with scar-face, Davis? You seem awfully keen on him."
"Because I am going with Blaise," said Tracey, unable to disguise her absolute excitement about this fact. "Which reminds me, Astoria! You have to help me pick out a dress or else lend me something. I'm at my wits end."
"Yeah," said Astoria, staring over Draco's shoulder at the space Harry had just occupied vacantly, not because she was thinking of Harry, but because it had just occurred to her that Ludo Bagman might very well be coming to the welcoming mixer on Monday. "Alright, I might have something. What are Blaise's colors?"
"What do you mean?" asked Tracey. "You know what color he is."
Astoria blinked, throughly confused.
"His family colors, Davis, you idiot," Draco sneered. "His sigil is an orange tree, so he's bronze and orange, Astoria."
"Why should that matter?" asked Tracey perplexedly. "Pansy asked me about 'his colors' the other day, as well. I thought she just meant his dress robes."
Draco made an intolerant sound, clearly feeling himself to be above making time to explain old-family pedigree to anyone who thought Harry Potter made a decent dance partner.
"Girls usually wear at least one of their date's family colors to formal events," Astoria explained quickly. "It's just an old tradition. Sort of a respectful nod to whoever you're going with."
"Oh," said Tracey, looking nonplussed. "Well, I don't care about any of that. I certainly won't let tradition stick me in an unflattering orange dress."
Astoria shrugged.
"You're one of the biggest rule flouters I know, Astoria!" pressed Tracey exasperatedly. "You're really telling me you would limit yourself to two colors for a dance?"
"Break all the rules you like, Trace," said Astoria, looking away from the bare stretch of snow she had been staring at. "I won't disown you, but flouting color heraldry is coming dangerously close to stepping on the toes of style, and that I don't do."
Draco let out a soft and nasal sound of approval. Tracey, for her part, looked positively downtrodden.
"Seriously?" Tracey moaned. "What about when you went with MacLaggen to his Christmas party? You wore black!"
"Because it was a black and white party," Astoria reminded her. "The colors were themed, so it didn't matter."
"What a ludicrous rule," Tracey spat.
"Go with bronze," said Astoria helpfully, putting her arm through Tracey's and pulling her away from the wall. "I might actually have something in a shade closer to brown."
"If his sigil is an orange tree, why aren't his colors orange and green?" Tracey demanded hotly. "I can wear green."
"Maybe because his ancestors didn't want to have to dress up as pumpkins every time they went to a formal?" Draco suggested snidely, elbowing Crabbe out of the way in order to walk behind them.
"What happens if your date doesn't have a house crest?" demanded Tracey smartly. "Do you get to wear whatever you want?"
"No," said Astoria, shaking her head tolerantly. "At that point, you would wear your own house colors—or more specifically—the colors attributed to your mother's maiden name."
Tracey let out a snort of mockery at this fine tuned and complicated list of details that only served to dictate something so very unnecessary to her. "Is there an actual council for this so of thing?"
"Men get to pass down their names and their coat of arms," explained Astoria. "So daughters, because they have no permanent ancestral claim, tend to pay an homage to their mothers when they go stag."
"What if your mother doesn't have colors either?" asked Tracey, perhaps thinking of her own maternal line. "What would you do then?"
"Who would invite that person to a party in the first place?" scoffed Draco from behind Astoria's back, dismissing Tracey's query entirely.
0o0
Astoria was unable to locate Fred or George until after dinner. On her way out of the Great Hall, she found them waiting for her. They both looked exhausted.
"Walk with us," said Fred.
Astoria deemed his tone to be calm enough to avoid immediate alarm, so she waited until they had cleared the marble staircase and gained a mostly empty corridor before speaking.
"How did it go?"
"Well," heaved George, "there's good news and there's bad news. Which do you want first?"
"Let's go with good," said Astoria, peering sidelong at George's face, searching for a hint of repressed terror hiding there.
"You pegged Hodrod right as rain," said Fred. "The fact that you didn't show up did put him on his guard, almost immediately. I could tell just from his expression."
"And he took the Bagman bait- hook, line and sinker," George added.
"The bad news?" asked Astoria, already feeling more relived than she had hoped to be.
"Bagman owed more than we could pay," said Fred evenly. "For the Head of a Ministry Department, he's in more debt than anyone would ever care to guess."
"Ok," said Astoria slowly.
"Well, Hodrod wants the whole sum," said George. "A one time fee. He says he'll leave us alone for the rest of the tournament, but we still need to come up with about two thousand galleons."
