Chapter Fifty Four
The Thaw
0o0
Warm all over and feeling particularly prone to violence, Astoria somehow managed to shoot out of her seat before Draco finished sauntering into the fireplace after his father. Everyone and everything seemed to be crashing down on her and Astoria was beginning to feel outside of herself; overcome by resentment and confusion.
"Astoria," remarked Professor Vector helpfully, trying to hand her the lukewarm cup she had left on the table. "You've left your tea."
"Don't touch me," Astoria sneered coldly, long past the point of caring that he was technically her teacher as she twitched away from him.
Belladonna's eyes tracked Astoria as she crossed the room, but for once—rather tellingly—she made no move to chastise Astoria or correct her rudeness. Unchecked, Astoria was able to gain the hallway and turn toward her room.
Blood thundered in her ears as she pounded up the staircase. With each jerky step, Percy's words seemed to haunt her afresh: "Mental!" he had hissed.
This had bothered her at the time, but she was starting to feel that Percy had the make of it. Was he really wrong? Astoria's house was mental and so was everyone in it. What was wrong with the lot of them? Couldn't they see themselves?
At the moment, Astoria could not even say for sure who she hated more: her aunt or her father. At best, it was fight a between lending her support to a shameless fortune hunter or a murderous fiend and Astoria was of half a mind to wish that neither of them even existed.
The moment she had closed her bedroom door behind her however, Astoria knew that silence would not help her. It was far too easy to fall into madness here, alone by herself, and there was still so much that she did not understand. Only one ridiculous thought seemed capable of permeating the swirling storm inside her skull: her aunt had been missing for a week because of knotgrass?
Astoria snorted cruelly and began to take out the earrings she had worn to tea. Ridiculous!
Except that Belladonna's absence had not really been caused by knotgrass. Her aunt had actually spent weeks in a panic because of a murder she had committed—a murder that been forgotten about years ago. So long ago in fact, that Astoria imagined Belladonna had spent many a peaceful evening since then assuming she had gotten away with her crime entirely.
Astoria dropped the earrings into a china bowl on her vanity, bristling uncomfortably. A certain kind of surface reluctance nearly always prevented her from digging too deeply into Belladonna's past and Astoria found herself suddenly confronted with the task of gazing into that particular abyss.
It was not a fun topic to think about, after all. Realistically speaking, Astoria knew that her aunt had murdered a string of husbands over the course of her premature youth. Astoria knew this because evidence made it almost impossible to believe otherwise and because her aunt as much as confirmed the fact with her black sense of humor and her easy—almost daily—dismissal of men in general.
Still, beneath her irrational fear that Belladonna's mentality might be contagious—that the desire to murder for gold might actually lurk inside Astoria, as well—was another, even sharper terror.
Astoria had never truly contemplated what might happen if Belladonna failed, or became taken in by her own game—if her aunt were to be tried in court, perhaps? Or proven guilty and brought to justice? Imprisoned, like the rest of her siblings...
Belladonna was literally so good at doing bad things in the name of selfishness that Astoria had never felt anything other than supreme confidence in her aunt's ability to wriggle her way out of a tight situation.
But this was different. Belladonna herself seemed afraid...and any scheme involving Lucius Malfoy as an adversary would most likely be very hard won. What had she gotten herself into this time? Was this the final straw that would break the camel's back? Was it possible that, even here, in her warm and well lit bedroom, a doom was already upon Astoria's way of life?
Astoria faced herself in the mirror; pale, drawn and hungry due to the fact that she had been too busy to eat since breakfast. If Belladonna went to prison, Astoria's entire world would change.
Where would she even live? With George and her stepmother? Surely there was nothing more depressing than that—and what about the memory of her mother's ancestry? Belladonna was the last remaining link to the disappearing Lestrange family and, loathe as Astoria was to admit it, she was not entirely sure she was ready to let go of that ghost entirely.
The idea that Belladonna probably deserved to be in jail was a concept that Astoria could only think of with satisfaction when there was no real threat of actual imprisonment hanging over their heads. In truth, the idea of her aunt being taken away from her was terrifying; a shattering scenario in which the few scraps of functionality that Astoria still clung to would be ripped away from her.
Despite spending many nights as a young girl thinking abstractly about how much misery her family had likely caused others in order to afford their own comfort, there was no amount of guilt in the world that was powerful enough to make Astoria resign herself to the idea of Belladonna being arrested.
Someday, Astoria would be able to live the kind of life that allowed her to align her actions with her true feelings, but today was not that day. For now, a dreadful peril was too busy squishing all of the morality out of her like a vise for the idea of behaving decently to seem like a valid option.
Astoria slipped out of her formal wear, carefully undoing each button on the back of her dress to avoid doing any damage to the garment when she finally pulled it over her head. Shivering, Astoria swapped her tea-outfit for a more sensible one, forgoing pajamas entirely. Her aunt's idea of loungewear constituted a full face of makeup, after all, and Astoria wanted to be taken seriously.
Belladonna was alone in the living room when Astoria returned to the first floor. A single lamp was lit, illuminating the softly curling fumes of her cigarette. Outside, a full moon was rising against a sorcerously purple sky.
Belladonna looked up when Astoria stopped in the doorway, her expression as exhausted and fearful as Astoria had ever seen it. After a very long pause, Belladonna stirred to life.
"Have you come back to disown me?" she trilled darkly, trying and failing to look amused by the notion.
Astoria shrugged and moved into the room slowly, biding her time in order to think, all the while giving her aunt a wide berth.
"For God's sake," snapped Belladonna, her voice so changed by reckless abandon that Astoria actually jumped. "Do you think I'm going to gobble you up?"
