AN: Time to discuss something that has been asked for: pairings :O.

And the solution is democracy of sorts, since they don't affect the plot. When does pairing actually start? Sixth year, big yikes there (At least for Anya it is). But I will begin the polls now because I will be using fifth year to set up the... atmosphere? Chemistry? I don't know xD. Also, first time doing a poll (since this is my first fic anyways), so do let me know if I messed up somewhere in setting it up or if the polls don't even show. And I will be letting the polls run to include newcomers, all the way to... maybe sixth year? So if you are reading this late, you can still try to vote. I'll probably still do a separate final poll as this one is just to determine the direction of character interaction I should take.

Simply put, only Anya's pairing will be the one given a proper dedicated word count because it does kind of a bigger impact than others and she's the main character. For the others, it's kind of a whatever, which is why I was heavily considering sticking to canon because I don't have to put the time to craft out relationships that don't affect the plot much. But if the majority vote for other character's pairings is non-canon, then I will slip in a few pairing parts here and there but don't expect much, unless I somehow change my mind. And if the majority vote for other character's pairings is canon, then I'm saved the effort.

So... I'll put the preview options here.

For Anya: Its Anya/Jen, Anya/Blaise, Anya/Draco. On the 'difficult to write' scale, I peg them all as equal

For Harry: Its Harry/Ginny, Harry/Astoria, Harry/Hermione. Ginny being canon saves me the brain cells and lets me focus on the main plot. Astoria is much, much easier to write than Hermione for this fic because Astoria will be featured much more, providing more breathing space, so please take that into consideration.

No twincest sadly, not because I'm against them but it makes the later chapters harder to write. Maybe another time.

For Astoria: Its Astoria/Harry, Astoria/Draco. On the 'difficult to write' scale, I peg them as equal because there are good opportunities with Draco as well, it's one of the canon pairings I personally find quite good.

For Hermione: Its Hermione/Harry, Hermione/Ron, Hermione/Jen, Hermione/Blaise. Ron (if that ever gets chosen cause I know the fanfic community too well on this xD) being canon means I don't even have to waste time thinking about pairing subplots and can get into the main stuff. Harry is already discussed above. Blaise will be a bit harder to write than Jen because Blaise does not get featured as much.

You should be given four votes, one for each, so let know if I mess that up.

That's probably all the important ones, the rest will be auto-filled if I even mention them. Do note that results of Anya and Harry takes priority over Astoria and Hermione. If you don't care about pairings and just want the plot and intrigue, just pick the canon ones because canon pairing means I would not even bother much.

Also, please take the side-notes on pairings I have written into big consideration. I'll try my best but shoehorning in your favourite pairing despite me declaring it as being hard to do may deliver weaker writing, but I will still try to deliver my best.

And for those who really wonder why Draco is even considered, put the following on a Caesar Cipher (shift of 3) because I don't know how much of a spoiler this is and unlike sites like Reddit, theres no spoiler covering function. gudfr zloo sodb d eljjhu sduw dv wkh fkdswhu jrhv rq pxfk olnh krz bhdu vla kdg gudfr lqyroyhg lq pdmru sorw

Chapter 22 - Never Liked Aristocracy

"Astoria, it's almost three, you promised to meet up with Ella and Stacy for tea," a voice sailed up from downstairs. Astoria closed the book she had been engrossed in, placing it back on the shelf it belonged to. Taking a long look at the mirror, she deemed herself presentable before leaving her room and strolling down the stairs at a leisurely pace.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, her mother stood there awaiting her. Isabel Greengrass inspected her daughter's bearings before giving an approving nod, opening her arms to take Astoria into a light yet firm hug.

"Have fun now Astoria," said Isabel, giving Astoria a pat as the girl went to the fireplace, sipping her hand in the Floo jar and fishing out a handful of green powder. A whirlwind ride of spinning green later and Astoria stepped out of another fireplace.

