I know you've been waiting a while for a next chapter, so here is something (albeit a bit short). More will come, I promise!

Please let me know how you're enjoying it in the comments or by sending me a message. Also, in case you feel like a shot of Christmas, I actually FINISHED (I know, insanity) an entire Christmas story about Lupin. And since it's now finished, I have zero excuses to be spending time on that instead of this story! So please enjoy!

Chapter 5

"Ungghhh, I can't keep them all straight in my head!"

Astoria face-planted into her star chart. For the most part, her first week at Hogwarts had been everything she'd hoped it would be. To actually use magic to do things! Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, even Potions had been cool drinks of water to her thirsty curiosity. But she'd been disappointed to discover that Astronomy was as dull as knuts.

After their first lesson of learning how the telescopes worked and how to find, chart, and track a heavenly body, Professor Sinistra gave them the homework of memorizing a star chart showing at least fifty constellations. And this was on top of the calendar Astoria needed to complete for Madam Pomfrey.

"Ara, Antlia, Aquila, Auriga, Andromeda," she grumbled. "I think I'm going permanently cross-eyed. I hate memorization."

Tullia playfully tickled Astoria's ear with the end of her quill and was rewarded with a squawk. "What a poor excuse for a Ravenclaw you are. It's just constellations. This is far easier than memorizing that stupid Potions recipe."

With a moan of frustration, Astoria sat back up. "At least Potions has a point to it. You can actually make something with it! These are just… names. Names that mean nothing. That all seem to end with the letter a..."

"Astoria!" Tullia feigned shock. "Don't tell me you never learned the stories of the constellations? And with a name like yours!"

"My name comes from my great-great-grandmother, I'll have you know. Astoria Fawley, born in 1884 in Matlock, Derbyshire…" But Tullia cut her off before she could finish.

"You memorized the mind-numbingly boring Greengrass family history, but you didn't learn about Princess Andromeda, or Orion the Hunter?"

Astoria shrugged. "My parents never really told us any fairy tales. Andromeda's a princess?"

Tullia grinned at the spark of interest in her friend's question. "Not just a regular princess. A princess offered up as luncheon to a sea monster. That's why the stars kind of look like a girl in chains."

Astoria's eyes widened. "What kind of sea monster?"

"A sea serpent. As big as five Quidditch pitches."

"You're making this up!" Astoria exclaimed. Tullia grinned, seeing her friend was a captive audience.

"Of course Andromeda was supposed to be the most beautiful girl in the world. The girls in the stories are always beautiful. And 'virgins'," she whispered conspiratorially.

Astoria swallowed hard, feeling awkward. She knew what the word meant, but she was sure it wasn't something she was supposed to think about - let alone talk about.

Tullia noticed her friend's blush but didn't comment on it. "Apparently Andromeda was SO beautiful that her mom, Queen Cassiopeia - see, how it looks like a lady on a throne?" Tullia pointed to another constellation on the chart, one of the first Astoria had managed to identify. "Anyway, she couldn't shut her gob about it and it got back to some sea nymphs and made them mental with jealousy. So in retaliation, they sent a sea monster to attack the kingdom. And then some stupid priest told Queen Cassiopeia and King Cepheus - that's this constellation here - to feed their daughter to the sea monster to make it stop. See how both Cassiopeia and Cepheus kind of look like people sitting on thrones?"

Astoria looked at her friend in awe. "How on earth do you know all this?"

"Actually, it's sort of Burke family history. Hyginus, to be precise. Thank Merlin I wasn't named after him!"

"Hy-who now?"

"Hyginus. He was a wizard who lived in Alexandria back in the days of Cleopatra. I'm related to him through my mother's side, but don't ask me how exactly. Anyway, he wrote all these deliciously scandalous stories about princesses and virgins and monsters and gods and heroes. Mother says he made most of them up, but that doesn't make them any less fantastic. That's where most of the names of the constellations come from. We have a book at home. I should have thought to pack it… but I bet Mother would send it to me if I asked!"

As Tullia babbled on, Astoria had been looking at the list of constellations with new interest. "Tell me about..." she randomly chose another name from her list. "...Delphinus."

Tullia launched into another amazing story and before Astoria knew it, they had made their way through the whole list. Her friend had forgotten a few of the stories and insisted on writing her mother there and then for her to send the book to Hogwarts. While she wrote, Astoria started on her calendar for Madam Pomfrey.

"What's that you're working on? I don't remember Professor Sinistra saying anything about a calendar." Tullia had finished her letter and was peering at Astoria's half-finished chart.

"It's for Madam Pomfrey." Astoria tried to make her voice sound even and unremarkable. "I have to have it for her on Thursday when I have my Healing Arts lesson."

"I still can't believe you're skipping Flying class. How are we going to become star Quidditch players? Why is it you aren't taking it again?"

Astoria had already concocted a reply to this question, knowing it would come up sooner or later. She pasted a casual smile on her face and said "it's the only class I could give up to learn Healing. The Headmaster had to sign off on it and everything. Did you know he has all these weird silver instruments in his office?"

"You've been in his office?! Tell me everything!"

The distraction worked as planned, and Astoria filled Tullia in on the contraptions and magical objects she'd spotted while in Dumbledore's office.

She was relieved that her distraction technique had been so successful, but it ached to have to lie. And to know she'd need to keep lying for many years to come.

Lying will get easier, right? The thought made her feel worse.