Chapter Forty Six
Egg and Giant
0o0
It was a dark, moonless walk back up to the school. Conscious of the fact that they were out of bed after curfew, Astoria was particularly inclined to move as quickly as possible. Draco and Montague however, who had only to sneak as far as the entrance to the dungeons, did not seem to share her urgency.
A stiff wind was picking up, howling across the hill. Astoria's cheeks, which were already burning from the embarrassment of her impromptu musical number, took on a deeper crimson hue.
"When the breezes blow, I generally go below!" Montague mock-sang, imitating Astoria's sailor inspired solo in what would have been an impressive baritone if Astoria had only been able to listen to him without cringing. Montague broke off because he had cracked himself up again, swaying forward to lean against the front door of the castle for a hearty belly-laugh.
"Yeah, right," Astoria bit back a little unforgivingly. "Night."
"Mendel trying to sing soprano!" drawled Malfoy, his high voice carrying all the way to the marble staircase. "It really is a pity nobody wears bonnets anymore."
Their derisive laughter chased Astoria all the way to the second floor, where she slowed down to a silent crawl, afraid of drawing unwanted attention from the staff room.
Normally, Astoria would not have even bothered at such an hour but as it was New Years Eve, she did not feel that it would be wise to assume the room would be vacant. As luck would have it, this bit of foresight paid off almost immediately. Halfway down the hall, Astoria perceived the sound of a pair of voices that did not belong to either Draco or Montague.
"...It goes against everything I've always said about vigilance, Minerva! The boy shouldn't be competing at all! He got by on luck and nerve, last time. There's every chance he won't be so lucky twice!"
At the sound of Professor Moody's voice, Astoria froze guiltily, feeling as though she had been caught out of bed red handed.
"I have expressed some of my own doubts about the matter, Alastor," admitted Professor Mcgonagall. He voice sounded so unsure that it struck Astoria as being nearly as frightening as Moody's was because of its lack of usual, crisp command. "Albus doesn't seem to feel that there is any other way. Crouch and the International Delegation might have been furious, but surely it might have been better to cancel the Tournament than subject the boy-"
"Ay, and who was the last person to lay eyes on old Crouch, Minerva? Because the way I hear it, it's been quite some time since he's been seen at work!" growled Moody. "Strange doings, these days. Ministry workers disappearing left and right and now Albus wants to toss the boy into the bloody lake!"
Astoria had begun creeping again but at these words she stiffened a second time. Was it possible that Moody and Mcgonagall, thinking themselves to be quite alone after hours, were talking openly about the Second Task? What had Professor Moody just said about the lake? Astoria strained to hear until the curious sound of silence began hum in her ears.
"Have they picked Potter's hostage yet?" Moody continued, the dull thunk of his leg telling Astoria that he was pacing back and forth in the parlor beyond the door she was crouching next to.
"To the best of my knowledge, Filius has decided to enchant Mr. Weasley," answered Professor Mcgonagall, sounding very tired and- dare Astoria even think it?- perhaps a little tipsy.
"Expecting a fourth year to learn how to breathe underwater at a moment's notice!" Moody scoffed, his voice like a sack of bricks being dragged across cement. "You'd think Fudge wanted the boy dead!"
"Heaven forbid!" said Mcgonagall somberly. "I shudder to hear you say it, Alastor."
"Human transfiguration will be N.E.W.T material, will it?" asked Moody. Professor Mcgonagall must have nodded, because he went on: "With any luck, Potter has a working knowledge of plants. Gillyweed might last long enough if he was quick and that'd be right in his wheelhouse..."
Astoria had heard enough. Not only was she out of bed and wandering the halls hours after hours, but she was now eavesdropping on a highly private conversation between two teachers through a keyhole. The idea of being caught was suddenly more than she could bear so, quiet as a church mouse, Astoria began to ease her way backwards toward the end of the hall. When her heels hit the staircase, she turned and sped up them as fast as she could.
It was one o'clock in the morning when Astoria reached Gryffindor Tower and a small party had not quite tired themselves out yet near the common room fire. Spotting Astoria by the portrait hole, Fred and George signaled enthusiastically for her to come join them but Astoria waved them off by faking an expression of great fatigue. She had had enough fun (or lack thereof) already for one evening and what she really wanted was to be by herself in order to contemplate what it was that she had just overheard.
Lavender and Parvati were gossiping on Lavender's bed with the hangings drawn, so Astoria kicked off her shoes and pulled the drapery of her own four poster shut. For a long while she lay perfectly still, blinking in the darkness until her eyes adjusted, trying not to listen to what Lavender Brown had to say about every boy in their year.
The sound of the brutal wind battering the castle was muffled by the fabric of her pillows, but it gave Astoria something else to focus on. By the time the dormitory fell silent and sleep started to threaten carrying her off until morning, Astoria had come to two important conclusions.
The first was that the Second Task was likely to mean a journey underwater to the bottom of the lake. The second was that this new danger did not seem to be a test of Harry's daring as much as it was a test of his magical prowess. To Astoria, who was betting a small fortune on Harry Potter whether she liked it or not, this was a bit of a sobering realization indeed.
0o0
Sunday morning dawned just as chilly and windswept as the night before. Astoria had something new to to think about however; something even more immediately pressing than the inclement weather or the threat of goblins.
