This one's a little longer than the last, but still bite-sized. I've been simultaneously working on both this and the sexy, steamy second chapter of Keep it Hidden, Part 2 of Astoria's story. Keep a watch for that coming out very soon! (Rated M though. Did I mention it was steamy?)

Please let me know how you're enjoying Something to Hide in the comments or by sending me a message. Enjoy!

Chapter 6

The first few weeks of lessons flew by for Astoria, and the time of her first anticipated 'seclusion' was suddenly upon her. She was incredibly nervous, more so than any other occurrence. Perhaps it was the fact that her life had almost seemed normal since she'd arrived at Hogwarts. Other than the weekly reminder of her time spent in the hospital wing, her time had been devoted to meeting new people, learning new lessons, and getting to know her way around this ancient enchanted labyrinth called Hogwarts.

Thanks to Madam Pomfrey's homework assignment, Astoria knew down to the day - and even the hours - of when the equinox fell. The week previous, Madam Pomfrey had instructed her young assistant to draft a note to her Head of House, Professor Flitwick, asking to be released from classes for the entirety of the next Thursday for 'special lessons' in the Hospital Ward.

"Doesn't Professor Flitwick already know about the situation?" Astoria asked, a little annoyed as to why she was writing a note herself when Madam Pomfrey could easily say something to him directly in the staff room. Or send an owl, even.

Instead Madam Pomfrey insisted that Astoria herself draft the note that she would sign, then be responsible for delivering it to him in person. "No owls," she added. When Astoria questioned her, the matron's reply was brusk. "This is your situation, Astoria. Like it or not, you must learn how to manage every part of its responsibilities yourself."

Astoria dutifully delivered the message. When Professor Flitwick asked how she was enjoying the classes with Madam Pomfrey, she gave her prepared answer: "I can't thank Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey enough for the incredible opportunity." His pleased expression told Astoria that he had believed every word, and she felt that familiar wave of guilt again.

"Are you all right, Astoria? You're looking a bit peaky. Worried that Madam Pomfrey's going to make you test the Skele-Gro?"

Tullia's reaction to when Astoria first told her about her upcoming day of Hospital Ward was a teasing kind of jealousy. "Think of all the amazing things you'll learn while we're stuck in History of Magic!" Then over the next week she kept guessing what Astoria would learn. "Maybe she'll have you making healing potions. Or maybe you'll learn to regrow skin!" It actually made Astoria feel better to skewer her friend's preposterous suggestions with logic. And it actually made her wish she were actually taking Healing Arts as a class.

But on Thursday morning, Tullia's teasing wasn't enough to dispel her anxiety and dread. "I just didn't sleep well." This was true. She'd been up all night worrying, and then worrying about the worrying. She knew the only thing that would make her feel better was getting through the day, but that rational thought wasn't enough to induce sleep.

"Maybe Madam Pomfrey will let you test the Wideye potions! Or maybe she'll use you as an experimental case subject for a new, untested Renevervation Charm. Or maybe…"

"Tullia," Astoria interrupted. "I know you're trying to help, but honestly, I'm just a little nervous about today."

Her friend looked a little surprise. "Nervous about what? It's Madam Pomfrey. You know she's going to be on top of things."

"That's true." Astoria immediately felt a little better. Of course Madam Pomfrey knew what she was doing. "Wish me luck, then. I'll see you… when I see you."

The day turned out to be boring, Astoria discovered. Upon her arrival in the ward, Madam Pomfrey had given her her familiar potion, then set her to the task of folding bandages. There was even a short lesson as to which bandages were for what, and why, which Astoria found fascinating. It was as she sat on a soft cot folding linens that she passed out.

She came to just before dinner time. Like always after a faint, she felt hollowed out and weak. But more than anything, Astoria felt foolish. All her anxiety had been for nothing. The whole incident had gone to plan, and after all the building it up in her head, it was almost disappointing how uneventful it had been.

Soon enough, Astoria's focus turned back to everyday life at Hogwarts. It was the beginning of November when a strange fever began to spread through the castle: Quidditch fever.

"Didn't you hear? The first game is Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. Apparently Slytherin's seeker got injured at the beginning of the term and isn't fully recovered yet."

Tullia popped a roasted brussel sprout into her mouth. "Isn't their seeker Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin?" She rolled her eyes at Iain Bradley, another first-year Ravenclaw. "Knowing that stuck-up prat, he just didn't feel like playing."

"I dunno," Iain countered. "I heard he got sliced up by a hippogriff back in September. That sounds pretty serious to me."