"No," Astoria shot back coldly. "Although Seraphina Zabini thinks you might."
Belladonna's closed her eyes. For a long moment, Astoria was certain she was about to be yelled at. Then, curiously, Belladonna seemed to shudder.
"Does she?" her aunt went on, her voice lacking its trademark aloofness. "And how would you know that?"
"I had breakfast with her," answered Astoria flatly.
Eyes still closed, Belladonna raised a hand to massage her temples and Astoria was a little alarmed to notice that her aunt's fingers were trembling.
"Go to bed," Belladonna ordered quietly, sounding utterly defeated.
This was a very tempting command to obey. It would be so easy to slip back across the foyer and pretend the entire day had never happened. Even as Astoria thought about it, she could almost imagine herself slinking off to her room noiselessly, determined to put her aunt's current predicament out of mind. She would be off to school in the morning...she might not have to think about any of this again for months...
"Would you?" asked Astoria quietly, deciding to try her luck instead.
"Would I what?" snapped Belladonna, her eyes fluttering open again.
"Hurt me," Astoria clarified numbly, calling upon every ounce of inner strength that she possessed in order to stand her ground while her heart pounded away furiously in her chest.
It was a very strange moment. Belladonna gaze burned into her with an Arctic fury but then the fire seemed to go out.
"Don't be ridiculous," Belladonna muttered, her mouth twitching upward in disgust as she put her cigarette out. "You're my family."
"You've called four dead men 'family'," Astoria insisted sharply, her stomach churning sourly. "It's not a ridiculous question."
Belladonna's eyelashes fluttered. It was the first time Astoria could ever remember seeing her aunt look as though she might hate herself. Too late to backpedal, it occurred to Astoria in the form an insightful flash that this was a conversation Belladonna had probably been hoping they would never need to have. Her aunt let out a long, sick breath.
Suddenly terrified, Astoria's eyes twisted toward the wine glass on the coffee table. For a swift second, she wondered if her aunt would let her get away with pouring a glass but her limbs were shaking so much that even trying for this weak distraction seemed dangerous.
"I nearly had a child of my own once, you know," said Belladonna, breaking the world's most painful silence at last. "Years ago—during my first marriage. Have I ever told you that?"
"No," said Astoria, beginning to wish that she had just gone to bed so desperately that the room was starting to blur in the corners of her eyes.
"My mother—your grandmother—was known for her strong opinions," Belladonna ran on, no longer looking at Astoria but past her. "She was always at her firmest when it came to family. She used to caution your mother and I as girls: 'Love is weakness' she would say and, because she hated her own husband, we would believe her. 'If you're smart, you'll never love anyone except your children.'"
Belladonna blinked and reached for her wine. Astoria, who had by now gone numb, continued to remain frozen behind the armchair.
"Of course, I thought she was mad," admitted Belladonna with a bitter scoff. "She always made it sound as though loving one's children wasn't a choice, but I was fairly certain that it was and when the time came, I chose not to become a mother at all."
"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?" Astoria sneered, so uncomfortable with the discussion at hand that nastiness seemed to have become her default setting.
"No," murmured Belladonna. "Of course not. I don't even regret it myself—nothing but the method, perhaps. I was very young then, not such an adept hand at potions..."
Belladonna trailed off to horrific effect, bracing herself against the memories of self-inflected pain. The sun had almost entirely set now and the light from the single lamp was beginning to grow villainous.
"Never poison yourself, Astoria," continued Belladonna darkly. "There are no words to describe the agony."
A part of Astoria was dying to point out that her aunt was, in fact, the only person who had ever dosed Astoria with anything but something about the look on Belladonna's face seemed to warn her that a single childish outburst was all it would take to end the discussion entirely.
"Years later, when I found out that I could no longer have children because of my own foolish tampering, I was still without remorse," Belladonna went on, deepening the intrigue further still. "You were born and I ignored the christening. I never even attempted to meet you."
Astoria's fingers were digging into the back of the chair in front of her. She did not even remember reaching for it in the first place...she had been too busy reeling as he fabric of security was yanked out from underneath her.
"I didn't see the point, frankly," Belladonna sighed heartlessly. "Your mother was being investigated. Your father was nothing short of a blithering idiot. I was already so busy without them. The Ministry had just taken Rabastan away and I knew it was only a matter of time before Rodulphus and Bellatrix followed him to Azkaban—skipping all the way, I'm sure."
"You could have just left me with my father!" Astoria spat resentfully. "Why go to the trouble?"
Astoria had already heard more than she had wanted to know. It was bad enough having George for a father. She didn't need to know about how aggrieved her aunt was to be saddled with her on top of that. This discussion had to stop before she heard something that would haunt her forever...
"I couldn't, though," confessed Belladonna, staring off in the middle distance over Astoria's shoulder as if in a trance. "You were a year old when we first met. You looked nothing like your father—I had never seen a child so small and perfect. My entire family was gone and there you were in front of me: the first and only miracle I've ever experienced."
Astoria did not know what to say to this. The notion was less disturbing than she had been expecting but all the more confusing for it.
"I knew then and there that I wanted you," Belladonna admitted. "More than any man I had ever met or any sum of gold that had been taken from me, I wanted you. In the darkest moments of your wayward, motherless childhood, you have never wanted me more than I wanted you, Astoria."
If the concept of Belladonna being smitten by her first impression of Astoria's babyish cheeks some fifteen years previously had been baffling, it was nothing compared to this.