"Astoria!" a cheery voice called to her. The owner of the voice, a fellow second-year Slytherin, waved enthusiastically at her. Astoria returned the greeting with the same enthusiasm, pulling the other girl into a tight embrace.

"Ella, good to see you. Is Stacy here already?"

"Yes, we were waiting for you, I've already made tea."

Ella promptly dragged Astoria over to the patio of her manor where the third girl, Stacy, was. More pleasantries were exchanged and the girls sat down, with Ella offering tea to her friends.

"So, how's your summer so far?" Ella asked Astoria, taking a sip.

"Boring," Astoria smiled winningly. "Nothing but homework. My parents aren't taking me and Daphne out overseas for the holidays, so I'm just stuck in the manor."

"That's too bad," Stacy giggled from the side. "My mom and dad are taking me out to Italy next week."

There were squeals of excitement and soon they were discussing the latest fashion trends that come out from Italy. Slowly, the talk turned into one of Astoria's hated topics: politics. She should have expected it, they were all Slytherins which have always been associated with a penchants for politics. A look at the top politicians in the Ministry and checking their old Hogwarts records, one would easily notice the high proportion of ex-Slytherins. Personally, Astoria found it stifling.

"So you're saying that Marie now has dirt on Florence?" Ella asked shrewdly.

"Yes," Stacy nodded. "That means a considerable drop in the hierarchy, and she just lost her shot at becoming prefect."

"Speaking of Florence, have you heard the new bill her father is trying to push through in the Wizengamot?"

Astoria took a particularly large gulp of tea to drown her grimace and impending groan. School politics was bad enough, actual politics was worse. Once more, she was very glad she was the younger sibling, no seats in the Wizengamot to take over and pull hairs for. She would leave that sickening responsibility for Daphne to settle, Merlin knows her older sister enjoys her fair share of political scheming.

When it was time to go home, Astoria could not be more glad to leave. Upon reaching home, she went back to her room, going up the flight of stairs two steps at a time. As Astoria opened the door to her bedroom, she was an owl perched on the windowsill, looking at her and giving a soft hoot.

Astoria went to untie the letter attached to the owl's leg, giving the owl a treat but the owl sat there waiting for her. Curious, she opened the letter and read it, a smile creeping on her as her eyes registered the short sentence.

I happen to be free tomorrow, meet at Diagon Alley at noon?

The name of the sender was written in Cyrillic and Astoria knew straight away that this was from Anya, the only girl she knew with a Russian background. Smiling, she wrote a quick yes and tied it to the owl which flew off the moment her reply was secured to its feet. She had wanted to invite Anya over but it was still early into the summer and of course, knowing the mindset of her parents, she had to slowly present Anya as someone of a high enough status to set foot on their manor. However, she decided that she would cross that bridge when she got there, going to bed with a little more excitement than usual.

XXXXX

Anya leafed through the folder in her hands, going through the information for the sixth time. Lounging back at her seat in a McDonald's, she kept her eye on the walkway opposite the street. Finishing the last of her drink, she checked the time, two o'clock. Right on schedule, two figures appeared on the street. The Muggles never noticed their sudden appearance, magic always had its way of getting around the Muggles' attention.

Standing up, she quickly left the place and neared the street, increasing the sensitivity of her right eye. She spotted several warning and detection spells coming from the two figures, forcing her to keep a distance, she would not put it past them to have spells that detect nearby magic as well. She watched as the two exchanged several words before one of them handed a parcel to the other. The pair gave each other a quick nod and separated.

Anya kept an eye at the one with the parcel, tailing him from a distance lest she trigger the warning spells. A Notice-Me-Not Charm went up from the person, forcing Anya to focus harder on her quarry to compensate for the effect of the spell. The person turned around a corner and with a crack, disapparated away. Confirming that the warning spells disappeared along with her target, she took a moment to check for anyone watching before casting a Notice-Me-Not Charm on herself and dashing at top speed to where her target was.