This was somewhat true. Astoria had been in the Hospital Ward at least once when Draco Malfoy had shown up, demanding Madam Pomfrey redress his arm and do something about the pain. She thought the matron had been very patient with the arrogant boy, who had called the healer incompetent and useless. Instead of using the no-nonsense tone that Astoria was used to hearing from her, Madam Pomfrey spoke kindly and calmly with him.

After Draco had left, Madam Pomfrey actually took the time to explain her behaviour. "Pain is a subjective thing, Astoria. What may be bearable for someone is excruciating to another. Draco's wound may not have been very serious, but a good healer never dismiss a patient's concerns."

Astoria rather thought that Malfoy was looking more for attention than medical care, but she nodded anyway.

The morning of the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game dawned ugly. It wasn't just raining - it was near-hurricane weather. Thunder chased lighting that split through the iron-grey clouds, and the wind was making the tall pines of the Forbidden Forest keel drunkenly.

"You can't seriously be thinking of going out there," Astoria said to Tullia.

"WE. We are going out there!" At Astoria's incredulous expression, Tullia pointed directly in her face.

"No, no, no. Don't give me that look. This is our FIRST Quidditch match! Of course we're going out in this. It isn't really that bad."

"Tullia, I saw at least two trees in the forest get zapped before I got out of bed! How could it be worse?"

"We're witches, aren't we? We'll figure something out. I'm not going to let a little bit of rain and wind ruin my first Quidditch game." Astoria saw the obstinate set of her friend's jaw and wondered if it was worth trying to fight her on this. Probably not.

After bundling up in wide-brimmed hats (charmed to stay in place) and waterproof ponchos, they set out for the pitch. Far more students sat in the bleachers than Astoria had expected, and she started to wonder if there was something more to Quidditch than she once thought.

They sat with other first-year Ravenclaws. Their shared defiance of the weather had a bostering effect, and it wasn't long into the game that Astoria found herself cheering as loudly as anyone. When Gryffindor called a time out, Astoria was shocked to find that her throat was raspy from yelling.

"Isn't this amazing?" Tullia yelled through the wind.

"I can't feel my fingers!" Astoria yelled back, grinning.

"Next year, that's going to me be," hollered a voice beside her. It was Iain Bradley, who was watching Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell discussing their next play.

Astoria turned to see what he was pointing at. "You want to play Quidditch?"

"Since I was little. My mother was a Keeper when she was in Hogwarts, but I really want to try for Chaser."

"You'd make a great Chaster, Iain!" Tullia yelled across Astoria.

The game didn't last long after the break. The snitch was spotted, and the two Seekers flew after it like darts. The crowd cheered even louder than before, yelling themselves hoarse. They didn't notice the Dementors approach.

Astoria, immersed in the whirlwind fight for the golden snitch, felt a sudden chill and the familiar pangs of fear that came with a faint.

No, no, no, no, it can't be. Not now.

She fought with every fibre of her being to stay alert and conscious, trying to focus desperately on the Seekers streaking through the rain. But the feeling didn't go away. It expanded and fell over her like a heavy, suffocating fog. Her vision darkened at the edges.

Suddenly, she was jolted back to reality when Tullia screamed and clasped her shoulder.

"No!" she cried. Astoria followed her arm pointing up into the sky. Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Seeker, was plummeting to the ground. A crowd of Dementors hovered above.

Suddenly, Headmaster Dumbledore was there. He raised his wand and shouted something that slowed the falling boy. He floated gently to the ground. The elderly wizard then turned upwards and shot a silvery bird into the sky at the Dementors, who scattered at the sight of it.

In all the chaos, it turned out that the Hufflepuff Seeker, a boy named Cedric Diggory, had in fact caught the snitch and the game ended at 150 - 50 for Hufflepuff. It took a moment for the crowd to decide whether to cheer or clap, and then everyone began to exit the stands.

Astoria waited until they were back in the dormitory changing into warmer clothing when she asked Tullia what exactly happened.

"I think it was the Dementors. Did you feel it get colder? And kind of creepy-like? That's them, they cause that. They make you feel really crummy, like you forgot how to be happy, don't they? Falling off your broom seems a bit much, though."

But Astoria didn't reply. She had loved the game, the excitement and the speed and the nimble movements of the flyers. But then she'd witnessed one of them lose consciousness and plummet at least 20 metres off a broom. And judging from the earlier part of the game, Harry Potter knew how to fly better than most. A chill ran down her spine, and this time it had nothing to do with Dementors. If Dumbledore hadn't been there…

The following Thursday was the first time Astoria didn't regret missing out on flying lessons.