Chapter Fifty
Snowdrop and Aconite
0o0
By Sunday morning, the storm had finally sputtered and died out, leaving behind a misty haze that blanketed the exposed grass and rain-swollen streams like a magical shroud. Overnight, nature had become muffled and soft again. Bird song broke against the low, cloudy sky and hopeful green sprouts could be seen poking up their heads in the damp undergrowth.
Sweating slightly in her heaviest cloak, Astoria heaved her trunk across Belladonna's parlor floor. After the noise and bustle of the train ride from school to London, Astoria was surprised by the unexpected silence that greeted her here. Yanking off her gloves—a very unnecessary precaution, as it had turned out—Astoria slumped over to the hallway table, panting hard and swiping stray hairs out of her face. Mail from that morning was laid out on top of mail from the day before but none of it had been attended to. Wondering idly if Belladonna had been traveling (perhaps her intention had been to arrive home before Astoria, but she gotten hung up somewhere?) Astoria leafed through the post before charging off toward the kitchen, thinking that Bonky might know the way of things and be able to set her straight.
In this she was soon disappointed, however: the kitchen was as deserted as the foyer had been. A weak, late-morning sunlight attempted to break through the clouds. It shone faintly on the glistening copper pots and pans but Astoria, feeling just a bit neglected, wasted no time watching it.
Beating a path back up the stairs, she left her trunk by the doorway and made a beeline for her bedroom.
It was slightly brighter in here, but only just. None of the windows had been thrust open to let in the fresh air (perhaps Belladonna was travelling with Bonky?) so Astoria did herself the favor of crossing the room and cracking them herself. The rush of early spring mist was intoxicating, but it was not enough to entirely put her mind at ease. Never, in all of her years of living with Belladonna, had Astoria ever had to wait for her aunt. If a time and a meeting place had been stipulated, Belladonna had never failed to arrive punctually. A tug of nervousness flared beneath her outer annoyance.
The whooshing sound of the floo being engaged made Astoria's head swivel. The noise did not seem to have come from the first floor. Realizing that the fireplace in the attic storeroom had flared to life, Astoria hopped to her feet. She was already halfway toward the hall in a state of premature alarm when Theodore appeared in the doorway.
"What?" demanded Theodore at once, thrown by the look of misapprehension on her face.
"Nothing," Astoria breathed. Her shoulders sagged with relief. "I just got in. Have a seat wherever, I'll be back in a minute."
Feeling more armored against the unknown now that Theodore had arrived, she ventured downstairs a second time for a pot of coffee. She collected any fruit she could easily scavenge from a bowl while she waited for it to brew, determined to inject some sense of normalcy back into her morning.
When she returned to the third, Theodore was hanging out of her window seat and breathing smoke into the morning air.
"Dad never even bothered to tell me that he was going to be in meetings all day," Theodore groused, accepting a mug from her. "There are people all over the bloody front lawn. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to curse any of them silly yet."
"Well, Aunt Belladonna isn't even here," Astoria joined in flatly. She was thankful for an excuse to complain—especially one that did not make her sound anxious. "What's your father doing holding meetings, anyway? He doesn't strike me as the type."
She busied herself with the banana she had lifted from the kitchen table, savoring the sensation of the smooth and nearly tasteless pulp followed by the acidic bite of her coffee.
"Something about a hunting license," Theodore sniffed. "Half of the Beast Division from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures showed up. They're all hollering themselves purple in my dad's study right now."
"Over hunting laws? What's he trying to protect?" Astoria wondered, trying and failing to view Mr. Nott as an undercover conservationist.
"Protect?" scoffed Theodore. His eyes narrowed with sarcastic disdain.
"Oh," Astoria chuckled, grimacing around a large mouthful of fruit. "He's trying to shoot the wildlife, then?"
"Presumably," burst Theodore. "He wants to legalize Augurey expeditions, but all he's really doing is giving Amos Diggory a heart attack."
"He wants the ministry to let him shoot an Irish phoenix?" Astoria repeated dubiously.
"Oh, don't you go feeling bad for them, too!" snapped Theodore defensively. "Everyone hears the word 'phoenix' and they picture precious, legendary creatures. Augureys are awful little beasts! Mournful looking black birds that literally only fly when it rains or sing when someone dies."
"Alright," Astoria exclaimed, backtracking at once before she managed to step on Theodore's toes."Never let it be said that your father doesn't know how to faithfully pursue a hobby..."
"Macnair's on his side," Theodore persisted, playing with a tassel on her window seat pillow. "For whatever that's worth."
"Was Alistair Yaxley there?" asked Astoria, suddenly recalling that her infamous older cousin worked in the same department.
"No," frowned Theodore. "What division is he in?"
"The Being Division?" supplied Astoria somewhat doubtfully. "I think. Honestly, I've never actually asked."
"That would makes sense," confirmed Theodore. "That's where all the big brass are. They're to do with goblins and merpeople and the like—creatures that aren't just dangerous, but capable of actually raising up an army to rebel against the ministry."
"Oh," said Astoria, absorbing this slowly.
How many months had she been betting against Ragnuk now? Had it really never occurred to her that she had a relative of dubious morality whose actual job was to manage and suppress goblins who tried to take advantage of wizards? Of course, her own position was just illegal enough to make certain that there was very little Astoria could do with this connection, but the coincidence was mind boggling. If Astoria hadn't broken the rules in the first place by going to Ragnuk, it would be within her power to absolutely ruin him now.
The strange silence of the house began to press in on her again the minute Theodore left. At a loss, Astoria eyed her bed half-heartedly, trying to decide if she was capable of napping after drinking an entire mug of coffee. The reassuring sound of the fireplace igniting in the living room below spared her from tossing and turning. Thankful to have been spared the inevitable (and very embarrassing journey) to her father's house in order to report Belladonna missing, Astoria headed downstairs.