Among all forms of rapid magical transportation, Apparition was hardest to detect and follow. Floo could be checked on the network and Portkeys traced from its leftover signature, Apparition on the other hand, had a weak trace that only lasted seconds compared to a portkey's minutes.

Picking up the Apparition signature, Anya prodded it with her wand and decoded it. A look at the resultant numbers on her wrist and an entry into her GPS later, Anya took out a circular object. It looked similar to a pocket watch but with multiple hands and a dull black casing rather than a shiny metallic one. Twisting the knobs at the side until the desired calibrations, she looked at several of the flickering hands and checked her watch, 2:03 pm.

"The limitations of portkeys," Anya sighed to herself.

Two minutes and the hands on the device began to spin out of control, right on schedule. Despite Apparition being the quickest and most convenient of magical transportation, the bulk of the magical population still used portkeys. It can be established beforehand, it was harder to ward against, it worked at longer distances, it could transport many people in one go and it catered to nearly a quarter of the magical population who could not or would not perform Apparition. With that in mind, the Russian operatives were required to create portkeys in British soil. Naturally, they were all unauthorised and in order to prevent detection, nearly all parties had a dedicated team of specialised ward-breakers in position to hack and disrupt the British National Ward Grid at timed intervals, giving the operatives small windows to perform illegal magic without detection.

Portkeys, in the event of being made illegally, are only detected by a National Ward Grid when the charm was cast rather than by activation of portkey. The magical signature generated by casting a Portkey Charm was much more noticeable than the magical signature generated by a portkey activation. One could theoretically detect a portkey by its activation via the line of magic generated from its point of departure to destination, but it would be heavily masked by all the background magic in the environment.

At 2:05 pm, the scheduled disruption for Bristol County occurred, indicated by the wild spinning on the device in Anya's hands. With the confirmation noted, Anya took out a coin from her pockets and cast a Portkey Charm, feeling the familiar sensation of being pulled by the navel. Appearing on a rooftop building, she scoured the area for her quarry, hoping that the two minutes delay was insufficient for her quarry to escape from her watch. Anya scanned the streets, closing her left eye to focus solely on her right. She spotted her target - or rather, the magic radiating from her target as he was now under a strong set of concealment spells - one block down the main road, waiting at a Muggle bus stop.

Anya reached under her jacket and into one of the pouches on her vest, pulling out a wooden block covered in runes. A snap of her fingers to activate it and the block turned into a swiftlet which proceeded to circle high above her target, well out of the range of any warning spells. With her target being tailed, Anya cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself and she leapt off the rooftop.

"Arresto Momentum."

Anya aimed the spell at herself, descending onto the ground at a much safer speed. Nearing the ground, she sent a Cushioning Charm on the walkway, allowing her to land with only a gentle bend of her knees. Her target boarded the bus which drove off down the street. Dropping her Disillusionment Charm, Anya pointed her wand at a passing motorcyclist.

"Confundo."

The motorcyclist pulled the brakes, turning back to Anya and waving her over. Anya made her way to the motorcyclist, swinging over the seats.

"Jane, you needed a lift?" the motorcyclist asked, driving back off into the street.

"Yes I do," Anya replied, pointing at the bus that her target boarded. "Tail that purple bus right there."

"You got it," said the motorcyclist, turning on the signal lights as he veered right to follow the bus.

Eight minutes later and her target alighted, she mentioned for the motorcyclist to go around a corner before dropping her off. A quick Memory Charm and she made her away to her target, relying on the swiftlet still circling in the sky.

Turning around a corner, she saw her target walking into a row of buildings before completely disappearing. Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, she checked the lines of magic swirling around the place for irregularities, filtering through the mess of lines as she focused harder on her right eye with each time she ran into a dead end. Finally, with a massive headache creeping up on her, she saw strands of magic that seemed to be there but not, surreptitiously bending space itself.

Fidelius Charm.

