Chapter 10: Turning Away

Selected Listening: I've Got A Dark Alley and A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth- Fall Out Boy

On the following day, Anastasia walked down the hall by herself to transfiguration when Draco appeared on her right, Crabbe and Goyle flanking them. She shrunk down in her shoulders.

"Hey Dumblebrat," he said with a snide grin. "Scared yet?" The doufuses chucked.

She glared and quickened her pace.

"Why are you walking so fast? We're going to the same place!" They gained on her easily. Draco had a growth spurt over the summer and now his stride was twice the length of hers.

She stopped and swiveled to meet his glare.

"I'm not scared. I'm annoyed. Back off," she said and kept walking.

Draco stopped. He growled and signaled a different way. "Come on."

"You're just going to take that from her?" Goyle asked.

"I said come on." He was already half-way down the long way to class.

Anastasia managed to effectively avoid her friends until evening. When she returned to Gryffindor common room, Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat studying together. Harry spotted her and tapped the shoulders of the others. Anastasia moved toward the dorm staircase, but Hermione approached and grabbed her arm before she could. The other two caught up with her.

"Look, you don't have to be friends with me if you don't want to," Anastasia said clearly. It hurt to say, but she had to say it. She didn't want to keep struggling only to keep being hurt. Unlike the other night, the common room wasn't packed with waiting listeners. Students meandered here and there, not noticing them.

"I'm sorry, Anastasia," Hermione said, "for what I said yesterday. I was stressed about classes, and I flipped out on you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Also, I have the runes notes for you from yesterday."

Anastasia gently pulled away from Hermione's grasp, took the bundle of parchment she handed her, and nodded gratefully. After all Hermione had done for her, she could excuse the odd outburst, although she wondered where those words came from.

"We do want to be friends," Harry stressed, "right, Ron?" He elbowed the ginger in the side. Ron grumbled unintelligibly. Anastasia wasn't surprised by Ron's behavior, but she had been frustrated by how Harry quietly went along with Ron's nonsense. The boy with the scar continued.

"What the boggart said was cruel. You must have had a good reason for not telling us about your identity, right?" Harry continued.

Hermione bit her lip worriedly. Ron watched her expectantly.

Anastasia thought back. It took her a moment to remember why she had decided to keep them in the dark instead of telling them like she had Hermione. Deceit had become such a regular part of her life that she stopped questioning it long ago, but then she did remember that there had been a particularly good reason.

"After Hermione found out, grandad said he would wipe the memory of anyone else who discovered it," she said, "I didn't want that to happen to you two, so I kept my mouth shut. I'm sorry I had to lie."

Hermione nodded supportively.

"We could have ended up like Lockhart!" Ron gaped.

"It wasn't you in particular," she clarified, "anyone who found out would be one more source that could slip, and he didn't want to take that chance."

"Memory charms can be very tricky," Hermione said. "Although I'm sure Professor Dumbledore is fantastic with them, if the information was woven throughout your memory, he might have had to take more than what you knew about Anastasia."

"Well, thanks for not telling us," Harry chimed with a sardonic smile. "We can forgive her now, right Ron?"

Ron gave her a nauseated grin.

"Thanks a bunch! You're the best, really."

"And?" Hermione asked, glaring at him with her hands on her hips. Ron looked at the ceiling, exasperated, and then back at Anastasia.

"And I'm sorry for the comments I made about your obscurus. I was just being…"

"Outrageous?" Hermione asked.

"Mean?" asked Harry.

"Cautious," Ron finished. "But I get that you're healed now, and I trust you."

Anastasia nodded.

"Apology accepted."

The next day, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Lupin gave a more traditional lecture on boggart theory, and the students took notes in their parchment for an essay they would need to turn in the following week. At the end of class, Lupin spoke up.

"Anastasia, could you stay behind for a moment please? Everyone else, dismissed."

Anastasia heard the Slytherins whisper and giggle, and ignored them, being very careful not to look at Draco. She urged her friends to go along to the common room, and she would catch up later. When the students were gone, Lupin came over to her table and sat on the other side of it.

"I want to apologize for what happened with the boggart," Professor Lupin said genuinely. "Most students don't have such enormous stressors. I didn't expect it to take such a literal form."

Anastasia nodded. She didn't hate the man for what happened in class. It was the most unique lesson they had in two years. She was impressed by his candor and how he seemed to be the only teacher who was comfortable calling the students by their first names, but she couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the lot he'd drawn.

"Professor, can I ask you an honest question?"

