Chapter 17) Anastasia's Bargain

Selected Listening: U.F.O- Coldplay

Anastasia left the headmaster's suite in a huff and strode down the corridor, fear and sadness still coloring her expression. It was evening, before dinner. She had skipped an entire day of school for that dreadful trial. The Gryffindors would be at quidditch practice. Her other friends, in the common room or library. She decided she needed to vent to Minerva and walked up the stairs to reach the third-floor classrooms.

Draco Malfoy rounded the corner in front of her, Crabbe and Goyle on each side, walking down to the dungeons. When he saw her, he smirked, waving his lackeys onward. The two burly boys gave each other confused looks but walked on. Draco stopped only a foot in front of her on the stairs.

"There you are! How'd it—" he froze when he saw the murder in her gaze. "Did it not go well?"

Anastasia felt her neck warm under her collar in a flash of rage.

"Wouldn't you like to know? Your father initiated it! He paid for the prosecution!" she shouted. Draco's wide-eyed shock turned into a wary frown as he stumbled over his words.

"Anastasia, I-I'm so sorry…I…I can talk to him, maybe…" But it seemed even the thought of having to talk his father out of something shook him to his core. Anastasia continued.

"It's too late! I've been ordered to spend the whole Christmas break with the Cambridges. I hate those people! They don't even know the truth—" she gestured widely. He grabbed her hands and held them still in front of her.

"I didn't know," Draco implored, his eyes boring into hers, "If I had, I would have warned you."

Stomach flipping, she ripped her hands away and backed off to the side wall. Draco didn't have to do anything with the trial. Still, she couldn't help but feel the burning rage within her and despise how her heart fluttered when he touched her.

"You're so stupid!" she yelled at him. It wasn't a clever insult. It was already out of her mouth, and she couldn't take it back.

"What?" he asked, backing up a step so he was now hovering over her. "Stasia—"

"Of course, your father funded it, he hates everything about me!" she paused, but Draco only winced, not denying it. "Oh, and by the way, your parents are getting divorced. He filed the papers after our trial!" she pushed his shoulder harshly, tipping him off balance. He caught the siderail and stared up at her as she left.

"W-what? You're joking…I thought they called it off…you don't mean that…" Draco stuttered, looking around as if for an exit to this segment of his life. Anastasia felt guilty instantly…she shouldn't have been the one to tell him, but she wanted revenge for what Lucius Malfoy had done.

"I meant what I said," she shot and left him standing there.

Anastasia ran down to Minerva's classroom, moved swiftly between the desks, and reached the back door to her apartment, knocking swiftly.

The door opened. Anastasia collided with her.

"Dear heavens—"

"Minnie-" she sobbed. The professor pulled her inside and shut the door.

"Surely they didn't revoke custody?" she asked in a rush, bringing Anastasia over to sit in the armchair. Minerva sat on the arm of the plush upholstery and drew one arm around the girl's shoulders. Anastasia shook her head and explained the verdict.

"I don't understand," Anastasia continued, "it was like grandad wasn't even trying. I had to swallow the Mandrake leaf to defend him. I don't know what he was thinking! Does he not want me anymore?" She hid her face in Minerva's sleeve. The smell of orange and ginger tea instantly calmed her.

Minerva pulled Anastasia against her side and rubbed her shoulder.

"Albus has always adored you…when we found you at the castle gates, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Not for weeks. He would never consider giving you up…"

They stared out the window, the first snow fell rapidly outside, piling up on the sills and turrets.

"But this year has been hard for the both of you. By revealing your identity, he laid all his cards out on the table, and he has always been a private person. Seeing all these news articles disparaging him…whether they're telling the truth or not…he's begun to believe he doesn't deserve you. I'm sure, having his brother there at the trial didn't help either."

"Wait…" Anastasia said, "…Uncle Aberforth wasn't at the trial. Was he supposed to be?"

Minerva lifted a curious eyebrow.

"He was called as a witness," Minerva said, "So was I, but I filed an exception because someone had to run the school. Did Aberforth not turn up?" she asked with a perched eyebrow. Anastasia shook her head.

"Well," Minerva drifted off, "it might have been for the best."

Anastasia was too upset to ask what she meant by that.