Rubbing her right eye, she realised that it was bleeding. Finally acknowledging that throbbing pain, she closed her right eye and took out her GPS, glad that she achieved her primary objective. Although a Fidelius Charm hid a location, it still existed within a physical plane of reality that can be approximated by Muggle means. Taking note of where she last saw her target, Anya circled the area, marking down her coordinates at regular intervals. Soon, she had marked out an estimated location of her target's safehouse. A wave of her wand recalled the swiftlet and she transfigured it back into a wooden block, keeping it back in the pouch it came from.

With her job done, Anya wiped the blood off her eyes and made her way to the nearby train station. The Knight Bus was tempting but with the St Helensworth Agreement now signed, there was likely some operative watching the Knight Bus. Thankfully, her target's final destination was Reading, not too far from her apartment in London compared to Bristol where she was minutes ago.

One train ride and a long walk later, with several more turns around corners under the scrutiny of her eye to make sure she was not being followed, she end up at the apartment building that she first saw during the Fourth Task. Entering the door and passing through the wards she was greeted with Dimitri and Jen having a late lunch, Jen was lying on the sofa with a sandwich in one hand and a book on magical theorems in another, Dimitri was at the small dining table poring over several maps that lay on the wooden surface as he chewed absentmindedly on his rice.

"I take it to be a success judging by your look of tired satisfaction," said Jen, getting up and offering some space to Anya.

"Three out of five targets successfully tailed," Anya replied as she flopped onto the sofa, taking out a notepad filled with coordinates. "One of them under a Fidelius."

"That's a good enough success rate," Jen took the notepad and browsed through it. "I'll pass it along to Aleks."

Grabbing an open can of Coke and draining the last of it - much to Jen's protest - Anya went to her bedroom. She took off her jacket and the concealed ballistic vest underneath, hanging the former on the back of her chair and stowing the latter in the box by her bed.

Lying down on her bed, she tossed and turned before her eyes landed on her table where an assortment of quills, pen, parchment and paper laid. Anya sighed, might as well get another job done, one that would be a lot more relaxing. Taking a seat, she jotted down a quick message to Astoria, tying the scrap of parchment onto an owl and sending it out the window.

Ticking another item off her mental list, Anya went back to her bed, picking up a binded document from the shelf on her. Fluffing up her pillows, she leaned back and opened the document. She was not in the mood to sleep, so she figured that she might as well spend the time productively.

After all, what was that Chinese saying? 活到老,学到老. There was a spell that she really wanted to learn after all.

XXXXX

Spinning numbers, crackling magic and runes glowing amok. The silver-haired man stabbed his quill into the inkpot in frustration, running over the voluminous lines of runes once more. A glance at the ticking clock and he knew that he had to leave his workplace soon.

He turned back to his desk, tapping his fingers on a missing portion of the runic matrix as he sunk into deep thought. Once more he stood up and paced the room, trying to take inspiration and guidance from its walls. Four plain, white walls surrounded the room and every single inch of it was filled with Arithmetic equations and workings as well as basic runic component scripts, all written in ink by hand. Some lines were more faded than others, as though the walls were progressively filled.

"Uh... Vergilius... bad timing?" a squat man spoke from the doorway, looking at his incessant pacing with a hint of amusement. He had grown used to the silver-haired man's habits.

"No, its fine, Scott," the silver-haired man, Vergilius, waved off the question. "I was about to go home anyway."

"Too late for that," Scott scoffed. "You probably missed dinner back home and I can only imagine the look of disappointment on your father's face. Let's go for dinner, I've heard of this new place that just opened here in London."

"He holds too many grudges, against too many people," Vergilius stated lazily. "And I would be glad to take up your offer."

He went back to his desk and arranged the stacks of parchment with a wave of his wand, another spell sent them flying over into a lockbox. Another spell caused the circle of runes surrounding the lockbox to hum and flicker with sparks before settling into a soft pink glow.

Vergilius exited the room, methodically locking the seven dead bolts on the door in place before activating a spiral runic script etched on the steel door. Finally he rose the wards back in place, ensuring that the room was secure from intruders.