All of the homework Astoria had been putting off during break seemed to have piled up to an unmanageable height while she had been busy elsewhere. The eleventh hour had officially arrived and Astoria would need to crack down if she wanted the essays that were due on Monday to be finished before dinner. She did not seem to be the only one who had been neglecting her educational responsibilities, either. Indeed, now that the holidays had come to a finish, the atmosphere of the entire castle seemed to have flatlined and the sight of so many heads in the library again struck Astoria as particularly bleak.
"You're absolutely certain he mentioned gillyweed?" asked Theodore around noontime, reclining thoughtfully in a library chair while Astoria worked feverishly around him.
"Mhmm," Astoria sighed, crossing out a misspelled word in her text. "I'm certain of it. I don't know what it is, though. A potion ingredient?"
"It can be," said Theodore, "but has potent magical abilities raw. If Potter ate it straight, he'd still be able to breathe underwater for a few hours, I'd wager."
Astoria had already surmised as much but it was good to hear her suspicions confirmed.
"What do you think Moody meant by 'hostage', though?" wondered Theodore, a crease forming between his eyes. "The staff can't mean to abduct anyone, can they? What am I talking about? Of course they can."
Astoria shot Theodore a wry smile, uncorking a bottle of scarlet editing ink.
"Sounds like the most boring sporting event ever," continued Theodore, seeming to find a strange satisfaction in this idea. "What are the rest of us going to do? Sit out there in the cold and stare at the lake?"
"Presumably," Astoria shrugged, not really caring how enjoyable the Second Task would be to watch, as she was sure to spend its entire duration suffering from a fit of painful anxiety either way.
"Bit weird, though, don't you think?" Theodore mused pensively.
"Who?" Astoria asked, running her hand down her textbook's index.
"Moody and Mcgonagall," Theodore clarified, sitting up a little straighter. "They know the Tasks are suppose to be kept secret. Why would they have been talking about the Tournament so loudly where you could overhear them?"
"It was one o'clock in the morning," Astoria shrugged. A smirk tugged at her lips as she remembered the thickness of Mcgonagall's voice behind the staff room door. "If you ask me, they'd been into some holiday drinks."
"Absolutely classless," Theodore snickered. "It's a wonder the actual champions haven't managed to hear about the Task by now."
This was Astoria's fear, but to say so would mean having to discuss Ranguk and the goblins, so she held her tongue and loaded her quill.
0o0
It was almost a relief when classes finally recommenced the next day. There was something chaotic about staying on at Hogwarts over the holidays, Astoria had decided, and she was not sorry to see the return of order.
Outside, the grounds continued to be held hostage by the icy fist of winter, but from inside the humid greenhouses, Astoria was able to spend most of first period in comfort, unearthing Gurdyroots from deep pots filled with warm soil. The tropical condensation of the greenhouses did not carry over as pleasantly on her walk down the Care of Magical Creatures class however, and the misty sweat clinging to her skin and hair froze long before she managed to reach Hagrid's cabin.
Shivering and uncomfortable, Astoria located Tracey and Theodore near the back of the crowd before sliding across the frozen path toward them.
"Heads up," cautioned Theodore under his breath, inclining his head toward a militaristic looking witch with a tightly cropped helmut of grey hair who was standing in front of Hagrid's cabin. This witch had a very square jaw; a trait made even more pronounced by the way she seemed to be chewing on her lip as she waited for the students to assemble.
"Who's that?" Astoria asked, rearranging her scarf against her clammy skin. "Is Hagrid having a guest speaker?"
"Don't think so," Theodore muttered grimly.
Soft and unpleasant laughter drew Astoria's eyes toward Draco, who was watching Harry Potter make his way down the frozen lawn. Alerted to the presence of mischief, Astoria let out a long breath and ceased fidgeting with her outerwear.
"My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank," the woman began, once the entire class had finished shuffling in. "I am your temporary Care of Magical Creatures instructor."
"What do you mean?" demanded Harry at once. "Where's Hagrid?"
"He is not well," returned Grubbly-Plank firmly. "If you'll follow me this way, our lesson begins at the paddock."
Harry dogged the heels of their strange new professor, his tone growing steadily more accusing. Astoria, by contrast, fell toward the back of the line as they walked around the Beauxbatons carriage, not wanting to be anywhere near Malfoy, who was following everything Harry said with a rapt and malevolent degree of attention.
"What happened to Hagrid, then?" Astoria whispered out of the corner of her mouth.
"Did you see the paper this morning?' Theodore asked quietly.
Astoria had not, as she had skipped breakfast to finish her Arithmancy worksheets. If she had to guess by Draco's unkind smile, however, Astoria would have wagered that Rita Skeeter had struck again. Suddenly afraid that Draco Malfoy had finally discovered a way to have Hagrid sacked, Astoria turned her eyes toward the trees evasively.
"Ohh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing eagerly past Grubbly-Plank's solidly built shoulders.
They had reached the edge of the forest. Tethered to the nearest oak, and somehow managing to stand out against the snow despite being pure white itself, a unicorn was tossing its graceful head and pawing the ground nervously.
"Boys stay near the back!" barked Grubbly-Plank. "Ladies can move forward- easy does it, you there! No need to frighten the poor thing."