"We don't have two thousand galleons," said Astoria, rubbing a hand over her face in agitation. "We're broke again. Unless Ragnuk paid you?"
"That's the other part," muttered Fred. "Ragnuk is refusing to pay us right now. He won't even hand over the notebook we recorded our bets in until we settle our business with Hodrod."
"What?" sneered Astoria. "That little thief!"
"Yeah," agreed George. "He says he won't work or have any transactions with someone who might end up dead or under investigation. He's claiming it's too great a personal risk for him."
"When in reality, he probably just wants to see us kidnapped just so that he doesn't have to pay us," admitted Fred resentfully.
"So, where do we stand, then?" asked Astoria.
"We owe Hodrod two thousand galleons," said George firmly. "We've bought ourselves a grace period. He'll wait before doing anything nasty, so we're loads better off than we were at this time yesterday."
"That still doesn't put two thousand galleons in any of our pockets," said Astoria sternly.
They had come to the staircase before the Fat Lady. Fred and George exchanged a long look with each other and Astoria knew that this was something they had already discussed at length in private, without her.
"What?" Astoria asked, unable to find their silence to be anything but ominous.
"Well," said Fred tentatively, "we were sort of thinking that you might ask your friend for the gold- Mendel."
"Yeah," added George quickly. "Now that the amount we owe is so much less, you might even be able to get it off him without raising any giant red flags."
"Aren't you two going to the ball together, too?" remarked Fred, snapping his fingers. "Tell him it's for a dress and then fake him out with one that you already own and say it's designer."
This was a touch sneakier than Astoria would have been comfortable with no matter what the circumstances. As it was however, their plan was flawed from the beginning.
"I'm not going with Maudlin anymore," said Astoria pointedly. "He's not my date. I'm not even speaking to him right now."
"Oh," said Fred, betraying his first look of discomfort. "Well..."
"We'll just have to think of something else," said Astoria desperately, hurrying up to take the stairs two at a time in order to gain the common room and bed.
0o0
On Monday morning, because they did not share a common room, Astoria got dressed for the mixer with Tracey in the fifth floor bathroom. The brilliant sunshine outside was no longer reflectively sweltering and a cruel draft kept creeping through the bathroom windows, making the tiles under Astoria's feet almost painful to step on.
"Can I wear these?" asked Tracey, holding up the pair of pearl earrings that Belladonna had bought Astoria for her thirteenth birthday.
"Sure," Astoria conceded, padding tenderly across the icy ceramic floor in her stockings to poke about in her jewelry box as well. "Just don't lose them. They're my only pair."
Tracey nodded, having already fixed one into her right earlobe. "Who do you suppose is coming today?"
"Dunno," Astoria sighed, settling for set of tiny ruby studs. "A bunch of aging politicians, probably. Maybe Fudge will tag along? Shake things up a bit with those pinstriped trousers of his."
Goosebumps broke out across Astoria's flesh as she shifted her feet, forcing her pale skin toward a shade that was even closer to that of the freshly dead, and making the white dress she was wearing look positively revolting on her under the brightly lit bathroom mirror.
Astoria had been able to find several white dresses with a modest knee length skirt, as per Cassandra's pointed request, but she did not have any with actual sleeves. The least casual dress she could find simply utilized two thick, satin ribbons as straps. While it was nice looking on Astoria in the summer, she could feel the chill creeping deep into her bones in December. With her long, dark hair down, Astoria could have been mistaken for a lovely corpse.
"Hold this please," said Astoria, handing Tracey one of her shoes as she leaned against the bathroom stall in order to put the other on her foot.
"We look like the flower girls for a wedding in Hell," remarked Tracey morbidly. Astoria managed to fasten her second shoe and turned to gaze into the mirror as well, thinking Tracey made a good point.
"Sincerity, simplicity, sympathy and serenity!" Astoria trilled, calling upon the Sisters of the Easter Star's slogan rather blasphemously before making sure that her etiquette pins were securely in place.
0o0
The antechamber off of the Great Hall was already very busy when Astoria and Tracey arrived, despite the fact that it was still a quarter to one o'clock and they were technically early. The room, while not particularly spacious and rather grimly windowless, did seem to host a good deal of Hogwarts more formal trophies. Astoria could see immediately why it had been selected as the place to hold a party for official dignitaries who responsible for planning a sport.