"You came to me precisely when all was lost," Belladonna mused, "and though you've hated me ever since, I've begun to wonder if there wasn't some greater meaning behind it. I've never been terribly sentimental, but in this case, I believe my mother's advice was sound."
"So you're not going to bash my face in?" Astoria finally managed, too surprised and relived by the turn of the conversation—which indeed, had seemed to threaten total abandonment for a moment—to manage anything more clever.
"No," promised Belladonna thickly, her expression so fiercely earnest that Astoria was left with the sick impression that this oath might be as much to herself as her niece. "At least, not today," she finished witheringly, slumping back in her seat, almost normal again. "In the meantime, it might be nice if you would take a holiday from paranoid suspicion. You're very likely the only child I'll ever have—I'm not about to murder you."
For a long moment, Astoria remained where she was, as unexpectedly touched as she was annoyed by the revelation that her aunt was capable of being maternal since she had clearly made no effort to cultivate the instinct.
Finally, prompted by Belladonna's surprising display of loyalty, Astoria slumped into the armchair, prepared to offer her own.
"You sunk Uncle Blishwick in the lake, then?"
"Parts of him," sneered Belladonna darkly, still resenting her late husband, even in death, for the doddering mess he was capable of creating.
"What do you plan to do about it?" Astoria wondered, trying and failing to see a way forward that did not require placing Lucius Malfoy under the imperius curse.
"It's nothing to do with you, darling," replied Belladonna tiredly. "If it's a fight that Malfoy wants, then he'll have it, but it's hardly a matter to trouble a child with. Don't think on it."
Once again, Astoria reigned herself in, resisting the urge to protest that, at fifteen, the line was rather murky and she could be considered as many parts woman as she was girl.
"Not necessarily," Astoria ventured at last, choosing her words carefully. "No one ever expects me to be a threat because of my age. They don't even think before they speak in front of me. It's entirely possible that I might overhear something useful that would never be said in front of you."
Astoria could tell that Belladonna was far from convinced, but she did at least stop to consider this.
"I mean it," Astoria insisted hotly, eager to make her point seem relevant. "At the Sorority Dinner two days ago, I managed to learn that father has switched mistresses, that the Minister spent the majority of his early twenties living in sin with two women, and that Mr. Rowle is illegally betting a fortune against goblins on the Triwizard Tournament. I was there for less than six hours, auntie, and I wasn't even trying."
"Lucius would never be fool enough to discuss sensitive details with you present," Belladonna decided, drumming the rim of her glass thoughtfully.
"I was thinking of Father," Astoria confessed awkwardly. A guilty knife in her stomach caused her to stop just short of adding: or, frankly, maybe even Lucius's son.
The offer fell out of Astoria's mouth heavily, bleeding a malignant stain into the fabric of their conversation. It was the first time that Astoria had ever offered to assist her aunt in a scheme—but more importantly, it was the first time that Astoria had ever promised to support her aunt to the point of sabotaging father.
"He is a leaky tongue, to be sure," Belladonna finally admitted, bringing her long fingers up to touch her face. "Any spying you might attempt would have to be subtle and even more cunning. Even then, it would be unwise to put too much faith in anything your father says, as it's entirely possible that Malfoy be will crafty enough to deceive him on purpose for that very reason."
"It's better than nothing," muttered Astoria tightly. "I don't suppose you've forgotten that Mr. Malfoy has an entire legal team at his disposal and you don't? What are the odds you'll outmatch him on your own? He's a giant. You can't just shove him out of your way."
Belladonna's nostrils flared but she did not dispute this. Instead, she got up from her seat and moved toward the bar.
"I haven't survived this long by going about pushing giants," Belladonna replied whimsically, clearly savoring the metaphor she was about to unleash as she returned to the couch with two glasses, one of which she placed in front of Astoria. "The trick is to trip them, darling. If you can do that correctly, even the tallest of titans can be brought down by a molehill."
"You want to trip Mr. Malfoy?" Astoria repeated dubiously. "That is your master plan?"
"Ashes, ashes..." Belladonna smiled coldly, raising her glass aloft. "They all fall down."
0o0
The train station was surprisingly quiet as Astoria fought her way across the platform the next morning. It was a pale day, hot and uncommitted to either rain or shine. The white orb of the sun created a heavy halo behind the layers of clouds over her head and the ground itself did not seem to know whether it was really dry.
By comparison, the train cars were dark and cool after the close, oppressive atmosphere of the outside word. Blinking to reclaim her vision in the gloom, Astoria stashed her trunk and began to wander the half empty aisles.
Several of the windows had been thrust open to the quickening air and as the Hogwarts express picked up speed, small puffs of warm breeze reached out to flirt with the hem of her skirt as she walked. The smell of brown earth and living greenery was intoxicating, assaulting her senses like a draft of love potion.
The countryside sped past in patches, its fens and forests now cleared of snow, appearing almost tantalizingly fertile and accessible for the first time in months. Resigned to the idea of spending the day in a tin compartment and almost certain that Theodore was hiding from her anyway, Astoria was just about to settle down by herself when Tracey called her name.
After a very long night with her aunt, Astoria was almost sad to sacrifice a morning of watching the landscape slip past in silence. Tracey was not the type to be easily ignored, however, so Astoria governed her feet toward the long, open train car that her friend's voice had come from, trying not to allow the first hopeful and contented mood that she had experienced in weeks to slip away from her.
This particular train car had not been separated into compartments and was instead made up of one long, common area; curiously bright and rather noisy. Tracey was hanging over the end of one of the tables near the windows, pointing and gesticulating at Astoria excitedly. Beside her, Astoria was immediately grieved to find Blaise Zabini but it was the presence of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle that turned her off the most.