Scott looked on with nonchalance as he awaited Vergilius, twiddling his thumbs in silent contentment. Once the silver-haired man was done, he followed Scott down a bare black-tiled corridor. Opening the door led into a hallway of multiple doors, the pair took the fourth one on the left.

Entering a circular chamber made of smooth dark marble, Scott motioned for Vergilius to pass before closing the door behind him. Immediately, the chamber began to spin rapidly before coming to a still once more.

Unperturbed, the pair made for the exit, ascending from the pits of secrecy and into the normal world. People in the hallways looked at them with caution but greeted them cordially nonetheless. Vergilius kept on Scott's tail as the shorter man led him to the entrance of the building they were in. In the centre of the entrance hall stood a fountain with golden statues of a wizard, witch, centaur, goblin and house elf, all looking at the former's proud visage.

"Muggle place?" Vergilius remarked coolly as he saw his partner ignore the Floo, heading straight for the official entrance.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," Scott retorted, stepping through a stone archway. "Don't tell you're one of those fanatics."

"Hardly," Vergilius replied as they came out from the brick wall of a dead end. "One form of segregation is bad enough for the society as it is, Salazar Slytherin's mythical ramblings does not help the current climate at all."

"Then why the hesitance?"

"Muggle London is hardly the go-to place at the current times," Vergilius sneered at his surroundings, completely unimpressed.

As though on cue, the rumble of an explosion rose from the distance, the pair looked over to see a monstrous, floating, streamlined cylindrical airship in the sky. The grey beast hung above the city ominously as it unleashed its payload from its belly.

"Three years ago, we had hordes of Muggle women screeching for voting rights on the streets and parks of London and now a full-scale war among the Muggles never before seen since the time of Napoleon. You can hardly call this safe, Scott."

"Just loud firecrackers, Vergilius," reassured Scott. "Nothing to fear."

"You definitely have yet to see the damage of said 'firecrackers'," Vergilius snorted. "Thank Merlin for the Statute of Secrecy lest we be dragged into this mess as well."

"Some of the Muggleborns want in on this mess," said Scott as they ambled down the street, Scott paying no need to the frantic Muggles unlike Vergilius who was cautiously eyeing the zeppelin and rushing people. "Sent all sorts of unofficial help to the frontlines of this Muggle war. 'The war to end war' they call it."

"Foolishly optimistic," Vergilius remarked, glancing at the recruitment posters slathered on the brick walls, the still image of a moustached man in uniform pointing firmly at him. "And where in the name of Merlin's pants did you find a new place to eat in this hellhole? Or rather, who would be so insane as to open a new restaurant in Muggle London in the middle of a large-scale Muggle war?"

"War may come but life goes on," Scott hummed as they turned into a street with rows of closed down shops, stopping at a rustic looking restaurant. "Here it is, the Flying Pheasant."

"They do serve pheasant here do they?" Vergilius inquired.

"Wouldn't bring you here if they didn't."

"You know me too well."

Dinner turned out to be an enjoyable affair for Vergilius, good food and decent conversation, one of which was a rarity in his home. Roast pheasant was a favourite of his as well, which was probably the sole reason he allowed himself to set foot into the place. Say what you will about Muggles, but Vergilius found the ability to procure good food in a war for the establishment of a restaurant without magic to be a special kind of magic in of itself. He would not be surprised if the owner of the restaurant was a wizard or witch. Then again, he or she likely was if Scott somehow found this place.

"There were a few new applicants today," Scott mentioned casually as he ate his steak and kidney pie. "Five of them."

"Any one of them good?"

"Four of them."

"And how many will be taken into consideration?" Vergilius asked with a roll of his eyes.

"None."

"Beautiful really, our society," Vergilius sneered. "Four completely competent people apply for jobs where acceptable applicants are hard to come by and all get rejected on the grounds that none of them are of high enough social class."