"Certainly, I find those are the best kind," he said cheerily, folding his hands together atop the desk.

"Is there something wrong with you?" she asked. The man froze.

"I'm sorry? I'm not sure I understand…"

"You see, Lockhart lied about all his accomplishments and had been using memory charms on his victims, and Quirrell had the ghost of Voldemort living on the back of his head all year…and you seem too good of a person…like you actually might be a good teacher—"

Lupin smiled a scrambled smile, and then laughed.

"It's…it's not really funny," but then Anastasia grinned too because he was laughing. Once he had regained his composure, she continued. "But honestly, the position is cursed, so if there's nothing wrong with you, you might want to leave while you have the chance."

"Well, I appreciate your concern, Miss Dumbledore, but it turns out I'm a bit cursed myself, and in my opinion a cursed person taking a cursed position cancels the whole thing out…or at least that's my motto so far…"

"Does it have to do with your scars, sir? I'm sorry…I couldn't help but notice…" she pointed sheepishly to his face.

"I wonder how you got your scar, Miss Dumbledore…" he pointed to her neck, "and if it's related to your obscurus incident."

"It's not," she covered it self-consciously.

"Well then, you understand how invasive those questions can be…and I'm sure you understand, more than most, that our curses often make us stronger. Our scars do not make us who we are…"

"Yes, sir. Apologies."

"It's no trouble at all," Professor Lupin said kindly. "I told you honest questions are my favorite kind…"

After lunch, Anastasia went to the library to begin her defense essay. She had been working for some time when she realized she needed another book. She rose from her seat to fetch it when a familiar figure came hurtling from around a shelf.

"Boo!" Malfoy said, wearing a wide smirk as he had the morning before. He hung off the shelf from his wrapped arm.

"Injured, huh?" she asked. He scowled and stood up straight.

"It's getting better," he claimed. She rolled her eyes and tried to brush past him, but he caught her arm. "Hey, wait."

"What do you want?!" she asked, spiraling back around to face him. Madam Pince shushed them from across the room.

"I want to know, what did I say to you the other day—I mean, what did the boggart say to you that you're so afraid of?" Draco asked in a hushed tone.

She looked down.

"It's none of your business. Please, leave me alone," she said, breaking away.

"Did I do something to scare you?" he asked. "Because if I did, I…I'm really sorry."

Anastasia rounded on him again. He frowned under his messy bangs, as if he really cared for the answer. She knew better.

"What? Like make fun of my friends? Or frame an innocent creature for an avoidable accident? Or call me horrible things and act like an all-around arse when I thought you were my friend?" she asked, half-holding her breath to keep herself from tearing up.

He made a faint noise of displeasure and looked away, arms crossed.

"Fine. That explains why you're angry, but that doesn't explain why I was part of your boggart, and people are bothering me about it, and I need to know why."

Madame Pince appeared behind them.

"Malfoy and Green, you will leave the library now until the end of the day."

"That's not my name." Anastasia said grabbed her things off the table and left before Draco could follow her.

That evening, Malfoy sat in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy.

"I don't get it." Malfoy said, throwing a ball across the room so it bounced off the mantle and bounced back to him.

"Get what?" Pansy asked. "Physics?"

"No! Parkinson, you're a girl."

She swatted him.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"What could I possibly say to you to make me your worst fear?" Draco asked. Pansy scoffed.

"Your still on about Green?"

"Her name is Dumbledore."

"Pfft, yeah, I'm not calling her that. Like Snape said, she wants to be a mudblood, let her be a mudblood."

"But she's not—" Draco said.

"Are you defending her?" Pansy asked. "Don't start. She's even worse than a mudblood because she chose to be."

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Draco doubled back.

"Of course not. I'm bloody tired of people thinking I did something bad to her, when I've been nothing but considerate for the past two years!"

Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson all burst into laughter.

"What? What's are you laughing at?" he asked.

"You?" Crabbe asked.

"Considerate?" Goyle chimed in.

"What? What did I do?"

"You called her a goody-two-shoes like five hundred times," said Pansy.

"And a mudblood," added Crabbe.

"What was that creative one?" asked Goyle.

"Oh yeah, she looks like a red poodle that was dropped in a bucket of floo powder."

"Yeah, but…do you think she found out about that?" he asked warily.

They all looked at him again and then burst out laughing. He rose from the couch.

"Forget you all. I'm going to bed."

Draco let Anastasia alone the following week, but he had a plan. If he could get her alone in Hogsmeade, maybe buy her something she liked, all would be forgiven, and they could go back to being…whatever they were before.