Her aunt was standing in the front hall near Astoria's trunk, flipping through the mail and tutting to herself, looking nothing short of a woman perfectly at ease.
"Hello, darling!" she called when Astoria reached the bottom step, casting her niece a wayward glance. "Sorry to have kept you waiting. I didn't worry you, I'm sure?"
"No," Astoria lied, moving aside so that Bonky would not hit her with her own trunk as he transported it up the stairs.
"Have you been home long?" Belladonna went on. She slit open an envelope and eyed the bill that it contained with a trace of displeasure. "There's post here for you."
"I was here before noon," insisted Astoria, taking a few envelopes from her aunt, "where were you? You might have warned me—"
"Nonsense," countered Belladonna dismissively, "it's barely one o'clock."
"You've been travelling," Astoria pressed accusingly, unable to understand her aunt's careless dismissal. "You even took Bonky with you."
"I did," Belladonna confirmed, her lips tightening into a thin line. "I do a good deal of travelling, in fact. Of course, I did not know that I was required to check in with you first. My sincerest apologies."
Astoria's eyelashes fluttered, torn between annoyance and the worry she had felt when she'd arrived home to an empty house. Indeed, there seemed to be something uncomfortable and forced about the way Belladonna was methodically opening the mail and Astoria did not like the way she was refusing to turn and meet her eyes.
"It's nothing, darling," Belladonna sighed, perhaps realizing that she was behaving strangely. "I've simply taken on a pet project that's turning out to be a bit more... involved than I might have hoped. "
Belladonna rapped the post into order with a neat smack and turned about to face Astoria at last.
"I only mention it because there is a chance it will continue to plague my schedule for most of your visit," she continued, her tone as calculated as her phrasing. "It might be necessary for me to leave again, perhaps more than once. I suppose you are old enough to fend for yourself for a night or two together?"
"Fine," Astoria shrugged. Truthfully, she did not particularly care what Belladonna did, as long as her absence was accounted for and not the result of a tragic, unknown accident. Having the house to herself was by no means a punishment of any sort, especially by her aunt's standards. Still, it was odd.
"You won't be mad at me?" Belladonna quirked. The characteristic loveliness came rushing back into her face now that she had ceased to stare off into space distractedly.
Astoria shook her head. "I don't mind being by myself."
"By yourself? You must think I've gone mad!" Belladonna snorted. Her eyes moved toward the stairs where Bonky could still be heard rattling about with the luggage. "I'll leave the elf with you, of course."
"Yes, well, no need for that," hissed Astoria, moving out of the way so that her aunt could reach the closet.
There was still something dangling just beyond her grasp: the more she watched her aunt, the more apparent it became. One rarely ever saw Belladonna work at anything, Astoria reflected, but she was working now—working to appear unfazed and that was most unusual.
"Is everything alright?" Astoria finally asked, feeling like a child underfoot. "You seem a little out of sorts."
"What?" snapped Belladonna. She had clearly not been listening, because she seemed almost startled to discover that Astoria was still standing beside her "Yes. Of course. You have such an unfortunate habit of trying to play detective!"
"Are you sure?" Astoria pressed carefully, knowing that any desperation on her part would cause Belladonna's semi-open expression to snap closed.
For a moment, Belladonna regarded her niece tiredly and Astoria thought she might crack. Then, swift as lightning, the moment passed.
"It's nothing to worry you with, darling," she sighed. "Why don't you draw a bath and I'll see to lunch?"
0o0
Just like that, all of the worry seemed to seep out of Belladonna—she no longer betrayed any outward signs of a disturbance. Instead, her apprehension evaporated into the general atmosphere, where it lingered like an invisible fist. True to her warning, less than two days passed before Belladonna informed Astoria that she would be traveling in the morning and staying away for the better part of the week.
Determined to act as carefree and casual as her aunt, Astoria attempted to put the upcoming voyage out of mind. Kitty's party was on Thursday and she always had Theodore to keep her company in the interim.
Still, no amount of willful blindness could conceal the fact that Belladonna's traveling case was woefully thin suspiciously underweight on the morning she was scheduled to take her leave. Belladonna claimed that she was traveling to France, which left Astoria to puzzle over what she was doing if she was leaving the country without a proper wardrobe.
Added to this list of minor yet unfashionable (and therefore uncharacteristic) sins was the fact that Belladonna had not applied to Astoria's father in order to borrow her old house-elf, Wobbles, for the duration of her trip. This might make sense if her aunt was staying with friends who kept a surplus of domestic help—but if that really was the case, wouldn't she have packed more appropriately for the occasion?
Altogether, Astoria could not quite escape the feeling that her aunt was travelling light on purpose and alone by choice—all the better for slipping away like a ghost, perhaps off the grid entirely. The act of ignoring this became so trying for Astoria's nerves that she was almost thankful when her aunt finally left. To her surprise, however, the strange isolation that Belladonna left behind—though less sharp—was almost as uncomfortable and perhaps twice as disturbing.
It had never before occurred to Astoria before just how many rooms Belladonna occupied alone. The house was not big enough to be really and truly splendid, but it was more than large enough to create sounds of its own accord. Sure enough, all throughout the night the house persisted in doing just that: shutters thumped in the wet, gloomy spring darkness; lights failed to stretch into the far corners of every room.
On Wednesday morning, fresh from a sleepless and jumpy night, Astoria was resolved to either move into the living room (which at least afforded her troubled mind the solace of having more than one escape route) or ask Theodore to spend the night on her bedroom floor.