Later, in the common room, Hermione asked her what was wrong. She couldn't help breaking down again as she explained. Hermione hugged her, while Ron and Harry offered their condolences. They spent the rest of the evening playing exploding snap and eating the last bit of sweets from their Honeydukes stores. Besides, their last Hogsmeade trip of the term would be the Saturday after next.

The next day, Anastasia didn't look at Draco. She avoided eye contact completely, feeling horrible about what she said and how it happened. She completed her assignments as asked. No smiles. No people-pleasing. Only presence. When teachers asked her questions, she looked up with a narrow-eyed glare. They didn't bother asking her again.

Quidditch practice continued, despite the frozen weather. Oliver ordered them around, yelling this play and that play. While the other players complained about the conditions, Anastasia played harder. She loved the feel of the shards of frozen snow hitting her skin as she sped through the sky. She loved how her fingers went numb from clutching the broom against the arctic wind. She loved how eventually, the pain of the cold settled into her skin, and she the temperature outside matched her feelings on the inside. Still, unyielding, senseless.

It was certainly her favorite season.

After practice, she stumbled back into the hall alongside Harry, Fred, and George.

"Only one more game, Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff. If Ravenclaw roasts them, and if we roast Slytherin, we're going to the finals!" George announced.

"Can you imagine?" Anastasia asked, nearly smirking. "Winning the quidditch cup?"

"Maybe Wood will finally let up on winter practice after that," Harry commented blithely.

"Not likely," the twins echoed.

The four entered the hall, Fred and George on either side of her and Harry walking ahead. It was as they began climbing the main staircase that a pompous voice called to her.

"Hey, Dumblebrat!" Draco yelled. Anastasia spun around, glaring.

"Want to say that again, Malfoy?" Fred and George turned, hands curling into fists. Harry bristled.

Draco strode towards them, shoulders back, head held high so that his gaze was level with hers. This was the stance he used around the other Gryffindors, a shield of overconfidence. When they were alone, he dropped this pretense completely. Since she had avoided him the past few days, he hadn't been able to achieve that encounter.

"I wasn't talking to either of you!" Draco snapped, and then turned to Anastasia. Desperation lingered behind his feigned image. "I need that book now. Where is it?"

"Book?" Harry asked. The twins shared a look of confusion over Anastasia's head. She didn't break her gaze with Draco.

"What will you give me in return?" she asked in a daring tone.

"What do you want?" Draco asked, breaking the stare to look defeatedly at the ground beside him.

The Gryffindor boys stood in stunned silence. For once, someone in Gryffindor house had the upper hand on Malfoy.

"You know what I want," she said softly. "Convince your father to call off the trial."

"You know I can't do that!" Draco snapped in frustration, "He's already stubborn enough—"

"You'd better start convincing then!" she snapped back.

"You don't understand!" Draco shouted, frowning. He looked around at the other Gryffindors, and then back to her, lowering his voice so only she could hear, "Five minutes alone. That's all I need."

Anastasia remembered the presence of her friends. George wore a teasing smirk, and Fred one of worry. It seemed as if the first twin had already begun ushering the other two boys away. She didn't want to face Harry's wrath if it looked like she was conspiring with Draco again.

"No," she shook her head, "I'm done listening to your excuses as to why you can't talk to him—"

"It's not an excuse…" Draco muttered, lowering his head so she could no longer see his expression. Anastasia stared on in pity, but the feeling didn't quite outweigh her frustration with her own problems.

"I-I need to go," she said, and turned and departed with the others, who hesitantly followed. Her quidditch cloak billowed around her. She shivered as the warmth of the castle infiltrated her inner cold.

"What was that?" Harry asked, eyebrow already judging.

"What was what?" Anastasia countered. George made a chiding noise.

"'What was what?' she says. You hear that, Freddy? Like we didn't just witness Malfoy being crushed by Anastasia Dumbledore, no less."

"What do you mean, crushed?" Anastasia asked. "I didn't want to talk is all. It's no big deal."

"Looked pretty crushing to me, Georgie," Fred chimed as they turned onto the next staircase.

"Whatever he wanted to talk about, it must have been pretty important to him." Harry said, already slipping into sleuth mode. "Now what's this book he wants?"

Anastasia blushed and deflected.

"It's none of your business, really. It's nothing dangerous. He has some family issues. Honestly, it's none of my business either—"

"Family issues?" Harry interrupted. "And he was the one bragging about having a perfect family this summer? Calling us the misfits and all that?"