Autumn fully took hold of the grounds a few weeks after the term began. It was a rainy year, and the leaves stuck together on the ground with bits of dirt and mush. Quidditch practice started, and so it meant they often had to practice in the damp, swirling air, coming in feverish with their hair matted, Anastasia took too many pepper-up potions to count.

Luckily though, it seemed no one on the team held a grudge against her.

Inside the school rumors had petered out about the boggart. Anastasia could now walk campus and look her classmates in the eye without feeling awkward. Third years were all beginning to look forward to the excitement of their first Hogsmead trip on Halloween, and when the day came, Minerva checked off the three Gryffindors. They left Harry with a sad wave and wandered down the path to the village together.

"We can go to Zonko's and Honeyduke's and the Three Broomsticks," Ron listed rapidly. Anastasia had been to those places with Albus, but it wasn't quite the same as going with friends. She wondered if she should stop by to visit her uncle.

"We can…" Hermione said, "…but I have to do something in the Three Broomsticks first."

"Leave it to Hermione to schedule a study group on our outing," Ron remarked.

"What study group?" Anastasia asked…although she had a feeling. Hermione winced.

"Justin wanted to meet up…with Penelope and Collin," she said.

"Can I join?" Anastasia asked.

"It's to chat," Hermione said shakily, "it's not a group meeting."

"Oh," Anastasia said.

"Y-you can come too," Hermione said, "to say hi."

"Sure," Anastasia said flatly. Ron looked warily at them but didn't say anything as they entered the bustling lane of shops. Percy snatched him aside immediately, chastising him for not writing their mum enough, and Anastasia stayed at Hermione's flank as they entered the warm pub. The three muggleborn students sat at a table for five in the middle of the room, but one chair had been pushed away.

"I told you not to bring her," Justin shot at Hermione.

"Why?" Anastasia asked. "I thought I was part of the group." Penelope and Collin looked at each other with awkward guilt. Justin didn't back down.

"We're here to talk about experiences as muggleborn magics being petrified…you don't fit the criteria," he said.

"But I was petrified—"

"Maybe we should let—" Collin began.

"No, Creevy! She's not muggleborn. She's a pureblood, and she was using our identity to lie about who she was."

"…I didn't have a choice…" she said faintly.

"Oh, so someone forced you to lie to us for two years," Justin criticized.

"It was so I wouldn't be in danger—"

"Aren't you being a little harsh?" Penelope asked him.

"No, I'm not! This school has walked all over muggleborn students and ignored our harassment for years, and I'm not comfortable letting someone join our meeting who used our identity for their own gain," Justin finished, glaring.

Anastasia looked at the group, tears building. She saw Hermione, her best friend, looking very conflicted and not saying anything.

"It's fine. I can see I'm not wanted," she said, and stormed out.

Malfoy's plan was simple. He would go with his friends to Honeyduke's and lose them in the crowd. Then, he would speed out of there while they were in line to find Anastasia. He would talk to her, ditch her, and be back at the shop before his friends finished their purchases.

Draco started walking towards the Three Broomsticks when he saw Anastasia storming towards him, cloak flapping behind her. The shuffle of the crowd had subsided, and students had packed into every store. They were alone.

"Wait up, Dumblebrat. Where are you going?"

"I'm not in the mood, Malfoy," she said sharply. He noticed a glint of dew on her cheeks and the redness of her eyes.

"Wait. Are you crying?" he asked and caught up with her, guiding her around with a hand on her shoulder.

She wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve and stared straight ahead at his sweater collar.

"No. I'm not. I'm going back to the castle, and I'm going to my tower, and I'm going to stay there for all of eternity," she decided. "You were right."

"Oh, come on. It couldn't have been that bad," he said gently, placing his other hand on her other shoulder so she couldn't run away.

She held her breath. She couldn't speak.

"Who do you need me to punch?" he asked.

She managed a half-grin before she started sobbing and found herself leaning against Draco as she cried into his cloak. He smelled like mint and vanilla and Ashwood and earl gray tea.

Draco felt her head hit his chest and wrapped his arms around her intuitively. Despite her sadness, she smelled overwhelmingly like cinnamon and clove, and he couldn't help feeling bad about what he'd said to her before.

"They're so cruel. I can't take it," she murmured.

"Let's go someplace quiet," he suggested and led her down an overgrown ivy lane to a fence of twisted branches. He let her go. She pushed herself up to sit on the top wrung, feet dangling below her. He hoisted himself up next to her, summoned up a tissue, and when she was done clearing her face, he handed her a cinnamon sugar quill.