But Theodore didn't come over and by midnight, Astoria was forced to take a brutally honest look at herself: she had been restlessly pacing the living room for hours, she was too afraid to comfortably walk up the unlit staircase on her own, and she hadn't eaten anything but fistfuls of display candies from the crystal bowl on the hearth since breakfast. She was, in short, absolutely rubbish at being an adult and the more she allowed herself to dwell on her inner failings, the more keenly she began to feel them.
At last, more to occupy herself than anything else, Astoria curled up beneath a flimsy excuse for a decorative throw blanket and took up an old family photo album. Determined to further torture the state of her emotional well-being even, she revisited old images of her mother in her youthful prime until the sun rose.
At daybreak, Astoria stood up and stretched. She had reached a state of purged—almost enlightened—calm, made only slightly giddy by her lack of sleep. It had been forty-eight hours since she had spoken to anyone, marking the longest period of her life ever spent in absolute silence. When the birds began to sing, she went upstairs to dress for Kitty's party, bolstered by the knowledge that solitude had finally achieved the impossible: she had such a violent need for a social event that even Kitty's would do.
The calligraphy on the invitation was a metallic blue, so Astoria met Kitty half-way and chose a dress in a similar shade of robin's egg that bore no trace of a metallic sheen. Satisfied that she carried her outfit well, she added a rope of pearls as a sort of ironic tribute to the Sisterhood and padded down to the second floor to borrow a lipstick from aunt's room.
The moment she slipped into that quiet, shrouded space, Astoria stiffened. The smell of her aunt's lingering perfume seemed to lash out at her—conscious of the invasion. With a powerful and awe-inspiring shiver, she realized that she had never been alone in her aunt's room before.
Astoria dithered, linering halfway between the bed and her aunt's vanity table. The surface in front of the mirror was cluttered with bottles of scent and jewelry boxes. A stack of bracelets sparkled in a Chinese bowl; husks of their former glory without an arm to bring them to life.
Her hand strayed toward the knob of drawer. She tugged it open just a crack, wanting to peer inside without actually committing to an open search: there was nothing but a small box of pressed flowers inside. Immediately taken with the object, Astoria shimmied the drawer open a little further—and her eyes lit on a leather-bound journal lining the bottom of the drawer beneath it.
She recoiled, positively chilled. What, what could Belladonna Lestrange—who had lost both family and fortune to war and who was responsible for the deaths of four husbands—possibly feel the need to unburden herself of within the pages of a diary?
Shocked past casual discomfort at last, Astoria shut the drawer with a snap. The sound jolted her back to her proper senses. Some things were best left unread; she did not need lipstick. Astoria closed her aunt's door firmly behind and she did not look back.
0o0
Kitty's invitation supplied a very specific floo address (so that her guests might all arrive by a single, preferred fireplace), but at the last minute, Astoria decided to walk.
The lane that Belladonna's house was situated on only serviced a small handful of houses, but each of these properties was decidedly larger than a typical suburban plot. The walk took her several minutes longer than she would have liked, but she arrived at the Fawley's officious, blasted-stone house undaunted and on time.
The bell was answered by a short, surprised looking house elf.
"We is thinking you was all coming in from the back!" squeaked the elf apologetically.
He lead Astoria along a hall and through a large nautically decorated foyer. Miniature schooners in glass cases topped every table and paintings of whalers at sea hung heavily on the walls. Smirking at the absurd hypocrisy of Kitty's aunt and uncle—who had supposedly turned their boat house into a guest house because they hated water sports—Astoria stepped down into a low room and was delivered through painted white patio doors onto the lawn.
Tracey was standing nearby with Cassandra and Kitty, but she broke off the moment that she spotted Astoria.
"What kept you?" Tracey whispered, bounding toward Astoria. With a lurch, her heels sank into the grass and her embrace immediately turned into a wild grasp for support. "Stupid stilettos. What was I thinking?"
"That Blaise is a good six inches taller than you?" Astoria suggested, grinning mischievously.
"Exactly right," Tracey agreed, still eyeing her shoes rather darkly. "Everybody is down the path. Kitty's greeting guests, but I waited for you—"
Tracey broke off and motioned over Astoria's shoulder.
Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy had just come through another patio door several feet away—perhaps connected to the room where people were arriving by floo—because that was also where Kitty was stationed to great her guests.
"Astoria!" shrieked Kitty excitedly, spotting her at last. "Where on Earth did you come through from? I must have missed you!"
"I walked over," Astoria admitted, but before Kitty could respond, Anthony Goldstein appeared and distracted her.
"You walked here?" scoffed Tracey under her breath. "Why? It's not like you aren't connected to the the floo..."
"I wanted to practice clutching my pearls and feigning feminine shock," whispered Astoria, watching Kitty titter about Anthony like an anxious bird.
Blaise and Draco, who had by now drawn near enough to overhear their conversation, called out. Astoria made up her mind on the spot ignore both of them—especially Blaise—but she felt her eyes pull toward Draco instinctively. His wore the same mask of cocky indifference that almost always did, but somehow he met Astoria's eye too quickly.
He was already looking at you, she realized tensely. That's how.
She fell into step beside Tracey and followed the boys for the short stroll down the grassy path. It was too pleasant a day for much worrying, she reminded herself. Besides, she was so ecstatic to have escaped her lonely home that almost nothing could put a dampener on her spirits if she didn't let it.
They were still within sight of the main building when they reached the bottom of the trail. A neatly trimmed lawn fanned out along the front of a second, smaller house. Astoria assumed this structure was the 'boat house', but the chilly lake it should have been perched on was nearly a hundred feet away—across manicured grounds and dense thickets of swaying lilac bushes.