Several of the large glass cases appeared to have been pushed back slightly to create space. Long tables, draped with white tablecloths, had been positioned in a corner of the room beneath a particularly lethal looking lantern that dangled from the ceiling twenty feet above.
Silver trays stacked with hors d'oeuvres lined the pristine white tabletops. In the far corner, directly underneath the deadly looking lantern, squatted a large crystal punch bowl complete with a shiny silver ladle.
Tracey, spotting the drinks station, turned and raised her eyebrows in Astoria's direction suggestively, clearly reminding Astoria of her prediction that they would be in charge of handing out punch. Astoria, for her part, was too thoroughly distracted by the number of people in the room to give Tracey much notice.
Astoria had been expecting a great deal of the staff to turn up in order to meet with the Ministry, but she had not been anticipating so many students as well. The vast majority of these seemed to be in sixth year or above, but Astoria could not think what they would be doing there. Beauxbatons in particular appeared to be rather over-represented, no doubt due to Cassandra's word of mouth. With lightning quick perception, Astoria was able to spot Maudlin, Alec and Draco from across the room, loitering near a giant vase filled with evergreen tassels and silver Christmas bells.
Resisting an almost ludicrous desire to duck, Astoria turned about to flee in the opposite direction and almost ran headlong into Cassandra. Suspecting that Cassandra had been lingering about behind her to serve just this purpose, Astoria quickly composed herself, unwilling to show vulnerability in the face of such a prickly enemy.
"Alright," said Cassandra in a high, clear voice. "Flora and Hestia, you'll be taking coats by the door. Pansy-" she continued, handing over a stack of pamphlets, "-I want you to mingle and hand out our charitable newsletter with as much grace as possible. Don't take 'no' for an answer but never resort to pushiness."
Something shiny on the front of Cassandra's dress caught Astoria's eye and for a moment, Astoria had to marvel at how many etiquette pins Cassandra had managed to make fit in such a tiny space without actually creating the effect of a chain mail blouse.
"Astoria and Tracey," said Cassandra witheringly, sparing them both a fraction of her attention at last, "man the punch bowl."
Smirking almost triumphantly, Tracey set off for the far corner. Astoria trailed behind her mutely, hating everything about the way her afternoon was shaping up to look. Fifteen minutes later, when the real guests had started to arrive, Astoria was still not feeling much better about things.
Tracey had taken up the job of handing the little silver-handled mugs across the table into eager hands, leaving Astoria with the mundane task of filling them first.
Maudlin, who had popped into line the moment he had spotted Astoria, was one of the first to reach for a glass.
"In charge of drinks, Astoria?" he asked almost merrily, moving to the side so that two Bulgarian men behind him could reach the punch station.
Astoria smiled lukewarmly and continued to ladle the Christmas punch into glasses, but Maudlin would not be deterred.
"What's in this anyway?" he asked hopefully, leaning against the table, causing ice to clink in crystal bowl that Astoria was hovering over.
Astoria cleared her throat and answered serenely, "Political aspirations with a dash of cad."
Maudlin's eyes rattled as he resisted the urge to roll them and when Astoria did not speak again, he pushed away from her and strode back across the room toward Alec.
"Look at Cassandra," whispered Tracey ecstatically during a break in traffic moments later. "She's flirting her little puritan boots off in the corner."
Astoria, who was watching the dagger sharp lantern that was swinging just above their heads and tracking Maudlin, Draco and Alec's progress across the room peripherally, grunted distractedly.
"He's got to have at least ten years on her," Tracey continued, before suddenly elbowing Astoria hard in the side. "Heads up, she's coming this way."
Astoria had dropped the ladle when Tracey had shoved her, but she might have done so anyway out of shock when suddenly, Cassandra was standing directly in front of Astoria and chatting as pleasingly as she dared with none other than Roland Yaxley.
Having been so busy keeping tabs on known threats, Astoria had not had the foresight to predict this one, despite the fact that she knew Roland worked for the ministry. As a result, Astoria was momentarily taken aback.
"These are two of our junior pledges," continued Cassandra, carelessly indicating Astoria and Tracey behind the punch bowl. Cassandra scooped up a pre-poured glass for Roland and attempted to hand it to him herself.
"Astoria!" remarked Roland in gentile surprise, catching sight of her at last. "I didn't know you didn't know you were in a sorority."
Cassandra froze with the punch glass still extended. For the briefest of seconds, an irritation such as Astoria had not yet had cause to see crossed her normally dignified features.
"You know each other?" asked Cassandra, exhibiting an impressive grasp on civility as she put the forlorn punch down.