"Enough of that now, Vergilius," Scott muttered softly, trying to pacify his friend.

"This was the exact reason blood purity is becoming fashionable," Vergilius pressed on. "It does less damage to society, at least that nonsense is inclusive of all the Purebloods and partially the Half-bloods. Here, where the line is drawn between aristocracy and literally everyone else, the entire country goes into stagnation."

"Kind of ironic, given that you yourself are a member of the aristocracy," Scott quipped.

"And that's how you know the current system is truly flawed," Vergilius countered. "When even one who benefits from an unjust system has the hates it for all its problems. Ninety-five percent of the wizarding population suffer for the enjoyment of the top five percent. And what does the top five percent do with the fruits of labour? They squander it for self-entitlement rather than the progress of society."

Scott wisely chose to eat his meal in silence, allowing his friend to continue his tirade. The sooner he released the pent up steam, the better.

"The aristocracy has bent the laws and structures to breed narrow-mindedness and backward thinking, indulging in the illusion of being in the Medieval era. There's little progress in wizarding society, there's little progress in magic itself. The Muggles will surpass us soon enough with the inventions they are churning out, that 'Industrial Revolution' of theirs is woefully underestimated by so many of us. With every passing day the Wizengamot ignores the majority of the population, we lose out. There's so many wizards and witches of non-nobility who have powerful magic and sharp wit but are completely ignored by the Ministry on the account of not being noble. How many people from Hogwarts do we know who are exceptional yet can't find a deserving job on the basis that those are reserved for the aristocracy? Lovegood, Rookwood, Carrow, Flint, Weasley, Kenway and so many more."

"Can't help it," Scott shrugged. "People do not like change when they are comfortable. In this case, the ones comfortable are the aristocracy who control the Wizengamot."

"Honestly speaking, with the Statue of Secrecy implemented centuries ago, you'd think that some things would change. Can't the Ministry and nobility see that placing Muggle nobility above the non-noble Pureblood houses is simply stirring discontent?" Vergilius sighed. "At least before the Statue of Secrecy, Muggle nobility had real power, more political and financial weight than many Purebloods. Now, our nobility is too busy frolicking with their Muggle counterparts – a social class that has long lost power – and we will follow in their footsteps if this goes on. Scott, I bet you. A few decades from now, someone will launch a campaign against the Muggles and the droves of excluded Pureblood houses will follow his banner in attempt to earn the power the Wizarding nobility holds. When that happens, Purebloods will simply replace the nobility and another bout of corruption and laziness will take place."

"We need a fresh slate," Vergilius suggested, leaning back on his chair. "Tear down the current system and put one up that places society in front of a few groups of individuals, knowing what to properly integrate in. If the ruling party wants to push the line of the Statue of Secrecy by mixing around with some Muggles, at least make sure those Muggles are useful. Industrialists, inventors and generals, not the nobility whose power is a hollow shell gilded with fake gold."

"What you need," said Scott exasperatedly. "Is a holiday, you spend too much time cooped up in those rooms. Get out of here, get out of Britain. Go somewhere else for a change, maybe you will have an epiphany."

Vergilius mulled over his friend's words, finishing the rest of his meal. After swallowing his last bite, he sighed.

"Maybe you're right."

"Of course I am," Scott smirked. "I heard France is a good place."

"Not with the Muggle war it isn't."

"Somewhere else then, maybe several destinations."

"Screw it, I'll go to France as well," said Vergilius. "Might as well see the Muggle war up close."

"You should have been in Gryffindor all those years ago," Scott shook his head, finishing his meal as well. "You go home then, I'll pay. It's my treat."

Thanking his friend's hospitality, Vergilius left the restaurant. Walking to a hidden alleyway, he spun on the spot and disapparated. He appeared in front of a manor, sighing to himself. Home was the last place he wanted to be, the paragon of ideals he hated, yet here he was.