Even from behind, the sight of Draco's sleek, blonde head was cause for minor alarm. Over the course of a brief holiday, Astoria had managed to secretly snog him, drag him directly into the middle of an almost staged family farce involving murderous coverups, and then capped the whole thing all off by spending several hours in her aunt's company actively plotting his father's defeat. Having to sit next to him for an entire train journey was almost too much for Astoria's nerves to bear.
Like so many things lately, however, running away did not seem to be a socially acceptable option and as a result, Astoria found herself continuing toward Tracey's table without breaking her stride.
"Greengrass," allowed Blaise, who was sitting directly against the window and blocking the majority of the sweet air that was managing to slip through.
"Astoria!" squealed Tracey, almost beside herself. "We've just found out! The Third Task is a maze!"
"Yeah?" asked Astoria, intentionally sitting down next to Tracey, as this seemed to be the only option that did not make her feel light-headed. "How do you know? I thought they never announced the Tasks beforehand."
"Blaise's mother knows someone—a botanist?" Tracey broke off to glance at Blaise, seeking reassurance.
"Her gardener," Blaise clarified disinterestedly. "The man hasn't touched mother's greenhouses in weeks and he wouldn't tell her why. Mother had to threaten him with a sacking before he finally squealed. Apparently the Ministry is growing a maze on the school grounds and they've been calling in all the help they can find to manage it."
"Can you imagine the look on the poor sap's face when the Ministry came for him?" drawled Draco, sitting up straight in order to do a cruel impression of an excitable old man. "My country needs me!"
This was not particularly funny but almost everyone laughed anyway and Draco sagged back down again, gratified by Crabbe and Goyle's guffaws.
Astoria found herself peering covertly at Draco out of the corner of her eye. Nothing about this joke struck her as especially witty but her body had responded to it anyway with a weird, jazzy lurch behind her belly button.
It was very close to the same emotion she had experienced while laying in bed with Tracey; the queer brightness of of a secret rising up out of the darkness inside of her in order to glitter behind her eyes.
'See?' her mind seemed to insist, using Draco's newest unkindness as proof of what it had been insisting all along. 'He's a prat...nothing good can come of making out with him in dark rooms. If anyone knew, you'd be so embarrassed you'd have to leave the country.'
But even this rational thinking did not seem to be able to keep Astoria from feeling almost enjoyably giddy over the deception. The last time she had seen Draco, all hell had been breaking loose. Looking at him now, in such a familiar setting while the first heat of summer caressed her skin like a drunken promise stirred up a new type of awareness.
Hiding from the part of her mind that was responsible for governing good judgement, Astoria allowed herself to toy with the idea of how it would feel to kiss him again.
The thought alone seemed to grant life to the vague, fluttering movement in her chest, transforming it into something more closely resembling a creature—something foxlike and restless that curled and uncurled itself, mewing.
Pushing Draco down onto a secluded patch of lawn was quite possibly the worst idea Astoria had ever had, but now that it had been thought, its allure was almost undeniable. It was quite nearly the best game she had ever thought up; even more capable of provoking reckless joy than betting a frightening fortune against goblins.
Then, just as quickly as the notion had set upon her, the bubble popped.
Astoria's dad worked for Draco's father now, for God's sake and Lucius himself was actively campaigning to have Belladonna arrested. Then there was Draco, who spent the bulk of his free time slinging racial slurs at first years who had only committed the crime of looking at him the wrong way.
Still, the powerful surge of secrecy mixed with need that had just shot though her could not be entirely ignored. Suddenly seized by the irony of having spent years repressing the idea that Draco was privately desperate to have in a go at her only to realize that there was a part of her that might be inclined savor the idea, Astoria found herself choking on a hollow and disturbed cackle.
This laugh, far too late for any punchline and half made up of a dizzy gagging motion, was enough to make everyone's head turn. Blaise raised an eyebrow but Draco, perhaps used to Crabbe and Goyle's slow reaction time, seemed to assume this was a belated response to his own joke and he shifted smugly.
Merlin.
"Your mother is so gorgeous, Blaise," Tracey went on. "Every time I see her I forget how to talk. I can't even picture her threatening to sack someone."
"You can't?" scoffed Astoria distractedly, pinching the bridge of her nose to stop the overflow of wild laughter that was threatening to rip free of her throat at any moment.
Blaise's eyes flashed but he responded smoothly: "She seemed pretty taken with you, Astoria. What did she call you—a proper English rose? She hardly ever thinks anybody is good looking, you know."
"When were you with Blaise's mother?" asked Draco quickly, unable to conceal how much the idea irritated him.
"We ran into her at tea," explained Astoria, still trying very hard hard to control her emotions.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say it almost seemed like she wanted a minute alone with you and Madame Flint," remarked Blaise offhandedly, his eyes sharp and nosy. "I keep trying to imagine how that conversation must have went."
Astoria made a weird hacking sound, the ungovernable laughter that had nothing to do with Mrs. Flint slipping out between her fingertips again.
"Astoria—what?" laughed Tracey haltingly, confused by the outburst.
"Nothing," Astoria gasped, wiping away tears of mingled disgust and mirth. "A joke..."
0o0
Theodore did not come out of hiding until the next morning when classes recommenced.
A pale blue sky was blazing in the vaulted ceiling overhead when Astoria looked up and saw him enter the hall. Seated at the end of the Slytherin table in a wildly optimistic bid to tempt him into sitting with her, Astoria folded up her newspaper and waited to see where the shoe would drop.
