Chapter 23) Closeted Part 2

Selected Listening: You Be the Anchor that Keeps My Feet on the Ground- Mayday Parade

*Author's Note: This is one of my favorite chapters. I hope you enjoy it. Please R&R (favorite, follow, all that good stuff).

**Content warning: implications of family trauma.**

"What's Dumblebrat doing here anyway?" Pansy asked after dinner, pacing the second-floor drawing room.

The silvery gray light of the overcast day filtered down through the rectangular paned windows. The teenagers had been ushered away after dinner with a platter of sugar cookies and a pitcher of lemonade, so the adults could have their cocktails and continue discussing politics without being bothered by childish prattle.

The adults assumed the six could be entertained by the pool table at the center of the room. Blaise had attempted to begin a game, but Crabbe and Goyle were too busy toasting sugar cookies over the marble chessboard. Anastasia was embarrassed to admit she had never played. Draco stared contemplatively out the window over the cloudy, fog-covered forest.

Following Pansy's comment, Anastasia sat quietly with her glass of lemonade, knuckles turning white from gripping the glass so tightly. She already had to hear about how Lucius so badly wanted Buckbeak dead after what "that creature" did to his son. To which, she said nothing, not wanting to invite the man to insult her further. Now, she found herself unnervingly jealous of Pansy. The prudish girl wore a sage green dress with a high collar that flattered her figure nicely. She realized that her own style had been frozen in time, chosen by her father long ago, and never developed past childhood.

Anastasia looked up from her glass and stared Pansy's bright green eyes down.

"Narcissa is my godmother. She invited me," she said simply.

"How the hell did that happen?" Pansy asked.

"Shove it, Pansy." Draco snapped. Pansy looked as if she were stung by a wasp.

"It's quite simple. Narcissa and my mother were best friends. My mother died. I lived," Anastasia stated.

Pansy made a disgusted sound and turned away.

Blaise, disgruntled with the commentary, made his own.

"Deuz anyone want a real drink? Becauze I could geaux for a real drink. In France, we would drink like adults. We would not be shunned from zhe dining room at zhe end of zhe meal." He dropped the pool cue onto the table, and the balls rolled around aimlessly.

"Are you bonkers?" Pansy asked. Crabbe and Goyle stared on dumbly. Anastasia glanced warily back at Blaise. First sitting through that awful dinner conversation and now being pressured into drinking…sure would take the edge off this social encounter though, she thought.

Draco smirked, his arms folded.

"Not a bad idea, Zabini. In fact, I know just how we can do that."

The rest stared at him in expectation.

"Follow me," he said, and strode from the room, down the stairs to the first floor. Anastasia rose to her feet and followed first after Draco. Followed by Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle, and Pansy trailed behind. Draco glanced behind him, met Anastasia's eyes, and smiled briefly before continuing down.

"Are you serious? We could get into trouble." Pansy warned.

"Deun't be such a Pansy, Pansy." Blaise countered. "Even ze Dumblebrat knows what she's deuing."

"It won't be a problem." Draco shrugged. "Five minutes in, we'll grab the things we need. Five minutes out."

Draco led them to a depression in the living room, holding a staircase which descended to an intricate cage door with vines and grapes decorating the wrought iron bars. He drew his wand and aimed it at the lock.

"You can't do magic outside of school." Pansy chastised in a rather Hermione-like way. Draco rolled his eyes, scoffed.

"Actually, Parkinson, as long as there's another wizard in the house that is of age, there's no way the Ministry can know it was me. Multiply that by ten or so, and we're in the clear. Alohomora," he said at the lock.

The teens grinned as they walked into the dark cellar, lined with wine, beer, whisky and even more intense spirits.

"Take what you like." Draco suggested. Anastasia gazed around, but she didn't know what she favored. She'd never been offered the chance before. She waited for someone else to make the first move.

"Ah, score!" Blaise said, walking immediately to the wine and selecting his favorite. "Zieu can only get zis wine in zhe finest parts of Provence. Merci, Malfoy." He said, drew his own wand and removed the cork from the bottle, taking a long, drawn-out sip. "Well don't let me be alone in this. Dumbledore, zieu want?" he asked, lifting the bottle towards Anastasia.

"What is it?" she asked, came forward, and took her own sip. The taste of mature grapes and dark tannins washed over her pallet. "Not bad."

"That is the finest Mourvedre from Provence." Blaise said.

"Give me that!" Pansy insisted and pushed Anastasia out of the way to grab the bottle. Crabbe and Goyle bumbled behind her and waited in line for their turn. Draco turned to Anastasia and Blaise.

"I have better," he whispered to them as Pansy chugged her share.

Draco led them to the back corner where a corner of fine firewhiskies, brandies, and gins lined the stone built-in shelves.

"This one, is what my parents drink on special occasions," he said and pulled a bottle of firewhisky from the shelf to show to them. Anastasia and Blaise glanced at each other and agreed it was a good decision.

The group ended up sitting against a far wall, taking sips, and getting dizzy. Laughing. Anastasia didn't know exactly what was happening, but she was relaxed for once amidst a room full of Slytherins. Blaise on her left and Draco on her right, Pansy one down from him. The other two across the room, laughing and eating sweets. Crabbe played with a new camera he'd gotten for his birthday, snapping photos.