"Oh, yes," said Roland pompously, "Astoria is my distant cousin on my father's side."
"Is she?" remarked Cassandra lightly, not entirely satisfied by the world 'cousin' when Roland had gone so far out of his way to connect it to the word 'distant'.
"Mhmm," said Roland inattentively. "What is the significance of the pins you're all wearing, Astoria? I don't dare to guess."
"They're etiquette badges," said Cassandra at once, denying Astoria the chance to sneak a word in.
"You've certainly accumulated a great many of them," remarked Roland, looking faintly appreciative of Cassandra's multitudinous honors in civility. "They're all fashioned differently, aren't they? What do they stand for?"
Cassandra began to describe each of her pins briefly and succinctly. Out of the corner of Astoria's eye, a shock of blonde hair gave her cause to turn just slightly, hoping that perhaps Draco might be nearby and willing to interject himself into the conversation without much provocation.
Astoria regretted the naked eagerness of her glance almost immediately, however. Draco was indeed at hand and covertly watching Roland out of the corner of his eye, but he also happened to be standing next to his father. By some queer twist of fate, at the exact moment Astoria happened to chance a look at Draco, Lucius turned his own head to in order to see what it was that his son was peering at with such poorly guarded interest.
Astoria's gaze snapped forward again with enough reactionary force to make her wonder if it was possible to strain the muscles in her face. It was awkward enough for Lucius to wonder why Draco had been staring in her direction, but the fact that he had happened to catch Astoria's doing something similar for even the briefest of seconds seemed likely to bring a great deal attention onto herself that she did not want.
Astoria's fingertips were zipping with nerves so badly that she felt obligated to put the ladle down before she dropped it again or else caused it to shiver against the side of the punch bowl. Astoria was being ridiculous. She had turned so quickly, Lucius probably had not even noticed.
When Astoria let the silver serving spoon fall onto the tabletop, Roland turned, diverted from Cassandra's diatribe about tea service by the sound.
"It doesn't matter, of course," said Cassandra, bringing herself up short, wisely observing Roland's switch of interest. "They mean so many things. I'll just have to show you myself sometime."
She smiled at Roland, who returned the look warmly, perhaps appreciating Cassandra's sense to know when he desired her to stop speaking.
The thing that Astoria desired the most and the thing which seemed most likely to alleviate the sudden, jittery energy surging through Astoria's body, would be to glance across the room again in order to re-understand the Malfoys position relative to the punch bowl. But this, above all else, seemed to be the thing she must not do.
"Forgive me," said Roland, "what were your pins awarded for again, Astoria? I know you've told me before, but I'm afraid I've entirely forgotten."
"Archery and fencing," said Astoria primly, determined to be as focused and attentive to the conversation at hand as it was possible for any human being to be.
"Oh, that's right," said Roland disinterestedly. "You were athletic."
"I was."
"I don't suppose you were terribly good at either diversion, though, were you?" Roland wondered. "They're both rather masculine sports, aren't they?"
"I'll have to show you sometime," said Astoria cooly, parroting Cassandra's words back at him without blinking. Perhaps because of the change in subject matter, however, Astoria's words seemed to achieve a very different meaning.
"Well," said Cassandra crossly, "two is a crowd at the drink table, I think. Tracey, why don't you stand near the restrooms so that people will know where to find them. Roland, you were going to introduce me to your father?"
And just like that, Cassandra had regained the upper hand of the conversation. She reached out for the glass of punch she had put down so subtly and handed it to Roland with great firmness, steering him away toward the bustling crowd again.
"Is she serious?" Tracey sneered. "I'm not a bathroom attendant."
"Better just go," said Astoria tiredly. "There can't be much left of this."
Tracey cast Astoria a furious look, blaming her for this bit of bad luck, but moped off in the direction of the restrooms.
Astoria ran her fingers through her hair. When she looked up again, the source of her unease had materialized in front of her. There stood Lucius, tall, blonde and softly menacing; his son nowhere in sight.
Astoria froze, trying to make up her mind between which was stronger- her fight or flight instinct- before coming to the rapid conclusion that she could not act on either. Astoria tilted her head to the side and asked, perhaps more challengingly than she ought to have, "Punch?"
Lucius raised an eyebrow, non-verbally questioning what other purpose a person might possibly have for presenting himself in front of a punch bowl.