To her moderate but delighted surprise, Theodore made a direct beeline for her. Safely in his seat, Theodore snatched up the back of Astoria's Daily Prophet and buried his nose in it intently.
"Morning," he muttered across the advice column, suspiciously fascinated by a passage dedicated to meddling in-laws. "Nice day out, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Astoria replied dubiously, taken aback but more than willing to start afresh if he was.
"Yup," Theodore breathed, clicking his teeth tensely. "Sixty twooo degrees."
Astoria's eyes shifted away from Theodore's ever-pale face and became arrested by his sweater. It was one of the annual cashmeres that Astoria purchased for Theodore at Christmas time (last year's, if she remembered correctly) and she could still see the crease from where it had been folded up in its box running down the length of Theodore's arm.
"Yup," said Theodore again, making the same weird snapping sound as he ground his teeth together.
"Ok, no," Astoria sighed, unnerved. "I cant do this."
"What do you mean?" demanded Theodore guilty, tightening the wall of newspaper that separated them.
"I thought you were mad at me!" Astoria insisted, leaning closer. "We had a giant fight and the you didn't speak to me for four days!"
"It wasn't as bad as that," insisted Theodore evasively, his eyes fixed on the doors to the entrance hall.
"Theo, you didn't have to wear one of the Christmas sweaters," Astoria muttered awkwardly, frightened by the lengths he had taken to make good. "I don't care how you dress."
"What?" snorted Theo, tearing his eyes away from the exit to stare at her.
Astoria blinked, thoroughly confused. At that exact moment however, Padma and her friend Lisa Turpin appeared, skirting their way along the edge of the hall. Theodore froze, clutching the paper so stiffly that his knuckles turned white.
"Oh," breathed Astoria, comprehending the situation at last. It was not Astoria that Theodore had worn the sweater for, but Padma Patil.
"Shut it!" Theodore growled, dropping the newspaper. "Not everything is about you, you know! You've got an ego is the size of Maxime's—"
He broke off again to allow Moody to clunk by, fuming.
"Theo!" Astoria trilled excitedly, cheerfully ignoring the implied suggestion that she was a narcissist. "Have you made plans with Padma?"
"No," scoffed Theodore at once, turning slightly red, giving every outward appearance of being faintly nauseated by the suggestion.
"You got on with her at Cassandra's party," Astoria pointed out, repressing a smirk. "I saw you with her at the end of the night."
"Yeah," Theo admitted sneeringly, "as well as two people can when one of them is actively weeping about their ex. You know, I think you've had Goldstein's number all this time? He seems like a real arrogant prick to me."
"Singing my tune, are you?" Astoria quirked dryly, unfolding a napkin and reaching for the fruit.
"Did you know that he cheated on her?" Theo went on tremulously, choking on outrage.
"Oh yeah?" remarked Astoria offhandedly, knowing this fact all too well and concealing a wince when a fist of guilt gave her stomach a squeeze.
"Yeah," Theo rattled on, completely missing Astoria's lack of encouragement. "He's dating that vapid cow from your sorority now. Katherine Macdougal, is it?"
"Mhmm," Astoria confirmed vaguely, looking to switch topics. "His loss is your potential gain, I say. You should ask her out now."
Theodore snorted, wildly flustered by the suggestion.
"She finally knows your name," Astoria pointed out gently. "Why not give it a try?"
"Because if she turns me down I'll have to drown myself?" Theodore jeered violently.
"Just ask her to do schoolwork with you," Astoria pressed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Wouldn't you like to at least be friends with her?"
"Why would she ever want to do anything with me?" burst Theodore hatefully. "At best, I'll just remind her of the time her boyfriend dumped her, wont I?"
Sensing that they had reached the point in the argument where Theodore would become sulky, Astoria turned back to her breakfast and pursed her lips.
She did not agree with him one bit about this. In her not unlimited experience with the scorned, wronged or emotionally vulnerable, she had noticed that women frequently had a tendency to cling to reassuring male friendships in the way that mothers clung to their children during floods.
If Theodore could only pluck up the courage to actually talk to Padma, Astoria had an idea that there had never been a better window of opportunity for him to meaningfully insert himself into her life.
Afraid of coming across as crass or opportunistic at Padma's expense, however, Astoria held her tongue. She had already learned her lesson about meddling in Theodore's emotional affairs and she was not eager to repeat the experience again any time soon.
0o0
On the bright side, Padma's break-up was exactly the ice breaker that Astoria and Theodore had needed. After Herbology, Astoria found him waiting for her at the top of the hill and they set of for Care of Magical Creatures together, chatting as though nothing had ever been amiss.
"Merlin it's bright out," Theodore complained, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes against the high noon sun.
"It's glorious," Astoria sighed, wanting more than anything to sink down onto the finally green lawn and press her face into the earth before any of Hagrid's monster's could singe her eyelashes off.
Sweating profusely in his nice sweater, Theodore tugged on his book bag and scowled.
Hagrid was waiting outside his cabin with several open crates at his feet. Dreading the idea of raising another generation of Skrewts, Astoria allowed herself to be jostled toward the back in the crowd.
"What's this?" demanded Tracey hotly, stopping short at the bottom of the slope. "If there are more mutants in those boxes, I swear to God, I'm doing a runner. I don't care what kind of letters Snape sends home about it!"
"They're Nifflers!" declared Hagrid proudly. "Treasure hunters, they are. Yeh'll find 'em down mine shafts and the like mostly. They're attracted to sparkly stuff..."
Pansy let out a horrific shriek as an animal very closely resembling a furry pig sprung up from one of the boxes and attempted to snatch the watch off her wrist.