Beneath their feet, a soft blanket of small white flowers peppered the grass like artificial confetti. The air was warm—so warm that Astoria was convinced that the entire yard was enchanted. Both of the boat house doors had been thrown open. Inside, people were already milling about on its seemingly miraculous marble floors.
"Look, it's Little Bo-Peep's Roman dream home," Astoria snickered, eyeing the stone columns on either side of the doors.
A croquet set was installed on lush carpet of grass to the right. Directly outside the double doors stood an umbrella stand well stocked with thin paper parasols in a wide variety of colors. Astoria readily selected one (a pale blue to match her dress) and opened it against the sunny sky, cackling wickedly.
"Shh!" insisted Tracey, elbowing Astoria in the side. A very old woman—Mrs. Fawley herself—came wobbling out onto the steps.
"Tea is on the table, dears," she informed them, smiling kindly. "Oh, Katherine!" she called, catching sight of her niece. "I'm heading away now, dear! I want all of the boys gone before dark. Don't make me check on you!"
This was the least effective way to ensure a single-gender sleepover that Astoria had ever seen. She shifted her umbrella again so that it hid her face, fighting a strange, compulsive urge to laugh.
Tracey shot her another tense look, plainly eager for Mrs. Fawley to go away before she found anything amusing.
Astoria sighed and peered over the edge of her parasol at Pansy, who had rushed forward to greet Draco and Blaise. She was wearing a shade of pink that fell somewhere between salmon and peach: it was not, Astoria reflected somewhat unkindly, a very flattering hue on her.
"Do you want to have a look at the tea service?" Astoria suggested, hoping that Tracey would loosen up soon. Truth be told, she was making it hard for either of them to relax.
Tracey shrugged and came inside, but she was still watching Mrs. Fawley's creaky ascent back up the lawn.
"What to Kitty's parents do?" Tracey wondered, following Astoria's lead and taking a teacup. "Her family is obviously rich."
"Dunno," Astoria shrugged, studying the pattern of blue forget-me-nots on the china. "Is it just me, or are these actually rather pretty?"
Tracey ignored her.
"I didn't know that I was the only poor person in our sorority," she insisted haltingly, embarrassed but unable to resist complaining. "I thought at least some of the other girls must be normal…"
"Don't," begged Astoria. "This is Kitty's aunt and uncle's house. Notice that she's having the party here instead of at home? You have no idea what her parents are like."
"If her uncle has a Roman bath in his backyard, she's not poor," finished Tracey flatly.
Feeling that this was probably true, but entirely unsure how to make Tracey feel any better about it, Astoria was almost glad when they were interrupted by the arrival of Pansy and the boys. To her surprise, they had even managed to find Luc on their way in.
"Ria!" called Luc excitedly.
Perhaps he was feeling slightly out of his element, because Astoria did not think he had ever looked so happy to see her before.
"You came after all!" Astoria laughed, curiously pleased. "Maudlin didn't, did he?"
"No, he's home with Alec," returned Luc. He really was out of his element surrounded by flowers and frill, the more Astoria thought about it. "I'm joining them later—is there a bar here? This cream tea business is ghastly."
"It's a sixteen year old girl's birthday party," scoffed Pansy, snorting derisively.
But her skepticism lost its edge because Blaise agreed with Luc. When Draco mentioned that he too had little interest in tea, Pansy slipped away to see what she could do.
"Oh!" shrieked Kitty, tearing herself away from Anthony Goldstein in order to assist Pansy. "I meant to say! My uncle keeps everything in one of the cabinets! But nobody can look drunk when they go back through my aunt's fireplace—she'll kill me!"
"That rules out Davis, then," scoffed Luc, perhaps remembering her antics at the Yule Ball.
"She's staying here, anyway," said Astoria firmly, afraid to stoke the flames of Tracey's discomfort. "My aunt's house is five minutes away. There's more than one fireplace there, if anyone needs it."
This was more charitable than Astoria might have normally been, but the days of solitude had left her with a wild distaste for her silent living room. Even the idea of Blaise Zabini nosing about her house seemed preferable to another evening of being miserable from dusk until dawn.
"Kitty's just nervous!" snapped Pansy scathingly, returning with an unopened bottle of fire whiskey that she promptly passed it off to Luc. "Her aunt will never even check to make sure you've all left. Stay here, if you want—I'm sure there's no call for that, Astoria. Besides, wouldn't your aunt be angry if you turned her house into a transfer station?"
"I shouldn't think so, as she's been in France since Monday," countered Astoria crisply, unable to entirely escape the shameful realization that she was subtly advertising herself and her empty home to anyone who did not wish to remain trapped in Katherine's forced pastoral paradise.
"There you go!" cried Luc robustly.
"Even my aunt won't notice voices in the hall from across the English Channel," she continued, allowing Luc to top off her tea with a splash from the bottle in his hand while silently praying that he would not try to follow her home by himself. "She's not a bat, after all."
Blaise snickered so Astoria added: "Not during the day, at least."
Pansy let out a single, humorless laugh and dangled her cup toward Draco. He had taken the bottle from Luc, and she was clearly hoping that he would pour her drink before his own. Astoria looked away, privately annoyed and unwilling to show it.
The only reason Pansy was trying so hard to keep the boys at Kitty's party was so that she could have a clearer shot at Malfoy, Astoria decided tartly. Pansy probably felt that—even though Draco had never particularly taken to her charms on the Hogwarts grounds—he might if he was freed from the constraints of single-gender dormitories and the eyes of his parents.
The more fire-whiskey the better for her purpose, I suppose, thought Astoria cruelly, fighting against the lurch in her stomach that warned her how uncomfortable this idea secretly made her.