Pansy Parkinson and Flora had moved forward with such ungainly haste that the unicorn had startled. Even as Astoria watched, Pansy pulled back an attempt to look uninterested.
Tracey seized Astoria's sleeve excitedly and they both tip-toed forward. The unicorn was skittish and it was obvious that the tether around its neck was causing it no small amount of distress. Seeing this, Professor Grubbly-Plank pulled a few sugar cubes from her pocket and began to hand them around as extra inducement.
"Look at it!" Tracey breathed after Astoria had finally managed to tempt the unicorn into taking a few sly licks of their sugar cube. "Aren't unicorns supposed to be impossible to catch?"
"Unicorns have a very keen understanding of human intent," called Professor Grubbly-Plank, overhearing Tracey's whispered confusion. "If I had wanted anything more than to give you a demonstration, the creature that stands before you could have easily evaded capture."
The unicorn's tongue was an incredible candy-pink, but Astoria's eyes kept flitting back up the lawn toward where Harry and Draco were standing. Draco appeared to be laughing and Harry's entire body had gone rigid.
"Why don't they like boys?" asked Parvati, moving in to pat the unicorn's soft head.
"A keen understanding of human intent," repeated Grubbly-Plank a little stiffly. "That should tell you all that you need to know, girls."
Tracey raised a gleeful eyebrow at Astoria, beyond delighted to have discovered a secret man-hater on staff.
"Are you paying attention over there?" barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, narrowing her eyes in the direction of the distant male forms at the bottom of the hill.
From a hundred feet away, Astoria could see that Harry had gone splotchy with anger and she would have been willing to bet that he had not heard so much as one word of the instruction. Unbidden, Astoria's gaze drifted onto the side of Draco's face. When he turned, his eyes darted toward Astoria. She made up her mind on the spot to meet his gaze unsmilingly.
A flash of nervousness crept into Draco's pale expression but then he squared his shoulders stubbornly and rejoined Crabbe and Goyle.
"Lord, I hope that woman stays for good!" exclaimed Tracey as they climbed back up the hill a half hour later. "You do realize that was the first real Care of Magical Creatures lesson that we've ever had, don't you?"
Astoria knew in her heart of hearts that this was quite true, but she couldn't quite seem to reconcile Grubbly-Plank's sturdy competence with the fact that it would take Hagrid being sacked for her to be hired on.
"You don't think it was good lesson?" demanded Tracey, mistaking Astoria's silence for disagreement.
"No, it was," Astoria admitted warily. "I just wish I knew why Grubby-Plank was there in the first place..."
"I'm sure I couldn't care less," declared Tracey truthfully, tugging playfully on Astoria's hood before breaking off for the Slytherin table after Theodore.
Fred, George and Lee Jordan were all sitting at the very end of the Gryffindor bench with their heads close together, commiserating over the morning newspaper. When they spotted Astoria, Lee whistled loudly and motioned toward her with his hand.
"What's that?" Astoria breathed, peeling out of her snowy cloak.
"Daily Prophet," said George darkly. "Did you just have Care of Magical Creatures?"
"Mhmm," said Astoria, seizing the ladle for the crock of chicken soup.
"Was Hagrid there?" demanded Fred.
"No," said Astoria. "We had a stand in. She said Hagrid was ill."
"Ill?" repeated Fred, looking faintly disgusted. "Well, he's not ill. Have a look at this!"
Astoria's hand froze around her spoon as she peered down at the article Fred was brandishing at her. An angry, bold-faced headline read: 'Dumbledore's Giant Mistake'. A picture above the article leapt out at her; an old photograph of Hagrid in a massive overcoat, peering shiftily over his high collar like a cartoon villain about to press a red button.
It was a long moment before Astoria reached for the newspaper. She knew that its contents were likely to upset her, but she recognized the she would never do-away with her curiosity until she knew the worst of it.
"Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled in his third year..." Astoria read aloud, trying to skim over the least applicable parts of the article as quickly as possible so as to minimize the time spent actually reading Rita Skeeter's prose.
"And whose business is that, anyway?" snarled George. "Hagrid's already settled that with Dumbledore, otherwise he never would have been hired!"
Astoria wished the twins wouldn't react so violently, as their vitriol seemed to provoking something within herself that made her want to flinch and crawl away from them.
"Look what your scummy pal, Malfoy said!" snapped George accusingly, pointing toward a paragraph lower down the column.
"I was attacked by a Hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a bad bite off of a flobberworm," read Astoria flatly, thoroughly unimpressed.
"Flobberworms don't even bite!" Lee groaned.
"We all hate Hagrid," Astoria continued dully, following Draco's quote with her finger. "We're just too scared to say anything..."
"What a piece of work!" George bit out.
"Yeah, really nice," agreed Fred hatefully. "That's good taste, right there, Astoria. If you see him with Mendel later, be sure to tell him to go fu—"
"What's the point of any of this?" asked Astoria, cutting Fred off. Her skin was prickling and Astoria could not help but be a little angry with Fred because he seemed to be asking her to account for Maudlin's friendship with Draco (and by extension, Astoria's friendship with Maudlin). "It's not like Hagrid'll be fired over this kind of weak rubbish. I don't see what the big deal is."
"Oh!" said Lee, backtracking slightly. "It also says that Hagrid's mum was a giantess."
Astoria's mouth sagged. Even Fred and George seemed to know better than to be as unaffected by this information as Lee seemingly was.