"There yeh go! See?" cried Hagrid.
"Well, I'm staying," ventured Astoria smugly, cheered by the sight of Pansy's flailing limbs and terror-struck expression.
Hagrid had dug up and tilled a wide patch of earth by hand for this particular lesson, scattering false gold into the hole like shimmering earthworms. At his instruction, each member of the class shuffled forward to select a Niffler and then set it loose in the dirt.
"I've got a prize fer whoever picks the niffler that digs up the most!" Hagrid called out over the crunch and spray of soil.
It was easily the most fun Astoria had ever had in Care of Magical Creatures class. She took to the game at once, elated by every coin that her niffler retrieved and brought back to her, never mind the mess it made in her lap.
"So I was thinking," said Tracey, crouching low beside Astoria, who promptly let out a squeal of delight that border-lined alarm as her niffler burst back the surface of the rocky pool. "I want to have a look at the secret maze."
"Maze?" asked Astoria distractedly, counting her coins. "What maze?"
"The one they're building for the Third Task," said Tracey, lowering her voice further still.
"Oh!" Astoria exclaimed, keeping a watchful eye on Ron Weasley's slightly larger pile of galleons. "How would we find it? Do you know where it is?"
"It would have to be somewhere big wouldn't it?" whispered Tracey conspiratorially. "Someplace on the grounds?"
"Like the plot of woods where they held the First Task?" Astoria wondered, trying to guess what sort of prize Hagrid might have bought and whether it was actually worth winning. What if it turned out to be a wood engraving of Skrewt?
"Isn't it obvious?" drawled Draco, who had been eavesdropping unnoticed, hidden in plain sight by the commotion the nifflers were causing. Astoria's false gold clattered in her startled fingers as she jumped.
"Not really," scoffed Tracey primly, unaffected by Draco's sly arrival. "The location is supposed to be well hidden, isn't it?"
"Sure," Malfoy jeered, "only it isn't that hard to piece together, is it?"
"The Tasks are top secret," Tracey argued fruitlessly. "Of course it'll be hard to find—"
"Do you know where it is?" asked Astoria directly, cutting Tracey off before she could tempt Draco into making them both work for the information.
"The quidditch pitch," scoffed Draco, twitching his shoulders up into a lazy shrug that did not quite match his eyes. "No one has been using it all year."
0o0
It took several hours for Tracey start believing what Astoria had accepted almost immediately: Malfoy was likely quite right. The quidditch pitch (already capable of seating hundreds of people) was the perfect place for an event and it had been deserted for months. Who knew what kind of wonders might have been cultivated there by Ministry workers and borrowed personal gardeners since the fall?
Thinking back on the mysterious maze-like hedges that had sprung up along the edges of the garden at the Yule Ball, Astoria had never been so convinced by a guess in her life.
Unfortunately, however, Draco was the one who had put the pieces of the puzzle together first and this seemed to give him enough of a reason to involve himself in Astoria's and Tracey's plans. All throughout Arithmancy, he continued to interject.
"We should sneak down after dinner," said Tracey, checking the grade of the homework assignment she had just been handed back.
Astoria averted her eyes from Vector's face as he handed over her own set of equations. Astoria's homework for this topic was always rubbish after all, and the image of Vector responding to Belladonna's summons at the snap of a finger was not one she wished to relive.
"Sure, if you want to run right into security," sneered Draco once Vector had finished with them and continued on down the table. "What a stupid plan. There's a view of the pitch from the cliff near the owlery—that's probably the best place to have a look."
"The best place to have a look at what?" interjected Theodore warily.
"The Maze that the school is using for the Third Task!" hissed Tracey intolerantly. "Keep up!"
"I don't want to keep up," Theodore scowled.
"Do you think we should we wait until dark, Astoria?" pressed Tracey, ignoring Theo entirely. "Or do you think it would be better to head down after dinner?"
"I probably shouldn't go at all," mused Astoria crankily, holding up her essay, onto which a large black 'D' had been printed in Vectors thin hand. "Finals are in less than a month. I'm going to fail for sure this year."
"Yeah right," drawled Malfoy carelessly. "Not in this century, Greengrass."
Knowing that Draco was undoubtedly thinking of Vector's new role as her aunt's loyal servant, Astoria shot him a hard, threatening look.
All things aside, however, Astoria was anxious to see if the maze truly existed with her own eyes. It was where the last Task would take place—and where Astoria's final bet with the Goblins would be won or lost. Surely having a look was the smartest thing to do?
"After dinner," Astoria decided. "The teachers will be angrier if they catch us down there after dark. We'll shoot for sunset."
0o0
The sky was a brilliant, tropical orange when Astoria and Tracey exited the castle after dinner. Everything, from the sprawling lawn to the far off forest, was the inky color of emerald velvet in shadow; the air as warm as a bathtub even in semi-darkness.
Delighted to be outside without a cloak on, Astoria linked her arm through Tracey's and willingly came to a halt at the edge of the courtyard to 'wait for the rest'.
Assuming that 'the rest' must mean Draco and perhaps Blaise, Astoria was a little surprised by the crowd that soon appeared. Apparently unable to keep his mouth shut about their scheme, Malfoy turned up moments later with Maudlin, Luc, Alec and Blaise Zabini.
"Ria!" Maudlin yelled, beside himself at the sight of her.
"Never move to Britain!" Astoria called back, observing the lively tan he had managed to reclaim in just under two weeks at home. "The climate works against you!"
"Don't let me forget, I've got a package for you from my father," continued Maudlin.