But it shouldn't make you uncomfortable, Astoria's mind hissed. After all, Astoria herself had no interest in ever dating Draco, whose lack of moral code and propensity for cruelty made the idea ridiculous. If having Draco all to herself was what made Pansy happy, Astoria would not be doing anyone any favors if she put up enough opposition to make sure that didn't happen.
It would very likely come to pass someday, anyway. Astoria reflected further, suddenly picturing the future with a vivid clarity. At some point, Draco's peers would begin to brag about their own sexual conquests and Draco would have to find himself a girlfriend in order to maintain his image as person worth being jealous of. He would not allow himself to be left behind for long, and if Astoria would not have him—and she had decided she wouldn't long ago—he would surely settle for Pansy eventually. Astoria could not even think of any less disturbing contenders for his future girlfriend: Draco had few friends in general and most of them were male. He was certainly rich and not entirely unpleasant looking, but he had a nasty habit of scowling before speaking that did not recommend him and his willingness to betray all but his closest companions in order to suit his personal causes left him with a social ring made up almost entirely of people who only catered to his snide whims because they hoped to ride on the back of his family's power or wealth.
Astoria blinked, suddenly so sad that she could have nearly cried from it, unsure how she had let her thoughts spin away from her so quickly. Dimly, Draco's actual voice seemed to creep through to Astoria's senses and she realized that she was not paying attention to the conversation at all.
"Mother wanted to leave for Italy yesterday," Draco drawled, "but Father only wanted to be away for the weekend."
Astoria downed her entire glass of whiskey-laced tea with a shudder and forced herself to look at him.
The fact that he was leaving the country soon was somewhat heartening. If Draco was departing for Italy in the morning, he was highly unlikely to spend the night in one of Kitty's spare bedrooms. Astoria could force her anxieties back down into the surprising hell they had somehow escaped from without any further examination.
"I've never been to Italy," muttered Tracey and there was an uncharacteristically bitter edge to her tone.
"Look at you go," leered Luc, leaning over to glance into Astoria's empty teacup.
Ignoring the insinuation that she had drunk the first rather gluttonously, Astoria re-filled her cup again without bothering to add much by way of tea. When she finished it, she judged that it was best to go mingle before she did something unfathomably stupid. Anxious to remain aloof, she made her way toward Tracey, who had shrunk away from the group.
"Look at them!" Tracey hissed victoriously, pointing toward Kitty and Anthony Goldstein. Kitty was stroking his arm and laughing coyly.
Astoria let out a horrified laugh as Kitty stood on her tip-toes, either inviting Anthony to kiss her or prove to him that he was, in fact, taller than she was.
"Theodore's dream," drawled Draco unkindly, coming up behind her.
Astoria startled. Hadn't she just bloody well left him with Luc and Blaise?
"Exactly!" drawled Tracey merrily, shooting Astoria an obvious and conspiratorial look.
"Frankly, considering you invited him, I honestly can't believe he came," Draco continued, all snide delight. He leaned against the door frame that she and Tracey were standing under. Astoria had a feeling that this was supposed to seem casual, but his hands were empty and by coming over to find out what they were talking about, he had effectively abandoned the majority of his companions and the liquor.
"That's why I invited him instead!" trilled Tracey mischievously.
"Out of the goodness of your heart, I suppose?" sneered Draco, his eyes flashing suspiciously back toward Goldstein.
Astoria cleared her throat and shook her head, but Tracey's lips had sunk many a ship before now and she was not afraid to send yet another to its watery grave.
"It was Astoria's idea!" Tracey insisted. "She was right, too. Kitty can't get enough of him!"
"What?" mouthed Draco. His eyes sparkled with disbelief as he put two and two together. "You're joking," he finally breathed.
"I don't know what either of you are talking about," scoffed Astoria, trying very hard not to let Malfoy's expression provoke her into laughing.
"Yes, you do!" Tracey declared impatiently. "You and I both know that the moment Goldstein dumps her, you'll sweep in and hypnotize that silly Patil girl into spending all of her evenings studying with Theodore."
Draco was laughing softly under his breath, perhaps already envisioning the wretched way that Theodore would react if he ever learned about their planned subterfuge.
"Would that really be such a bad thing?" Astoria demanded almost pleadingly, more convinced than ever that her plan held some merit. Clearly Anthony and Kitty enjoyed each other's company.
"It'll never work," insisted Draco scornfully, still undone by malicious laughter. "Nott is a lost cause if ever there was one."
"He is not," insisted Astoria confidently. "As you'll soon see."
"It doesn't count if you do all the work for him," sneered Draco sharply.
"How much work am I really doing, though?" Astoria quirked, smirking irrepressibly. "All I did was bait the hook. I can't make Anthony leave his girlfriend any more than I can make Anthony's soon-to-be ex like Theodore."
"Ug! Yes you can, you're sorcerous like that!" cried Tracey scornfully. "Plausible deniability of the highest order!"
"Something you should think about before you let any more people in on the plot," Astoria reminded her with a laugh. "I didn't invite Anthony here—you did. See if I don't tell Theodore that if he catches wind of us because Draco couldn't resist gossiping."
"Astoria!" squealed Tracey in mock horror. "You wouldn't!"
0o0
Sometime soon after, Luc found an old backgammon board and it became the most popular diversion in the room, helped along by the firewhiskey that lived near it.
Making amendments so that more people than two people could play at once, each side was represented by a team rather than an individual player. Pansy quickly volunteered to play on Draco's team and, because there were only two chairs, she tipped herself straight onto the edge of his lap and proceeded to make a terrible bungle of her chips every time it was her turn to play.