"Well," said Fred, shifting uncomfortably, "that's what the rest of the article goes into, at any rate."
"The Slytherins found out and told Rita Skeeter?" Astoria breathed, desperately hoping that this was not the case.
"No," grumbled George, tugging the paper back. "We reckon Hagrid must have told her himself, the bloody fool."
"Honestly," Fred muttered, rubbing the base of his neck. "I don't know what he was thinking. Hagrid'll be really lucky to keep his job."
The bell rang overhead, signaling the end of lunch. Astoria's attention had been so thoroughly absorbed by Hagrid's scandal that she had barely even touched her soup.
"What makes you think Hagrid told her?" she demanded, dropping her spoon against the inside of her bowl with a wet plop. "You never know. Maybe Rita Skeeter's been eavesdropping?"
Astoria reflected briefly on the sensitive conversation that she herself had overheard on New Years, unwilling to rule this sort of treachery out.
"Nah," said George, gathering up his bag. "Rita's not even allowed inside the grounds anymore and her article had loads of personal information in it. She knew the name of his mother, for Merlin's sake! Hagrid told her. She wormed it out of him somehow, the cow!"
"Speaking of people with big mouths," whispered Fred cautiously as they waded through the crowded entrance hall. "Bagman certainly got hold of you at the ball. He didn't threaten you, did he?"
"No," Astoria mouthed back. "He was nervous at first but once he realized that were weren't trying to blackmail him, he seemed grateful enough. He won't say anything about us."
"Good," Fred nodded, eyeing Astoria regretfully, perhaps already slightly ashamed for having been so uncivil to her the moment she had sat down for lunch. "Er, dinner tonight?"
"Sure," Astoria agreed, still preoccupied by the memory of her conversation with Ludo over Christmas. "You know, Bagman did say something I thought was weird," she continued hesitantly. Astoria was still not sure if she should even mention the matter but her words had already pulled Fred back to her side, so it seemed that now she would have to.
"What?" Fred asked, frowning at her.
"He said something about Karkoroff's arm," Astoria began delicately, searching Fred's face for the spark of understanding that would tell her he had cracked her code. "Karkoroff's left arm's been bothering him. That's what Bagman said."
"Huh," said Fred, frowning deeper still. "That's weird. Why would he think you wanted to know about Karkoroff's arthritis?"
"I don't know," said Astoria, chickening out with a shake of her head. Whatever tales Fred had heard about Death Eaters as a child, the knowledge that all true members were branded on the left forearm with a Dark Mark seemed to have been left out of his education. Astoria, for her part, was wild to avoid being the one who finally enlightened him. "I"m sure it was nothing."
It was a long climb up toward the Arithmancy classroom and Astoria made her way slowly, already exhausted from her lack of lunch.
On the one hand, she hated the Slytherin's obvious glee and sense of triumph over Hagrid's misfortune but on the other, what on earth did the man mean by telling Rita Skeeter that his mother had been a giantess? The entire situation seemed too foolishly preventable to even comprehend and all Astoria wanted to do was put the entire incident out of her mind: to banish thoughts of Hagrid and Draco and Karkoroff's Dark Mark from her head completely.
Astoria could hear Draco voice before she even reached the seventh floor landing.
"He's ashamed, I suppose," Draco drawled loudly. Here and there around him were members of a listening crowd that seemed to contain not only Tracey and Theodore, but Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil, as well. "It's only a matter of time. They have to sack him now. The man must be getting more hate mail than he knows how to keep up with. That's assuming he actually can read it, of course."
Astoria paused on the top step and leaned against the bannister for support, taking in the sight of Draco Malfoy performing for Anthony Goldstein with a sick, startling swoop of wrath.
"My parents sent the headmaster a letter this morning," added Anthony, apparently of one mind with Malfoy where the topic of Hagrid's dismissal was concerned. "They're convinced that Professor Dumbledore was tricked."
Draco scoffed, doubting this with every fiber of his being. Lazily, he leaned back against the wall, about to say something to that effect when he spotted Astoria. For a second, Astoria could have sworn she saw him flinch but then, much as he had earlier, he seemed to forcefully rally himself.
"What about you, Greengrass?" he called to her, steeling himself. "Think your aunt will send Hagrid a curse in a box?"
For the first time in a long time, Astoria found herself curiously wounded by Draco's cruelty. To make matters worse, Theodore, who could usually be counted upon to step in and help Astoria at a time like this, was so busy staring at Padma Patil that he did not even seem to notice that she had joined them. A faint sense of bewilderment settled around Astoria's shoulders, making her brain go slightly fuzzy.
"I doubt she cares one way or the other," Astoria finally retorted, more by instinct than anything else. There was a loose jitteriness spreading through her limbs; a fluid warning from her body of her own discomfort. Dimly, Astoria realized that there was a motive behind Draco's forced calm, but it was eluding her and her mouth had gone dry as a result.
"Well, that certainly doesn't surprise me," scoffed Anthony, shooting Astoria a very patronizing look. "I suppose the rest of your family doesn't give one whit about the safety of the other students, either. Let's face it, everyone knows how you feel about the rules, Astoria. I don't know why your aunt would be any different."
Draco watched Astoria from below punishing eyelashes, not quite willing to make eye contact while he sneered unconvincingly.