Astoria hastily scooped the ladle back up, and poured Lucius out a measure, cursing her own involuntary strangeness. When she moved to hand him his glass however, Astoria caught something in his carefully guarded expression that warned her not to be so hasty in dismissing her instinctual sense of warning.
While Lucius's expression was pleasant, it was also very appraising. Astoria could not help but feel like he was making a brief study of her face, observing her objectively. It was as though it had occurred to Lucius that, while he knew who Astoria was, he did not really know what she looked like and he wished to have a better idea.
"Mr. Malfoy!" cried Pansy Parkinson delightedly, sweeping in with her stack of pamphlets. "Have I given you a newsletter yet?"
Pansy shoved in just close enough to make staring at Astoria instead of herself seem rude. Lucius blinked and turned to humor Pansy, sparring Astoria whatever false pleasantries she was certain Lucius would have come up with in order to linger for a moment longer.
When everyone was gone, either departed or else receiving a tour of the outside grounds from Professor Flitwick, Astoria went to find Tracey.
Cassandra and Emilie were gossiping very animatedly near the vase of evergreen boughs. As Cassandra appeared to be in a rare humor and Astoria had no mind to interrupt her, it seemed to be as good a time as any to sneak away.
Alec, Maudlin and Draco were standing in the Great Hall, leaning against the end of the empty Hufflepuff table and laughing together. Maudlin was still holding his punch glass. For a wild moment, by force of recent habit, Astoria felt obligated to remind him to bring it back to the drink station before remembering how very little she actually cared.
"Astoria!" called Alec. "Darling, you look cold."
"The whole sorority is frigid," Astoria groused, stopping briefly to avoided looking rude.
Tracey, ecstatic over such an upgrade in company and sensing Astoria's desire to keep moving, began to push Astoria in the small of her back, wanting to force her to stand in a place of more prominence in the circle.
"If being cold is a prerequisite, you seem to be right at home," said Maudlin snidely.
"You're suppose to leave the cups inside," said Astoria flatly, not taking the bait.
Maudlin drained the rest of his punch, raised an eyebrow, and pointedly put his glass back down on the Hufflepuff table instead.
"We're going outside," said Alec, ignoring his friend's childish behavior. "Luc thinks he's found a way to get us into the village. If you want to come, we'll wait for you to get your cloak."
Maudlin glanced at Astoria quickly and she was surprised to see that, behind his mask of snide stubbornness, he seemed oddly hopeful that she would tag along.
Anything to avoid being bored, thought Astoria unkindly.
"I'm going to have a nap," Astoria informed them.
"Let's go, then," snapped Maudlin impatiently, frustrated and anxious to be away from Astoria's arctic gaze.
"I have to wait for my father," drawled Draco. "He's in a meeting with Fudge and the headmaster."
"Fine," said Maudlin, his annoyance growing more pronounced. "Catch up when you're through."
Astoria set off for the entrance hall. To her surprise, both Tracey and Draco followed her.
"You're really going to nap?" complained Tracey. "What am I supposed to do? Theodore is probably off trying to read an ancient Babylonian scroll somewhere..."
"I don't know," sighed Astoria. "See what Daphne is doing, maybe? I haven't seen her around in ages."
"That's because the Sisters wouldn't have her," said Draco carelessly, before changing tracks. "Cassandra seemed awfully interested in Yaxley."
Astoria paused, hung up on his first statement. "Daphne wanted to join? Why didn't she say something?"
"You wouldn't have been able to get two people in," said Draco, clearly wanting to talk about Cassandra and Roland instead. "Frankly, I'm surprised your aunt even managed Davis."
"I'm sure, if she had wanted your help, she would have said something," said Tracey, looking very uncomfortable. "Besides, Draco's right. You had to ask the Flints for help in order to get my second letter."
Astoria paused, trying not to let herself look as torn as she felt. In truth, she might have given precedence to her sister over Tracey, a fact that she did not wish to share out loud. Not to mention the fact that Daphne, who came from at least one good family, would have been much easier to promote than Tracey had been.
"You asked the Flints for help?" asked Draco, looking curiously annoyed. "Who wrote the letter?"
"It doesn't matter," said Astoria, feeling lousy.
"Ursula was her name, I think," said Tracey.
"You asked Ursula Flint for a favor?" sneered Draco, wearing the same expression of incredulous doubt that Theodore had worn when Astoria had first told him.
"I had Marcus ask her for me," Astoria explained, feeling overwhelmed. "Tracey, if you see Daphne today, will you tell her-"
"Marcus and his grandmother hate each other," said Draco flatly. "What did she want from you? What are you doing asking Marcus Flint for favors, for that matter?"