Alec, pale and crooked as he ever was, came to a slouching stop and produced a sleek, rather villainous looking cigar from one of his pockets. He lit it with his gold zippo and stood, observing the humming hills, exhaling contentedly.
Draco quickly chose the direction and (with a little unnecessary help from Maudlin), they followed his lead out around the west tower.
Half tempted to kick off her shoes, Astoria picked her way across the grass behind them, satisfied to remain silent.
"We're going the wrong way," Maudlin insisted for perhaps the eighth time as they began the ascent up the slope that would bring them closer to the owlery. "Isn't your pitch on the other side of the castle?"
The moment they reached a recognizable path however, Astoria was able to reorient herself and she began to understand what Draco was getting at.
From where they were standing on the dirt track that looped up toward the tower, Astoria could see nothing but sky. But if they were to continue upward and out onto the rocky shelf, it would most certainly put them within pointing distance of the quidditch field.
"This way," said Astoria confidently, pushing past Maudlin and choosing the thickest cropping of rock she could find.
A moment later, huffing and puffing, they had all filed out onto the edge of what could only be described as a cliff and even Maudlin fell silent.
Below them, sprawling into the middle distance—much larger and wider than a standard-size quidditch pitch had ever been—was a giant maze, wreathed in mist. Everything, from its thick, sinewy hedgerows to the dark gaping mouths of its pathways was enough send shivers down Astoria's spine.
Not only was it ominous, it was massive. Harry Potter would be the size of an ant in a field as he worked his way through it...
"Oh shit," swore Luc.
Privately agreeing with this summation, Astoria leaned back against the castle wall. The new-summer heat had vanished. She was cold again.
"Someone is moving down there," said Alec calmly, still puffing on his cigar.
Astoria turned to look. It was true. At the far edge of the maze stood several people of different heights, all in a cluster together. Even from a very great distance, Astoria could make out the corn-silk shine of Fleur Delacour's hair.
"That's Bagman and the champions!" laughed Tracey. "God, this Task is going to be excellent."
Astoria wished she could share Tracey's enthusiasm. Still, if Harry knew what was coming, he would surely be able to train for the event appropriately? It wouldn't be like last time...Astoria wouldn't have to convince Dobby to help her save Harry from himself.
"That's not what I was talking about," corrected Alec, gesturing with his free hand. "Look over there."
Astoria followed his finger curiously. At first, she couldn't make out what he was talking about, but then...
"What is that?" Draco sneered, disturbed by a scuttling, furtive motion near the west side of the maze.
Alec shrugged but Astoria stood up on her tiptoes, almost certain that she had just seen a very familiar flash of dark velvet. Goblins, she decided, unsurprised by this trickery but annoyed just the same.
"We should get out of here," muttered Maudlin after a long silence, looking as unnerved as Draco did. "I don't like to think what will happen if we're caught spying. We look suspicious and I bet Delacour can see us here."
They all moved back toward the slope in wordless agreement. It was a much sharper journey going down than it had been going up. By the time they had reached the bottom where the path ran, Astoria had bruised her hands by grabbing at rocks to keep from sliding.
Nearly all of the light from the sunset had disappeared, either blocked by the hill or else fading at the source. A darkening night was softly unfolding and the sound of crickets chirping in the far off trees grew steadily louder.
Luc let out a soft, whooping sound and ran forward to kick at a stick. Astoria knew at once how he felt. Now that the maze was no longer in sight, there was something faintly mystical and invigorating about the blue air and she almost wanted to charge out into it herself.
Their group grew looser. Maudlin had joined Luc and was punting the same stick further and further down the lawn for them both to chase. Blaise was trying to impress Alec with his knowledge of Cuban cigars; a conversation that Tracey was clinging to every word of. Draco was... Astoria paused next to a lilac tree that had been planted in the shade of the castle, suddenly aware that she had no idea what had happened to Malfoy.
"That was an awfully short person spying on the maze," drawled Draco, and Astoria understood that he had drifted away from Maudlin and come up behind her. "One of your friends?"
Astoria put her hand on one of the lilac branches, reaching for the fuller blooms that seemed to be growing near the top.
"Probably," she confirmed with a smirk, toying with the idea that the best and most hilarious way to keep a secret was to tell it and then pretend to be joking. "Ragnuk is a filthy cheater of course, and from what I hear, Hodrod is no better."
"What's a Ragnuk?" sneered Draco, edging under the branch that Astoria was pulling on.
"Goblin king," said Astoria nonchalantly, resisting the urge to laugh when she caught a glimpse of Draco's disbelieving face.
Tracey let out a wild shriek of laughter on the lawn and Astoria's desire to laugh quickly turned into an even stronger urge to roll her eyes.
"Does he even like her at all?" Astoria wondered, giving voice to a question that had been bothering her for some time.
"Who?" asked Draco, following her gaze toward the green. "Zabini? Probably not. If he liked her, he'd have had her by now. Davis is three drinks and a sly look away from crawling into his dorm bed to wait for him on the best of days."
Astoria bit her lip in response to this brutal sizing-up, torn between annoyance and a queer desire to groan at its truthfulness.
"You should tell him to stop messing with her, then," Astoria suggested tightly, finally getting her hand on a flower that was in full bloom. "It's kind of sick if you think about it."
"Why?" Draco sneered. "It's her own fault."
Draco was standing so close that the smell of his shirt was nearly as tangible as the fabric it was made up of.
"Please?" Astoria sang, her voice dropping low and becoming dangerously teasing even to her own ears. "I'd love you for it, you know."
Surely Draco knew that she was messing with him, but this alone did not seem to be enough to prevent Astoria's words from having an effect.