XXXXX

Stepping out of the Floo, Astoria brushed off the ash on her knee-length skirt, looking around for her friend. Knowing Anya, she could be anywhere, since the letter only mentioned Diagon Alley and nowhere specific. Thankfully, she was saved the trouble of searching for Anya when she saw the raven-haired girl sitting in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron, scanning through a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Astoria smiled as she bounded over to Anya, hooking a finger over the top of the newspapers Anya was holding up and pulling it down. Anya arched an eyebrow amusedly as the younger girl before closing the papers and setting it back on the table. Astoria caught a glimpse of the headlines 'Black Mark Drug Shipment Intercepted at Dover' before greeting Anya.

"Hello there, good to see you again," Astoria chirped.

"You too," said Anya.

"So where are we going?" Astoria asked, drawing up a chair for herself when she saw that Anya was not getting up anytime soon.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" said Astoria in surprise.

"Well, it's up to you," Anya shrugged. "I was just bored and wanted to stretch my legs, and I invited you along because you would always whinge about how boring it is at your home so I thought might as well bring you along."

"I don't whinge," sniffed Astoria with an affronted look on her face that lasted for seconds. "I'm also not sure where to go, but you probably did save me from a day of boredom."

"Don't know where to go, huh," Anya murmured before speaking louder. "Have you eaten? Cause I have some ideas if you don't."

"No."

"Neither have I," Anya stood up and Astoria followed. "I'm craving curry and we sure aren't going to find them here in Diagon Alley."

Anya gave a meaningful look towards the door to Muggle London and Astoria followed suit, catching on to her meaning.

"We're going to the Muggle world?" Astoria gasped. "My parents say it isn't safe to go out there."

"Trust me, it's safe," Anya moved to the door, holding it open for Astoria.

"Don't Muggles use firearms? I've tried them enough to know its danger."

"Only Muggle law enforcement and military personnel carry them here in Muggle Britain, with the exception of a small number of civilians."

"That's reassuring," Astoria rolled her eyes, moving towards the door.

Astoria stepped out into the Muggle world and looked around, despite being thirteen she had never entered the Muggle world before. She turned around on the spot, soaking in the sights and sounds. Some were familiar, as Muggle items and cultures did occasionally seep into the wizarding world, others not so much.

"Second thoughts?" Anya asked and Astoria shook her head, following Anya as the older girl led her to a parking lot.

Astoria looked at all the cars around, those were still familiar as she had sat in Ministry cars on a few occasions as her father was a Wizengamot member. However, the sleek, two-wheeled vehicle Anya stopped at was something she had never seen before.

"What's that?"

"Motorcycle," Anya explained. "If cars are the Muggle flying carpets, these are the broomsticks."

It did make sense when Anya mounted the vehicle, adopting a posture similar to riding a broomstick. Astoria hopped on behind her and accepted the helmet Anya gave her, glad that she had chosen to wear leggings under her skirt. Starting the engine and revving it up, Astoria gave a startled gasp as Anya kicked off and sped down the parking lot and onto the streets.

Hugging for dear life, Astoria felt an excited thrill as Anya expertly wove around the cars on the street with only inches worth of gap between their motorcycle and the surrounding cars. A traffic light turning from green to yellow made Anya notch the speed up to eleven, swerving hard at a T-junction before the lights turned red. Astoria let out an exhilarated squeal and noticed Anya laughing as well, without a care in the world.

It was no secret in Hogwarts that a big portion of the female population felt infinitely envious of the Gryffindor Chasers, Astoria being one of them. Quidditch and broomstick opportunities were lacklustre for the girls in Hogwarts, especially Slytherin with its higher levels of misogyny. And back at home, Astoria's parents forbade their daughters from riding broomsticks, much to both girls' displeasure. As always, Anya provided an escape for Astoria and it seemed that Anya was providing an escape for herself as well. The older girl was a lot wilder outside of school, daring even. It was a side Astoria had never seen and was glad to witness. The girl had many sides to her that were kept hidden under mysterious veils, it was the reason Astoria hung out with her initially until Anya's personality became more endearing to her.