"Nothing," said Astoria. "We do have to have lunch with Ursula in the spring though, Trace."
Astoria tried to ignore the look on Draco's face, because it was becoming clear that he found the whole matter to be more than odd and Astoria did not want to have to add another thing to her list of worries.
"Shhh," said Tracey, because someone was approaching by way of the marble staircase.
All three of them turned to watch Harry Potter meander into view, holding a book on quidditch and looking a bit aimless.
"Lost, Potter?" called Malfoy nastily. "The Hospital Wing is on the fourth floor, if you're looking for it."
"Whatever, Malfoy," Harry scoffed. Harry spotted Astoria and his eyes registered a look of concerned surprise. Astoria shrugged, trying to imply that she personally had no desire to mock Harry, suddenly feeling very awkward.
"Whats he doing looking at you for?" demanded Draco angrily as Harry walked away. "I thought you weren't friends with him?"
"I'm not, really," said Astoria truthfully. "But if I was, I'm sure it wouldn't last long, since you'd probably murder us both."
Draco blushed, perhaps fearing that there was a greater implication to this, but Astoria had had enough. Without waiting for a response, she touched Tracey's arm in farewell and departed for her dormitory.
0o0
The next morning at breakfast, Astoria could feel that something had shifted in the night, although what it was that had changed, she did not dare guess. Maudlin, who had been taking Astoria's cold shoulder in silence all week, was now watching her again.
Astoria did her best to ignore this and went about eating her toast as usual. When Maudlin had finished with his own meal however, Astoria was not surprised to find his shadow suddenly looming over Theodore's bowl of cereal.
"What are you doing today?" asked Maudlin. "There's a Hogsmeade visit."
"I know," said Astoria. "I'm going Christmas shopping with Tracey."
"Will you meet us for a drink at the Three Broomsticks?" asked Maudlin, his tone surprisingly polite.
"Maybe," said Astoria. "If we have a time."
"One o'clock," said Maudlin, his formal facade breaking slightly. "Come on, Astoria. This stuffiness has gone far enough."
Astoria shrugged but nodded, knowing it was easier just to acquiesce to this request and have a butterbeer with him.
Tracey, for her part, was very enthusiastic about the idea, spending the entire time that they were shopping for mittens Daphne might like professing how relived she was that Astoria was willing to be pleasant to Maudlin and his friends again.
"It's not like he was trying to make you mad on purpose," Tracey insisted as they ducked into a bookshop to find something for Theodore.
"I know," said Astoria, inspecting the front rack of best sellers and dismissing them immediately. "That was never the problem. He's just rude and entitled- he never thinks about anyone other than himself and he always expects everyone he knows to bend over backward for him."
"He's not as though he means any harm though," said Tracey, picking up a tacky romance novel and smirking at the cover.
"No," Astoria agreed, rummaging through the used books bin. "That would require thinking about another person's feelings first. He's oblivious. As far as he's concerned, the world revolves around him."
There were several interesting and very battered looking books on goblins in the bin. Astoria knew Theodore would probably like several of them, but she was in no mood to leaf through anything that might remind her of Hodrod or Ragnuk.
"Guess who my brother is taking to the ball," said Tracey suddenly, grinning deeper still.
"Who?" asked Astoria, fishing up what looked like a handwritten book on quidditch. Theodore had no interest in sports, but the rarity of a novel being written out by hand was enough to provoke Astoria's interest anyway.
"Fleur Delacour," said Tracey, laughing almost unpleasantly. "I think it's safe to say that Roger's life ambitions have officially been met."
Astoria snorted, flipping several pages in the book she was holding before realizing that it was a diary of some sort. "I wonder how that worked out for him. I bet Fleur was really hoping to go with Cedric."
"Undoubtedly," Tracey agreed.
"Who do you think Basil Horton is?" asked Astoria, reading the owner of the diary's name off the inside cover. "I've just found his journal. It looks like he plays quidditch."
"No one, probably," Tracey shrugged. "I bet it just got chucked in with a box of donations by accident. Anyway, I'm sure Roger will scare her off before the end of the night, but could you imagine if Fleur actually started dating him?"
"Not really," admitted Astoria truthfully, poking through the diary's pages until she found what she was looking for. "Look, Basil played for the Wimborne Wasps. That's the team Flint plays for now, isn't it? The one Malfoy's always going on about?"