Blaise said something funny in French that she could barely translate as fast as he spoke:

"Il n'arrêtait pas de parler de toi dans ses lettres. Maintenant, je ne peux pas le faire parler avec toi. C'est ridicule."

Anastasia laughed anyway, so hard her face hurt, she turned and found Draco smiling dumbly at her. Pansy grabbed him and pulled his attention away. Anastasia leaned back up against the stone and closed her eyes and smiled.

"Feeling good, Dumbledore?" Blaise asked, his fake accent now dissolved by liquor. She simply nodded.

"Here, we should play truth or dare." Pansy said with a cheeky smile, taking the empty wine bottle, and gathering them all up in a circle. In their airy delirium, they didn't protest. She spun it. It landed on Crabbe.

"Alright, Crabbe. Truth or dare?"

"Truth," he said, adjusting his camera on his chest.

"Which girl do you want to kiss the most?" Pansy asked.

"I'm not answering that," he said gruffly.

"You must. You're playing," Pansy replied cheekily.

"Daphne Greengrass." Crabbe harrumphed.

The others laughed, but Anastasia shook her head and grimaced. If they were in Gryffindor tower, they would be daring each other to hold acid pops under their tongues or set off dung bombs in the faculty lounge or say nutty kneazle while stuffing their mouths with fizzing whizzbees, not judging each other's romantic interests.

"I think you'd have better luck with Millicent." Pansy commented.

"What? You guys got something to say about it?" Crabbe asked, threatening with his fist. "My turn." He spun. It landed on Blaise.

"Dare," he said confidently. Crabbe dared him to chug a bottle of wine. Blaise got about halfway through before Pansy jerked it out of his hand.

"Do you want to be dead on the floor in a minute?" she asked. Blaise laughed and spun the bottle in the center of the circle. It landed on Pansy.

"Alright, Parkinson. Truth or dare."

"Truth," she replied confidently.

"Okay?" Blaise asked smartly. "Who would you rather kiss? Crabbe or Goyle?"

"What kind of dumb question is that?" she sneered.

"Well, it's no fun if I ask who you want to kiss. We all know you'd throw yourself at Malfoy in a minute!" Blaise laughed.

Anastasia couldn't help but snicker as Draco turned three shades of pink darker, and Pansy fumed.

"Come on, out with it now. Crabbe or Goyle?" Blaise asked.

"Neither!" she countered.

"Ziew are the one who suggested this game. Therefore, you must answer, no matter what question I ask."

"Fine, Goyle." she said quickly and grabbed the bottle, but they didn't miss the chance to jeer and make kissy faces. She scoffed and spun it.

It landed on Anastasia.

An evil smile grew on Pansy's face. Anastasia's heart fell into her stomach.

"Alright, Dumblebrat. Truth or dare?"

"Um…truth," Anastasia said. She didn't think there were any more secrets she had, and she was certain that any dare Pansy came up with wouldn't be good for her.

"Fine, what did the boggart version of Draco say to you that day in September?" Pansy asked and folded her arms with a smirk as if she had won a chess game. Even Draco looked nervously expectant.

Anastasia shrunk into her shoulders and rubbed her eyes.

"Are you lot still on about that? I'm not afraid of Draco." Annoyed by him? Yes. Frustrated by him? Yes. Not ever afraid.

"Come on, Pansy." Blaise tried. "She's obviously uncomfortable."

"Uh-huh, Zabini." Pansy shook her head. "Don't even. I asked. She has to answer."

Then, Goyle decided to be smart.

"If you're not afraid of him, you should take a dare," he said.

"What?" Anastasia's throat tightened. The room spun.

"Goyle, what are you doing?" Draco hissed.

"Yeah, it's my turn." Pansy glowered.

"Fine…dare." Anastasia said with a snap.

"Right," replied Goyle, ignoring Pansy's irritation. "See that closet over there?" he pointed to a wooden slatted door along the far wall. That's a storage closet with no light. I dare you to spend ten minutes in there with him, alone. No wands."

Crabbe guffawed and Blaise wore a wide smirk on his face. Draco looked as if he might die on the spot.

"What?" Pansy asked, like she'd been struck in the face. "Are you serious? This is my turn. I get to pick."

"You're outvoted!" Blaise shot. "Right, Crabbe?"

Crabbe nodded eagerly. Pansy sat in frustration.

Anastasia locked eyes with Draco. She tried to look through his stare and see what he was thinking. He stared back, eyes wide, breathing hard, trying to ask her the same thing.

She nodded.

"Okay, I'll do it," she said, "but Blaise holds my wand."

"Ooh, first name basis and wand-holding privileges," Blaise said, holding his hand out. Anastasia gave it to him with a nod and stood. "Draco?"

Draco hesitated, rolling his wand on his leg, and then handed it to Blaise. The wands clicked together in his hand.

"Fine, ten minutes," Draco agreed as he stood. Goyle and Crabbe shoved them into the inky dark closet and slammed the door shut, locking it.

"Timer's set!" Blaise announced from outside.