Parking in front of an Indian restaurant, the pair entered the place, the smell of spices being the greatest sensory input among her five senses. They took their seats and looked at the menu, Astoria being perplexed by the dishes listed. Unlike their Muggle counterparts, Indian cuisine never really made headway into wizarding Britain and Astoria was left asking Anya with eager curiosity about the various dishes offered. When lunch was done, the two roamed the streets of London, talking about anything and everything.

"You decided on your electives?" Anya asked.

"Runes and Muggle Studies," Astoria replied shamelessly, to which Anya laughed.

"Then consider this a jump start to your Muggle Studies."

"Trust me, I'm already learning plenty," said Astoria, looking at the cranes and scaffolding over a building under construction.

"Anya, you're from Russia right?"

"Yes..."

"Do you know anything about the Black Mark? I saw you reading it on the Daily Prophet earlier."

"That article was on the cover."

"And it was continued on page five, which was the page you were on."

"Too observant, this one," Anya nudged her junior jokingly. "Only here and there, not much to know when the Russian Aurors were already flushing them out."

"Nope, you definitely know something," Astoria stated confidently with a grin. "Your uncle was in the background of the pictures and the two of you are close based on your interaction with him when he visited Hogwarts for your Fourth Task. He would have told you something."

"Too observant, this one," Anya grumbled, repeating her words. "I did say here and there."

"Well played Ms Seryy," Astoria laughed. "Spill the beans."

"I would tell you," said Anya darkly. "But then I'd have to kill you."

The two looked at each other for a moment before laughing again, continuing on their tramp around the city.

"By the way, didn't you want to invite me over at some point?" Anya mentioned. "I'm kind of curious to see your home."

"I'll have to ask my parents," Astoria sighed. "They probably have all sorts of criteria before even allowing you to set foot in my place. Honestly, I'd rather be out here than cooped up at home."

"Why's that?"

"Too much politics."

Anya chuckled, shaking her head in sympathy.

Asking was not difficult, Astoria simply had to bring it up during mealtimes back at home. Her parents had always insisted that dinner be a family event during summers. So, Astoria fired the question as soon as possible, which was halfway into dinner; the most appropriate time for asking permission for anything based on some unwritten rule that had always been in place since she was young.

"Mum, dad, is it alright if I invite a friend over?" Astoria asked.

"The same one you went out with today without telling us who?" her father, Cyrus Greengrass, asked, it felt more like a statement to her.

Astoria nodded, ignoring the curious stare from her older sister.

"And who would that be?" Cyrus asked.

"Anya Seryy."

Daphne smirked slightly, as though telling herself 'I knew it'.

"The Hogwarts Junior Champion for the Triwizard Tournament?"

"The very same, dad."

"Her uncle's the Russian Head of Auror Forensics isn't it?" Daphne spoke up. "I saw him in the Daily Prophet this morning, that's the same person from the morning of the Fourth Task."

That caught Cyrus' attention and Astoria suppressed another sigh, more politics. She sometimes forgot her sister was just as observant and sharp as she was, except that her sister utilised her skills more viciously in Slytherin than her. Then again, if this was going to be the reason Anya got invited, she was not complaining. Then again, maybe this was the reason Daphne spoke up, let it never be said that the Ice Queen of Hogwarts does not care.

"You may invite her over, Astoria," Cyrus conceded. "But try to have her uncle come over as well, I've been meaning to have a conversation with the Russians and they are quite difficult to reach."

Astoria mouth opened slightly with incredulity, but recovered immediately. Her father was putting too much hope, Anya's uncle and cousin – was that boy a cousin in the first place? – did not even stay to watch the Tournament despite appearing to be close to one another. If he was that busy, having him come over for the sake of her niece seemed a bit rich. That again, factoring in politics, anything could happen.

AN: Do remember to vote for which pairing you prefer.