Feeling that it was time to leave, Astoria waited for Tracey to become busy with Blaise. Then she sought out Kitty to wish her a happy birthday and beg off for the evening, making up some haphazard excuse about needing to be home very early in the morning to greet her aunt when she returned from France.
Luc was near the doorway on her way out. Astoria popped open her parasol and smiled at him.
"I'm leaving," she admitted. "Come and use my floo, if you like." She hesitated and then added, "Blaise and Draco both know which house is mine."
The sun was no longer directly overhead as Astoria scaled the hill. Late afternoon sunshine glimmered on the lake in the far distance behind her. Her stroll home was pleasant, however—the first really good weather of the year had arrived and turned the air into bathwater. Astoria's only uncertainty was whether or not she ought to have stayed and suffered through Kitty's party for a little longer. She had probably got out while the getting was good, but there was no one to even eat dinner with at her aunt's house and she was not sure which was worse: boredom or discomfort.
The moment she came into her yard, however, she began to catch snatches of conversation coming from the terrace. Startled, she did not bother going in through front door and cut directly along the lawn instead.
To her joyful surprise, the snippets of talk did not belong to Belladonna or burglars.
"Theo!" she called happily, slipping out of her shoes to walk across the grass with her bare feet.
Theo looked up from his seat at Belladonna's patio table and waved at her. Beside him, Millicent Bulstrode blinked dolefully.
"I forgot you had that birthday party today or I would have come later," he called as Astoria scaled the stone steps to the terrace. "Where's your aunt?"
"Who knows?" Astoria sighed. She slung herself into a seat and dropped her shoes and parasol onto the table nosily. "She's been gone for days. Hello, Millicent."
Millicent had only ever been to Astoria's house once before, and on that occasion it had been to warn her that Theodore's father had had a meltdown. Curiously, she looked just as uncomfortable now as she had then.
"You're holding down the fort?" Theodore asked. "If you'd told me you were alone I would have come by yesterday. Dad finally kicked out the ministry lot, so things have quieted down."
"No matter," said Astoria carelessly, hiding her former desperation behind a grin. "I'd offer you something to eat but Bonky's been impossible to find since my aunt left. You'd almost think that he wanted me to starve."
Theodore laughed and Millicent seemed to relax slightly. The afternoon was fading into a peaceful dusk and Astoria was just on the verge of properly enjoying herself for the first time in days when more voices sounded in the front yard.
"Who is that?" asked Theodore nervously, craning his head to catch a glimpse of the gravel walk. "Is your aunt back?"
"Oh," jolted Astoria guiltily, remembering the offer she had made Luc. She had been enjoying herself so much that she had almost forgotten that she had extended the use of her hearth before leaving the party. Before she could explain any of this, however, Luc and Draco appeared around the side of the house and the sight of Draco's white-blonde head caused a surge of something triumphant to undulate in the pit of her stomach. She had been sure of Luc, but not of Draco and the sight of him filled her with a strange warmth.
Theodore shot Astoria a confused and very hostile look. Millicent stiffened in her chair.
"Katherine didn't want anyone who had been drinking to use her floo," explained Astoria, feeling the need to provide an excuse. "I'm sure they won't stay long."
"Nott," drawled Draco smugly, casually jumping the low stone wall instead taking the trouble of using the stairs. He spared a lazy half glance at Millicent but went no further, knowing Astoria too well to pick on her guests while she was watching.
"You took your parasol!" laughed Luc, coming up the stairs. "Someone needs to tell that MacDougal girl that the Victorian era ended. Cassandra's girly enough and even she was complaining."
Astoria laughed, marveling at what an odd pair Draco and Luc made. There was something liberating about the absence of Maudlin, who always took great care that Astoria should not have fun with any of his friends without him.
"Where does your aunt keep her liquor?" asked Luc, clearly feeling no immediate desire to depart. "I've seen too many frilly centerpieces. Save me."
"It's in the living room," said Draco, answering for Astoria before she could even open her mouth. "I'll go."
Theodore swiveled about in his seat indignantly to watch Draco enter the house.
"Have I met you before?" asked Luc absently, rounding on Theodore, hardly able to miss his click of annoyance.
"Time for me to get home," announced Millicent, standing up and moving toward the door with surprising dignity. "It was nice seeing you, Astoria. Are you coming, Theodore?"
Draco returned with the drinks: he slid one across the table toward Luc, put another next to Astoria's outstretched fingers and claimed the seat that Millicent had just abandoned. He made no move to offer anything to Theodore or to apologize for leaving him out.
"No," said Theodore stiffly, frowning at the drink Draco had left by Astoria's hand. "I think I'll hang around."
Astoria diverted herself from the awkwardness of the moment by tapping her ring against her glass, noticing as she did so that Draco had once again remembered not to pour her any of the wicked tasting scotch that he seemed to favor. Whatever he had made for her was iced, clear and decidedly civil-looking.
Almost certain that Theodore was going to snap grouchilly, he surprised Astoria by propping one leg against the table and doing his best to look relaxed.
"What happened to Blaise?" Astoria asked, watching moths flutter against the darkening sky.
"He stayed," scoffed Luc disbelievingly. "I suppose he'll use the floo there… he keeps his countenance awfully well when he's been drinking, doesn't he?"
"If he doesn't, Cassandra will tear him to pieces in the middle of all of that lace," Draco snorted. His sharp eyes suddenly shifted toward Astoria. "But I suppose he might have Goldstein to keep him company. I thought he seemed keen to stay on, as well."