"Maybe," said Tracey. "I thought Flint played for Puddlemore United."
"That's Oliver," Astoria corrected.
They got ready to leave at twelve thirty, with Astoria purchasing Theodore a dictionary of Mermish words and a brand new manual to help him translate the letters. After getting to the front counter and discovering that everything in the used book bin was priced at five knuts, Astoria decided to take the diary with her as well, suspecting that it might be a collectors item in disguise.
The Three Broomsticks was characteristically packed. Groups of students had laid claim to most of the tables and the majority of the stools near the bar seemed to be seating either goblins or bankers.
Not wanting to go anywhere near the goblins at the bar, Astoria scanned the room for Maudlin, vowing to never speak to him again if he was late.
Alec spotted them first and flagged them toward a booth near the back. Luc, Maudlin and Draco were all crammed in together, splitting what looked like a bottle of mead. Maudlin must have bought it from Madam Rosmerta's private stock, because it looked like it was freshly uncorked.
"Move over for her, Luc," commanded Maudlin, pushing his friend toward the wall so that row could move down and Astoria would have room to sit. Tracey squeezed in after Astoria and promptly turned the mead around to read the label. "Do you want a glass?" asked Maudlin.
"I do," answered Tracey. When Astoria nodded as well, Maudlin stood up and actually went to the bar himself in order to fetch them, surprising Astoria immeasurably.
"Remind me not to forget to buy fruit," said Luc, pouring himself another draft of mead.
"Because otherwise you'll stop fitting into your robes?" asked Malfoy, who was sitting on Astoria's other side, sarcastically.
"For Cassandra," Luc clarified. "She thinks the Hogwarts fare is too heavy. Of course, it probably doesn't help that Alec keeps telling her how thick she looks in her coat."
Alec smirked privately into his glass of mead.
"I don't know why you bother running her errands," drawled Draco amusedly. "She'll never have anything to do with you."
"You're her cousin," protested Luc angrily over Alec's delighted chuckles. "Put in a good word for me."
"How close are you and Cassandra?" asked Astoria, who had been wondering this for some time.
"I see her once a year maybe," Draco shrugged. "Not often enough to talk her into letting Luc take her anywhere, that's for sure."
"Do you like each other?" Astoria continued curiously. "Where is she right now, anyway?"
Draco shrugged lazily. "Off writing your friend Yaxley a love letter, I expect."
Maudlin had still not returned with the glasses. Astoria cast an eye about the room looking for him, only to discover that he had been waylaid at the bar by two goblins dressed in crimson velvet. Fearing that this could mean nothing good and wanting more than anything to avoid drawing notice to her face, Astoria turned back toward Draco.
"Have you ever heard of Basil Horton?"
"Yes," said Draco, snorting in a way that was just a little patronizing. "Have you?"
"Oh, good," said Astoria, retrieving the diary she had found from her shopping bag. "I have a Christmas present for you."
Draco looked slightly taken aback by this but the sight of the raggedy looking book gave him cause to recompose his face. "I hope it didn't cost you anything," he scoffed.
"I know," said Astoria, acknowledging the poor state of the book's cover before flipping it open to the first page, "but look. I think it was his diary." Astoria pointed toward the name sighed in the front.
Draco, who no longer looked scornful at all, put down his glass in order to inspect the signature. "Is this real?"
"I don't know but on page thirteen he talks about his girlfriend's nipples," said Astoria. "It's an excellent laugh."
Draco promptly flipped to page thirteen, snickering in disbelief as he read through the eagerly handwritten paragraphs that featured potentially famous nudity. "This is worth a fortune, if it is real," he declared, looking very impressed.
"I got it for less than a sickle," Astoria shrugged. "I just thought you might like it."
Despite the appeal of the pages in front of him, Draco eyes flicked distractedly toward Astoria at these words and she could feel his gaze lingering on the side of her face even after she had turned away from him.
"Why did the goblins stop you?" asked Alec as Maudlin made his return, putting both empty glasses down on the table.
"It was nothing," said Maudlin dismissively. "What's with the book?"
"It's someone named Basil Horton's journal, apparently," said Alec smoothly.
"Really?" asked Maudlin, perking up in recognition. "He played for the Wasps during their five year winning streak, you know."
"I'm sure," said Alec, entirely uninterested.
"Anyway," said Maudlin, pouring Astoria's mead and handing it to her, "who are you taking to the ball, Astoria?"