"Yeah?" scoffed Draco quietly, his expression shooting for ambivalent and missing its mark by about a mile.
"Why not?" continued Astoria recklessly, unsure why her energy always seemed to take such a turn toward goading. "Zabini's always talking badly about you when you're not around. You may as well pay it back to him."
"You really want me to tell your best friend's walking obsession to stop talking to her?" drawled Draco softly, instinctively thrilling to the idea even if it was foolish. "If Davis found out, she'd kill you."
"She'd only find out if you told her," Astoria returned easily, "and I wouldn't love you for that—I'd probably skin you."
"You've got a real thing for meddling with the private business of really boring people," Draco observed a little disdainfully, somehow overlooking the fact that she had just threatened to fillet him.
"They're not boring," murmured Astoria firmly, pulling the green leaves off the stem of her lilac bloom. "I have my aunt to thank for the meddling trait, though. The older I get, the more I think that she's given me a complex."
"Try siding with your father, then," insisted Draco pushily, oddly motived to peruse this topic.
"What?" scoffed Astoria. Then, realizing that she had put her foot in it, she darkened. "Oh. Help him have my aunt potentially arrested, you mean? Why would I ever do that?"
"Because it's smarter," insisted Draco cockily, drawing himself up somewhat. "Your dad works for my father now, so that's the sort of team you'd be on. I don't suppose I even have to tell you what that counts for? It's not all about him, anyway—choosing his side is the best way for you to come out on top."
On top and firmly in your pocket, Astoria added inside her head, hating the idea at once.
Deep down though, Astoria knew that allowing Draco to believe she was indifferent to Belladonna's mad plan probably was the smartest way to handle this. It would certainly be easier for Draco to think that Astoria was unlikely to offer any secret opposition against his father. Not to mention it considerably raised the odds that he would unwittingly slip up and tell her something that she ought not to know.
Still, Astoria couldn't quite bring herself to do it. It was only an act, but it was a repugnant one and she was not certain she had it in her to pretend convincingly.
"I'm staying out of it," Astoria insisted coldly.
"I'm serious, Astoria," snapped Draco, looking as though he was fighting very hard to avoid sneering. "Your aunt isn't going to win," he cautioned, narrowing his eyes in the direction of her face. "You can't actually think she's going to force my father into funding a Gypsy reservation, can you? Even the Minister can't stand that lousy lot, and he pretends to tolerate muggles."
Even with so many other things to focus on, Astoria could not help but feel that this was an interesting choice of words to describe Fudge, who always came across as rather fatherly and harmless in mixed society. Pretends to tolerate muggles. Well, wasn't that telling?
"I don't care," said Astoria bitterly, wanting to drop the topic entirely. "I—"
Astoria broke off, distracted by something moving in the distance over Draco's shoulder. They had been standing under the tree for several long minutes now and Astoria was surprised by how dark the lawn had become without her noticing. The mist that had been hovering over the maze at sunset appeared to have moved inward, curling across the sloping grass like grasping fingertips. Maudlin and Alec were still in sight, but they had kicked the branch so far that they had very nearly left Astoria and Draco behind. Meanwhile, nearer at hand, Astoria was certain that she had just seen something move in the nearest outcropping of forest.
"What?" demanded Draco almost hostilely, clearly disturbed by the notion that someone might have been watching them.
"Over there," Astoria breathed, inclining her body in the direction of the bushes she had seen shudder.
"Let's go," Draco muttered, perhaps thinking of the goblin he had seen on the quidditch pitch as his hand inched toward the wand in his pocket.
"Don't!" Astoria hissed with a lurch of dread, recognizing the shape at last, her own arm flashing out to stop Draco in his tracks. "It's Moody."
Sure enough, seconds after Astoria had made this terrible pronouncement, Moody's lurching figure appeared through the gloom, skirting the edge of the woods and moving very quickly in their direction.
Either because he was very afraid of being caught out of bed after hours or—more likely—because Moody had once tortured him with a bit of fancy Transfiguration, Draco immediately began to push toward the tree.
"It doesn't matter!" Astoria whispered sharply, painfully aware of the fact that Moody could see through solid objects. "His eye. Be still!"
Draco froze and suddenly the only sound Astoria could hear was his shallow breathing. Moody drew closer, hobbling along on his false leg, looking very much the part of a crypt keeper in the gloomy mist. Astoria closed her eyes as he became level with them and counted to ten. When she opened them, he had already passed by, his head down low, as though reading something inside his cloak.
"What is he doing out here?" sneered Draco suspiciously, reclaiming his confidence only after Moody was long past their stretch of castle wall.
"Dunno," Astoria breathed, a little chilled. "Checking for intruders or some other mad business, I expect."
This made a certain amount of sense, but it could not entirely undo the creepy way he had been walking or the fact that he had continued straight past them without looking.
"So much for constant vigilance," drawled Draco gleefully.
"Yeah," Astoria muttered, throughly unnerved. "Let's catch up with the others."
0o0
Ug, late again. To be fair, it's very possible that I wasn't factoring in holiday parties or wine-fueled family board-game competitions when I made the original schedule for this post. I really thought I would have it finished and tightened up sooner. Sorry, guys.
In any case, if anyone is wondering what in the sly hell Moody is up to, this chapter happens to run parallel to canon-time on the night that Barty Crouch Sr. breaks into the grounds. So essentially, he too is preoccupied by murder.
The next chapter should bring the plot up to (at least the start of and hopefully the finish of) the Third Task, which is where things are really going to go off the wall, because Voldemort. So, there should be that to look forward to.
Until then, reviews are the ultimate treat!