Anastasia gave Harry a warning look. Draco only insulted people about the things he was most insecure of. Harry rolled his eyes and shut up.

"Either way, you really shook him up, Stasia—" George commented.

"I did not!" she refuted.

"I nearly felt sorry for the poor bloke," said Fred.

"Why would you feel sorry for him?" Anastasia countered.

"When you turned around, he looked up…and well—" George started.

"—he was crying." Fred finished.

The next day, in defense against the dark arts, as Professor Lupin was describing the correct way to corral a hinkypunk. Anastasia felt a distinct poking at her ankle. She jumped slightly.

An origami dragon had been clawing at her leg, right above her sock. It was the same spell she used to send Draco messages the year prior. She offered her hand down and it jumped on, uncurling into a message in her hand. It was a long note, and she had to shift her gaze from the lecture to the paper several times to read the whole thing without notice.

Anastasia,

Since you won't speak to me, I'm forced to tell you this on paper so that you understand my situation. Snape let me floo-call my parents, and they confirmed what you said. If they divorce, all the Malfoy wards I've inherited will dissolve with it. It's a lump sum of pureblood protections, including the following:

1. Additional physical protection on and off manor grounds.

2. Protection from harm by anyone from my direct bloodlines.

3. The ability to communicate with our house.

4. Automatic inheritance of family magical goods and wealth.

Realize, that due to the lifeline, the top two protections also extend to you…If I cannot study the book and determine how to keep the wards, you will also lose those protections…

Please reconsider.

Malfoy

Anastasia tucked the note in her pocket, swallowed her guilt, and rubbed her temples. She sat with her thoughts for the rest of the day and wrote up a reply after dinner. She didn't want to hurt him, but she had to hold her ground.

Draco,

I am very sorry for your situation, but I have no need of additional magic protections. Most magic people live their entire lives without a package deal of family wards. If your family is so concerned with your inheritance and your house, it seems like your father wouldn't mind calling off the trial against my father.

Try again,

Dumblebrat

The next day, at the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff game, Anastasia enchanted the note into a fox. It dropped under the bleachers and moved swiftly between the legs of spectators, disappearing as it ventured to Slytherin side.

It was a lively game, in which Ravenclaw pummeled Hufflepuff. Only once, she looked up and found Draco's gaze. He stared at her, forlornly. She looked away in embarrassment.

By the end of the game, Gryffindor still had a shot at the quidditch cup.

A week passed, and Draco didn't attempt to speak with her at all. Of course, it was filled with mid-term exams. Anastasia was helping Hermione study, and the poor girl was nodding off between questions. Anastasia felt semi-confident about her own exams but thinking about having to go to the Cambridge's made her stomach turn. The only thing she could possibly look forward to was the Hogsmeade trip. By Wednesday, grandad had sent a leather pouch full of sickles as an allowance for Christmas presents.

Though she was going to the Cambridge's, she had no desire to gift them anything of consequence. She barely knew what normal adults wanted for Christmas anyway. Albus always liked homemade things. Minerva, books. Charity, music. What would these Hufflepuff people prefer? Lollipops? Flowers? She had no clue.

As for Draco, she knew what he wanted, but was unsure if she wanted to give in yet.

On the morning of the Hogsmeade trip, the owls swooped in with the morning post. Upon the unwrapping of envelopes and unraveling of the Daily Prophet, a murmur of excitement emanated from the Slytherin table. Draco looked up with a mischievous grin and high-fived his classmates.

"What's going on?" Anastasia turned back to her friends. Hermione held up a newspaper with a headline that read, Madam Zabini's Fourth Husband Dies. Anastasia drew it over to her.

In a series of unnatural events, Madam Zabini's fourth husband has perished. Again, magical law enforcement has been unable to pin the deaths to Zabini's direct actions. As per usual, the CEO of Zabini fashions has announced the relocation of her brand's central hub to London. Her son, Blaise Zabini will also be returning to the UK for schooling.

"Look at all of them! Celebrating a murderer's son. It's nepotism keeping her from Azkaban, that's all," Ron commented as he tore into his bagel.

"Yeah, well, maybe Malfoy will be happy enough and will stop trying to ruin our lives," Harry added.