When he made no move to either stand up for her or re-seize the conversation, Astoria's unexpected sense of betrayal finally began to sharpen. All of a sudden, she was not confused and foolish, she was venomously angry, propelled by the jelly in her legs and the anxious tick of her pulse.
"Seriously?" Astoria snapped, determined not to let Draco off the hook.
"What?" demanded Malfoy sharply, his feverish gaze never once leaving her face.
The door to the Arithmancy classroom creaked open.
"Hng!" said Theodore, reacting either to the sound of the ancient hinges or the way Anthony had taken hold of Padma's arm in order to lead her around Malfoy.
Astoria made for one of the desks at once, certain she would say something terrible if she did not get out of the hallway as fast as possible.
Exhibiting a curious lack of self preservation however, Malfoy quickly moved to block her before she could slip by.
"Just because you don't like him doesn't mean I have to avoid him, you know," Draco sneered defensively, his eyes losing some of their careful indifference. "It's not my fault if you're mad."
"Who?" Astoria spat, surprised at herself. "Goldstein? Go ahead and be friends with the tit, see if I care! You'll just be another bloke in a sad click that girls like me make fun of."
Astoria shouldered him out of her way and stormed toward the bench. She could hear Tracey laughing behind her but she was too far gone to care whether this amusement was directed at herself or Draco. Blood was pounding in her ears and her vision was swimming with an almost unreasonable potential for violence.
Astoria had intentionally avoided saying anything bad about Draco in front of the twins earlier. Why had she even bothered? They had been perfectly right to call him scum, maybe that was what he actually was. Draco wanted to be friends with Anthony? Perhaps Astoria would have to take up with Harry Potter. Surely then he would see what a mistake that had been... Out of the corner of her eye, Astoria saw Draco drop his book onto the desk.
"It's not like I'm the one who told the newspaper," snapped Draco in a low, rapid voice. "I always figured Hagrid had just gotten himself into a vat of skele-grow as a toddler. The great, stupid oaf did it to himself."
Astoria reached out and shoved Draco's textbook so hard that it slid off the end of the table with a satisfying thump.
Draco stopped talking. He eyed the book, flushing slightly and it occurred to Astoria that he was going to have to reach down and pick it up again. Normally, Draco would have used Crabbe or Goyle for this purposes. They were certainly large enough to force anyone who dared to throw his things to fetch them back again. But in this case both Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid for Arithmancy and Astoria seriously doubted that Malfoy had the stones to demand that Astoria pick the book back up.
"Ohoo!" Tracey tittered in disbelief, watching their exchange from around Theodore, who was still examining Anthony and Padma's body language closely.
Draco snagged the book back off the floor with as much dignity as he could muster but Astoria sensed a queer shift of power as he did so. For a sickening moment, Astoria flirted with the idea of shoving the book again just to see if she could get away with making him dive to retrieve it twice. A part of her was almost sure that she probably could. It was only a strange sadness underneath the anger in the pit of her stomach that made her hands remain where they were on her bag.
Beside her, Draco let out an uncomfortable breath. Perhaps against his better judgment, he launched into the effort of backtracking.
"It's not even like I was the one who broke the news to you," he sneered bitterly, far less sure of himself than he had been moments before. "I never even showed you the newspaper! I don't know why you're making this my fault!"
The only thing worse than Draco behaving like a monster on purpose, it seemed, was Draco actively trying to appease her in front of people.
"What else was I supposed to say to Goldstein?" he continued twitchily. "Were you expecting me to defend your insane aunt, because—"
"Shut up!" Astoria hissed desperately, surprised by the tone of her own voice. At last, perhaps because he had expected anything but a dismissal, Draco flinched.
Whatever he had been trying to provoke by ruffling her in from of Anthony, Draco had exceeded boyond his expectations and Astoria was very glad when Professor Vector entered the room.
"Books to page three hundred and five," Professor Vector called, tapping his wand on the blackboard.
Astoria complied robotically, determined to fade away from herself into the text.
"So," said Theodore weakly, speaking for the first time all afternoon. "Goldstein and Patil are friends now?"
Draco made a sound of disgust under his breath.
0o0
Astoria would have stormed off to dinner by herself but Tracey made a great effort of catching up with her on the staircase.
"Wait!" Tracey breathed gleefully, dragging Astoria toward the fourth floor girls lavatory.
"I'm hungry, Tracey!" said Astoria waspishly, not wanting to be trapped into a lengthy chat by the sinks. "I missed lunch over that stupid article—stop pulling!"
Tracey did not let up on her grip but, perhaps because they were still within distant view of Draco and Theodore, she did not say anything until she had shoved the bathroom door shut again behind them.
"Are you kidding?" Tracey demanded, leaning against the door, her body becoming loose. "I'm not letting you slip off. What was that?"
"What do you mean?" Astoria snapped. "I'm hungry and I'm tired and all you want to do is pick at a fight with Malfoy?"
"Pick at a fight with Malfoy?" Tracey echoed weakly. "Astoria, I've seen Draco do a hundred different weird things around you, but that was beyond."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Astoria insisted cooly, determined to get to the great hall and enjoy a hearty slab of meatloaf in peace. "Tracey, you're blocking the door!"
"Just tell me that you like me!" Tracey whined nasally, obviously imitating something she felt that she had seen in class.