"No one," said Astoria, using the time during which he was handing her the mead to force herself not to look annoyed. "I haven't really tried to find anyone. I'm not sure I care."
This was not entirely true, as Astoria had spent the last week subtly interrogating almost all of her male friends in order to see if they were still single, but she had not gone so far as to actually ask anyone to go with her, so she did not feel as though this was really telling a lie.
"Well, Cassandra's set her sights on someone from your ministry and now she's going with Emilie. Again." Maudlin settled back into his seat. "So, I can take you, if you want."
Astoria bit her lower lip to keep from laughing, suddenly understanding Maudlin's eagerness to be so helpful and polite. Despite his casual display, it was clear that Maudlin wanted very badly to avoid going to the ball alone.
"No," said Astoria, still biting back laughter. "That's alright."
"Why not?" insisted Maudlin, his expression darkening slightly. "You've just said that you aren't going with anyone."
"I know," said Astoria lightly, trying not to feel hugely vindicated by this turn of events. "I just don't want to go with you."
Astoria felt Draco shift beside her, watching this exchange with barely concealed satisfaction.
"It's not like I actually stood you up, Ria!" exploded Maudlin exasperatedly. "My girlfriend didn't have a date to the same dance. What would it have looked like if I had went with you instead?"
"You shouldn't have even asked me, then!" Astoria exclaimed. "I told you 'yes' as a favor, and then you turned around and ditched me after everyone else who was suitable had already found a date. Why don't you go with Luc? He seems to be single."
Maudlin scowled but recovered before he could say anything that would turn Astoria off further. "Fine, I get it, you have to prove a point," said Maudlin flatly. "What do you need in order feel like you've proven it?"
"Amnesia?" Astoria suggested.
"I'm serious," said Maudlin tersely. "I'm sorry that Emilie changed around her plans so much. I just want to make it up to you so we can all have fun. Tell me what you want and I'll do it."
Astoria was actually laughing now but the look of satisfaction on Draco's face was bleeding towards displeasure again. "Do you plan on telling Emilie this time?" Astoria asked.
"I already asked," Maudlin sniffed. "She doesn't care."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Astoria, disliking the tense he had put on the word 'she'.
"Emilie doesn't care," said Maudlin carefully, looking equal parts exasperated and evasive.
"But Cassandra does, is that it?" guessed Astoria. "You're out of your mind. I'm stuck in that stupid club with both of them! If I go with you, Cassandra will behave like an absolute cow to me."
"Since when do you care what Cassandra thinks?" Maudlin sneered.
"Since I became her weird little sorority slave," returned Astoria, thinking of Cassandra's promise to make every girl prove themselves to her personally. "Just go by yourself."
"You're being ridiculous," Maudlin sneered. "Just come with me."
Astoria snorted and finished the last of the mead in her glass. "I won't do it, Maudlin."
"I'll convince you," said Maudlin at last, waving his hand as though he imagined the task would be a piece of cake. "You don't want to go alone either."
"Alright," said Astoria challengingly. "Go ahead and try. Wow me."
Maudlin made a face and leaned back in his seat glumly, mulling the situation over in silence.
0o0
Alright, I have notes!
1. I know I said that the next chapter was going to be the Yule Ball, but I'm thinking there may have to be one more post first. There was so much plot that needed to happen first and I couldn't cram it all into one chapter. I tried, but things got out of hand fast.
2. I deeply miss Belladonna this Christmas. So much so that I think for their spring vacation, I'm going to send a bunch of the students home for a few weeks. That makes sense, considering how many students stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas, right?
3. A lot of time and space was spent going over weird details about color in the this chapter. I know some of that was probably long and gratuitous to read, but I really feel like these sort of rules seem plausible for several reasons. For a start, antique pure-blooded culture seems to be very caught up on its heritage. It's also a hostile environment for newcomers and it dates back to the time of heraldry. Therefore, having a proper coat of arms seems like it would be a major status symbol that a new (or muggle-born) family could not easily replicate or fake.
I also think there is something sorcerous about color in general, both because of its symbology and its psychology. There's a lot of color talk in magic. I've personally been making up most of the color patterns associated with certain surnames (despite the fact that J.K Rowling has already generously provided many of them) and it's amazing to read about, say, the meaning of the color purple (the color I've decided to associate with the Mendel coat of arms) and to see how extremely fitting a lot of the traits associated with the color are in comparison.
In any case, reviews are always so wonderful and immensely fun to read. I'll have the next chapter up around Monday! * EDIT: Probably closer to Wednesday actually!