"Anastasia, have you heard anything about Hagrid and Buckbeak's trial?" Hermione asked, looking up from her Ancient Runes text. Anastasia remembered Mr. Malfoy's stack of papers from the previous week and looked back to Hermione.

"I'm not sure what happened with that. He was trying to get Hagrid fired, but the hearing was right after ours," she said. Hermione grimaced.

"It was the wanker's own fault he got hurt!" Ron exclaimed, slamming down his juice, "If he had listened to Hagrid in the first place, it wouldn't have happened!"

"He was trying to make trouble for Hagrid," Harry said, "he couldn't stand that Buckbeak trusted me without a problem."

Hermione rolled her eyes and began correcting him.

"Malfoy couldn't stand that—" Anastasia gave Hermione a warning glance, "—that some people were giving you more attention than they were giving him," she finished with a smirk.

"Well maybe, some people, can get a life," Harry commented, sufficiently diverted.

Anastasia, Ron, and Hermione, set off for the village, leaving Harry behind. The air was crisp, but not as chilling as it had been in past days. As soon as they reached the village, they set off for Zonko's. There, Anastasia bought a dungbomb gift set for Fred and George and a nose-biting teacup for Ron. Followed by the quidditch supply, where she bought new gloves for Harry. At Flourish and Blott's she bought a book on ancient magical transformation for Minerva and one on the importance of sleep for Hermione. And finally, at the music store, the new Cranberries album for Charity.

As late morning approached, they wrapped back around to Honeydukes for their sweets. The initial rush had subsided, leaving breathing room between visitors ogling at the walls of sweets. The three were debating on what to buy for Harry when his voice sounded behind them.

"Looks good to me!"

Harry had successfully used the Marauders' Map to entre Hogsmeade. The spent the rest of the afternoon going to Scrivenshaft's Quills, Tomes and Scrolls, and Dervish and Banges. At Dervish and Banges, Anastasia stared at all the different instruments, including a sneakoscope at the front counter. She examined it for a long time. Behind her the shop bell clanged as more students entered the store. Harry rejoined her on her right.

"Oh, don't bother with that," Harry commented, "Fred and George got me one, but it's been spinning erratically for weeks."

Anastasia sighed.

"If it worked, it sure would be useful for visiting the Cambridges," she answered. Then, at least she would know if they were well-intentioned or if there was something more they were hiding.

The four left the shop, stomachs rumbling, and headed to the three broomsticks for butterbeer. As they sat sipping, a group of teachers entered and took the table not far off. The crew shoved Harry under the table to keep the faculty from seeing, and Hermione swished a tree in front of their table.

What they overheard next shook them to their core.

The three non-hiding Gryffindors walked back to the castle in silence. They felt sick after hearing how Sirius Black betrayed Harry's family. By the time they reached Gryffindor tower, he was asleep in bed, and Anastasia finally faced that she would need to pack her rucksack for the holiday. She included all her non-school clothing, the muggle novel she was reading, her CD player, and a few of her albums. She took all of thirty seconds to line up her friends' gifts on brightly colored paper, wave her wand, and watch them wrap themselves with ribbon. From there, they dropped themselves one by one into the bag.

The last thing she packed was Pureblood Law and You in case Draco fulfilled his side of the deal over the holiday.

In the morning, Harry came downstairs, haggard. The three sat around the fireplace, waiting for him. Anastasia held her rucksack on her lap.

Ron, afraid Harry would go after Sirius Black, confronted him about it.

"Why shouldn't I?" Harry countered. "Even Malfoy told me I should. If he knows something, his father must have told him, his being in you-know-who's inner circle and all…"

"Or Narcissa," Anastasia added, "she said her cousin was crazy. This must be what she meant."

"Funny thing, her calling people crazy when she's the one who married that son-of-a—"

"Ronald!" Hermione chastised.

"It's true!" Harry said, rising half-way out of his seat. "Anastasia knows! Isn't Mr. Malfoy the reason you're having to deal with your grandparents?"

Anastasia nodded. It was true that Mr. Malfoy was a horrible person. She couldn't do anything about it, and she wondered if it was unfair of her to ask Draco to do anything about it for her, but at the same time, what else would fix things?

She couldn't live with the Cambridges. The thought made her queasy.

The portrait hole swung open, Sir Cadogan shouting all the way. Minerva poked her head into the common room with a disheartened expression.

"It's time to go, dear."