"Is this for me?" she asked.

"I happened to have an extra," he smirked.

"In my favorite flavor?" she asked.

Draco shrugged and leaned back on the rung he sat on. "Think whatever you want. Now tell me, what's biting you?"

Anastasia told Draco all about the study group, and how she was constantly being avoided, and how she was right all along even though Hermione said she was being paranoid. Justin's speech confirmed the truth.

"I don't know why they're being like this. Blood status doesn't even matter," her voice broke.

Draco stared at her, furious.

"They're jealous," he said, "and it does matter."

"Why?" she asked.

"You have the strongest wizarding pedigree in the whole school. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Dumbledore? You're a trifecta of pureblood power. That's badass!" he exclaimed. She shook her head.

"Everyone thinks I'm a freak and a monster. What kind of badass hides her lineage for two years, and then reveals herself right as muggleborns are being attacked?"

"It's not your fault your father's off his rocker. Here, let me help you." He jumped down from the fence and faced her, adjusting her shoulders. "Sit up straight. Now, tell me who you are."

"I'm Anastasia," she said rather awkwardly.

"Your whole name, and louder," he placed his fingertips under her chin and lifted it slightly, guiding her to look directly into his blue-gray stare. She froze at his touch.

"My name is Anastasia Holly Dumbledore," she said stiffly.

"—and you're a pureblood."

"And I'm a pureblood."

"And I'm better than anyone at this bloody school because my father owns the place."

"That's so mean—"

"Say it," he dared.

"And I'm better than anyone at this bloody school because my father owns the place," she said in monotone.

"I don't believe you," he said, pulling away.

"What?" she asked, now very confused. He smirked and teased her.

"You're not as great as you think you are. You're bloodfilth…are you going to take that from an arse like me?"

Anastasia jumped down in front of him and playfully drove a finger into his chest.

"Listen here, Malfoy. I'm Anastasia Holly Dumbledore. I'm a pureblood. And I'm better than anyone at this bloody school because my father owns the place," she said, stepping closer with every word until her face hovered a few inches from his.

"That's better." Draco grinned, his breath having left him. Anastasia smiled so hard her cheeks hurt.

Her hazel eyes, reflecting the reds and golds of fall, never ceased to warm his soul. Draco couldn't help believing that maybe he could love her, and they wouldn't end up like his parents. She was connected to him already, so what was holding him back? His father? Lucius couldn't keep tabs on him from so far away.

He leaned towards her.

The crunch of footsteps on fallen leaves interrupted. Pansy approached with Crabbe and Goyle.

"We've been looking all over for you," she stopped in her tracks and scrunched her pug nose, "Oh, you've found the bloodfilth."

"Shut up, Pansy." Draco warned, barely turning over his shoulder.

"I'm not." Anastasia said warily.

"Yes, you are, Dumblebrat. The only thing worse than a mudblood is a pureblood who pretends to be a mudblood. What was it you said last week, Draco? She's worth less than the dirt on my shoes?" The cronies laughed.

Anastasia blushed profusely and her eyes shot to Draco.

"I didn't mean it—I was joking." Draco floundered, attempted to recover but couldn't. Anastasia shook her head and turned away. She should have known. She took a few steps before Draco placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Anastasia, wait." She whipped around and tiptoed up, so her face was right up next to his.

"My name is Anastasia Holly Dumbledore. I'm a pureblood. Descendent of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. I'm better than anyone at this bloody school because my father owns the place." She pushed him away and walked toward the road. Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle jeered and laughed. Anastasia paused and looked over her shoulder to stare into Draco's shocked, glassy blue eyes.

"And I don't wait for anyone."

She walked into the falling snow by herself.

Draco watched Anastasia leave until her braid disappeared around the bend. He turned back to his so-called friends.

"I cannot believe you!" he said, passing along the shove to Pansy. She fell back. Crabbe and Goyle caught her arms.

"What? Are you—you're smitten for Dumblebrat?" Pansy asked and accused at the same time as she regained her footing. Draco gazed around at the three of them and turned away so they wouldn't see the pink burning in his cheeks.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" He strode back into the village. He didn't mean to catch feelings for Anastasia anyway. He wasn't allowed to.

Pansy seethed. Immediately Crabbe and Goyle fell into step beside him. Draco realized his eyes were watering.

"DON'T FOLLOW ME!" he raged until they fell back. They looked at each other, then watched Draco depart.

And all the while, the most horrendous, evil plan began to simmer in Pansy's mind.