Astoria froze with her drink at her lips, fighting the urge to glance fearfully at Theodore. Draco held her gaze for a long moment before slouching down in his seat until his knee was barely an inch away from her leg and continued. "Whose idea was it to start calling Katherine MacDougal 'Kitty', anyway? The girl looks so much like a poodle that whoever it was deserves a medal for the irony."
"Cassandra," answered Astoria, feeling that Draco made a fair point, even if it was not a very nice one.
"You know, I think she hates Zabini even more than Alec," declared Luc, seeming oddly cheered by this.
"Cassandra doesn't hate Alec," returned Astoria slyly. "I've sometimes wondered if she doesn't actually fancy about him a bit."
Draco made a weird face and let out a strangled laugh through his mouthful of scotch. The sound was so genuine and bizarrely graceless that Astoria found herself smirking at the side of his face across the table.
"What?" snapped Luc, appalled. "She does not!"
"I mean, she says that she wants someone upstanding," Astoria went on, careful to remain teasing, "but Alec always treats her like the petulant little brat that she really is and I've begun to assume that it does something for her."
Slightly red and absolutely delighted, Draco's eyes danced between Astoria and Luc.
"Sure," snapped Luc irritably. "Makes sense. If she wants a bloke who knows the importance of keeping his cuffs un-buttered and his salmon bloody pocket squares un-spoilt…"
"The Arsonist and the Perfectionist," Astoria quipped, miming the same flicking motion that Alec was famous for making with his lighter.
"Where did he even get that thing?" demanded Draco at once, his face shining. "Do you know?"
"The body of a gypsy he strangled for sport?" Astoria suggested, feeling this was just as likely as any other idea they could have produced.
Even Luc laughed and it suddenly occurred to Astoria how very fun it was to gossip about Maudlin and Alec with people who actually knew them, as she had almost never have the pleasure of doing so before.
"We should go inside," Astoria announced, shivering slightly. "It's cold."
"We have been out here for hours," muttered Theodore gruffly.
"No one is making you sit there and suffer, Nott," snapped Draco.
Astoria turned on the closest hall lamp, so fatigued by the last two nights of restlessness that she felt she could easily enjoy just about any conversation, even one that turned into a fight between Draco and Theodore. Luc had found the bar again and Astoria found herself wondering what would happen if she simply fell asleep in one of the armchairs—or if anyone would even notice. Astoria sunk down onto the couch next to Draco and tucked her feet up under the hem of her dress.
Across from her, Theodore had opened the photo album she'd left on the ground the night before. Astoria watched tensely, but resisted the urge to snatch it away. Theo was too clever to show anyone else what he was looking at.
Luc continued to talk about Katherine's party, but Astoria had met her limit and she found herself staring sleepily at one of the brass buttons on Draco's jacket sleeve, trying to decide if had been sewn there ornamentally or if it could actually be put through a button hole. She had drunk a good deal more than a person who had not slept properly in days ought to, so reached out and began to absently fiddle with it.
Draco's hand went still around his glass but he made no move to stop her from playing with his cuff. A warm drowsiness was beginning to make Astoria's eyes feel heavy. She no longer knew what time it was.
With a sickening head bob, Astoria's snapped her head up, startled by the realization that she had sagged low against the cushions and that nobody had been talking for what felt like ages.
Luc had fallen asleep in his chair, his head lolling sideways against the plush velvet upholstery. Draco meanwhile had switched his glass into the other hand because Astoria had dragged his arm off of his lap toward her knees. He was loosely touching the hem of her dress, trying to understand the feel of the fabric with his thumb...
Wait, what? Astoria's eyes flashed to his face almost apologetically only to find that he was silently half-watching her already with a soft, very funny look on his face.
Astoria struggled upright and her eyes darted toward Theodore, relieved beyond measure to find that he was still flipping through the photo album and had not noticed Astoria's bizarre game of unconscious finger-footsie.
A clock chimed; Astoria counted eleven bells. Theodore yawned and closed the album. "I guess we should get going," said Theodore pointedly. "I want to grab a book I lent Astoria, you can use the floo first Malfoy."
"I'm not going to chug fifty year old scotch," sniffed Draco indignantly, indicating his still half full glass with narrowed eyes. "Run along and grab all the books you like. See if I care."
"Which book did you want?" asked Astoria tiredly, trying to recall if she had actually borrowed anything from Theodore lately or if this was simply his way of making sure that Malfoy left first.
Theo blinked but did not miss more than half of a beat. "It's a biography of Ug the Unclean."
Theodore had lent Astoria that particular book in first year and he hadn't asked for it back even once in the many years that it had been in her possession. "Okay, come on. I think it's on a shelf."
Theodore stood up to follow her. To his immense displeasure, so did Draco. Astoria knew that Theodore wanted her to tell Malfoy to leave, but for the first time ever, after spending the week in a state of lonely ennui, Draco's weird habit of lingering suited Astoria down to the ground. She had no real desire to force him through the living room fireplace. Furthermore, if she was being honest with herself, Astoria knew that Draco was better at indulging irrational whims than Theodore was (when he had a mind to, at least) and she had an idea that Draco would be far less likely to yell at her if he ended up being the last man standing.
Astoria's bedroom light had been on for two days, making it very easy for her to follow the glow of her bedside table up the attic stairs.
"I still don't understand why you don't just sleep in a normal room," scoffed Draco, sitting on the edge of her bed. He nudged a magazine she had been reading out from under the blanket so that he could have a look at it. Astoria glanced past him toward her rumpled pillows, realizing that Bonky had not made her bed in two days. Apparently, with no mistress to force him to take care of her, Bonky was content to let Astoria wallow about messy and unfed...
"Because no one else comes up here," said Astoria absently, searching her shelf. "And there's a fireplace in the storeroom across the hall. I want to leave, my aunt is never the wiser."