Anastasia backed against the shelves and held her hands together, waiting for the uncomfortable silence to end and the dare to be over. Draco did the same on the opposite side. He hadn't spoken casually with her in ages. Why would he now?

"Do you think they're listening?" she said, mainly to herself. To her surprise, he answered.

"Of course, they are," Draco said, becoming more confident, "but what they don't know is that there's already a silencing spell on this closet from our hide-and-seek days. They never figured out how I always won."

There was a smile in his voice. She smiled too.

"You know I wouldn't hurt you, right?" Draco finally asked.

Anastasia laughed.

"I already said I'm not afraid of you."

She could hear his cynical glance in the silence.

"Then what did the boggart say? Come on, Dumblebrat. Tell me! You don't have to tell them, but I want to know."

This was hardly the subject she wanted to discuss. She wanted to know what happened the night of the full moon. She stared in his direction, and then down at the floor where the tiniest bit of light poked through over their shoes.

"Draco, you know you weren't the only person in the boggart, right? Do you remember who else was there, or are you too self-centered—"

"Weasley, Granger, Potter…I paid attention, but I don't understand—"

"And who are they? To me?"

"Well, they're…they're your friends." There was a silence, and then his tone changed to one of epiphany. "Oh. OH…you think of me as a friend?"

She paused.

"I mean…well kind of like a friend," she said. "Just because you've been an arse this year, doesn't mean I don't still think of you that way…as um…friendly."

Draco took a chance and grabbed her hand. Anastasia felt her cheeks burn.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I called you names. I said horrible things. I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay, Draco. I know," she let go of his hand. "You have to look cool in front of your stupid Slytherin friends. Wouldn't want to ruin your image being nice to the Dumblebrat." Bitterness leaked into her laugh.

"It's not that at all…" he tried again. Anastasia felt a spark of rage.

"Then what is it? Please tell me because I'm not sure if I could imagine a valid excuse for—"

"Because no one can know…"

"Know what?" she asked.

"That I care about you," he said quietly. "When I was in the hospital wing with you last year, I had to lie to everyone and say I had invisible dragonpox. That was the only way they wouldn't catch on."

"Oh…," she said, finally also understanding. She felt a heat come to her cheeks and became suddenly very nervous. She reached out hesitantly and took his hand back. His breath hitched.

"I care about you too," she admitted, "I was so afraid on the night a few weeks ago that you'd been horribly injured…"

Draco squeezed her hand tightly. She squeezed back.

"I'm sorry for that…you must have felt it. We tried a spell to trick the wards…it didn't work…" he said defeatedly.

"That's unfortunate," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Yes, well, nothing can be done about it." It was his turn to let the bitterness stain his tone. "Do you forgive me for the rest or not?"

Anastasia thought about this. He had really made her life hell the past year, when she thought about it, but he had also shown he cared, in his own way.

She lined up the toes of her shoes with his.

"Yes…I'll forgive you—if you tell me one last thing. One last truth," she said carefully.

"Fine," he snapped, "what is it?"

"In September, the boggart exercise stopped—"

"Because of Potter—" he spat.

"Because of what happened with Harry. And I want to know, what do you think your greatest fear is?" she asked.

There was a silence as he contemplated. Draco tugged her hand gently to bring her closer to him. Her free hand landed on his shoulder, maintaining her balance. His breath brushed across her face, and she took in his familiar scent, now laced with whisky. His other hand slipped to the side of her neck. Eyes adjusted, she saw a sliver of light dance across his lips.

"I'm afraid of lo—"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" It was Narcissa shouting from upstairs. The two panicked and ripped apart from each other, pushing as far back as they could on opposite ends of the space.

"Where are they?" A steely voice demanded of the others. They were outed in an instant, yanked from the closet by a furious Lucius Malfoy.

Draco's face turned the color of Pansy's dress.

"Was this your idea?" he asked Anastasia in a ghastly voice. She shook her head twice, and Lucius pushed her over to Narcissa. The woman caught her. She felt her arms shaking, knowing this man was the reason she almost died the previous year and given to evil relatives this year. She looked up to her godmother's expression, but Narcissa gave her an encouraging smile down. Anastasia let a breath out, her heart still hammering.

"Actually, Mr. Malfoy." Blaise stepped forward proudly. "I will take credit for the drinking. This was my idea." He said charmingly.

"Blaise!" his mother chastised.

"As grand a gesture as that is, Mr. Zabini. I'm afraid you were not the one who opened the wine cellar or selected several expensive bottles to down." Lucius straightened up and cleared his throat, folding his hands politely.

"I apologize to all of you. I had no idea my son would do something so daft. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to depart early while I speak with him. It was lovely having you all, and I hope to see you next year!" he offered, as if spending more time with the Malfoys was a consolation prize.

The Crabbes, Goyles, Parkinsons, and Madame Zabini who did not look very upset to leave early, retrieved their cloaks and purses and retired with their tipsy children.

"This way dear, let's go to the library." Narcissa said gently to Anastasia and pushed her along up the stairs. She looked back over her shoulder to find Draco's horrified eyes as Lucius dragged him into the study.