"I never said that!" said Astoria shrilly, her stomach twisting with shame.
"Not you!" Tracey scoffed, pulling a face. "Malfoy! Can you seriously have missed how pathetic that was? I swear, it's like he threw Goldstein at you hoping it would keep the heat off of him and then the whole thing blew up in his face!"
"Does it matter?" Astoria snapped, not wanting to delve too deeply into the method behind Malfoy's madness, as she was sure to infuriate herself by doing so. "All he ever does is bully first years or laugh at people for being poor. I don't know why we even bother talking about him!"
"Oh my God!" Tracey gasped, her eyes misting over as a new and incredible thought came to her. "You're his bully! That's what makes it so funny!"
"No, I'm not," Astoria stuttered, highly aggrieved by this notion. "I'm nice unless he makes it impossible!"
"Yes, yes," said Tracey, flagging this thought aside. "But when you are mean to him, he always lets you get away with it. When you ever shoved his book off the desk!" Tracey collapsed into new fit of giggles. "Lord, I wish Millicent had been there to see it! He's just awful to her. I bet it would have made her week!"
Tracey mimed Draco having to pick his book back up and Astoria was suddenly fighting a mad desire to cry and laugh all at once.
"I know right?" said Tracey, mistaking the sound that had escaped Astoria's lips for one of amusement.
Astoria had to cover her mouth with her hand to hide her wobbling chin and nodded, feeling more alone than she ever had in her life.
0o0
You'll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
This was a funny old saying, and Astoria could not think where it was that she had originally heard it. Astoria was certain that the words had never been uttered by her father, who was not prone to adages—or wisdom for that matter. When it came to Belladonna, the phrase struck Astoria as being even more ill fitting. She was certain that her aunt was very fond of verbal vinegar and probably cared a great deal more for the stinging bees producing the metaphorical honey than for sweetness itself.
Still, Astoria had clearly heard the saying before (most likely shrieked by her stepmother during one of her self-pitying meltdowns) and she found herself contemplating the meaning behind the words later that night with a rather embarrassing earnestness.
One thing seemed certain; Astoria was slightly unhappy in almost all of her relationships lately. With the exception of perhaps Theodore, who she nearly always felt that she could be herself around, Astoria was beginning to see that she had committed to a certain type of facade within the last year.
It was possible that she had been playing her part longer than that, but it seemed to Astoria that she was able to place the beginning of this heightened and duplicitous behavior sometime around the arrival of the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.
Since the Autumn, Astoria had committed herself to so many games that the effort of playing had started to become exhausting.
She was playing a game with the goblins, certainly, but there was no shame in this arrangement. It had started by her own design and Astoria's need to be calculating around Ragnuk could not be helped. But what about Maudlin? How much effort did she put into hiding herself from Aston Mendel's son on a daily basis? Astoria disguised her childhood affection for him at every turn and, consequently, she found herself disguising all of her other interests in order to keep Maudlin from gaining a foothold that might let him properly be her friend.
And Draco. Something had changed drastically in her dealings with Draco, to the point that she could no longer even reflect upon him comfortably. As long as Astoria had known Draco, there had always been something charged and a little bizarre about the way she treated him. Lately, however, it was as though one of the wheels had come loose. At any moment, she had to be prepared for a catastrophic crash.
The manner that Tracey had used to describe him in the bathroom had managed to strike Astoria in a powerful way. Tracey had been so confident in her opinions, so sure of her analysis. Was this because she possessed a kind of fool's confidence or was Tracey simply able to see the matter more clearly than Astoria did? Astoria had been wearing blinders around Draco for a very long time, it seemed, afraid of what she might see or have to admit if she allowed herself to look at him objectively
This was not the type of thing Astoria could easily live with once she had realized it however, no matter how much she might want to. Over the next several days, Astoria began to watch Draco without permitting herself the easy fallback of flinching away from his unpleasantness.
It could not be said that her eyes were turned on him any more than they had been before, but the clear-headedness behind her approach was something new. This is how Theodore sees everything, Astoria thought to herself, wondering how it was that Theodore managed to remain sane.
There were several rabbit holes that Astoria knew herself to be guilty of avoiding, so she started by dedicating herself to the simplest of observations.
For instance, Astoria had never before appreciated what a creature of habit Draco was. He never ate his bread toasted at breakfast, choosing to butter it cold instead. Every morning for a week, with the exception of the day that the elves produced blood-orange pancakes, he ate the same exact thing in almost the exact same order. A little disheartened that she had never noticed this propensity for routine—as surely it was not a new habit of his and was actually quite a striking trait now that she had realized it—Astoria allowed her eyes to search further.
Draco never did his school work during study periods. Astoria never knew him to fail at turning in assignments however, so she concluded that he must do his homework in the evenings, most likely because Crabbe and Goyle were such poor common room companions.
The more aware of him that she let herself become, the more she began to see. Tracey had been quite right to say that he was cruel to Millicent. In fact, if Astoria thought that Draco was frequently rude to her, it was almost nothing to the way he seemed to treat nearly everyone else that he came into contact with, especially those who did not have the ability to punish him for it.
After all, Draco had never once commanded Crabbe to push Astoria into a loo or steal her letters from home. Nor had he ever loudly insinuated that she was hideous or suggested that she jump out of one of the towers to spare the world of her uselessness (at this point, Astoria had broken her own rule and intervened on Millicent's behalf).