"Oh yeah," Draco squinted, evidently contemplating this.
"Here, Theo," said Astoria, locating the long-forgotten and slightly dusty book. "Is this the one?"
Theodore took the biography from her and leaned back against her desk, trying to send some sort of message with his eyes. When Astoria continued to stare at him pleasantly, he gave up the fight.
"Okay," he said, "I'll show you where the floo powder is Malfoy. Astoria looks exhausted."
Loving Theodore for this unnecessary but very kindly-meant ridiculousness, Astoria watched as he crossed the hall and waited for Malfoy to stand up. Theo summoned a small flame but did not toss any powder into the fire until Malfoy shot him a nasty look, drained his drink and moved toward the doorway himself. Theodore was watching her over his shoulder as he disappeared into the flames.
"Has he always done that?" demanded Draco unkindly, still lingering by her doorway. "I can't tell."
"Done what?" asked Astoria warily, still on her knees by the bookshelf.
"Done circles around you like a weird wolf," Draco sneered. "He was practically herding me."
"I didn't notice," Astoria lied, trying not to smirk as she stood up.
"Seriously. All he does is hound you," Draco insisted, inching back into her room again, visibly irritated. "He probably just tells you that he likes Patil so that he can get away with hanging out in your bedroom all the time."
Astoria had just spent two days alone, unable to lure Theodore over for so much as an hour, all the while unsure if the emergency address her aunt had given her would even work. The idea of Draco accusing anyone of 'hounding' her was enough to actually make her feel cross. Picking her pillow up, Astoria climbed onto her bed and pushed the magazine to the floor. "Theodore doesn't plot like that."
"Yes he does," Draco sneered, narrowing his eyes at her, plainly wondering if she could actually be so stupid. "You think he tolerates Bulstrode and reads for fun because he's such a good guy? You're his only friend, you know. Didn't you ever stop to ask yourself why?"
"No," said Astoria coldly, hating this very unjust portrayal of Theodore's character.
She closed her eyes and winced as one of her window shutters creaked mutinously. Letting out a very deep breath, Astoria sagged down onto her comforter and muttered: "Will you sleep with me?"
If Draco had been lingering around and looking for an excuse to stay, he had evidently not expected her to outright offer one. He immediately stopped fidgeting with the corner of her stationary set and turned to look at her sharply.
"If you want," he answered at last, his eyes giving away his poorly concealed eagerness even if his voice was stiff.
"Would your parents notice?" murmured Astoria.
"No," Draco admitted. Astoria could practically feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of her face. "Mother went to bed at six because she's traveling tomorrow. I could tell my father that I stayed with Zabini."
"Stay then," said Astoria quietly.
Draco did not seem to need any more inducement. Astoria dragged her head off the pillow to turn off the light. Feeling through the darkness, she caught hold of Draco's shirt and tugged him toward her. His breathing was slightly uneven but very reassuring; the sound of another human and not a phantom tree scratching at the window. Astoria rolled over and when his hand found her waist to pull her toward him, she did not wriggle away.
This would make Theodore furious, thought Astoria, a little ashamed of the lies she knew that she would undoubtedly tell the next day. Draco went home right after you. No I don't think he was trying to make you leave first. But as long as Draco didn't kiss her, Astoria could still cling to the idea that she had just gone to bed and that was enough to ease her conscience.
Between the smell of Draco's shirt and the delicious idea of safety even in darkness, Astoria was so content that she could have almost purred. The sound of the wind outside became quieter and within moments, she could hear the tiny plunks of a light right starting to pepper the garden two stories below. Below the blankets, Draco wriggled so that that one of her legs rested on top of his and she felt the ghost of his breath against her hair.
"You're the warmest thing in the world," sighed Astoria groggily, thinking of the cold night she had spent on the couch.
Draco stirred and made a weird instinctual sound that got caught in his throat, very well pleased with this.
"Where is your aunt, anyway?" he mumbled.
"I don't know," said Astoria, almost too exhausted to speak.
"She's ridiculous," Draco sneered and it was a moment or two before Astoria realized that he was talking about Belladonna and the fact that she had abandoned Astoria without reason. Torn between wanting to agree and play the martyr and wanting to pinch Draco's relaxed arm for talking about her family, she settled for pushing her face down below her pillow.
"I don't know how she lives here alone," Astoria murmured, compromising somewhere in between. "I've been sleeping with the lights on for two days."
"What good does that do?" scoffed Draco doubtfully—a boy who had never been desperate enough to understand the protective power of a well lit space.
The drizzle outside slowly became a proper, unexpected rain. Astoria's fingers curled against her sheets. Draco pushed his other arm under her pillow and the nook Astoria had wedged herself into became perfect.
"I'd kill anything that tried to hurt you," he mumbled almost fiercely, the words just barely intelligible through her hair.
Astoria's pulse thundered in her ears as she wondered exactly how drunk Draco must actually be. The idea of him saying the same sentence sober struck her as so unlikely that it was almost funny. Sleep threatened to overwhelm her, however, so Astoria finally gave up the fight against it.
0o0
But Astoria, one might ask, wouldn't the nicer bedrooms downstairs have fireplaces actually in them? Yes, they probably would but my thinking is that Belladonna (and most people in general) would be very unlikely to connect their guest bedrooms (or the bedroom of their fifteen year old niece) to the floo network. Because SCANDAL. So really, Astoria's attic storeroom floo-connection is actually something of a loophole that most people her age do not have the luxury of.
Anyway, sorry this took so long to get posted. My computer is still broken (I'm working on it) which made typing this up a twee bit problematic. I'll try to update sooner this week to make up for it.
As always, reviews are the ultimate treat!