In fact, if the way Draco treated even certain members of his own house was anything to go on, it was an actual wonder that she had ever become friends with him in the first place. Draco was, quite literally, an absolutely miserable asshole almost everywhere he went. He was by far the most unpleasant person she had ever taken a liking to and by general comparison, he treated Astoria the way a nervous child might treat a favorite kitten while sitting on a bed of eggshells; a fact that she had never before fully appreciated.
Most interesting of all and perhaps the most redeeming, was the deep silence he tended to fall into when he was not in a crowded hall or classroom, as though, by the release of a phantom pressure point, he greeted any moment when he did not feel like he had to be the loudest and most commanding presence in a room with a private eagerness.
While Astoria was certain that most of Draco's cruelty was not an act and most certainly stemmed from a deep-rooted lack of sympathy for other human beings, some of it did seem to be a means of projecting himself as a more intimidating figure. Astoria could not decide if this made her disapprove of him more or less than she already did.
Which brought her to the final and most uncomfortable truth: the fact that Draco seemed to secretly care what she thought of him very much and not only craved her approval, but went so far out of his way seeking it that, if a person happened to be watching carefully, they might be able to spot his motive.
How or when this had first begun, Astoria was not sure. What she did know was that she had been aware of it for some time and had, for the most part, tended to chalk this desire up to the fact that Astoria so infrequently gave him any sense of approval that the idea had become something of a 'white whale' for him.
Under the lens of heightened inspection however, Astoria was no longer sure if this was true. Anybody who was capable of eating the same breakfast almost every day of their life was likely entirely capable of sustaining a singular preference. It was possible that, even if Astoria caved and gave Draco every bit praise he had ever dreamed of, Draco would only alter his behavior as much as it took to sustain her newfound fondness.
For some reason, like his Father, Snape, and Lord Voldemort before her, Draco seemed to have conceded Astoria the power of having an almost unhealthy level of influence over him. What was more, Astoria could not help but suspect that it was possible he actually resented her for it.
Rather than feeling warm and a little shaky about this, as a part of her wanted to, Astoria could not help but obsess over what company she was in. She shuddered to think what unifying factor might link Draco's persons of interest. What could Astoria possibly have in common wit Snape and Lucius, after all?
By the weekend, Astoria could not take much more. She pulled at least halfway back into the cocoon of ignorance she had created for herself. It took a steady and emotionless eye to see the world as she had been forcing herself to, and it was not in Astoria's nature to be unfeeling or to repress her own sense of reaction.
Her take away, if there was one, was that so many wrongs did not seem add up to a right and it was time to consider using honey instead of vinegar when it came to the way she offered herself up to her acquaintances.
It might not make any difference in the end, but Astoria had a feeling that she would sleep easier knowing she had done her best not to cause any unnecessary harm, no matter how unpleasant the people she seemed to attract and attempt to please might be.
0o0
On Saturday, Astoria was called in to a meeting for the Sisters of the Easter Star.
Cassandra, ever the snob, had wanted the Room of Portraits again but the Gobstones team had claimed it long in advance for an inter-house competition. Thwarted, Cassandra settled for her second best option and told the rest of the girls to meet her in the library's Room of Atlas's. As always, despite the fact that they were punctually on time, Astoria and Tracey were the last to arrive.
"Now then," said Cassandra, heaving her heavy binder onto a bound collection of bird migration maps, "the Second Task is approaching."
In truth, the Second Task was still about three weeks away, but to Cassandra's meticulous and order worshiping mind, Astoria imagined this must seem like the blink of an over-scheduled eye.
"Ooh," cooed Katherine Macdougal slyly, "do you know where it is going to be?"
"No, Kitty," snapped Cassandra, her voice utterly devoid of indulgence. "Nobody knows that because it's a secret."
Astoria folded her hands across the front of her white dress and tried very hard not to smirk.
"As for our part," Cassandra continued, ignoring Catherine's wounded look, "we have been asked to receive any visiting guests in the entrance hall and to provide them with hot cider for their walk down to the stadium. Wherever that might be."
"What kind of visiting guests?" asked Tracey, keen as always for a spot of high-brow intrigue.
"I don't know," said Cassandra, flipping open her binder as though she hoped to find a ready-made guest list waiting there. "Parents, government, high-paying donors? Lord knows the Tournament will be expensive enough to merit that..."
Tracey peered at Astoria mischievously.
"I expect everybody to be in the Entrance Hall before nine o'clock on February the twenty-fourth," Cassandra clipped. "Lateness will not be appreciated. The run-through should be fast and painless. I promise that nobody will miss their chance to spectate."
Astoria reflected on the fact that this would very likely mean that she and Tracey would find themselves watching the Tournament next to the semi-frozen lake while wearing starched white dresses but she wisely held her tongue.
"Will we also get cider?" asked Katherine, her dull eyes swooping toward Cassandra's binder covetously, suspecting that it held the answers to all of her rather dense questions.
For a moment, Astoria thought Cassandra would snap but at the last second she seemed to pull back into herself and her expression hardened over with restraint. "If you like, Kitty," she cooed.
0o0
On Monday morning, Astoria awoke from restless dreams, unable to shake the feeling that she had forgotten something important. The dreary grey clouds outside did nothing to soothe her sense of unease and it was not until breakfast that she realized what it was that had slipped her mind.
A dark, indignant owl was perched near Theodore's seat, resolutely refusing the bacon that Theo was trying to feed it. It hooted sharply as Astoria approached and held out its leg, snapping its beak in the direction of Theo's fingers so that he would retract them. Recognizing the animal as Belladonna's owl, Astoria made quick work of detaching the note so that it could fly off at once.
"Oh," Astoria realized softly, triggered by the sight of the letter. "It's my birthday!"
Theo blinked guiltily and it was obvious at once that he had forgotten the date, as well. He cleared his throat. "You can have the last bagel," he offered weakly, trying to pass her the bread basket.
"Don't worry about it," Astoria smiled, waving off the bread as she tore open the red envelope. "I hardly remembered it myself. You know, I've never been so busy that I forgot a birthday before..."
"I never do anything for mine," Theodore insisted, relieved to find that Astoria was not offended. "It's a useless tradition, if you ask me."
Astoria was unfolding two sheets of her aunt's stationary when a terrible thought occurred to her and she let them both sag. "Theodore," Astoria began tremulously, feeling absolutely wretched, "when is your birthday? I'm not sure you've ever told me..."
"No bother," said Theodore hurriedly, going slightly red. "They're not real holidays, birthdays..."
"Theo!" Astoria gasped, unable to believe that she had gone four years without ever attempting to give Theodore a birthday present.
"Oh, what!" Theodore burst uncomfortably. "It's in early March but I'm not giving you the date! The last thing I need is for you to try to press cakes on me or sing to me in class."
Astoria's mouth parted, uncertain if she more was amused or offended.
"Who's singing in class?" drawled Draco's snidely. "Not you, Nott? That must be illegal."
"Happy birthday, Astoria!" said Theodore rather suddenly, his voice so loud that it caused her to jump.
"Yeah?" Astoria muttered, working to unclench her fingers so that she could read her aunt's note, baffled by Theodore's outburst. "There's no need to shout."
"That's from your aunt, then?" demanded Draco, poking about distractedly in one of the baskets for his usual breakfast of un-toasted bread, which Astoria knew he would he would chase with about a half a glass of juice.
Astoria,
Happy birthday, darling! It's hard to imagine that in just two short years, you will be a legal witch and I will be the aging dowager of dubious morality that you call 'aunt'. What a merry day that will be, I'm sure. Until then, however, I hope you will not be angry with me for keeping my pleasantries short. It has been far too long since I last wrote.
It is my understanding that you have seen Roland Yaxley twice without my knowing of it; once in the fall and once at Christmas. Foolish girl, why do you not think to tell me these things? Especially as you seem to have spent these meetings as unproductively as possible! From Alistair Yaxley, I am told (and I have been forced to translate some, insufferable man!) that his son is much impressed with your chapter of the Sisters of the Eastern Star- most particularly with its young president. This is your doing, I suppose? Your idea of an excellent mutiny? I will not hear of it, Astoria! Are the Rowles to invade England twice?
We will discuss the matter further at the earliest convenience. You will be seeing me soon.
All my love,
Aunt Belladonna
"Why does she say that she'll be 'seeing me soon'?" repeated Astoria in horror. "What can she mean by that? We don't have another holiday for months."
Draco shrugged disinterestedly, nosily peering down at her letter anyway. Astoria quickly folded it, hiding the incriminating passage Belladonna had penned about the Yaxleys from view.
"She's probably coming to watch the Second Task," Draco shot, perhaps a little annoyed that Astoria had covered the contents of her letter so quickly. "What do you care? You already live with her over the holidays."
Astoria let her eyes fall closed, absorbing this perilous idea from each of its many sharp angles. Draco was undoubtedly right; of course Belladonna would come to the Second Task. She would present herself in the Entrance Hall on the twenty-fourth, as keen to watch the school champions face the unknown as she would be to observe Cassandra pouring cider.
Not only would Astoria have to account for Roland's newly evident interest in Cassandra, Astoria realized, she would also have to artfully conceal the fact that she and the twins were betting a small fortune against a hoard of goblins at the same time. To say nothing of the effort Astoria would have to expend turfing Belladonna as far away from Maudlin she could because, for reasons Astoria had never been able to understand, Belladonna had always treated the Mendels with a particularly zesty disdain.
Astoria grit her teeth and opened her eyes again, certain that this was the worst birthday gift that her aunt had ever given her.
0o0
Well, I know things dipped into a lengthy spell of observation for a few paragraphs in this one (I try not to do that super often) but I felt like the plot called for it to help clarify Draco a little bit. It's funny, because when I originally started this story, I seriously toyed with the idea of giving Draco POV chapter chunks. So much so, that I tried writing a few of them back in Second Year but it just didn't work for me. I think Draco's head-space needs to be a little bit nebulous because it's really Astoria's tale and knowing what he's thinking all the time defeats her take on things a bit. So observation it is!
Next post will span the Second Task! I just couldn't resist tossing Belladonna into the crowd, so she'll be there and there's a possibility I may let Lucius breeze in for a scene or two as well.
I've got big plans for the Easter Holidays, so that's where I keep excitedly waiting to get to at the moment. As always, reviews are a wonderful treat!